aquietsoliloquy

Fri, 26 Aug 2022 15:07:00 GMT

I've been having a hard time lately enjoying fandom, on Tumblr or any other platforms. I think it's mainly because I'm getting tired of consuming fandom and I'm getting more and more invested in creating for it, despite not sharing anything about it. I do enjoy seeing art, reading fanfics, and some headcanons, but the whole discourse and meta analysis is getting on my nerves. Perhaps it's because, as a literature student starting school again, I get enough analysis at school and would rather avoid it in the things I enjoy for fun? Most definitely that, but mainly I think I'm starting to enjoy better an experience of the things I love as something between me and the media I consumed and not with others. I've been in different fandoms on and off for many years now, so maybe I reached my threshold?

This definitely sounds like I'm ready to focus my time and efforts in fandom elsewhere. So I will do just that, write fanfics, draw fanarts, create fan jewelry and embroideries like I did before, perhaps create cosplays? I would really like to transform the way I interact with fandom into something that feels closer to the things I truly like to do to begin with.

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Mon, 22 Aug 2022 22:26:18 GMT

TW: Mention of suicidal thoughts

I started writing a novel, I think. A story, at the very least. Today, I've been fleshing out the main characters a little bit more and noticed that each of them are very clearly a part of me demanding attention, wishing to be explored. Past me would be appalled that it is so easy to pinpoint these parts of me within my characters, but past me was also not aware of much of her own issues and how much of them did end up in the characters she created. And present me... Present me really wants to leave past me's judgement behind. There are no authors out there who create characters they do not resonate with themselves, and if they do, their characters fall flat and seem to evolve in a world that is not suited for them.

I'm getting to a point where I don't care anymore how much of me people see in what I write. Because I'm getting to a point where the shame and hatred I felt for myself are slowly dissipating, and I am understanding that such feelings should never have been self-imposed to begin with.

Nowadays, I hate my parents instead. I wish I would think it's harsh, but I thought that too much and I'm more than ready to stop thinking that way. I hate my parents and I'm okay with it. It's nothing about how deserving they are, just a fact of me grieving them. And if we have to think this way, their actions through the years do deserve that kind of hatred.

I hate my parents but it's making me learn to love myself instead. So much of my self-hatred has always been righteous hatred against them. In my diary, I wrote "I hated myself so much I almost disappeared from it." I almost killed myself from that hatred. Now, I understand it's my relationship with them I should have killed all along. My energy is better used hating the right people than the wrong one.

I'm feeling so much better now that I don't have to think about loving them anymore. Now that I don't have to bend my mind in a thousand loops to find reasons why i should. To try and understand them.

For the first time in a very long time, I'm writing a story again. I have no idea where it will lead, but that's the fun of writing it. And, for the first time in a very long time, I don't hate the characters I'm creating. Because I don't have to hate myself anymore.

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Fri, 05 Aug 2022 21:06:26 GMT

I had a dream last night. I talked with my parents for the first time in forever, asking about documents I didn't take from their home before I cut ties. I don't remember most of the dream, but they were unhappy about me asking, and I woke up in a state of mild panic I've been feeling since yesterday night. The panic grew to the point where I couldn't go to work today, the pressure on my chest too heavy a single demand would crush me. So I wrote, went for a walk, distracted myself with purchasing a few packets of tea to replenish what I've drank already. It worked, partially. I just wish I didn't have to deal with dreams of my parents anymore.

It's been hard for me lately to keep in touch with people online, with two noted exceptions. Even the IRL friends I have that keep our convo mostly online for the time being due to distance, I find myself turning my phone away as I focus on other things. I'm trying to soothe myself, but at the same time the soothing I use doesn't suit my chagrin anymore. I've grown out of my coping mechanism, yet I don't know which coping mechanism to use instead. So I find myself in limbo, waiting, waiting.

