krxs100:

UNDERCOVER COPS ARE BEING CAUGHT PLANTING CARS/BRICKS, SETTING FIRES AND BREAKING STORE WINDOWS TO MAKE PROTESTS LOOK VIOLENT

DON’T BELIEVE THE MEDIA

#STAYWOKE 

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“Certainly it hadn’t been a real decision: rather, an uncertainty that first became a feigned carelessness, then the conviction that not having said right away what had happened made remedying the situation complicated and perhaps vain. How easy it was to do wrong. I sought excuses that might seem convincing to her, but I wasn’t able to make them even to myself. I sensed that the foundations of my behavior were flawed, I was silent.”

The Story of a New Name by Elena Ferrante

“Although I couldn’t specify why exactly, I felt certain that Melissa was less interested in our writing process now that she knew I wrote the material alone. I knew the subtlety of this change would be enough for Bobbi to deny it later, which irritated me as if it had already happened. I was starting to feel adrift from the whole set-up, like the dynamic that had eventually revealed itself didn’t interest me, or even involve me. I could have tried harder to engage myself, but I probably resented having to make an effort to be noticed.”

– Coversations with Friends by Sally Rooney

there are times when i feel like i’m full of brilliance but have nothing to show for it.

i’ve never been the kind of person to really set a serious goal and try to achieve it. i’ve never had a five year plan, or even a one year plan for that matter. i kind of just drift through life, going with the flow and riding the tide, saying yes to the opportunities that happen to float my way.

i’ve always believed that as long as i was trying to move through the world as kindly as possible, everything else would sort of fall into place.

so it’s starting to feel like i’ve never reached for anything in any meaningful way in my whole life, and sometimes i wonder what it would be like if i did.

maybe i can use this time of stillness and waiting to actually sit down and think about what i want, and who i want to become.

maybe growing up is all about taking the time to examine yourself and all your subtle motivations, to maybe make some adjustments, and then to plan a life that pieces it all together.

or maybe not.

sometimes you feel detached from everything, and sometimes you don’t.

sometimes you decide to watch a cute queer romcom, and even though it has a happy ending, it leaves you feeling a little lonelier than before.

sometimes you try to distract yourself from that hollowness by watching random youtube videos, or listening to music and doing a quick 20-minute sketch, and even though you feel a little better, it doesn’t help as much as you’d hoped.

and sometimes you just have to wrap a light jacket around your shoulders, go out onto your balcony, and take a good look at the cityscape, at all those blinking lights stretching out in the dark for miles and miles.

you think about all those people in their own warm apartments, some by themselves, some curled up on the couch with a loved one, maybe watching tv or doing a puzzle or maybe just getting to know each other better. you think about all those quiet lives stuck at home just like you, and suddenly you don’t feel so alone anymore.

i’ve always loved the city.

here are some excerpts from my first journal entry in almost a month:

“I haven’t written anyting in almost a month, and there’s not really any excuse for it since the city has been under lockdown for the last several weeks, so it’s not like I haven’t had the time. Every day I tell myself I’m going to write, and every day I end up sketching too long, or watching too many YouTube videos, or finding other ways of putting it off until it’s too late and I reason that it’s okay to just push it to the next day. “Tomorrow, for sure,” I think to myself, the doubt already a seed budding in the back of my mind because the habit has already made itself so clear.

I don’t know why, but I’ve felt a sort of paralysis when it comes to writing recently. I feel like the task is daunting and impossible, and I’m not sure if it’s because I feel like there’s too much to say, or not enough. It’s a weird time with this whole virus situation, and sometimes it feels like both are true at once – that a lot is going on, and at the same time, nothing is moving forward at all.

I have to start getting into the habit of writing every day again – exercising those muscles and reacquainting myself with the feeling of articulating my thoughts in some way that makes things more coherent and therefore more manageable. The beauty of writing is that it allows me to control those untamed thoughts constantly swirling in my head, but sometimes those thoughts seem so wild and feral – a whirlpool thrashing, everything spilling over – that it all seems impossible, and I’m left feeling exhausted before anything’s even began. But even now, as I write this, I feel lighter – like I’m doing something productive and necessary with all of those uncertain things – and I have to remember that this is what it feels like to write. It isn’t work, it’s a release, and a useful one.”

“I’ve been taking more time to think about things and relax, and I’ve been cooking and drawing and watching some shows I’ve been meaning to watch. Now all I have to do is start reading and writing regularly again. I feel like I should use this extra time to really sit down and come up with some serious ideas for a novel and really get the gears turning on that. I should probably take this as a rare opportunity to really devote some time I otherwise wouldn’t have to that endeavour. After all, if I’m ever going to take it seriously, it might as well be now.

But honestly, even though I know I should be using all this sudden spare time productively, it’s hard sometimes to not feel exhausted by everything going on – even though, on a more personal level, literally nothing is going on. I feel like there’s all of this collective social anxiety and unease floating in the air because everything is so uncertain in such unfamiliar ways. The pandemic has impacted every aspect of modern life, and we’re all trying to trudge forward in circumstances we’ve never experienced and were definitely not prepared for.

