The answer is: I have no inkling of an idea. Zero. Zilch. Nul. Nada. I had a math paper due. It's nothing, really. It's basically just a summary. She told us to write it in 1-2 pages. The professor even said that we just need to put pictures and bullet points. . . . Do you want to know how long it took me to make the paper? 7 hours...
But I must say, it was a pretty damned good paper, okay?
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As long as the times of which I go on hiatus, so was a time when I mulled this one particular thought over and over... Should I continue following Jan *not the real name* on Instagram, or should I unfollow? Let's break it down, shall we? 1. Jan is perfect. Their Instagram pictures are perfect. They post nothing but the most artsy and perfect shots at XX City's most colourful and iconic places. 2. Jan is smart. While I'm not aware of the exact figures but she probably graduated (high school) nothing short but on the top tier of their class. I do follow them on GoodReads though, and they have read a lot of books. 3. Jan is loved , adored, and praised by many. More Instagram followers than I could ever gain. 4. Jan is doing something I would love to do-- a fashion-related job. 5. Jan has friends who take great photos of them. I love my friends (and my sister) but they need to step up their game. 6. Jan looks great in photos and knows how to pose. I keep on telling myself that it must be the angle and the lighting, and how the picture was taken... No, it's just me. 7. Jan looks comfortable and confident with herself. I constantly look awkward af. I am awkward af. 8. Jan is my age. I constantly feel like I need to step up my game. 9. Jan is someone that I know personally. Why did i unfollow them? Well, the decision took a long time. It took a year... I unfollowed them because I was feeling unhappy. Whenever I saw their posts or updates, I feel so inadequate. I feel unaccomplished. Even if I were feeling kinda good about myself that day, expect it to go way down once I see their post. If I had a selfie or an Instagram story I've been prepping to post, expect me to immediately delete it. I know envy and belittling one's self in comparison to others are very bad practices but I couldn't help it whenever I saw their posts. I tried my best, even desensitising myself, with their pictures so that I get over it, but I never did. The main reason why it took me a year before finally unfollowing them was because I kept on stubbornly willing myself to unfeel what I feel by seeing their posts. I unfollowed them because Instagram to me, is supposed to inspire you. The only thing their Instagram did to me was inspire me to hide myself even more. I unfollowed them because I can. This was what I kept telling myself, and finally the point that convinced me to do it, "There's no rule saying that just because you know someone personally means that you have to follow them on Instagram or be friends with them on Facebook." I unfollowed them because I had to, as a responsibility to myself. It took me a year to decide whether I should unfollow them or not. But, it took me longer hiding behind their shadow and doubting that anything I could ever do could be as good as theirs. I felt like the only way I could reveal myself as a unique and creative individual in my own right was to prioritise myself a little; to finally stop thinking about what one person, who may not even be as aware of me as I am hyper-aware of them, might think of me. I said to myself, "No One's going to make the decision for you to love and appreciate you other than yourself. Remember, No One loves you." 3 months later... Due to my long absence, I was scrolling around my drafts today for a blog post I already started but never finished writing, and ultimately never published (such a savvy writer, I am). And so, I saw the rough draft for this one (which was dated near my birthday, so unfollowing them was my birthday gift to myself) and thought it was perfect. Today, 11th July, 2018, I was on Facebook and saw Jan's new fashion-y, photogenic posts promoting their new YouTube channel. (Yes, I unfollowed her on Instagram but she's still my Facebook friend. I'm a coward. BUT, I'm only in Facebook like every 6 months, other than Messenger, for almost two years now so meh.) And when I saw those posts, I immediately thought...
They didn't do anything against me personally which is why I actually feel mean because I feel like I'm being so antagonistic towards them for no particular reason. But, whatever. If I keep on thinking about why I like something or why I hate something with seemingly no particular reason any longer than I already have, I'm going to go crazy. So, you, the one reading this, don't think about that shizz, please. Anyways, back to my 3 months later progress report... I have been feeling a lot better since then. After unfollowing them, I went on an Instagram cleanse, as well as a follow spree. I unfollowed people/accounts that don't add to the quality of my life; there was no exception. I started following people whom after a few minutes (to hours) of Instagram stalking, I felt like I liked their style and the vibe of their posts and would want to keep seeing that on my feed. Since then, my Instagram feed has been full of people that don't make me want to retract into obscurity but rather inspire me to do better myself. One of the most notable accounts are Day6 fan accounts. Now, if you don't know Day6, let me educate you! Day6 is a South-Korean band consisting of 5 members, Sungjin, Jae, Dowoon, Young K, and Wonpil. They all play instruments and they all, ALL sing. Dowoon's occasional deep voice, back vocals are cute so just agree with me. They're officially considered as a K-pop band according to Wikipedia, though, nothing against K-pop and all, I like K-pop but, Day6 is a BAND. They recently released an album titled, Shoot Me. So, go give them a listen because they're great and they inspire me to be a better musician. And, whenever I watch their MVs, it makes me guilty... guilty that I am not playing guitar and singing at this exact same moment! So pass me my guitar and lez get it! STAN DAY6! I tried being more brave as well, and just post what I feel like posting on my Instagram story because the world needs more pictures of my cat (with me occasionally lurking in the background) and my jokes that my sister thinks are funny, at least. And eyyo, I've posted at least two photos on my account as well, since then. One of them was a Boomerang of me swishing my frilly dress about in front of a Dubai landmark. And because the Boomerang was obviously fashion blogger/Youtuber-esque, instead of not posting it (like I did with so many pictures I wanted to share before) or pretending for it to be something that it's not, I just claimed it. I captioned it with (something along the lines of because I still want my personal account to be anonymous-ish :P), "Let it be awkward! What's wrong with being awkward?" I've also posted a guitar cover on my Instagram story, and I legit never do that. Soon, I also want to start my own YouTube channel. It's not because I want to copy Jan, no. I want to start a Youtube channel because I've been playing guitar for years and I feel like I haven't progressed as much as I liked. However, I figured that whenever I had to do it (like when people ask me to be an accompanying guitarist to something, my mom requests a song, I get invited to play in a band, etc.) I progress much faster and better than months of idle playing. (Also, you can already see how much Day6 has positively influenced me.) So, stay tuned for updates and make sure to subscribe! Oh, and there's more! I also finished Sejong 1 of the Korean Language Course. Woohoo! Right now, I'm trying to figure out how to install a good on-screen Korean keyboard on my laptop (or maybe start writing blog posts using "my" iPad once my mom actually gives me her iPad). But, when that happens, expect to have more multilingual b.s. posts written in here as I use this site as a platform to practice my languages. Haha, look forward to it! "No One's going to make the decision for you to love and appreciate you other than yourself. Remember, No One loves you." I am still working on myself. It's a continuous project. I did not click "unfollow" and then suddenly, all my worries and insecurities went *poof*. I'm still hoping for the day that I look at Jan and not compare myself with them anymore. But if that never happens, I will still choose to be happy.