It feels strange to not know how to cope anymore. To not reach for the coping mechanisms I've slowly been integrating without knowing it was that. Once upon a time, I used to create art as a way to cope. I used reading to cope. I used to take long walks aimlessly. Then, I started shopping, endlessly scrolling, I was doing anything but being creative because if I were to create anything, it would have to be the truth of my feelings. I would have to confront a reality I didn't want to see. Yet as a teen, I had no qualms about showing that reality in fiction and poetry. It didn't feel as real anyway. But, re-reading what I did before, I can see that the feelings of back then are still pretty much the same I had until I let go of my parents.

I need new coping mechanisms that might be like the older ones. Or perhaps they're completely different and I don't know about them yet, because they're something I've never done before. So far, writing, reading and walking seems to have done well for me. I just forgot what it feels like to do these things for long periods of time. I forgot what it feels like to do these things for fun, now that I learnt how to write, how to read, how to walk with a purpose. I can't enjoy walking without having a destination in mind anymore, can't enjoy reading without thinking of the essay I would have to write about it, can't enjoy writing without thinking it could be something published one day.

So I'm going to try. I'm going to try making these into pleasurable activities again. Both for coping and for the simple fun of them. I want to try reconnecting with these parts of me that do things not because I need to do them for work or other things, but because I genuinely want to do them. I want to be aimless in these endeavours, at the very least for a little while. At least until I am done enjoying the work itself. Until I am done enjoying the idleness of the activity.

I would like to try new things too just to see if there is something there waiting for me. Sports. Yoga. I don't want to go back to meditation, because there are too many negative memories associated with the practice for me. But I want to try new things, and I want to see where they would take me.

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Fri, 29 Jul 2022 02:51:53 GMT

I did it. I cut ties with my parents.

I knew it was what I needed to do, but I didn't realize until now how freeing it would be to do so. It feels as if there's only one voice in my head now and it's my own.

I won't lie, it's been difficult. It took me at least a month to think about it clearly, write them letters I never sent, try to find the perfect words to let them go in a way that honours both me and them. But in the end, it was just a text. And in the end, from them too, it was just a text.

There are hours sometimes when I can only think about the pain of losing my parents, the people I've always wanted to love me, to accept me, to protect me, and the pain is really about losing what I hoped they would be. But then, I look at the collage of pictures I made, pictures of my younger self, and I repeat to myself "Do it for her" like a mantra.

I think this is the sweetest, most compassionate I've ever been towards myself. I welcome tantrums and panic attacks with kindness and self-soothing rather than with angry words and self-loathing.

I knew that removing my parents from my life like a cancerous tumour was what I needed. It doesn't make the operation any less painful. But I know it's for my own good, and despite them not understanding my reasons why, I do appreciate that they respect my decision, no matter how hurt they are about it. It's the least they could do, having never respected how hurt I was about them.

It's the beginning of a new chapter, one that comes with the prior pages teared off, not so I can censor the past, but so I can rewrite it correctly, acknowledging all the pain without any shame. There is no one now to tell me I am bad for even thinking badly of my parents. There is just me in my head now.

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Mon, 11 Jul 2022 01:19:58 GMT

I'm breaking up with my parents.

It feels like it's been in the making for a while now, especially since the beginning of the year, but now the process has started.

It's painful. As if ripping out a part of myself. But I can't help but wonder if this is really a part of myself I'm ripping out, or a giant splinter I never took out before.

There are still moments when I hear criticism in my head about everything I do, think, feel. But for the most part, these thoughts have left me now. I I am much more permissive with the things I do for myself.

I also started doing long term self-care too. I nurture myself in all the ways that truly matter, and it makes me feel stronger than ever. Sometimes, it's still hard though. I don't expect myself to succeed at everything tomorrow just because I have removed the thing that prevented me from it happening. But I still push forward, and that is better than anything.

My parents are not the only ones I'm removing from my life. I've officially broken a friendship that has become toxic too. And, for the first time in my life, I let it go without even trying to have the last word. I didn't read the last paragraph they sent me, full of their thoughts on who I am and what I should do to make things better. They are not someone I wish to listen to moving forward, so I refused to even read what they thought. I've never felt so free in my life, doing something like that. I suppose the same will happen when I finally find the courage to openly tell my parents it's over rather than keeping silent.

