Tie it together

Something’s gotta give, an impossible numerical value against a system I may not get around to complying with, or the culminating and most important work in my student life. I think I’ve chosen the latter, but it’s not to say that I’ve given up entirely on my clerical work. I’ve put off behaving as though the paper meant a lot to me, but it does.

Something’s gotta give, and I gotta give the best of what I have in spite of the late start and the temptation of tapping out and being contented with mediocrity. I have a chance to do something relevant, and perhaps surprise myself in the ways words, thoughts, theory, and an attempt, can tie itself together. How will I tie it all together. I want to be able to create something a sensible yet bold set of verses that I can be proud of.

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You can be the greatest
You can be the best
You can be the King Kong banging on your chest
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In defense of the Alex Tizon article 

*I tweeted this discreetly after a blow up on social media from various parts of the world about the controversial long read. I noted there: article, because I intend to defend the article, not the things that happened in Alex Tizon’s piece for The Atlantic about his family’s secret

People demand truth but they blow up when it’s not to their liking, failing to recognize that the work was not a lie, in fact, a brave truth. It’s naive and idealistic to demand stories to paint black and white portraits of explicitly good and bad characters and behavior. Real life is a web of intersecting good and bad, where people, customs, mindsets, and the ways of the world, are allowed to change and grow. Scrutinizing and nitpicking issues from the place of privilege where one “knows better” is self righteousness guised as righteousness. People wanna intellectual-speak instead of opening up their hearts to a writer who poured his into this. Their bond, in spite of all that was wrong in their circumstance is more genuine than how subordinates anywhere in the world get treated. Note that you can hurt and walk all over people without having to break any laws or violate any basic rights. This was a lovingly written memoir of a family that captures the ff. very crucial phenomena in the human experience:

(1) There are remnants of servitude that haunt us as revamped forms of it still exist today.

(2) There is love in dark and difficult places.

We are all Alex Tizon when we are silent, but we can also be Alex Tizon when we choose to be kinder and softer.

Run the mile

schtudThere’s an impossible list of things to do before the paper of papers is due. If not for a fear of being intellectually inadequate as in not smart enough, it’s an even greater test of my discipline and ability to stay focused. I can submit a mediocre thing, but I’m not sure if I want to.

For the longest time I’ve been told and it’s occurred to me as well that I’m unfit and it’s often felt I wasn’t cut out for this. I may have taken a zillion detours to the many things I’ve wanted to do most in college and even in philosophy, but here I am and there’s an opportunity to make a little dent in our theories of thought. And maybe I’ll surprise myself.

You can go the distance,
you can run the mile,
you can walk straight through hell with a smile

The plight of the baby’s breath

*I tend to revisit photos I took from one of my favorite writing assignments for the school paper which was a Valentine’s Day feature a year ago. Wish I could revisit Dang Wa again but it’s gotten too hot so maybe on a cloudy cool day. I have a thing for wild looking flowers, as in roadside wildflowers haha

Florists have tucked stems of baby’s breath in and around larger centerpiece breeds for bouquets and flower arrangements for a long time now. They come a lot cheaper than the average showstopper rose and tulip. However as the wallflower of the flora world, in bundles especially, it has a standalone charm despite appearing precarious and delicate rendering it an extra on rotation in a commercial shop. Imagine being the decor for what’s already regarded as decor. But the baby’s breath’s hushed prettiness tugs at you in contrast along the dampened streets of a busy flower market against the medley of vendors trading in green for a sea of colors, a sight already typical in a place where bigger is usually better.

The Sunday Currently Vol. 5

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R E A D I N G through scattered responses from interviews I conducted for an article I’m way behind on. Lately I’ve been scanning through so many how-to type sites to guide me with sending emails haha. Thank you, Google. Going to be reading a lot of chapters from the epistemology book for finals this Thursday, bless me and my extremely short attention span especially for digital materials gah PDF books

W R I T I N G that article I’m way behind on. It’s about digital collage art. It’s proving a challenge in more ways then one. Never been this late on submitting an article wah. Also going to be writing an email right before bed to further inquire and confirm something something hmm haha

L I S T E N I N G to Your Side by Vaisle which I find is on a strange level of smooth & sexy. Me and You and Love In The Dark by Gateway Drugs which I highly recommend if you’re into synths

T H I N K I N G about beginning a coffee (plus other drinks) blog? Or just a segment here in this one for that topic? I follow a ton of people on Instagram that take photos of coffee, not just the latte art types though. But I don’t intend on decorating my feed with coffee. I do spend a good amount of time these days raving about coffee, boo. I’m really curious

S M E L L I N G change? Dramatic but my usual everyday fragrance has been out of stock. It’s not a luxury brand if you must know. It’s been out for a while that I worried they might never come out with it again. But the salesperson said I can expect it by November? That isn’t the only change for my nose though. The shampoo I’ve been using since birth (not kidding), well Johnson’s discontinued it after decades. I’m really bummed out. It’s an outrage for my hair and for my nose. No more tears? Yes tears. My hair isn’t so fun to sniff anymore..