There's no rule stating who you should and shouldn't follow. Heck, why shouldn't you like your own picture? Just do whatever makes you happy. Happy scrolling! Yo, I usually like to think of myself as someone who gives in a lot of effort. I'm extra af, if I haven't already established that. But of course, I am an anxious child and more often than not, I sink into the thinking that I'm only putting the normal/enough amount of effort-- and when I open up to someone about it, they look at me crazily, as if they want to smack me upside the head, then tell me with a firm 'no' that I put in above average effort. Frankly, the first few times it happened, I just thought that maybe people were trying to make me feel better. But it has now happened too often enough that I'll just believe that there's a semblance of truth to it. I do put in a lot of effort to most of the things that I do. However, I often find myself thinking how effort, or rather, the extent of it, is even important in success; in getting the results that you want. What is enough, and what isn't? How would you know otherwise? And why in the freaking heck do I question myself whether I've given something enough effort or not, months after it happened? Like brain, my man, I thought we were on the same team? Realistically speaking, though, money, unfortunately, outweighs effort. By a landslide, if I must say. If you don't believe me, then you must have more money than you may have realised. I went into a gap year after high school, confident, that with the extra amount of free time that I have and the number of schools I'd be applying to, after a year, my only dilemma would be choosing which school to attend. I prefer not to give away too much detail at the moment but let's just say that it's almost the end of my gap year and I'm left anxious in a situation I hadn't anticipated. At the very least, I could tell you that at this very moment, I feel crossed and very frankly, treated unfairly by fate. I put in a lot of effort. I'll admit that. I led a productive and sterling high school career. I'll profess that. But I can't seem to get things to work the way they want to no matter how much effort I exert. And the people whom I've outperformed then, are mostly in better, secure, and stable situations now. I'm not saying that they got where they were solely through money but I'd say that that certainly helped.
Life is unfair. Fate is unfair. Life favours those who can pay. Fate occurs if you could afford it. And yes, I am bitching about it but it had to be said. D'accord, je vais ecrire cette post en francais. Cependant, s'il vous plait etre sympas avec moi et mon grammaire parce que, je n'ecrivais pas pour des longue temps.
J'ai voulu a ecrire en francais parce que... rien. Je ne sais pas. Je me sentais comme ca. It's been an "eh" kind of few weeks. A good news, I've passed the document screening stage to a top-choice uni about two weeks ago, which means that I'll be having a phone interview this weekend (wish me luck!). The rest of the news, however, that I've received these past few weeks are not so good. The mood at home has significantly gone down because of that and quite honestly, the situation has left me questioning whether it even matters if I do well on this weekend's interview or not. Of course, I want to do well on the interview. I want to do extremely well. I want to stand out. I want to be heard and be listened to. I want to get accepted. I want to get a scholarship this time. I want to be partially self-sufficient during my college years. I want to go to that uni. I want to attend that uni. I want to graduate from that uni... so bad. . . . At the same time, however, at the back of my mind where my stinging awareness of the reality resides, I question whether that could even be possible-- because the chances of it working out seems a little too slim to be optimistic about in this current reality. There's an imagined future situation where I don't even get in and/or our home situation worsens. Another one has me getting in but not being able to go (again) with or without the current home situation. Another one still, is where I fall in a lucid pit of anxiety due surrounded by my rejection letters and in strained patience waiting for other results. And yet another one is where I do get in (favourably) but end up feeling guilty and in a struggle of conscience because attending would mean leaving whether or not the situation at home brightens or not. What are the odds that we end up in a win-win? I don't know if it's my muddled-state-of-thoughts-and-anxious-mood-that-prevents-me-from-seeing-things-in-a-greater-picture-and-missing-out-on-the-details-that-ultimately-make-the-situation-that I'm-in-not-as-dire-as-it-seems-in-my-mind talking but my mind tends to think that a win-win result out of this mess is a probability of 1 in 14,000,605.
And that had basically been my mood for the past few weeks and fuck damn, I feel a bit better letting some of it out. I'm still smiling you know, and manage not to cry (too much). I don't know whether that's helping or prepping me up for a breakdown later because let's be honest, sometimes, being "in control of your emotions" isn't really a good thing. I pray every single night too and legit believe that whatever happens, happens and would serve a purpose in the future even if that purpose doesn't get realised 'til years later. Praying is keeping me a percentage amount of sane and calm too. . . . Anyways, the videos below are some gospel songs that I accidentally listened to thanks to my mom's nightly habit of leaving YouTube open at night and on auto-play. I honestly haven't heard the below songs in a long while but I'm so glad I got to hear them again especially in the lurid state I was sinking into because of the not-so-good bombs I got subjected to today. I'd like to believe that me accidentally listening to these songs tonight aren't much of accidents--- but divine reminders not to lose faith... not ever. the lines highlighted in green ARE REPRESENTATIVE TO WHAT I'M FEELING RIGHT NOW. Oh what I would do to have The kind of faith it takes to climb out of this boat I'm in Onto the crashing waves To step out of my comfort zone To the realm of the unknown where Jesus is And He's holding out his hand But the waves are calling out my name and they laugh at me Reminding me of all the times I've tried before and failed The waves they keep on telling me Time and time again, "Boy, you'll never win!" "You'll never win" But the voice of truth tells me a different story And the voice of truth says, "Do not be afraid!" And the voice of truth says, "This is for My glory" Out of all the voices calling out to me I will choose to listen and believe the voice of truth Oh what I would do to have The kind of strength it takes to stand before a giant With just a Sling and a stone Surrounded by the sound of a thousand warriors Shaking in their armor Wishing they'd have had the strength to stand But the giant's calling out my name and he laughs at me Reminding me of all the times I've tried before and failed The giant keeps on telling me Time and time again, "Boy, you'll never win!" "You'll never win" But the voice of truth tells me a different story And the voice of truth says, "Do not be afraid!" And the voice of truth says, "This is for My glory" Out of all the voices calling out to me (Calling out to me) I will choose to listen and believe the voice of truth But the stone was just the right size To put the giant on the ground And the waves they don't seem so high From on top of them looking down I will soar with the wings of eagles When I stop and listen to the sound of Jesus Singing over me But the voice of truth tells me a different story And the voice of truth says, "Do not be afraid!" And the voice of truth says, "This is for My glory" Out of all the voices calling out to me I will choose to listen and believe I will choose to listen and believe the voice of truth I will listen and believe I will listen and believe the voice of truth I will listen and believe Because Jesus you are the voice of truth And I will listen to you You are... (SOURCE: CLICK HERE) From where I'm standing Lord it's so hard for me to see Where this is going And where You're leading me I wish I knew how All my fears and all my questions Are gonna play out In a world I can't control Oh, oh When I'm lost in the mystery To You my future is a memory Cause You're already there You're already there Standing at the end of my life Waiting on the other side And You're already there You're already there Oh, oh, oh, oh From where You're standing Lord, You see a grand design That You imagined When You breathed me into life And all the chaos Comes together in Your hands Like a masterpiece Of Your picture perfect plan When I'm lost in the mystery To You my future is a memory Cause You're already there You're already there Standing at the end of my life Waiting on the other side And You're already there You're already there One day I'll stand before You And look back on the life I've lived I can't wait to enjoy the view And see how all the pieces fit [x2] One day I'll stand before You And look back on the life I've lived Cause You're already there You're already there When I'm lost in the mystery To You my future is a memory Cause You're already there You're already there Standing at the end of my life Waiting on the other side And You're already there You're already there You are already there (SOURCE: CLICK HERE) I was sure by now
God, you would have reached down And wiped our tears away Stepped in and saved the day But once again, I say "Amen," and it's still raining As the thunder rolls I barely hear your whisper through the rain "I'm with you" And as your mercy falls I raise my hands and praise the God who gives And takes away And I'll praise you in this storm And I will lift my hands For you are who you are No matter where I am And every tear I've cried You hold in your hand You never left my side And though my heart is torn I will praise you in this storm I remember when I stumbled in the wind You heard my cry to you And raised me up again My strength is almost gone How can I carry on If I can't find you But as the thunder rolls I barely hear your whisper through the rain "I'm with you" And as your mercy falls I raise my hands and praise the God who gives And takes away And I'll praise you in this storm And I will lift my hands For you are who you are No matter where I am And every tear I've cried You hold in your hand You never left my side And though my heart is torn I will praise you in this storm I lift my eyes unto the hills Where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord The maker of Heaven and Earth I lift my eyes unto the hills Where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord The maker of Heaven and Earth And I'll praise you in this storm And I will lift my hands For you are who you are No matter where I am And every tear I've cried You hold in your hand You never left my side And though my heart is torn I will praise you in this storm Though my heart is torn (Though my heart is torn) I will praise you in this storm (Praise you in this storm) (SOURCE: CLICK HERE) There were a significat amount of times during this past year wherein my anxiety cells seem to be turned off during the times when it should be on its peak capacity. Let's say a worrying situation arises, as they happened to have done an unusual number of times during this past year in particular, and being the worrier that I am. I know it in my guts that this situation should make me anxious. I should be trembling in fear right now. I should be crying. In some of those situations, the implications of the "would-be" negative situation should be enough to veer me into a panic attack wherein half of my body starts going pale and numbs against feeling.