I allow myself to take my time with them though. It's a harder relationship to break than a friendship. But for now I do what I can to protect myself. Eventually, I'll let them go properly. I'll have to, I feel. And then, it's going to be the end of it.

I do look forward to that.

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Wed, 01 Jun 2022 20:04:00 GMT

Ever since I came back from my wife's home (our home), I've been feeling much more creative. She is such an inspiring woman and I can't wait to spend the rest of our lives together.

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Tue, 10 May 2022 03:17:21 GMT

I changed my mind, season 2 of Bridgerton was absolutely exquisite! Less sex, more sexual tension, better character dynamic and chemistry. Also, omg, how beautiful the two main female lead were. Absolutely gorgeous! I'm legit kinda obsessed now and I'm looking forward to season 3!

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Your voice as a weapon

Mon, 09 May 2022 02:33:37 GMT

I was filling up a U-Quiz yesterday or the day before. Can't remember for the life of me what the quiz was about, but there was a question that went along the lines of "choose a weapon". There was a long list of items to choose from, and I scrolled down and the last item of the list appeared: your voice.

It's been two or three days and whenever I think about this, I still feel as if doors are bursting open within me, violently letting in (or letting out) the storm I've been sheltering myself from for years. I never thought of that this way, my own voice as a weapon. And now that I did, I can't unknow it. And I don't want to.

I have always been good at creating images for my feelings, and for the longest time, the image of a warrior is what has been tied to the maelstrom of emotions swirling in me. Rage, anger, living day to day in survival, a shield on one arm, a sword in the other (sometimes replaced with a war hammer or a battle axe). More than a warrior, it was a berserker I was seeing, one second away from completely losing control.

But I never dared used the weapon that would ensure not only protection but real power as well: my own voice. I might have stumbled upon the idea a few times, but discarded it as something not yet for me. But now, I find myself in a place where I feel ready to use it. To protect the child I was. The teenager I was. To empower the adult I have become.

Voice as a weapon. Something that can be so strong, yet so tender at the same time.

I'm ready for my voice to be heard, regardless of what may come. Whatever consequences to speaking up can never be as bad as the consequences and suffering of shutting up for so long.

And this time, it won't be just noise.

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Mon, 02 May 2022 17:47:31 GMT

I'm beginning to learn how it is that I write exactly. Turns out, the best way for me to write stories is just to push them out all in one go, discovering the story as I go myself, telling much more than showing, allowing myself to express my ideas in its purest form, no outline besides a basic knowledge of what's gonna happen in the next part, no fancy writing program or app, just the most basic writing possible.

When stories want to pour out of me, they just do. Afterwards, I can work each chapter better, one at a time. I don't even have to write the entire story in a linear way either. I just have to write the story I want to tell and work on it once it's all told. Print it, copy/paste it, play around with the words, the possibilities, rewrite chapters, ect.

My brain has this tendency to still try to be perfect from the get go. Because if I can't get it out perfectly, might as well not get it out at all. That if I can't write a story in a timely manner, better not waste my time at all. But this is just childhood fears and trauma speaking. And I don't want to live the rest of my life in childhood fears and traumas.

I'm kicking all the writing advices in the world out. I'm going to write however it is I need to write and let others write however they need to as well.

It will take me more time to reach the end, perhaps. But I will enjoy myself so much more doing this.

p.s. I'm never showing my first drafts to anyone ever.

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Bridgerton sucks

Fri, 22 Apr 2022 14:24:29 GMT

So, I've been influenced by my friends to start watching Bridgerton. Out of boredom, I've binge watched up to ep 7 of the first season, and I really don't think this kind of thing is up to my taste anymore. I do enjoy period dramas, but this is definitely not the kind that I find myself wanting to know what happens next. It's a good series to watch something without consequences though, something to completely turn off the brain. After a hard day of work, I will admit that one or two ep helps. More than that feels like too much.

I'll go back to discover other series I will enjoy more.

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Musings on Tragedy

Sun, 17 Apr 2022 22:05:14 GMT

I tend to write tragedies and angst in such a serious tone that I find myself removed from just enjoying the process of writing these things. I don't write tragedies as often as a result maybe, because my writing becomes... pretentious? I use an elevated language as if tragedy itself is more worthy of pretty words than other genre. As if tragedy is more important, therefore requires more attention paid to its poetry.

