This too shall be my blog. @commahorror - Tumblr Blog

21:29 from the balcony, 30 Jun 2025

Mondayy

8:11 PM from the balcony, June 24th 2025 Choosday

I like it when the ubahn is empty and I can see all the way back to the end. Hiss hiss like a slithering 🐍

I wish this was a completely original thought. I definitely thought of it independently too but Sasha was the first to verbalise it. Hence thank you sasa

🎶 Big Yellow Taxi - Counting Crows and Vanessa Carlton

Top-tier animals in my opinion

Pigeons

Cows

Ants

Raccoons

[Upated: 26th March, 2025]

I’m sort of my own worst enemy.

I'm sort of my own worst enemy. T-minus two days to thesis submission.

Daily Declarations #1

I actually still don't understand what affirmations are. Are these affirmations? I'm not sure. In case they aren't, I'm calling them daily declarations for now. heh heh

Make it exist first, make it look good later.

Paralysis through analysis? I don't know her

Do it scared. It's way scarier not to do it anyway.

Don't let perfect get in the way of good enough.

Give me an hour to cut down a tree and I will spend the first 45 minutes sharpening my tools chronic prepare-r girl, we stop that right now shoo

#daily declarations

Botox? Why the hell would I want botox? How the hell would I show my disapproval without the perfect judgement wrinkle on my forehead.

Why is perfectionism framed as a virtue?

Maybe because being a perfectionist means striving for something excellent and flawless. But when you're not putting in the steady effort to achieve what you're eyeing, isn't perfectionism just a fear of failure and judgment? I used to think I was a perfectionist because I seemed to display the signs of one - impossibly high standards and an intense fear of producing anything less than what I deemed "perfect". And while these qualities have led me to create some good things at times, it's nowhere close to the number of times they've led me to do nothing at all. Perfection is an endless revision and endless dissatisfaction. If perfectionism is a virtue, it's a virtue that has led me to burnout and self-doubt. It's also a virtue that has led me to prolong my five-semester-long Master's program to six semesters because my perfectionism exacts that it's better to fail and qualify for the exam again than get a dissatisfactory grade. It's a virtue that has constantly led me to refuse to start or finish something lest I tarnish my self-perception by linking myself to something I am not proud of.

I used to think I was a perfectionist, but upon deeper self-reflection, it turns out I am actually a raving egomaniac who would rather do nothing than be associated with anything subpar.

It stems from my deep-seated need for validation, maybe? If I cannot be exceptional, I shouldn't be anything at all yada yada. But when reality doesn't align with my misguided expectations of self (which happens often always), I unravel and throw myself into the extreme and then the cycle begins again. Therefore, if there's only one thing I achieve this year, I would like to perfectly overcome the deceptive ideal of perfectionism.

Here Comes the Sun (dooodo doodoo)

Unexpected sun in the middle of February always reminds me how simple humans really are. You just need a littlbitta sun in the middle of winter to make you feel like you’re on a party drug.

Thinking of summer and a full balcony again.

It's almost time to start planning what I should plant this year. I've just bought a lavender starter kit and some dahlia bulbs. Last year the balcony was mostly purple and red. This year, I want it to be a riot of colours.

(I feel a lot more relaxed about posting rando things here. Sure it's public but it's still anonymous. And only people who really care would find this link anyway.)

🌞 Hello everyone 🌞

Many years ago, I lost access to the tumblr I made when I was 13. Even though I couldn’t access it, I could still go back and look at my blogs when I wanted.

It was a personal history of small things that felt important to me at the time. My favourite movies, my favourite quotes, my favourite music, and my favourite posts. An unintentional archive that captured various versions of me and the nostalgia of that time.

That account got deactivated a few years ago, and with it, I’ve lost access to the various versions of myself that I’ll never be able to fully recall.

I never really used tumblr again [also because tumblr changed a lot]. But I wish I [occasionally] had. Not only would I’ve had an archive of the last four years, but I would’ve also been creating more.

The internet has become less about creating and more about consuming. Nobody really posts anymore. There’s no engaging with each other. There’s only engaging with content or engaging through content. And now, with so much of it being flooded with AI-generated content anyway [something I’d like to talk about at another time], it has lost the little soul it had. Therefore, I am going back to the parts of the internet that still feel like they have a soul.

Love,

Commahorror (sometimes Halfpastpasta)

Sunday March 2, 2025