It is unusual because in a few other occasions wherein the situation (in hindsight) was less imminent than the ones I'm trying to imply, I tended to suffer from all the symptoms I just described. As a hypothetical example, let's say I was afraid of getting any type of wounds on my skin because I scar easily. Therefore, I would be careful around new books in case I get a paper cut, as well as with the kitchen knife when I'm cooking. However, comparing my anxiety levels on the possibility of getting hurt on both situations, I feel more anxious around paper than I do when working the knife while cooking. It doesn't make sense really especially when I'm well aware that a knife injury would be much more severe than a paper-cut. It doesn't make sense how careful I act around paper while be casually relaxed cutting vegetables in the kitchen. It's almost like I know for a fact that nothing bad is going to happen with the kitchen knife. I'm somehow sure of it. On the other hand, I don't feel any of that reassurance working with paper and that is why I am anxious-- even if/when I do get a paper-cut, it probably wouldn't be serious enough to result in an overgrown scar. It's perplexing, really, but, to be honest, during those times in the previous year wherein a huge anxiety-causing situation appeared-- nothing horrendously bad happened, as if proving my gut feeling of there being no need to feel anxiety, right. Sure, during some of those times, things did not go as planned and/or things fell short but never did any of them result in the absolute worst-case scenario that my mind is good at conjuring up even for the smallest of anxieties. My gut feeling was actually right?! Fascinating. However, I'd like to think of it more that maybe, it's divine intervention, in a way something of a wholesome prank from God. And like truly wholesome pranks, they are designed to spur someone into action and to alleviate a reaction whilst not really harming nor injuring the participant in a severe way. Sure, as the pranked, you might get soiled and maybe suffer a cut or two but alive and well nonetheless. . . . Now, another possible knife-cut situation has arisen but once again, I don't feel as anxious as my rational brain tells me I should be. I'm strangely calm and clear-headed. It's weird but I'm not complaining. For a normie, I don't really know how pondering this rhetorical question will benefit me in any way but I have been having this thought since the weekend of the concert: What if I were to become famous? Would it be a dream come true or would I wish I just stayed being No One for the rest of my life? I play music. I'm not a genius nor am I exceptionally talented but I play as a hobby and I usually enjoy grabbing opportunities to perform. I sing-ish: which just basically means that on some days I'm like, "Wow, if I sound like this now, what more if I had training?", while on other days, I'm like, "*******, you sound like a choked-up fish." Anyways, the point is, I have creativity-based hobbies that which if I pursued seriously and/or by fateful luck could earn me fame. I've fantasised about it surely, I mean, who wouldn't want to be looked up to, praised and recognised? I do too. Whether anonymously or while bearing my real name, I, too, have dreamed of becoming famous... to an extent. What if I were to become famous? Would it be a dream come true or would I wish I just stayed being No One for the rest of my life? . . . My answer right now would be: I'd like to be famous too, but maybe not famous-famous. . . . Erm, let me explain: The main thing that comes to mind whenever I think of fame is how it would affect my ability to travel around freely. I love travelling and exploring, and just getting to know and look around places I've never been to before. In gaming, I'm always that one friend who takes her time exploring every single crevice of the map to make sure she "doesn't miss anything" which therefore results in everyone finishing the game early and then discussing it with each other while I cover my ears from all the spoilers as I'm barely mid-way through the play-through (also because I suck at fights). I also would like to be left alone when I'm out having fun with family and friends, and *ehem* someday, when I go out on a date *ehem*. I'm worried about how fame could possibly affect the meaningfulness of my identity and how much I could still control the preservation of my character. I don't know about you but I'd rather only share my stupidity mementos of years gone by with myself or just a select group of friends for nostalgia and laughs by means of Facebook review, and not through articles that which the whole world could simply Google and see. Actually, with the detail in which information about celebrities are easily searchable online, and the fact that so many people want to know those and much more: the idea kind-of terrifies me. Seriously, you can even find the sock size of some celebrity somewhere in the internet. And no, I did not search for it, I just happened to stumble upon the information, for goodness' sake. An example of how absurd fan knowledge about a celebrity could be, there's this fan who even memorises Brendon Urie's first Instagram post's caption and, it made me feel uneasy. Unnecessary as it may be, I have since gone through an Instagram purge of my old, maybe questionable, brought on by teen angst posts, and hipster era cringe-photos. Better safe than sorry. (Why don't you just switch to a private account then? If I did, then how are people gonna know how funny I am? But I thought... nevermind.) In summary, I embrace a certain level of privacy and it's not something I could willingly give up. However, I cannot ignore that there are perks to becoming famous-- those of which I don't feel there is a need for elaboration which is why even after all the points I've said, I still dream of becoming famous. . . . How and why? . . . Well, if I could achieve fame under a pseudonym or through anonymity, then it's... ... until you realise that this is reality and even Hannah Montana wasn't able to maintain that lifestyle forever.
. . . This is reality, kid. Well, I guess I'll worry about fame if/when I get there but right now, I have other things to do... like, cook dinner... Sh** I've been gone for a month and well, that's because I didn't really feel like writing. Sorry, let me rephrase that: nothing I wrote felt right. I knew that keeping this blog updated may or may not aid my university applications and that if I wanted to maintain what little views I have, I have to keep writing-- but, I simply didn't feel like it. No topic seemed interesting enough. No topic seemed just right. I wasn't inspired.
Therefore, it brought me to the question: would it be better for me to continue writing even when at times, my posts could seem monotone and repetitive--as long as I have something to share weekly? Or would it be better if I only wrote occasionally, only when I feel like I have something worth-sharing? It's the age-old: Quantity vs. Quality. Personally, I would choose quality in most situations as I am a very anxious person who constantly worries about whether I've done my best or if I've even done enough-- it doesn't matter how long I spent doing it or how much I've obsessed over it, I still get anxious. Therefore, it's always quality over quantity for me. However, recently, when I was submitting my applications to universities, I included this blog in my list of activities. And, with the link to this blog included in my application, it wouldn't be surprising if admissions officers at least check this blog out. My worry, therefore, is whether they would care more about how often I post (if whether they'd just glance through the website) or what I write about (in the case that they read a few posts, instead of having a quick scroll of the site). In the case of the former scenario, wouldn't it be better then for me to post more often, even when I have nothing particularly interesting to say? *sigh* If you're an admission officer and you happen to be reading this, please enlighten me. A year ago, I told my chemistry teacher, "I'm only 18. I hope I've barely even lived past a quarter of my lifetime yet. Whatever happens, happens. I'm too young to think I've already failed." We were talking about exam anxiety and he was trying to reassure us that everything was going to be alright. He was worried, he said, because at that point, we were on the 3rd week of examinations and several students have broken down on several occasions. And when I said that line, he was taken aback. He has mentioned it to me multiple times since then that what I said that day positively shocked him, and that he has since repeated those words to his current students-- much to my slight embarrassment. I would be lying if I said that I wasn't nervous while I said those lines. My friend, who was with us in our conversation, said that I exuded a calm and collected confidence. Little did she know, that on the inside, I was filled with nervous energy. Little did they know that at the time, I realised way too late that I spoke out loud the words that I had only been repeating quietly to myself as an anchor of reassurance as to not to break down. Nonetheless, I believed those words at the time because I wanted to believe in it.