W I S H I N G the weather stays cool or gets cooler without having to be a typhoon or destructive monsoon but I’m not complaining about the suspensions

H O P I N G I successfully “paint” my nails for the first time in years. Haha if you know me, I don’t know how to? I’m a slob. Also hope to enjoy the next few weeks whilst managing my time well. I’m not known for that haha! Hoping I pass the term with flying colors and move into the new phase with little to no roadblocks. Hoping I can balance out my impulses and plans, chill and responsibility at least till this week is up

W E A R I N G a spoof shirt that says, KICKASS, one of my most worn shirts to sleep

L O V I N G today. That’s why I wrote this post. Nothing particularly special about this Sunday but I’m beginning to like Sundays with family. I grew up hating Sundays. Today I liked that we ate somewhere new for lunch (hi Erwan Heussaff again haha) and had a few spontaneous minutes in the afternoon. I also got to practice driving around with my dad off to somewhere I haven’t driven to. Greater distances, yay. I picked up some Seattle’s Best for me and my dad and it was drizzling. How great is that? Although I almost hit an old lady he claims, it was fun for me. I’ve also been in a better mood perhaps because of my recent music finds too. I also seem to think I’ve gone through the worst weeks of the term already unless of course I’m underestimating this week and overconfident in my ability to get through it

W A N T I N G to blissfully and carelessly waste away in a coffee shop alone or with company. Believe it or not, I haven’t done this in so so long

N E E D I N G to form better habits like sleeping earlier and drinking more water. Though I’ve been drinking way more water this year than I did my whole life, I say this all the time but it’s just so hard to carry out consistently

F E E L I N G contented with my state of alone-ness? Sometimes busy, sometimes free. Sometimes happy, sometimes lonely

C L I C K I N G through photos of Thai celebrities? This is so random but they keep popping up and some of them are like the prettiest or most good looking people I’ve seen haha! There’s a family I follow. I also follow the Kramers locally

The Sunday Currently is a blog link-up by siddathornton.

Marikina: A heritage of homemade

*This is article is by my good friend, the monk himself, Peavey, who had just graduated a few months ago.

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I’ve actually never been here

In what I’m assuming is his last article in The Guidon, he so fittingly features (more like writes a special tribute) to Marikina City. It’s the kind of article every city deserves, and every publication and aspiring journalist needs to be able to type out.

I’m unsure whether I’ve really been to Marikina. I know I haven’t explored any of it then. I bet it would’ve been what Manila has sort of become to me and grown on me in my college years. It would’ve been my playground in between breaks had I stayed in Ateneo. I’m still set on visiting it someday especially after reading this travelogue.

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but I’ve been wanting to go since 2012

But not every joint run by passion is bannered with neon signs and billboards. Tucked away in the most unassuming corners of the city center or Bayan are surprisingly authentic ramen houses, holes-in-the-wall serving uniquely-crafted porridge and Visayan food joints.

Of course, all the walking one goes through helps digest all the eating. As the feet prime the stomach, shoes have been the city’s historical marker and primary product for centuries. Displays and shops sprawled around the riverbanks and traditional city center serve as living testimonies to this heritage.

The story of shoes and food arose together. Marikina resident and former Barangay Administrator Alan Bartolome shares that when shoemaking was the main occupation of the citizens, workers and shop owners would reward themselves and their families after a week’s labor. Too tired to cook, they would place hearty bulk orders of pancit and lumpia on the many eateries that still serve till today.

—Peavey Vergara

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think just how the white & blue scheme goes with a plate of Pinoy breakfast

No one can make pancit after a long day sound so appetizing and culturally significant as you have, Peaves!


Featured images: Rustic Mornings by Isabelo © Ea Senga

From behind the typewriter

So much of my dislike and disappointment towards my own previous blog posts are mostly because of the scattered-ness and negativity of it all. It started to seem like an Aidee Ever Downwards spiral, actually. I have my reasons behind each and every post but I’m not proud of it all the time. I wondered if I was just always sad or something in real life. I then realized I only do a majority of my writing on the blog when I’m really really sad. I’ve had a habit for years to only do a whole lot of writing when I’m down in the dumps like an angsty teenager awake past 2am. Although we all hear a lot about how the best artists are always depressed and cuckoo. I have to admit that negative emotions seem like a powerful fuel to make, write, and create, but my lack of creating when I’m happy is out of both fear and carelessness.

I can reason by saying, I don’t write when I’m living out my happiest moments simply because I’m busy living them out. But really, I don’t write about the happier bits of my life because I feel like jotting them down at the end of the day just might jinx em. I have long feared admitting simple joys because that might just spoil all the goodness in it. In fact I just let moments happen to me, let them pass like any normal individual, and look back fondly in silence without realizing they’re really ever gone.

It might have been my task to gruelingly capture the gone-ness in my life. I did this to both hold on and let go. And it might continue to be so, but I would like to add a new task to even more challengingly capture the nowness of my life. For years I’ve dreamed of writing bits of a Murakami-like novel in my head because I seemed to fulfill every formula of his lead characters: sad, regretful, never really getting over anything, and absolutely flawed, usually above 40. I’m not yet above 40 though. I thought I had a fair amount of experiences that would vouch for a gripping novel filled with prose about nature, city life, and a love you’ll never get over. That certainly made up for the crappy experiences themselves.

Sadness had therefore become power. I would collect the broken pieces of everything I’ve ever broken and gotten broken for a rainy day at home. I would type away to make magic out of magic that’s gone by. I can resurrect the gone-ness in front a blank screen. I can turn the goodbyes I lived through into a fictional hello and fiction gives you the power to add a little twist and maybe decide to give everything alternative endings or no endings at all.

But I’ve realized I’m only ever so sad about all that’s ever gone away because they for the time being made me so happy. Otherwise, I typically wouldn’t care. I have only been in so much pain because I have known so much joy too. The only difference on paper or rather on this blog, is that I didn’t try just as hard to capture happiness while it encompassed me.

I promise to tell some happier light-hearted stories too. I’ve given it some thought and figured since I’ve gone through worse, it might not be such a bad thing to write about little joys too. It’s just as tough to be truthful about the good and the bad equally. But what’s the truth if it’s not a lot of it or all of it at least? I will strive to create from a balance of my many truths.

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sprouting from behind the typewriter