But then, I never feel satisfied with the tragedy I write. Because truth is, the tragic is so very mundane. Hurt people hurt people, and there is nothing particularly beautiful about it. And yet, in the canon of literature, tragedies are still worshipped as the masterpieces of creation. Why is that? There is certainly catharsis to be found in the best of them. A feeling of kinship through trauma-bonding. Negative feelings are easily the most universally understood of them. Stories about loss, grief, war, famine, death, the disappearance of one's sanity.

And then, the comedies, the romances, the slice-of-life, these stories are considered second-rate creations. Jesters and lovers and ordinary people are not as popular in classrooms nor in essays, unless it's to mock their creators. The pursuit of hope, meaningful relationships, laughter, everyone agrees that they are entertaining, but I see so few being remembered as objects of pure beauty. Austen is certainly an exception, for Brontë relies on tragedy first and lovers are made through hardships of their own.

My previous post was written as I realized I react so much more harshly towards the quality of my tragedies than that of my comedies (or, as I call them, my "stupid" (affectionate) stories. And yet, when I reread my "stupid" stories, I can't help but note that I enjoy both the memory of who I was writing them, and the overall quality of their prose. Not only did I write these stories relaxed, it is relaxing to read them again as well.

Now, I question why. Why am I taking my tragedies so much more seriously than I do my "stupid" stories? Why can't I make tragedy appear as stupid as any other stories? I would certainly like to try. After all, Shakespeare certainly didn't take his plays seriously, they were a mean to an end. His poetry is what he wanted people to remember. And even then, his sonnets are not about the most serious subjects for the most part.

There is something to learn here. There is something to learn and I would like to get to the bottom of it, preferably by doing. I want to understand the mechanic of my own brain writing tragedy so I can apply the mechanic I use to write "stupid" stories to it instead. See how I would feel about it later. After all, tragedy is just like comedy: just as ridiculous, just as profound.

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Sun, 17 Apr 2022 21:37:56 GMT

The harder I try to make something beautiful to others, the harder I cringe when I look at it again, months later.

*moral of the story: the more I focus on enjoying myself when creating something, the happier I am with the memories of the process looking back.

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Tue, 05 Apr 2022 20:13:39 GMT

Aaaaah at last! Some rest!

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Tue, 05 Apr 2022 14:11:56 GMT

Most of the biggest assignments for school are completed now and I only have a few things to focus on before the semester is finished. Which means I now have more time to read for fun and write and paint! I've been waiting impatiently for this! My life doesn't feel complete when I'm forced to stay away from the things that I love.

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Can school end already?

Thu, 31 Mar 2022 21:05:13 GMT

If it wasn't for the fact that I'm so close to being done with Uni, I think I would have quit by now. While I did enjoy what I learnt during my first two years, now everything is just dragging and I find no pleasure at all in it. I know what I would rather do than stress about deadlines and write essays I have no interests in. I would write things that I do enjoy. I would create landscapes and learn how to draw with focus, not just because I have five minutes to spare. I'm very much aware that five minutes to spare is better than nothing, but what I want is to not have to worry about schoolwork anymore. I'm so fed up with it. Especially since none of what I'm learning now (and for two years now) feel like something I'm going to carry further in my life.

I wish school allowed us to move further at our own pace rather than stick to this stupid idea that if someone doesn't have at least 3 years of the same subject under their belt, they can't move forward. And I'm not talking about things leading to specific professions. I would be so much farther in my studies if I had been able to pursue the things that truly mattered to the field of literature rather than the bullshit rinced and repeated by teachers who refuse to talk to each other and somewhat coordinate.

I did have some good teachers though. I'm just so completely done with the program, so done with "superior" education. I just can't wait to the moment I'll be learning things on my own again, and writing about them, doing a masters independently from any institution.

I am tired, and burnt out, and fed up. I don't have much more to go at the very least. I just wish I had more time to do the things I really want to do.