Most of the time I genuinely feel fine, but sometimes being stuck in the apartment by myself is suffocating, and it stifles all the creative energy I would normally be able to pour into my writing. Sketching is easier because it requires less mental work from me – all I’m doing is replicating something I see, either from a reference or from my own head, whereas with writing, I’m really trying to capture a feeling or an idea or an experience in a way that I would be satisfied rereading. To me, it requires a more concentrated effort and focus, and the outcome is less certain, and it’s usually so much easier to drown myself in inane Netflix content or harmless Kpop videos on YouTube.

Still, I know that there are things I want to say, even now while I’m stuck at home and everything is stagnant and the world is at a standstill. I’m going to try to make a habit of writing every day again, even if it’s something small and just for me.”

i had a birthday party this year, some time around the middle of january (my birthday is january 7th).

i always find celebrating my birthday a little stressful and i usually opt out of doing anything more than having a dinner with my family and sometimes having dinner with my friends, but i felt like celebrating this year because i missed house parties and wanted an excuse to see a bunch of people i hadn’t seen in a while all in one place (my tiny condo).

i was a little bit nervous that nobody would show up because of the weather, but renee came over a little early to help make a cheese board, and jordan arrived shortly after that, and i felt like we could have fun even if it was just the three of us, so it was okay.

it turns out i’d been worried for nothing because my apartment was pretty much packed a couple of hours later.

my work friends came, and my hollister friends came, and my university friends came, and my friends from before university came, and my sister and her friends came, and my apartment was crowded and loud, and i had fun playing host and constantly fluttering through the crowd.

i remember putting on a playlist called “sad bops” at one point because that was the vibe i wanted, and nobody seemed to mind because honestly, you couldn’t really hear the music anyway.

i would later learn that it had actually been kind of hard to hear the conversation you were having with the person standing two feet away, so maybe it wasn’t the most conducive environment for all my different groups of friends to meet and get to know each other, but still, it seemed like everyone had had a good time.

my sister’s friend korbyn actually met a bunch of people he liked, but he had so much trouble hearing them that he decided to invite everyone over for a dinner party some time later (which i would eventually go on to attend), and i thought that was really cute (although i don’t remember any of the initial planning or invitation).

i drank too much, as you do during your own birthday celebration, so my memory of the last bit of the night is a little fuzzy, but i do remember having cake smushed into my face (and me willingly smushing it further into my mouth), and running around asking if everyone was okay and having fun (which is a standard tell that i’m pretty wasted).

next thing you know, i’ve been shoved into my room and put to bed and when i woke up again at around 4am, the apartment was empty and i was left wondering where everyone had gone and how everyone had managed to leave so quickly (even though it was probably over a span of a couple of hours).

all in all, i think it was a good night, and i’m thankful i didn’t end up doing anything too embarrassing to properly recover from.

i traced this tbh, but i still think it’s pretty.

i am trying to be a better person.

i am trying to grow constantly, and let go of selfishness, and envy and pride in favour of generosity and goodwill and humbleness.

but where do you draw the line before you cross it and become a living doormat, letting the world just walk all over you?

even though i still feel like there must always be a balance, i must remember that there is also strength in sacrifice.

this is supposed to be my coworker Conor basking in the presence of a bunch of sunflowers.

today’s been a bit of a quiet day.

i woke up late after having gone out last night, and i realized i didn’t really have any food, so i packed up a few things and made my way over to my parents’ place.

it was pretty warm outside and i figured the walk would do me some good anyway.

i’m hoping winter ends soon so it will be fine to walk around in just heavy sweaters or light jackets. i’m kind of tired of the winter coat i found in my closet after losing my roots jacket (which i bought for $30 at a vallue village) at vertigo a few weeks ago. whenever i zip it up, it’s too tight and i feel like an overstuffed burrito trying to make its way through a frigid world.

anyway, i’ve spent the day alternating between sketching (on my new surface pro 6!!!) and napping (perhaps out of emotional exhaustion).

i’ve been feeling a bit contemplative over a couple of things recently, which spurred this excerpt from a journal entry i wrote a few days ago:

“I alternate between elation and heartache
and the push and pull can be exhausting. I’m left somewhat winded, looking at
myself in the mirror and wondering if this is how it’s always going to be – me,
stuck with my reflection, not knowing what to do.

It
feels like I’ve reached something of an impasse, with no way of moving forward
in a way that’s both satisfying and healthy. I wonder if I should just cut my
losses. I want to choose the path of love (but what kind of love?) over fear,
but it’s scary and hard. Deep down, I’ve always known this was the only outcome,
but I never really let myself truly believe it. I was never fully convinced.
There was always that naïve glimmer of optimism, that voice shouting into the
void filled with every uncertain thing and every harsh reality – that voice
always in the back of my mind, forcing itself to be heard, always chanting that
foolish mantra, “maybe, maybe…”"

sometimes it feels like i should be sadder on valentine’s day, and i’ll admit that some things had me feeling a litle bit lonely yesterday, but for the most part, i honestly feel pretty okay.

i think i have the love i need, and i’m grateful for it.

the things i wrote later in that same journal entry still ring true:

“I can see how impossible it is from here, but I guess the best I can do is try. I can focus on and be grateful for what I have, and understand that I’m on my own journey, and I’m going to be alright. Life will unfurl before me in strange and mysterious ways, and with enough faith and enough love, all things will work out the way they’re supposed to. Years will pass filled with laughter and tears – and happy accidents and serendipity and hopefully a lot of kismet – and at the end of it I will find myself settled and content in myself and the life I’ve chosen to make.”

here’s to hoping!