Now, whenever I try to do something, it just doesn't work out. It fails before I even get to work on it. It's like having the brakes slammed before I even turn the key but the brake-slamming is not done by me and no matter how hard I push back against my seat in order to firmly press on the accelerator, the force on the brakes are stronger than me. ![]() Frustrating is an understatement because to be honest, eff tap, tap, tapping on the glass. I'm not Evan Hansen, I have been pounding on the glass, and I have been using reflectors to grab the attention of anyone and everyone on the other side of that damn window. Now, why nobody else seems to notice my efforts is beyond me but I don't plan on stopping, yet. Honestly, I was crying when I began to write this post because I felt miserable from getting rejected, yet again, for the 3rd time this month. However, now, I just feel wronged. If you're wondering, I was just told that there are no more seats available in a language course I have been waiting for since October 2017. Not to sound entitled or anything but their website said "First come, first serve," and so, in my determination, I had a stake-out on their website until the forms were available. I filled out the forms in a jiffy and sent them back immediately, on the day they were released. Why I was put on a different class (not the one I applied for), then when I brought it to their attention, put on the waiting list of the class I actually applied for, and then ultimately told that they have no more seats available for me, is beyond me. "I'm only 18. I hope I've barely even lived past a quarter of my lifetime yet. Whatever happens, happens. I'm too young to think I've already failed." At the beginning of this post, as I mentioned, I was feeling very down. My gap year, so far, well, let's just say that it didn't go as I planned at all. When I was offered a place for an internship, I couldn't go because of transportation issues. Whenever I wanted to participate and volunteer to events, some of them, only occurring once a year, to most of them, again, I could not go. When I was told that I would be going to Singapore where transportation won't be an issue anymore and where opportunities, such as the ones I mentioned, are more abundant-- again, I was not able to go. Universities, I've filled out so many forms and spent a couple hundreds already on application fees, and yet, I still don't know where I am going to study this Fall. At times, I even worry and fear that I may not have anywhere to enroll to for this Fall. I've hunted down activities, searched for opportunities that curve around my limitations, and the language course was one of them because finally, its timing might be tight but it nonetheless fits the schedule-- only to be turned down yet again. I have been vocally assured by many people, including myself, that "it's not the end of the world yet," and that "everything's going to be alright, just have faith." These do not define who you are, they say. Then... what defines me? Words fail. At the beginning of this post, I was feeling very down. I needed to express my misery but the more I wrote and thought about it, I just became angry. Words failed me. No matter how enthusiastic I made myself sound, how interested I expressed myself-- and even on the times when I almost pleaded the world to just give me a chance and give me the opportunities I deeply hoped for, I still failed. But, I only failed to them. I haven't failed to myself yet. If anything, I'm only as determined as ever now. Call it stubborn, if you will, but... "I'm not Evan Hansen. I will pound, pound, pound into that glass until it breaks. And, I won't just be waving through the window to grab people's attention. I'll go through the window and wave my hands right in front of their faces." I consider myself a pretty good friend, honestly. When you need to ask a question, just drop me a text. If the type of help you need requires my physical presence, I will go to you. And if I can't, I will be there with you in spirit by sending you gifs of myself making a fool out of myself. I can and I will give up something/one *ehem* even a crush *ehem* if you wanted it. I am a pretty good friend BUT... I'm not a great friend. The key point is that if you need me, I'll be there, but during the times that you don't, it could be as if I vanished off of the face of the Earth. Period. And that's what makes me a good friend but not a great friend. I don't really have a solid excuse as to why this happens, it just does. I guess part of the reason could be because small talk is something I'm not particularly skilled at. During the times that I do gather the courage to strike up a conversation, I often find myself struggling to keep the conversation going. And because of that, I've become slightly... afraid? Afraid that my initiated conversations and awkward jokes are unwelcome and unanticipated? And so these days I just lurk and wait until you need me for something again or maybe you just thought about me and genuinely wondered how I was doing. At the very least, I hope you at least haven't forgotten about me. ![]() Well, at least I could always depend on my stuffed animals who are all individually named, whose family registries are accounted for, and are animated inside mine and my sister's imagination with each toy having their own complex personalities, quirks, and background stories that all intertwine to create an elaborate world that only my sis and I know about. If you're curious, I might write about it in the future, haha. ~_^ That had been a bit emo, lol. I actually thought about this post after meeting up with a friend last Wednesday. We were talking about how our old group of friends had been and whether either of us have been keeping in touch with each individual member of that group. And then, she said, "I actually don't think that the quality of a friendship depends on the amount of times you talk to the person within a span of time." I thought about that for a bit before agreeing and then I added, "I guess you could also say that the quality of a friendship could also be gauged through how awkward/unnatural a conversation goes whenever you do talk again."
I just thought about it because I do have some friends whom I, at times, don't talk to for weeks but then when I finally do, I could just skip the small talk and laugh with them about something I found hilarious. To be honest, I used to feel so guilty about the whole disappearing act I did, especially after a friend pointed it out two years ago that I often disappear from social media during school breaks. After that and until just a few months ago, I tried striking up chats with friends whom I haven't talked to for maximum 2 weeks. As expected, the chats ended up mostly small talk, and then nothing-- and the cycle repeated when I message them again after some time. After I got exhausted with the cycle, I shrank back into my old habit of disappearing for self-reflection and just to see how many people would notice my disappearance. I can't say I was shocked when there was close to none but still, that wasn't really the point I realised. I realised that some of the people I've been trying so hard to maintain connections with don't even initiate a conversation with me (some not even ever, unless they needed something) or wonder about how I'm doing, when I'm not the one striking up that conversation with them. As one friend sadly told me one day after I struck a conversation with them genuinely wondering how they were, "Do you need something from me?" . . . . . . . Tbh, ouch. I have commitment issues. Seriously. But, I won't be talking about people in this post (that would be for laterz). This time, I'm talking about my commitment to routines-- and it's pretty bad. I'm a very, VERY emotional person. I snort cry from happiness. I silent cry when I'm sad. I ugly cry when I get mad. And, I cry myself to sleep at night... because damn, Webtoons these days. Worst of all, what comes with my emotion is volatility. In simple words, I get into a LOT of mood swings. I get moments of sheer highs and sheer lows (the optimum times to be writing a blog post, just kidding). I know that that sounds very much like the bipolar disorder but as a PSA, please refrain from labeling yourself with a mental illness because it is never a good idea. Even if you think that a DSM entry "perfectly" describes your feelings, you're not a psychiatrist. Don't self-diagnose. Going back to the topic, most of my commitment plans are made during those sheer highs. It could be a result of a sudden conviction to change something. Or, other times, it could be a result of an existential crisis session after which I feel like I'm on a race against time to do/become something worthwhile. (Refer to my New Year blog post, and you'll understand what I'm talking about.) After committing myself to an idea, I usually give it my all, and all at once. I could spend almost 15 hours working on that idea during the first 24 hours. And I try to keep it up as much as I can for as long as I can (usually 3 days to a week) before I'm completely drained and exhausted. That's when the lows kick in. During those lows, I just become generally less excited than I had been the week before. While I know that results don't come in a flash and that growth is exponential, the self-defeating thoughts unfailingly come after that initial excitement. Usually, I am able to fight them off by reminding myself of the real purpose of my goal. For example, I made this blog for the sole intention of sharing my thoughts whether people read it or not. It's also like a journal for me, reminding myself of events in the past like a scrapbook, in digital millennial-style. Okay, so what's the problem? The good thing is that I've never given up on a personal goal. Postponed, re-evaluated, and tweaked, probably-- but, I'm too stubborn to just give up on something. The bad thing is that I can sometimes take forever to actually work towards that goal-- and when I do work on it, I work in short but extreme outbursts. In short, I'm inconsistent.. but I always get it done. . . . . . This has been an apology for the overdue emptiness of my reviews pages and travel journals. Huehue. I am working on it though, so please just hang a bit longer. Sorting out pictures take up a large amount of time (especially since it's years worth of mess that I'm trying to categorise). But, no more excuses, it will be there soon so for now, byee!