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Mon, 28 Mar 2022 22:09:39 GMT

When you forget the taste of a certain tea, only to rediscover it again and fall in love as if for the first time.

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Some time away

Wed, 23 Mar 2022 01:39:12 GMT

I've been feeling restless again lately, although not in the same way as I've been before. It does not feel like an angry restlessness. I've found myself tired of spending time on any kind of social medias, even those that brought me joy before (namely Tumblr and Youtube). I found myself listening to more music, discovering artists, past and present, walking on classical sounds I never thought I would like, learning that soul and funk gets me vibing in all the best of ways, listening, listening.

I've been watching shows that truly feel close to my heart, not rewatching things over and over again, but discovering new things with themes that really speak to me, like this older k-drama called My ID is Gangnam Beauty that is about the ridiculousness of beauty standards, changing one's appearance to fit in, if only to just be able to enjoy the things we really love. It's also about the female friendship that build of this struggle, about finding love that does not care about looks. Admitting to myself that I do struggle with my self image, finding this show felt truly cathartic.

I've been reading a little more too. Working at a bookstore, I've been accumulating more books lately and being able to slowly go through them has brought me joy, even though I don't want to read them just to be done with them.

I've been feeling restless, but with this bubble of happiness growing in me rather than anger at what I am not able to control. I've discovered the joys of finishing an old notebook rather than starting a new one. Speaking out loud the sadness in my heart to a bathtub full of hot water and pink, sparkly bathbomb, so that I can feel joy as acutely as I feel sorrow.

I've been feeling somewhat out of this world, for finals are upon me at last and those always make me feel disconnected, but the rest has helped.

Perhaps it's just Spring coming back. The heat of the sun. Days lasting longer. Soon, I'll be able to write and read outside. Sitting at a café's terrasse.

I might suffer more from seasonal depression than I thought.

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Tue, 22 Mar 2022 04:12:44 GMT

I really cannot wait for school to be over to be able to do something else, think of something else than just the looming deadlines ahead.

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Wed, 23 Feb 2022 03:22:23 GMT

Today, I wrote poetry, finished writing a WIP I've been working on, wrote a letter for my wife in the notebook I keep for her, rearranged my entire room in a way that feels better (I'll see if it helps sleep better too) and finally got around to sew those two curtains I had together to make phase 1 of my new comforter. It was a very productive day, tiring in the most satisfying way.

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Messy thoughts provide for good organizational material

Fri, 18 Feb 2022 03:57:39 GMT

I think I've finally found a method of tracking my writing that feels right for me. I've been trying different methods to keep on top of my writing in the past, word count, page count, hours spent on certain work, ect. Mainly, the goal of these methods were not to actually create something but to feel productive about it, to feel like I'm deserving of the job "writer". Most of the time, I always felt like I wasn't doing enough more than anything. And keeping deadlines felt completely alien to me on top of that.

Then, last week, I had an epiphany. What if I tried with a planner that I would only use for writing purpose? I had a glimpse of that before, when the planner I was using for school became the place where I wrote down notes and deadlines for my writing instead. Eventually, the planner became too full of class preparation and exams and I ended up loathing the sight of it, but knowing the technique proved efficient, why not try again?

I wasn't expecting to find a planner that would fit my needs so well. Not only is it very cute (might provide pictures later), but the layout of it makes it that every day can be filled more like a diary than an actual planner. And so, I found myself filling up the space with thoughts on how my writing day has been going. Ideas I've had. Problems I'm facing. I have to keep it short for I only have one page available per day, but having that space to reflect on what I did during the day has been particularly helpful so far.

On February 15, it was about the realisation that I am a visual thinker, which is the reason why writing often takes me forever, because I have to visualise, if not scenes, whole sentences before I can even commit them to paper or screen.

Today, it's about having too many ideas and never knowing where to start, which one to focus on. It's about wanting to finish what I start instead of leaving it gather dust when my interests bring me to other ideas (or when I have no idea how to write the thing).

The thoughts I write are less about finding solutions to them (although in most cases, I manage to find them and it helps to write down new plans on dates ahead). It's about producing a screenshot of my thoughts at any given moment in my creative process. And I didn't know it was about that until I started doing it.

