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Acquired Stardust
taylor price
cherry valley forever

Kiana Khansmith
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸

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Not today Justin

Kaledo Art
Claire Keane
AnasAbdin

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shark vs the universe
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izzy's playlists!
styofa doing anything

@theartofmadeline
YOU ARE THE REASON
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me

Love Begins
seen from Belgium
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@jmmarcelo2
Reblog if you think public libraries are important and should be maintained.
Stowaway
On lived mental health experiences and mess
[CONTENT WARNING: Mentions of depression and mental health. Not medical advice.]
An indicator--an image, rather, that social media painted of depression (aside from pill bottles and notes) is a messy room. Granted, extreme cases chain people to a bed, but oftentimes, functioning in a sea of misplaced items, an unkept bed, and trinkets on the headboard sound alarms. Amid the sweltering heat and the world caving in (or finals week, in mortal speak) comes a messy bed with a college student sleeping in.
(That's me.)
But the bed across me and the one above it is equally messy, too. Finals week, after all, puts a normal clock into double speed: in a blink of an eye, more than half of the time you thought you still have is zapped away. And when things get bad, the people that dwell in it drops everything when it gets too much. Fold the blanket, ruffle the duvet, fluff the pillow, and stow the trinkets away, and a familiar line rings across our dorm room: my mental health is getting better. A farce in all sense of the word, of course, but for a split second, they do get better. A little fixing of the bed and half the flags with tasks stuck on their little printed calendar stuck on the wall above their minuscule wooden table vanishes into thin air. While I cannot see through the smokescreen, at least on the outside, their claim gets backed up by their work.
That image played through when I was in the shower. Picturing a conversation with the person across my bed where for the thousandth time, I paint a picture of my neurodivergency and mental health issues (and somewhere along the picture, I have convinced myself that he hates me), I found myself explaining through the mess in my bed (which was a pain point with another being who was living with us before) that clearing the mess does not magically make me better. But I do found myself wishing at that moment that a little cleanup can make the world go round again.
Taking off my bathrobe and putting on thin clothes, combatting the heat, I pulled that old black box and reduced the mess on my table. I did not feel any better, but at least, there is less to think about. It's not better, but I suppose, it does not get any worse.
new year's resolutions (a short)
time is a flat character. year after year, one would be a fool to cheer on earth as it embarks a complete revolution. to cheer on january the first is akin to greeting someone of their birthday without ever knowing who they are, parasocial and all that. as cynical as it seems, the new year is another marker that we leapt forward to another door of possibilities, or perhaps, another year of misery.
while some elect to embark on self-transformation, most, especially the kids who grew up writing resolutions year after year, only to see it go down the drain a week after it went on paper, see the attempt as a frail, nonsensical attempt. after all, time is a flat character--it only knows to move forward. without fail or remorse to what has happened yesterday, it forgets. it moves on. time is a flat character.
if anything has to change in what seems to be an abyss of darkness, a tunnel of light only when the end is near, the only hope to make everything better is to never look back.
after all, if the entity we cheer on every year without fail all across the globe never bothers to look back, why should we?
keep going, love. it gets better. you made it here, and you can make it again next year. just keep going.
Diary: On my first speaking engagement and reflections on development journalism
20 November 2023: I was at my dorm room when my friend, Richer, messaged me about an opportunity that he thought I would not want to miss. Knowing that I was on the field of development communication, where we venture to reportage, he thought that I'd be the perfect fit for a creative writing seminar for Arellano University. At first, I was hesitant--after all, I was not a creative writer in all sense of the word, and especially in its narrow definition: mainly having expertise on prose or poetry. But as decided by their project head and a new opportunity is presented, perhaps it is time to expose young writers to a kind of writing usually only discussed in a Devcom classroom.
And so, last December 1, I delivered my sharing-lecture about community storytelling, a component that is part of the practice of participatory development journalism (PDJ) on Arellano University - Supreme Student Government's Inking The Quill; Empowering Bright Minds Through Creative Writing Workshop.
About the talk
What I operationally dubbed as community storytelling carried components of participatory video/documentary, highlighting the importance of surfacing community stories and perspectives that are usually overlooked by the mainstream media: stories that not even the mainstream media integrating audience engagement may opt to surface.
The main challenge that I left to my audience is to write with intent, and it has two streams of definition: explicitly, the challenge is to look beyond what is, essentially, the talk of the town: the dominant perspectives and frames of social issues, especially local and hyperlocal ones--to see beyond the superficial, and surface the perspective of the public, regardless if it stands in direct contrast to what the hegemonic powers say.
Implicitly, the call to write with intent is to write with a community in mind. I believe that to popularize the practice of PDJ, we must plant the seed of passion to write with a community in mind early, as that passion should stand as a strong foundation for PDJ practitioners of tomorrow.
IN PHOTO: Introductory slide about the speaker. 📸: Arellano University SSG/The Arellano Standard Manila. Tiles blurred to protect privacy.
IN PHOTO: Discussion about the concept of voice, an important ethical consideration both in the practice of community storytelling and PDJ. 📸: Arellano University SSG/The Arellano Standard Manila. Tiles blurred to protect privacy.
