the comically uncomfortable shower thought

in my 19 years of living, i have never experienced an afterthought as heinous as this.

as much as this may scare off people, i like the infiltrative aspect of a good warm shower. maybe it’s the chinese equivalent in me as my relatives chugging scorching hot water before breakfast, who knows. there’s something about a paradoxical moment where water is supposed to cool you into a state of flow. like i’m being sprinkled with my element of swimming as a child. where my thoughts fluidly pass in the shower. but this time, i was stunned.

the water’s temperature didn’t make sense. it wasn’t a good scorching hot. it fluxed from high lukewarm, to a disgusting room temperature, to a cold that can only mimic the type it does for cold plunges. i went to three showers. the habit was consistent, yet laughable.

maybe i should just thug it out and ruminate over the plentiful benefits a cold shower can give you. maybe it won’t breed me the thoughts i was asking for, but the uncomfortable ones i just have to sit with and get over just as fast so i don’t have to experience the quality issue that’s bleeding through the showers at equinox van mission.

i think that showers give you enough fluidity to think as rawly as possible the way an artist prizes its canvas or a dancer prizes its dance floor. when i crashed my friend’s place at berkeley eight months ago, i saw the shower and smiled at the paper of thoughts written on sticky notes inside of it.

maybe that’s when the nongranular thoughts that don’t make sense…start painting a vision. yet, the art of showering is so quick to be brushed over like another chore that needs to be done. i beg to differ.

today’s underwhelming experience, at the end of the day, is still a shower thought after all.