Ultimate rule of being phd student: supervisor is never wrong.
Now can I have a bucket of ice cream?

shark vs the universe
Sade Olutola

Love Begins
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

Andulka
ojovivo
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#extradirty

oozey mess
dirt enthusiast
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
i don't do bad sauce passes

JBB: An Artblog!
Claire Keane
Game of Thrones Daily
styofa doing anything

No title available
$LAYYYTER

★

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
seen from Australia

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@nindchan
Ultimate rule of being phd student: supervisor is never wrong.
Now can I have a bucket of ice cream?
I lose my Ph.D supervisor last week. He passed away due to heart failure on Saturday night, and I just got the news on Sunday Morning. Nothing prepared me for that moment, and my first reaction was distrought. He was never just a supervisor, he was a mentor, and most importantly a father figure. I felt like a child who failed to pass on his knowledge to the world. I cried at the train ride to his funeral. I cried when I meet his wive, and I cried when I came home and see my own mother.
The gravity of grief in losing him might be one of the heaviest sadness I felt. There's layers in that grief alone, and in the middle of it, a rememberance. Not only the memory about him, but also of one person who lose him as much as I do, my best friend. It's been a long time since we've talked to each other properly. Up until now, thinking about her still trigger The Fray's How to Save a Life at the back of my head. Then, as I stood at the funeral with two white chrysanthemums in my hand, I can't help but thinking about her.
It's been a hard time, but Alhamdulillah I've got people who hold my hands. People whose, not only allow me to sit and takes time to grief, but also help me to prosess it. Now I know what I have to do to live up to bapa's legacy.
To my dear friend, where ever you are, whatever you do. I hope out there you've got people who help you through this grief. And maybe someday we could spread grace, and wisdom bapa has taught us all this time.
A person raised in love and another raised in survival, will never see the world the same way.
—M00wd
16/02/2026
Happy Chinese new year for all who celebrate. Here we double up the celebration with ramadhan welcoming fair. Moon cake and rainy days made a perfect combination I guess.
For me, the brain is the sexiest thing about a person. Like when you’re talking to someone intelligent and they explain something in a way that just clicks, and you catch yourself staring because, damn, that kind of mind is attractive.
Hell yeaaah
How to improve your writing style : a 5-steps guide.
Intro : I love the 5-steps format, don’t mind me. Again, this essay is based on my personal experience.
Read in different genres. Ok, I know you’ve probably heard this advice more than you can count but did you ask yourself why it is so important ? You probably wonder ‘‘How reading some historical fiction will help me writing my sci-fi novel ?’’ For that simple reason my friend : they meet different purposes. You don’t know how to describe a castle ? It’s okay, historical fiction got your back. Because it aims at something more realistic and accurate, it would tend to be more specific and detailed when it comes to describing clothes, furniture, places and so on. Why ? Because, most of the time, THEY ACTUALLY EXISTED. Take a closer look at how it is done and draw your inspiration from it (but please avoid plagiarism it’s bad - and illegal)
Take notes and CLASSIFY them. To make reading somehow useful, you have to actually make it concious, which means you have to write things down to remember them. When I come across a description I like, I tend to takes notes of the figures of speech that are used and class them, so when I have to write a similar scene, I have an idea of what have been already used, and weither or not it achieved its goal. I am NOT talking about COPY another author’s style !!!! It’s about finding inspiration and new approaches. I also tend to take notes of the new words I wish to incoporate into my writing. The thesaurus is my new bestie.
Rewrite the same scene from different POVs. First of all, it’s fun. And it’s a really good way to spot quirky formulations. For instance, if you describe a ship, the captain’s POV should be different from that of a simple observer. The first one would be naming each part princisely whereas the other would only be admiring the surface without knowing anything. If the caption is the same for both POVs, maybe you should consider write your passage again (or have a good reason, like a strong amateurism for the mere observer). It’s go hand in hand with coherence - but it would be an essay for another time (maybe).
Read your text aloud. I put major emphasis on that one because it’s as underated as reading books for various genres. You have no idea how much we DON’T speak the way we write. Even dialogues are crafted in our stories - so make sure to give them proper attention. (i even read my email aloud but-). I KNOW how cringey it might be as I am doing it MYSELF but the benefits are worth the 35-minutes shame I endure from my own mess. Before you can shine, you have to polish (shout out to the one who said that first if it’s not me).
Take a step back. I strongly advice you to let some time pass before reading your text again and profreading it. It will cast a new light upon your work and with fresh eyes you’d be more likely able to spot what needs to be erased or rephrased.
That’s all for me today. Since I would be entering my proofreading phase for my writing contest, the next essay would probably about proofreading (with examples from my own novel ?). Unless someone wants me to write on a specific subject first.
Gentle reminder that I’m still French and not a native so please forgive my dubious grammar and outrageous mispellings.
my favorite reads of 2025
The Collapse of Self-Worth in the Digital Age
Extremely Online and Incredibly Tedious
Stop Calling My Daughter Pretty
Taylor Swift Is The 21st Century's Most Disorienting Pop Star
