the outing

5/15/25

Felt good enough tonight to attend an event for pleasure, finally. I checked the pollen and it wasn’t extremely high, it was like medium. Wore a shirt w/ a hood and an N95 mask, but no goggles because I didn’t want to look crazy. The temperature was not so hot that I would be sweating and uncomfortable in my long sleeves and hood and mask and stuff. some days the wounds are wet and I cringe to walk with every step because of the feeling of the bandage sticking and unsticking to the skin when I walk. other days, it’s mostly dry so that when I walk in the bandages, it doesn’t bother me much. Today was one of those lucky days. I walked through the city to a church to see Ocean Vuong speak, he’s on his book tour. I’m never disappointed. I can’t describe what he does to me, how just being in the same room and hearing his voice just dazzles me, and ultimately puts my soul at peace. The place was packed. the doors opened at 6 and it didn’t start till 7, and I got there around 6:45 and almost (but not quite, it was perfect) struggled to find a seat. going home, I was walking on air, smiling, so happy. though instead of happy, he might phrase it as “content” or “okay.”
one thing that nagged at me was when he said (more than once) that in his published writing, he never tells another person’s story – he only observes others, and then uses his imagination. It made me wonder if, in my own writing, I have ever tried to tell someone else’s story. I feel like I’m always just spilling MY feelings. But I include others a lot- mostly about my husband, and now my baby- because of how much they interact with and affect my life. I just don’t wanna cross any like moral lines. I don’t think I do that though- try to explain someone else’s story. I only mention them and the circumstances when they intersect with my life. but still, it seemed a good thing to hear, and made me mindful of it, to not do in the future.