After hours of staring at the blank screen, still nada, my brain is just as blank as this page.
But, I have learned some useful tricks to use a dotted journal, makes me excited about getting a dotted notebook.
Oh well, just random pics then:
So, how do we know it is time to move on?
***
Okay, how many times did people read it, but really I am tired of being in the house for so long, I want to go somewhere far and somewhere new with my friends
So, I came up with some possible excuse when I file for that hard earned vacation break
SAWA NA SA PANDEMIC, MAMUMUNDOK
or
HANAPIN NIYO NA LANG AKONG PALUTANG-LUTANG SA DAGAT
or
GUNAW is for real, I am tired of surviving it every single day
or
Seriously, we are still here?!
or
JUST BYE!
My weekend was a roller coaster of emotions.
Barely survived the weekend, but I held on tight to the promise of redemption that ice cream could offer. The fruity bits of mango and avocado flavors got me out of dark mood a little, though I can say that the dairy didn't really sit well with my stomach. So, it was a bloat-y, brooding, dark weekend.
I slept throughout the day. It was punctuated by my visits to the kitchen to get a spoon and bowl for my serving of ice cream. Then to counter the bloating, I made some green tea.
I couldn't help but just melt into my bed.
I wrote some emotional lines in my analog diary, my real notebook, the paper one.
Then reflected on my life.
Then talked with my best friend.
Elfster.
What is the difference between a girl and a woman?
Why is it hard to maintain relationships?
Why is life difficult?
Those kinds of topics.
Then I slept and slept and slept.
Dreamt of so many weird stuff.
Occasionally checking my phone.
Listened to Cooky Chua a lot, on repeat.
She is the embodiment of a woman for me.
Just listen to her sing, she will reveal what a woman is.
Then I had some Regina Spektor songs in the background while I reflect about my relationships.
Then I think about moleskin.
And my pens.
And about my life, about my plans, about my emotions.
Then all of a sudden it is Monday.
“Writing is like driving at night in the fog. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.”
― Writers At Work: The Paris Review Interviews
Agree, 100%
In fact, this has been on repeat in my head for a while now
I just changed the word 'writing' into 'living'
It is like a big dark hole enveloped the whole surrounding, and the only view for me is the part in front that the headlight can cast a light on. All around is just utter darkness.
The situation just forces a person to focus on the present, and just to let go of the past and not to worry about those we can't see anymore.
Oh goodness, everybody knows I am a worrier.
But then I have to push myself to overcome that tendency if I want to survive and to reach my goal.
Steady pace. Keep following the headlight.
Focus.
Faith.
Sometimes, I just want to be a normal daughter, someone that my mom and dad expected me to be, but then again, I cannot and most importantly I am not. I really believe that there is nothing wrong with me, that I am just really a normal woman/daughter, but for them, I am terribly rebellious. Aside from that, for them I am taking a lot of time to get settled, like any other normal woman should be around this time of their lives. Perhaps they picture me to have my own family where I get to have a husband and children, in my own house having my own career. They have been pushing me before and even until now, but not so much as forceful push as years ago, now, they have the wisdom to just gently ask me about my long-term plans. I used to resent those times when they sit me down for their unsolicited advise, why would they push me into a mold that I am not made to fit? I don't really understand that.
They must be really just after my own good, but by that principle, don't they realize that they are imposing their own view of life on me? Don't they realize that I have my very own view of life and that I know how I should live it as I see fit. Maybe I sometimes fail to see where they are coming from, but do they even take time to find out where I am coming from?
I have my stubborn streak, yes I know and that's a valid observation. I also realize what having 'own family' means. I see my old classmates settle in their own houses, with their spouse and kids. I sometimes think that's good, they know what they want from life. That's good, they really have the long-term goal set for them in their lives. But it is not how I see my life. It is not what I want in my life.
However, not wanting to have the 'normal life' doesn't necessarily mean to have no long-term goal. Oh I really beg to disagree because I have a lot of long-term plans in my life. I have goals for the long haul.
I just really want my parents to see that I am doing fine even if I have different goals in life. That I am a caring and a loving daughter even though I would rather spend more time observing and exploring than settling down. Besides, since I am single I have more time to devote to them, don't they see it? Don't they see the benefit of having me in their house and that I can be wherever they want me to be because I don't have my 'own family' that I may need to prioritize over them. I just hope they appreciate my role for them from time to time because it is also exhausting, but of course, I won't ever give up on them because they are my parents. I know they deserve more from me but I do really try to provide it, even though it may come in small measures.
I have been reading the book Griffin and Sabine lately, and
once again I am captivated by its timeless ingenuity in marrying the art of
letter writing/postcard and art of keeping a diary/sketchbook, in a narrative
fiction that centers on love and self-discovery. But what absorbs me more is the
underlying concept of a single person being complete unto self, that there is
no other to complement us, the dissolution of idea of the other and I, as two
different bodies because we are all complete as it is, both energies reside in
us, but we only learn of it by going through the difficult process of knowing
ourselves. These are the bold ideas that Nick Bantock, the author, wants his
readers to deeply understand.
If we survey the theories created out by fans around the
world on how to make sense of the story, the most interesting one would be that
Griffin and Sabine are existing in different time planes, because in the second
book installment, Griffin and Sabine ultimately shared a common space, Griffin’s
apartment, but we found out in a post card left by Sabine that she was waiting
for Griffin, but he never arrived. Although in Griffin’s reality, Sabine must still
be in the apartment when he opened the door, as indicated in the date on the
postcard. It is not unlike the Korean movie Il Mare which was adopted by Hollywood,
The Lake House.
Therefore, we have time here as the main driving force in
the plot of the story. It’s like time has become another character in the narrative.
And sometimes we have to suspend rationality when we enter these kinds of
stories. Anyways, what’s really interesting is how Bantock explained his own
take in his story, that Griffin has been writing all these postcards and
letters by himself. Trying to express himself in two different pulses. The feminine
and the masculine, maybe an exercise to voice the often times differing ideas
of the two, making it tangible as we visually can differentiate the styles of feminine
art strokes from the masculine ones. Visual creations can make it easier for
someone to filter the two, to set aside the two opposing forces, even the font
styles can give a clue which one is the feminine and which is the masculine. Maybe
that’s it, Bantock wants to detail, to profile, to make a clear distinction
between the two before molding them again into one. Marrying the two forces can
be potent, as Bantock said, it can be eventually about higher spiritual
awakening or an exercise on awareness where the artist as a creator must know
both forces intimately.
I don’t know if I am making any sense.
The basic plot of three-installment book is that Griffin was
desperately praying for a muse, and as with the unknown mysteries of life, his
wish came true, in the personality of Sabine. But the astonished Griffin couldn’t
really believe that a muse really exists and on top of it, she is writing him
letters and postcards! So, in his great terror, he fled his house as Sabine resolved
to visit him. He couldn’t face the reality that he is going to be face to face
with the muse he’s been dreaming of, that’s why he immediately decided to make
a pilgrimage to far flung countries, to find himself and to find the strength
to finally meet her.
In one of his letters to Sabine, Griffin said:
I’m running from you, but I’m also searching for a way to
accept my fate, which I know to be bound to yours.
This sentence sounds very romantic but also it can be a desperate
plea to be free from the fate which can take over him completely. In a way, he
will be bound, so his freedom will be limited.
Anyways, my mind is a bit muddled now, must be the full
moon. Leaving you guys now, don’t forget to look at the majestic moon tonight.
I don't necessarily
Believe there is a cure for thisSo I might join your centuryBut only as a doubtful guest