In light of the recent happening at the Philippine counterpart of the popular, multi-country talent Got Talent franchise, Pilipinas Got Talent, I found myself asking: Were Robin Padilla's action justified? Or were they necessary, at least? And to top it all off, this incident hit very close to home as, I, myself, am an expatriate at a foreign country, the UAE, and have been so for quite a lengthy amount of time. However, until now, I am not capable of holding a conversation in Arabic. Therefore, have I neglected my social responsibility to the language? Or can my situational reasoning make up for its lack thereof? Unfortunately, the video above does not have English subtitles available so for my non-Filipino readers (and for those who didn't even bother to watch the whole thing), here's a quick summary of what happened. Jiwan Kim auditioned as a magician at Pilipinas Got Talent. During the initial interview, we find out that Jiwan has been living as an expat in the Philippines for 10 years; and, he has a Filipina girlfriend. That's all well and good until he asks Judge Robin Padilla to be the participant in his magic trick attempt. At first, Robin refuses for he insists that Jiwan should speak Tagalog as he is, afterall, in Pilipinas Got Talent. Jiwan eventually gets to perform the magic trick, however, with the help of Judge Angel Locsin who translates his words to Tagalog so that he can use them to speak to Robin. After the performance and before the Yes/No voting started, Robin expressed his apologies to how harsh he might've sounded, saying that it was just a disciplining act 'from father to son'. He even goes on to praise Jiwan for being able to perform under pressure. And with that, Jiwan was accepted onto the next round after a Yes from 3 out of 4 judges. And no, that no did not come from Robin, but from Judge Freddie M. Garcia (commonly referred to as simply Judge FMG). As expected, the incident blew up online and many criticised Robin for being "racist and rude". The audition video (posted above) is also now trending on Youtube. WHEW! That was a lot, but here's more. Now that I've introduced to you the situation, I want to dissect the incident further to determine whether the reactions presented in this event are rightfully justified or simply unnecessary. Point #1: Language Being the nerdy kid that I am, you bet that I have a few opinions about how the language used in the exchange affected the whole incident. And no, I'm not talking about the use of Filipino vs. English but rather the use of tone and loaded language, etc. Let's get technical:
point#2: Live humiliation The main reason people had for the online backlash on Judge Robin Padilla was that his 'fatherly scolding' humiliated Jiwan Kim in front of a packed audience, as well as television viewers at home. Personally, I thought it was unnecessary. That's that. I've found a few people online who agree with me on this point and they commented that such a thing could have just been done backstage. Why did it have to be broadcast to everyone? It's not like he committed a crime or any major act of delinquency. In fact, for anyone who's unlike me and reads way too much into someone else's words, he'd have done nothing wrong at all. So, was it necessary for him to be humiliated live? . . . Perhaps, yes. While writing this post, I opened up the topic with a friend of mine, explained to her what had happened, and shared with her these, my opinions on the topic. And, she was actually the one who told me the answer to the question above. She said, "I'm assuming that partially, he (Robin) would make it such a big deal for more publicity, everyone loves a little heat and drama." Ahhh yes, whilst getting triggered over this whole event, I forgot that PGT isn't live and all the auditions that occur aren't shown on TV. Let's say that Judge Robin's reaction had been genuine and not, perhaps, scripted, the production company could have just edited the scene out, in order to avoid more "drama" with more people reacting on the situation. But no, Jiwan's full audition had been shown both on TV and uploaded online on PGT's official YouTube account. In retrospect, are we, the netizens, the ones getting played here? the verdict Judge Robin Padilla's reaction had been justified to an extent but was unnecessary regardless. Check back to Point #1 and that's pretty much my main argument to justify Judge Robin's actions. And just a small point to add, it wouldn't have been extremely difficult for Jiwan to learn a few Tagalog phrases for his audition. His trick was simple enough to be spoken in Tagalog if he tried. Even without Robin's reaction, speaking broken Tagalog could've earned him a few brownie points to impress the judges and the audience even more. However, at the end of the day, if I didn't nit-pick on Jiwan's language, I wouldn't have much to work with as to explaining how and why he had to endure such humiliation. I just think that the 'scolding could've been done differently, nicely. As petty a detail as Jiwan's question, "Robin, can I use you?" that's the only moment that which I thought was a direct cause of Robin's actions. . . . ... but hey, it's just a theory, a tv show theory!... and, cut!... It absolutely does not help that I write most of my blog posts within the wee hours of 2:00 to 5:00 AM because then there would be times that my post would be about absurd things such as that ^^^ Well, to let the cat out of the bag early, I didn't really have this 3 AM thought recently. I actually had it a few months ago but I am only posting about it now because I saw some notes I made about it while fishing through my notebook for something else. Okay, so, on with the story! Now, I don't exactly remember what triggered it but one night, I apparently thought, "hey, since we (humans, assuming you are one too) drown underwater due to lack of gaseous oxygen. Then, if the same principle applies, fish must drown when introduced to our environment of gaseous oxygen as opposed to dissolved oxygen!" If that didn't make sense to you, well it did to me in my few days of enlightenment until Google ruined it for me... but more on that later on. Okay, so, I was obviously overjoyed. Huzza! I am a genius! A philosophy queen! I bet not many people have thought of that before! Boo-yah! I slept on it. I posted about it. I mulled it over for a few days (without googling it). And at that time, I was preparing at least two university applications and so I thought that I would develop it and incorporate it into my personal essays to show that I'm cool and quirky and innovative and creative and that they should probably accept me (please, anybody) because I just had a Eureka moment that would turn the science world on its head. I shit you not, I made a brainstorming map, as well as already started writing a few drafts about it because I was INEVITABLY convinced that this was the essay topic that would make admissions officers love me! But then, I realised I was a dumbass. When I make essays, or even just simple things like blog posts (which nobody reads) and I write about a specific something that opens up the possibility of misinformation on my part, I consult Google. And thank goodness, I do that because I almost showed admissions officers the dumbass that I truly am.
Before I reveal the truth, here are a few things that I discovered when I simply, confidently googled the phrase "fish can drown":
P.S. I ended up choosing another topic for those essays but don't be mistaken, I also had other reasons for not going through with it. I may still use it for the applications I'm yet to send out so, who knows? It was January 1, the first day of the year, and I was feeling very change-y (I dub thee 'change-y' as an official word in no one's dictionary starting today.) The night was young at 11:55 PM and in those last 5 minutes before the day expired, I was determined starting off the fresh year with a bang. And so voila! After a year and a half-long abstinence from high-maintenance hairstyles starting in mid-2016, I was craving to try on something new. You see, before that period, I was rather experimental with my hair. 6 months was the longest duration in which I would keep a style before moving on to the next one. I've had layers-- all types of them from semi-layers to just layers on the front to choppy layers, you name it. I've enjoyed long hair and all the types of braids you could do with it; medium hair and all its fun half-dos; and short hair which is simply awesome after a brief blow-dry. I've had my fair share of fun in hair colour too. Reds, pinks, and orange (mostly just variations of warm tones because the colour choice here in the UAE is very limited, as well as, fade out way too easily) streaky highlights that were strategically hidden in my mop of hair was my take on edginess and teenage rebellion. And finally, to top off every look, I've always had fringes. I've tried side bangs; baby bangs; covering-one-eye bangs; choppy, emo bangs; blunt bangs; and, middle-parted bangs.