NOTE: The line "echo voices, not 'give' voices" has been corrected. A personal reflection is that to "echo" voices is problematic in a semantic sense, as it still depicts a hierarchy of power which jeopardizes the point of empowering the people. What I have discussed is that as storytellers, we are to retell what the community says based on their operational lens and perspectives.
Reflections about PDJ
After the talk, I was able to entertain questions that went to the direction of participant interest toward PDJ, and especially, the importance of looking at the community. Reflecting on their line of questioning, particularly toward the importance of focusing on a community and sharing their stories, perhaps a "third" space for PDJ can exist outside the traditional media space and the academe/organizations: while not full PDJ projects, short stories on the perspectives of people can be written by creative nonfiction writers.
Artistically, creative stories may embody perspectives that are usually ignored or suppressed within a community or expose social dynamics that may be detrimental to the function of a community. These stories may already exist today in artistic fiction, but perhaps, a step in popularizing PDJ is by going through the creative route. Provided, it should still adhere to the core of PDJ: it must not be extractive and not bring harm to the community.
Allowing these creative voices to be part of a proto-PDJ initiative may be likened to how creative writers are channelled as a platform for the community to tell their stories, just like how CGNet Swara used technology to provide people a platform to tell their story--creative voices may stand in lieu of technology to tell the stories of the people and bring it in artistic spaces.
Perhaps, if the community wants to expand their reach on telling their story, bringing their story in an artistic space may help them tap an audience that the current PDJ practice usually do not appeal to: the general public. Perhaps in an interest to grow the audience of the community, the PDJ practice may turn to artistic writing to carry their message across. It may or may not be feasible, but it can be a direction where PDJ can grow in the future.
Most certainly, creative writers are not used to hear about community storytelling, as communities usually stand to be references or inspirations to their characters, but with this talk, I was presented with a unique opportunity: to give writing for entertainment an additional purpose--to be a platform for community perspectives.
Scribble: There's always something magical over October sunsets in my hometown.
The blue skies and golden sunsets peek and say hello after consecutive weeks of rain and the yearly cycle of typhoons that just became normal and innate to being Filipino. Something in the air and the way the sun glows tell me that it's already October.
Afternoons are starting to get colder, the sun shines its warm, golden glow almost every day, if not every day, and the shorter daylight time evokes something spooky but also something familiar: a feeling that I'm in my comfort season again.
Seeing and feeling the familiar October weekend afternoons make me feel that I am home extra, now that I spend my week away from home.
Hindi ko namang ginusto na maging mapag-isa.
Tapatan na tayo--kailanmay hindi ko ginusto, gusto, at gugustuhing maging mapag-isa.
Sino ba ang gustong lumakad na nakayuko habang ang lahat ay napalilibutan ng mga taong mahal nila? Sino ba ang nais manatiling tahimik sa mundong pinalilibutan ka ng ingay at kulay? Sino ba ang hindi nagnanais na makahanap ng katuwang sa buhay sa mundong tila hinubog na ang lahat ay may kabiyak, kasama, at kaputol ng iyong pagkatao?
Pero sa bilis ng galaw ng mundo at pagbabago ng buhay, sa susunod na lang siguro.
Pagod na ako.
I Lament Not Taking The UPCAT
But frankly, I don't know if it will help feeling unworthy of being here, anyway.
I lament not taking the UPCAT, despite my protest against its existence. While I firmly believe that quality education from the State, perhaps showered by name recognition, and in turn, academic regalia, nothing makes me feel like a hack more than believing that I do not belong in such an institution because I did not take a test--one that gatekeeps entry to what is, in Professor Emeritus Solita Collas-Monsod's words, the cremè de la cremè.
Education is a right, not a privilege, as we say, yelling in mobilization movements "edukasyon, edukasyon, karapatan ng mamamayan!" and gatekeeping is an antithesis to what we are standing for, yet, the validation that an exam offers is so fulfilling, and its absence makes me question every failure that I commit if I truly belong to this place.
I lament not taking the UPCAT, even if its absence is a product of a global health emergency, and logistics of conducting an exam of national scale is a risk that outweighs the desire to gatekeep admission to such institution. Hence, the spawn of a flurry of insults from those who have taken it towards our batch. Place your bets on how it makes us feel. Place your bets on how it makes me feel. Does it even help my case?
While the grade-based academic admission system had its advantages, mainly not having to dig yourself down sleepless nights to gamble for a chance of entry into the land of even more sleepless nights, the merit of "working hard" to earn your place reinforces something up your head: that even if you fail majestically in your courses, you at least hold on to an exam that immediately turns into vanity the moment your first academic term starts.
I lament not taking the UPCAT, but frankly, I don't know if it will help feeling unworthy of being here, anyway. Behind the flashing lights, the euphoria, and the glorifying feeling of receiving your notice of acceptance, is the crippling cycle of asking yourself if you are a hack. No matter how brilliant you are (or were), you will be on your toes if you want to stay on top of your game. And with an academic culture so vicious, doubt will be your inevitable, but necessary friend.
My hope for the new children that will enter the University is that somehow, the validating euphoria that is the UPCAT slowly chip away the doubt that their first long exam result may bring, or their first 3.00 may instill, for, at least, an exam has told you that you have earned your rightful place. May the rigor that the exam taught you not end in your first year, but bud into actions that are sparkling exemplars of Honor and Excellence. But, as for me, I will lament not taking the UPCAT, asking myself over and over if I should be here, when more brilliant people could have had my seat. If my admission is a grace afforded by challenging times. If I shall carry the guilt of being a hack.