The planner helps a lot with that. It helps to write down goals while allowing space for the creative process to happen naturally to me so I can take note of it at the end of the day rather than try to force it up at the beginning of it. I'll be honest, I haven't yet started the whole morning pages process of The Artist's Way, but given how I go about this, I'm wondering if I'm not currently stumbling upon a way that works better for me. I'm still curious about what the book has to offer, and I still want to write about it, but I find myself enjoying this discovery much more.

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Sat, 12 Feb 2022 00:35:45 GMT

Started reading Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar for the first time. Getting out of a reading slump because of it. Also, where has this book been all my life? It's so good!

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Work/Life balance

Mon, 07 Feb 2022 13:36:47 GMT

www.youtube.com/watch

I recently rediscovered R.C. Waldun's videos, mainly because of a post I made on Tumblr about keeping a digital commonplace notebook and I remembered this guy was the one to introduce me to the whole concept of it a year or two ago. Since then, I've been reading his blog, and watching more of his videos, and this morning, this video appeared on my feed. I don't agree with everything he says about artists and creativity (although I do for the most part), but this video got me thinking about something.

Waldun talks about the separation between his work and his downtimes, and how, in the past, he use to read and write and create videos as passion projects, things he would do outside of the demands of his school work. But now that he earns his living with those creative things, it has become difficult for him to find a point of separation between what he does for fun, for himself, and what he does for monetary reasons.

It made me realize that this might be the reason why I struggle so much with finding time to do all the creative endeavours I'm interested in. I only recently admitted to myself that yes, I want to make a career out of writing. I want to be a writer. Self-published or traditional, it doesn't matter much to me, I just want to earn a good living with what I write. I don't need to win awards (although that John Newberry recognition for children's literature is a dream of mine), and I don't need to be particularly popular. If I can make enough money to sustain myself (and I don't need that much of it), then it's enough for me. And I don't mind working a part-time job at the same time either, for a time.

But outside of that, there are so many creative things I love doing. Lots of them just for myself. Some of them I'd like to invest more time in so I can learn to make them something that would work well with my writing (like watercolour painting, bookbinding and embroidery). But sewing and jewelry making, knitting, that would only be for me, for my own style, for something that won't be earning myself money but will bring joy and happiness to my heart.

Watching this video this morning, if anything, encourages me even more to pursue a career in writing. For if I am capable of using writing as a mean of earning my life, it means downtimes for doing all the rest without having to stress about not having the time to do everything I want to do. And isn't this something to look forward to?

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Mon, 07 Feb 2022 12:34:52 GMT

Going to bed before midnight really does make a world of difference.

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Thu, 03 Feb 2022 14:16:29 GMT

Wow, just reading The Artist's Way really does that, uh? Not even started with the morning pages and all these things, and suddenly I'm hit with all these ideas to write and it just doesn't seem to stop.

First thoughts on the book coming soon!

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Fanart of a fanart

Wed, 02 Feb 2022 22:43:49 GMT

Apparently I could add clip-on earrings making on my list of things to learn?

Today, I got some few things to make myself some earrings that I saw on someone's fanart in the MDZS fandom (this one specifically, last panel).

So I did:

It's just a prototype, and the tools I had are somewhat wrong. But I want to try it again so I can make it to my satisfaction. The clip for this one is wrong too, so that's another thing to work with. But the type of dangle is perfect, so I think I do need to use that kind of wire for this.

This is strange to me but also comforting? It's very rare for me to start doing something without being certain of how to do it. Without thinking of the risk of failure. And frankly? I wouldn't wear this specific one (I wouldn't be able to without fear of losing it), but it's definitely going into the direction I want it to! The dangle is perfect, the size, the colour is not but I like it (might try Chinatown next time for actual jade donuts), and some of the tools I did have (pincers and cutters) were perfect for the job!

If I needed proof that trials and errors is more satisfying than waiting for perfection, this is it! I had fun making this, and it took me such little time to get to a result that is somewhat what I wanted! It's very encouraging for what's going to happen next!

I can't wait to be able to wear these!

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