In 2016, however, when my bangs grew too long, I just decided to fully grow them out and maintain a simple bob haircut-- the type that did not require any styling, whatsoever. You just take a shower and go. I honestly did not even comb my hair anymore, and then, I was too distracted with IB to care. So, it's 2018! I... forgot to write a New Year's Resolution. Apologies? Anyways, list or no list, what's important is to actually go through with your goals and pursue them consistently. I, personally, am not one to talk. I have broken quite a bit of that consistency ever since the winter break started. Comfort food, galore; and exercise, naught. I haven't picked up my guitar as well for almost two weeks now. I've slacked back on my Duolingo streaks. And, it's 2018 and I still don't have finished drafts of my webcomics-- much less, a maintainable and easy art style (for the challenged). AND SO, I'm writing my hopes for the new year below impromptu, and, let's make it public in hopes that doing so would actually help me stick to my goals. So, without further ado, here are the things that I want to focus on, this 2018: 1. Health and Well-being:
2. Languages: (NOTE: I did not use google translate for the following, mind you.)
3. Music:
4. Writing:
Side Note: Wow, I seem to write a lot of "to be continued in another post"s... Hmmm... Happy Holidays! Whether you celebrate Christmas or not, I sincerely do hope that you have a wonder-filled day spent with loved ones-- whether that be family, friends, or your 27 cats. ![]() Well, as for me, I am still here in Abu Dhabi. My dad is now in Abu Dhabi, too. I CALLED IT, after the 3rd time we got offloaded, I effing called it. Anyways, I am glad and thankful that we get to spend Christmas together. Before this post gets too long, I would just like to send a message across. Christmas is a time for giving and being thankful for all of the things you have received. Despite knowing that, it took me some time to realise that in life, you don't only receive good things but also bad things but both you should be equally thankful for. (Oooh, there must be a story there...) Oh yes, dear reader, indeed there is; but that's a story for another time. Enjoy your holidays! Give lots of love, and give it unconditionally. Practice gratitude. AND, remember to eat lots of food while it is still sweater weather and you can still hide that food baby bump under all that clothing layers and poofy sweaters. Next Up... The New Year's Resolution to never eat that much again... at least until Christmas 2018. Yes, you have read it right. I am still, as I write this, in UAE soil. What happened, you may ask? Why didn't I write a blog post for last Monday? And why am I writing this on a Friday instead of a Thursday? Tssk, tssk, tssk, my friend. We got offloaded again yesterday... for the third time. Well, I'm not exactly surprised. Firstly, it's the peak season. Second, we're on discounted tickets so we're the airlines least priority. Third, it's the peak season. Fourth, there is only one flight from AUH to SIN per day. Fifth, it's the peak season. Sixth, the flight to Singapore uses a relatively small commercial plane. Seventh, and lastly, it's the peak season. At this point, it's still up for discussion whether we're trying again on Christmas Eve and Christmas day itself since those days might be less busier than now. If not, I guess we're spending the holidays here in the UAE. Also, I don't know yet when I am moving to Singapore since this happened. As I mentioned before on my previous post, getting offloaded is both disappointing and relieving. Disappointing for obvious reasons (I really miss Koi and Chicken Rice); and also relieving because I have more time to spend with my fam here in Abu Dhabi, as well as Arima :) One thing is for sure though, I am sick and tired of having McDonald's for dinner almost everyday for the past week of going back and forth from the airport. We don't have food in the fridge since we can't leave anything that can rot during the time that we'll be gone, and a diet based on packaged bread just won't cut it for me anymore. McDonald's is the nearest food chain to our house (since we live in the desert) and so that's what we've been eating for the past few days. I want real food so bad. I miss cooking and eating what I cook T_T A special shoutout to my uncle who drove us to and from the airport during two of those times we got offloaded, and also for buying us lunch the next day. T_T
First of all, I want to apologise for the untimely updates, as well as for the delayed maintenance of the other parts of the blog. Like you, I want to have it finished as soon as possible, as well, and so, please be patient everybody! No one will get it together! I am currently busy with two things: preparing college applications (whose deadline is deadly close, yikes) and preparing for the Big Move-- which is a series of interrelated posts which starts with this one. Now, without further ado, here is the first installment of the Big Move. I am about to reach a new story arc in this life of mine... I'm moving to Singapore! I have mixed feelings about it. I love Abu Dhabi and absolutely love living here but unfortunately, willpower cannot drive me to where opportunities for productivity are. I'm a gap year student and part of the reason why I even decided to take a year off was so that I could do things to build up my portfolio e.g. partaking in internships, attending workshops, volunteering, and so on. I've been to some volunteering stuff since September but mostly, I've been at home. A lot of opportunities are either in the city, available during weekdays, or both. I do not drive and riding a taxi everyday is way too costly (a roundtrip ride would probably cost 150 AED a day-- and that's just to a location in the city and from my house so that excludes the transpo money I'd need to travel to and from places within the city, as well as my daily lunch money). In my defense, I did try to be productive as much as I can right in the comfort of home. A prime example would be this blog. A second example would be my managing of our AirBnB listing back home. A less glamorous but equally important way I stayed productive was being my family's all-around house help which can be pretty neat when I get to aid in their relaxation process after a long day of school/work. It's just a little payback for my fam having my back throughout IB when I had an average of 3 meltdowns per day. During those days, especially the later months of Year 12, I did the bare minimum in house chores, and even less during weekdays. I also just lived on my desk, practically, until food was ready; and, my parents made sure that I had a rich assortment of snacks to choose from (because I tended to either not eat or stress eat whenever I was in study mode). Besides, I've been the official house cook since my gap year and I love it. Being in charge of the kitchen means that you get first choice in choosing what you wanted to eat that day depending on what you're craving. You also get to experiment on the flavours and create some exciting combinations. Ahhhhhh, I love cooking! Anyways, I've ranted plenty already but hadn't mentioned anything related to the title of this post. Anyways, last night was our supposed flight to Singapore but we got offloaded! Since our plane tickets are standby tickets, we had to wait for an announcement of available seats in our intended flight. And so, we arrived at the airport 3 hours early, got our names registered and proceeded to wait. About 45 minutes before the flight, we were told that there weren't any available seats and to come back tomorrow (which is today). It was a bummer but I had mixed emotions about the whole thing. I was a bit disappointed because I've dressed up; I've stressed myself out plenty while packing up to the last minute before going to the airport because I'm afraid I might forget to bring something important or maybe reach Singapore and after opening my luggage, realise that all the clothes I brought made for the worst outfit combinations (a real nightmare); (related to the previous point) not bringing enough clothes, then having to reexamine said clothes because I literally could not close my luggage zippers anymore. On the other hand, I was, in some ways relieved because 1) waiting got me hungry af and after being offloaded, I was just glad that I could finally go to McDonald's and grab a bite, or two, or three-- a burger-sized bite each; 2) I could see Arima again. Honestly, I got so emotional about half an hour before leaving the house because the realisation suddenly hit me that I wouldn't be able to see Arima for the next couple of months. Sure, he peed on my bed occasionally which forced me to share a bed with someone in the fam for the night, or if I'm not so lucky, sleep on the floor (which I have done, I shit you not. It was damn cold and was not a very pleasant experience). Sure, he topples over every tra0-- (Arima just walked over my zaa OP990 As I was saying... sure, he topples over every trash bin in the house and expects you to clean up after him without even getting mad and just forgive him immediately for no apparent reason aside from being a cutie-ass who plays a game of fetch with you using Q-tips-- and you fall for it, knowingly, every time. Sure, he just casually walks over my keyboard while I'm typing and disrupts my work (Exhibit A: See the emboldened text on the previous paragraph), occasionally, almost deleting something I've been working on for the past hour. But, I love that cat. He's an asshole. He's a jerk. But, I love that cat. And, I sure as heck would miss him when I move to Singapore. :( Exhibit B: Here are some pictures of Arima in full jerk form while I was trying to write this blogpost.
Organisers, journals, calendars, alarms (lots of them), timelines (quite a few of them), neatly labeled files put in their corresponding folders, folders for everything, actually-- I may have a slight obsession with organisation tools.
My closet, book collection, and pens are all stored by category. I have several notebooks for different purposes (one for blogging, one for creative writing, one for college applications, etc.) My computer photo albums are all organised by date, event, and relevance. And yet... I always find myself doing the majority of my work on the days/hours approaching the deadline. I often find it hard to stick to one idea, constantly scratching the previous one after thinking of something "better". I become restless and couldn't stick to a set routine for long. In short, I am chaotically organised whose self is organised chaotically. . . . Now, I don't know what else to write, I've completely lost my train of thought on what point I wanted to make in this post and now I'm just rambling... Do you get me? Someone must know the answer but no one doesn't. Is it worth the hype? I, for one, do not have an answer to that question. In fact, with confidence, I could say that I have never fallen in love. Sorry to hype you up. However, I had been having some very philosophical thoughts about love, relationships, and attraction for the past few weeks-- and a good portion of them, cynical (without meaning to). To my ever so judging mind, love is as impractical as it is terrifying. It is terrifying because I have heard stories, both fictional and in real life, of people taking risks and downright questionably nonsensical things "in the name of love". I heard that love can be blinding and manipulative like that. With those things, I feel the urge to ask, "Is anyone sure love is not a euphemism for the deadliest virus known to man?" Is the potential happiness and life satisfaction one might get from the act of falling or being in love worth it? I don't know, don't ask me. At any case, it may very well be that I am just paranoid and read too much crime fiction. As a general outlook, I have a tendency to become annoyed at feelings I couldn't properly wrap a leash around. You can just tell I don't sit in well with Freudian psychology and his whole subconscious desires biz. On the flipside of the coin, and rather representative of my conflicting personality, I am possibly the most hopeless romantic in my close group of friends (added emphasis on hopeless). No matter how cold-hearted I may have sounded in the last paragraph (which I am told I can very well be upon occasional situations such as first meetings), I have a very weak heart for emotions and sentiments. Sad movie scenes always get me; no matter how bad they are. Don't even get me started on animal deaths... those are the worst (but that's for another post). I may have a wishlist(s) stashed somewhere describing my ideal soulmate along with scenarios of happily ever afters (but I obviously don't, what am I, five?) I may also have some daytime musings about getting pursued and courted by that one person who only exists in my dreams (why?) For that imaginary person, maybe, just maybe, I would be willing to compromise some impracticality (please see: paragraph 2). It's a romantic thought, nonetheless. It makes me want to barf at myself. At any case, I am as single as I can be at the moment and it's not something I despise. There's nothing particularly wrong with being single, in my opinion. To add that I have many more things I'd like to focus on first and if somewhere along the path of doing those things, I stumble upon someone, then why not? Otherwise, I'm in no rush to fall in love; I've waited this long, I don't mind waiting a bit more. If that's what it takes then so be it. Due to both my cynicism and romanticism, I reckon I may have to wait a long time because I don't believe in flings and I especially don't believe in taking love lightly. You're investing time, effort, and possibly, money into that person. They better be somebody whom you have already built a trusting friendship with before even thinking of starting a romantic relationship. Do I sound extra cautious? I do, don't I? Well, such is the case since I lack the experience, and so somebody out there, would you like to be my first? It's me, no one-- and this post is directed to you, Mr. Somebody. 'Unhesitant' always seemed like a temporary-ish blog name to me ever since I started this site. It seemed too serious and stoic; I was aiming for something fun. It seemed cheesy, or rather old-timey but I had no better alternative. I preferred single-worded titles but couldn't think of a word that was unique enough to be non-ubiquitous but common enough to be easily-recognised by most anyone. I wanted a typeable name; not something someone would struggle over spelling.
However, I was itching to start a blog at the time even when I hadn't pinned down a blog name that fit my criteria yet. Hence, I've been writing blog posts under the blog name 'Unhesitant' for about 3 months now until... Rick Riordan made me realise what Tori Kelly had me pondering about. Somewhere in the PJO series, Annabeth disguised herself as "No One" in order to confuse and defeat a cyclops; and as I've been reading the Heroes series lately, I've been reminded of it. On the other hand, Tori Kelly's song "Dear No One" has been a favourite of mine, as well as constantly at the back of my mind, since I've first heard it some months back. So, what exactly is going to change besides the blog title? Well...
For those of you who didn't know (well, how could've anyone? I didn't really post anything about it... moving on...), we moved houses recently. In short, there were boxes everywhere; lots of discoveries of things we didn't know we owned, of things we didn't know why we still had, and of things we didn't even have a use for; lots of dust; lots of cleaning and reorganising, and so on and so forth. AND EVEN WORSE (an absolute nightmare, I tell you), was that the internet connection didn't get installed in our new place until a week after we moved in-- surely makes me wonder how I survived a year without Internet, living in the Philippines in 2010-11.
Anyways, I must say that the lack of Internet provided me with some time to actually work on the things I have procrastinated on doing for so long: organise my photo albums, read books, and brainstorm essay/story/comic ideas. Therefore, watch out for some changes and new updates on this blog that will be coming up soon. Byee! P.S. Apologies, this was more of an update than it was an actual blog post. I'll post a more detailed version of this post later on so be on the lookout for that! Here's another topic that I feel is important to talk about: pressure. A disclaimer; I am not about to provide anyone with some magical formula on defeating the state of being under pressure. Trust me, I would like to come across said formula, myself. Today, I'm going to be focusing on a specific type of pressure and one that which I have suffered a lot from in the past, and still trying to come to terms with today; imaginary expectations. I actually came across that term while watching Elevation Church's video "Pressure Points" on YouTube. Before watching that video, it was something I had dealt with but had no term to label it with. Anyways, according to Steven Furtick, imaginary expectations are things that we think other people expect from us when in reality, they actually don't. It's us neurotically obsessing over every minor detail to avoid any and every misstep that will hinder us from becoming the person our loved ones wanted us to be-- a concept we decided ourselves. Oh, the irony! There's no point hiding the fact that I tend to be an overachiever and a perfectionist. I will not submit a project if it is in a state that does not meet my criteria. I will have all the materials I need at hand on the hours preceding submission; and I will obsess over perfecting it until the very last second of handing it in. In some cases, I have even risked handing in my work late just because it wasn't enough by the time it was due. I have once even acquired the nickname of Miss Perfect in Art Class for my obsession with dimensions. While others did freehand calculations and bordering, I had with me my arsenal of rulers and pencils to make sure that everything was perfectly symmetrical and the focal point, in the dead center. This neurotic work ethic surely paid off. Top marks were in order. Being at the top of the class was inevitable. Essays, research papers, portfolios-- teachers often regarded them as exemplary work and kept them as reference to be shown to other students in other classes about to embark on similar projects. All these made me feel good simply for the fact that it made my parents proud. Knowing that I have behaved myself as someone my parents could be proud of has always been the most euphoric experience for me. However, with every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. In IBDP 1, I received my first taste of dystopia in the form of a chemistry test result. Before handing our results over, our teacher made it clear that he was a bit disappointed about the collective performance of the class on the test. However, there were 5 students that did better than the rest. I listened to each name before realising that none of those had been mine. Sixth... good but not good enough to be on that top 5. In some ways, I regard that test as the catalyst (get it?) to the emotional decline I suffered from in the 2 years that I was in the IBDP. Without going over the details, I felt that every ounce of victory I have achieved throughout MYP lead to the hyper-concentration of failures I have experienced in the IBDP. The distress I felt every day caused by the fear of facing another failure in school actually lead to the fact that I had spent the majority of my Year 12 at home rather than attend school (which is very wrong, please do not copy this behaviour). By the end of IBDP, my neuroticism pulled me through despite all the challenges (internal, mostly such as anxiety, depression, procrastination, self-doubt) and I graduated at the top of my class. However, it was not a satisfying "win". I was not that proud. In fact, I cried for at least three days upon receiving my IBDP results. I scored 30/45, the same score I had gotten on that fated chemistry test. My parents expressed their pride towards my "achievement" and proudly announced to everyone who inquired that I graduated high school with an International Baccalaureate Diploma-- undoubtedly, a fancy term for such a simple-looking paper. However, I was convinced that their outward projection of pride towards me was, in truth, an act of pity to comfort me for failing and was ultimately a farce. To me, the situation was that I may have gotten the diploma but I have not reached the standard expected of myself despite ranking first in my graduating class. And now we go back to the topic of imaginary expectations. I had a talk with my parents recently that made me realise that I even had imaginary expectations. I presume that at some point of the talk regarding university applications, gap year activities, and whatnot, I started talking in the nervous, self-doubting way I did whenever I felt that others overestimated my abilities. That was when my dad told me, "Justine, you know, you only have one problem-- and that is that you think that we think you're a failure when you're the only one who feels that way. We know that you want to make us proud but you think too much about us wanting you to be X and Y when we never even imposed those expectations on you. We are proud of your achievements, why can't you just accept that?" Why can't I just accept that? That made me think, actually. I couldn't accept it because I thought that I had to win all the time. I thought that I had to only bring home the best scores every time. I thought that the only way I could make my parents truly proud was if I could get an IB score in the 40s and get accepted at a top-tier university straight after high school. I thought that since I have not achieved that IB 40s; and although I have gotten accepted to a top-tier university, I was not able to enroll because I did not get offered a scholarship; and thus I am now on a gap year-- I have not reached their expectations and therefore, have not made them proud. But that was it... I thought. Thinking about it now, my parents never actually said that they expected any of those from me; I just assumed they did. I misaligned my own expectations and standards towards myself as theirs of me. For someone who owns a lot of rulers, I surely miscalculated this one. 'How hard could it be?', I thought to myself. 'All you have to do is post pictures of accentuating color schemes and tone (use filters to achieve the effect, if necessary). It could be anything, as long as the schemes match,' was what I deluded myself to believe. Effortless... my ass. Maybe I lacked focus and concentration (probably), I could only stick to a "theme" for a maximum of 3 pictures (which I spend hours upon hours on trying to coordinate). Maybe I don't take enough pictures and so I never have enough that coordinate with each other. Maybe I don't go out to interesting places on a regular basis to actually have plenty of cool shots to showcase (the hard truth, right there). Maybe, I'm just not a good photographer nor artist to actually be decent at creating aesthetics... nahhhhhh, I doubt it 😂. To be honest, as superficial as this whole business is, it bothered me for a while. Everyone else posted great pictures on Instagram that coordinated well with each other. They could pose well in front of the camera. They posted interesting photos of boring and mundane things complete with vague captions and they still looked aesthetic. Aesthetic. Since it bothered me that I couldn't do something that everyone else seem to do on a regular basis, I talked to my friend about it and her response was, "Well, I don't really care. I just post about stuff I love and stuff I want to post. I don't think about whether it looks good or not, it's the memories that I want to share." And those, my dear readers, are words of wisdom. Print it on a shirt and wear it everywhere with the hashtag #Savage. Having said those things, it's pretty clear at this point what the take-away message of this post is. Do not be afraid to be spontaneous. Life is dynamic. Memories are dynamic. Spontaneity rules. Multidimensional rocks. And that is why 3D movies cost more than 2D in the cinema. Be expensive; don't box yourself in (get it? because Instagram photos are like boxes? No? Okay...). SO, have I given up on Instagram aesthetics? I guess so. Will I attempt it again? Hell yeah BUT with my own kind of aesthetics: spontaneous and creative-- like the 'Veni, Vidi, Vici' post I did. Do you still appreciate Instagram aesthetics? Of course, I do. No hate; just because I've given up on it, doesn't mean I have the right to judge people who do it. In fact, tops to those people! I can confirm that that shizz is hard work even when some accounts make it look so effortless like... Look at that consistency! Damn! @soonmoo_cat never disappoints. I'm your no.1 fan! (Let's keep this between us though, okay? I don't want Arima thinking that I'm cheating on him.)
I have a confession to make. I thought I could do this segment weekly but each week, I find myself scratching my head vigorously for new drabble ideas. And more often than not, I feel like I'm just vomiting out nonsensical streams of words in a vain attempt "to drabble". AND EVEN WORSE, my writing has become boring and repetitious. I have managed to post one weekly since starting the blog because truthfully, some of those were things I wrote some time to a long time ago taken from my phone notes, diary, brainstorming notebook, word drafts, and whatnot.
In addition to all that, I have also found myself plagued with ideas on what to post for #FreeThoughtFriday, enough to last for at least the next two months. The major problem is that, some of those ideas stem from events that happened to me recently but since I already have things queued for the following weeks, those ideas would have to be pushed to much later on. By doing that, the post loses its meaning and relevance to what's happening in my life at the moment. If I continue at this state, I feel like I would be forced to write about general floating topics which does not allow me to go in-depth because whatever it is does not relate to my current thinking-state while writing. However, this is not a goodbye to the #WednesdayWritings segment nor an announcement for a halt in blogging activities. The only thing that will change from now on is that I will not be posting drabbles on a weekly basis anymore. It's schedule from here thereon would become more erratic. Instead, I'l be posting normal blog posts (which I used to only post once a week under #FreeThoughtFriday) more often. Consequently, I am still deciding what to do with #FreeThoughtFriday. I'm thinking of either getting rid of it as a segment altogether just because I won't be posting relevant content to it just every Friday any longer, or, changing the type of content that goes under the hashtag-- what change? I don't know yet but something that's enough to distinguish it from my normal posts. In the meantime, I will be blogging with a new schedule, and that's Mondays and Wednesdays. Byee! |
Notes from the author: If you'd like to have a conversation with me about anything I've written in this blog, JoJo's Bizarre Adventure, memes, or anything at all, slide into my DMs at:
![]() ![]() ![]() The cover artwork featured above is used with special permission from IG: @squackoud
Special hashtags to watch out for:*** the following are specialised blog entries that have no set schedule compared to the usual bi-weekly postings.
#WednesdayWritings - drabbles, poetry, prose, short stories--- creative and expressive writing in no one's style.
#ThrowbackThursday - the cringey, the I-did-that? moments, the tear-inspiring, and the embarrassing moments of the past gone by--- available only here so shhhh...
#FreeThoughtFriday - a collection of 3AM thoughts for your collective amusement and might get you asking wtf?!
to see older posts:To view some of my older posts, there is a "previous" button hiding just below the bottom left corner of the last post of this page.
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