No Good Art Comes From Greed
AirPods Are a Tragedy
Only Fads: A Culture (and Economy) of Labubu
As a mother to teen daughters, I'm not that concerned about Sabrina Carpenter's influence (...but I am about Gracie Abrams)
Taylor Swift is not the English teacher she wants you to think she is
The Secret Society of Lightning Strike Survivors
Less TikTok, More Screaming
The era of QAnon capitalism
Puritanism took over online fandom — and then came for the rest of the internet
Scapegoating the Algorithm
You Can’t Post Your Way Out of Fascism
How Wellness and Beauty Influencers Can Be Part of an Alt-Right Pipeline for Teen Girls
Ruins in Reverse
The “Disney adult” industrial complex
A lot of y'all aren't woke, just assholes
Comedy’s Safest Slur
ChatGPT Shaming Is Making Our Writing So Much Worse
AI Slop Recipes Are Taking Over the Internet — And Thanksgiving Dinner
Is The Love Song Dying?
Hot subpoena summer
The Old Guard That Never Was (And Why That’s a Good Thing)
31/12/2025
Year: 2025
Location: somewhere between rooting, and branching.
When you acknowledge your limits, but still have courage to dream a little. When connection is more than just about blood or shared history, but resemblance of hope found among strangers. When happiness is no longer about personal achievement, but collective joy shared with your team every time one given task is finished. When solace doesn't came from tranquility of new traveling destination, but inside the comfort of a chaotic daily life. When you realize you are exactly what you wanna be. Or not... naah you can always make another mistake tomorrow.
06/12/2025
2025 flew like a bullet-train, and suddenly December is here. It's a combinations of odd sobs, sniffles, and smiles. Little by little I've found balance in my chaotic everyday rhythm. I learned how to manage my team better, but most importantly, I started writing again.
18/10/2025
The weather has been scorching lately, it feels like 2023 all over again. I almost forgot when did the last time I took time to read alone in open space. So today, accompanied by a cup of matcha, and a slice of cheesecake, I sit and read by the lake. This used to be my favorite reading spot at the campus, but since I graduated last year, I can no longer spend time there as much as I wanted. We have lakes too, inside our science center complex. But as long as I remember, none of researchers there bother to spend time near those lake. Trust me, it's not because those lakes are lacking exotic view or something, researchers just too busy with their life.
12/10/2025
One weekend gateway to northern part of the city. I've been wanting to explore this mangrove forest since a long long time, then after 3 failed attempts on making schedule, I finally went there without a plan. It was a nice place. It's good to have green sanctuary with stillness of nature, and various birds singing inside the city border. Although it was too far from my home lol. They have small coffee shop around the center of mangrove forest. Nice view with mediocre drinks, but still worth it to hangout with friends.
The Opposite of Loneliness
I read an essay with this title long time ago, and just couple days aback I heard The Cinema Therapy used this phrase when reacting to Thunderbolts*. So what is the opposite of loneliness? Allan said it was connection, something that was so hard to find these days. At least for me personally.
This past month has been hard, especially this last two weeks. I took 5 days leave only to spend it in bed due to feverish flu. All of my plans went straight to bin bag in the middle of chaotic state of our nation. Just when I went back to work, I lost a friend. His death felt like a wake-up call, so many things to process, and I wish my therapist was around to help me short all the thoughts.
Last Friday at dawn news broke, of how one of our dear friend found unconscious at his home, alone, after 3 days without contact. We both on the same year, Class of 2009. We were put in the same team years ago. He, the extroverted, enthusiastic person, and I, a pessimistic brooded human being. We fight constantly, in every occasion where we had to work together. But I respect him, adore his dedication and work ethic. He was a wonderful writer, and a great mentor. Honestly, I always thought that he will be the 1st PhD in our year.
I had an 8 am meeting that day, and supposed to be followed by 3 others agendas, but at 10 I decided to leave meeting room and join my fellow classmates to visit him at hospital. Seeing him at ER makes me sad, but also angry. He was so bright, so full of life. He was the soul of our community. Always came up with the most creative idea. Eager to makes connection whenever he saw it. It was not fair for him to be dying alone like that.
I went back to the office at lunch. By 3 pm, rumors surrounded his death was inevitable. Some said yes, but others said no. I was sharing my screen on zoom meeting when the final blow came. My team agree that the meeting should end, and I should join my classmates to the hospital (because the family wanted to bury him in his hometown). I ran with 2 other classmates, so caught up on grief we miss the junction and had to take a detour. Then Yudith, the one whose been with him at the last assignment, has spoken what's been bothering me the whole day. We used to talk all the time, and now we're not. What happened to us?
Honestly, I felt it too. I left office for 5 years taking my PhD, and just came back last year. We barely catch up. My last interaction with him was a grumpy massage saying how annoying he was by arranging group meeting that he himself can not attend. I thought we will have time.
As we gathered in the hospital alley, all of the person in our year shared a same question, did we failed him as friend? As family?
I cried until my head hurt. Never have I cried that much when someone died. Years ago when I loose a friend for a first time, I didn't even shaded a tears. Though the grief lingers for almost decade. That evening I finally get the big picture from a friend whose among those find him first. "He holds my hand as a response when I asked permission to measure his pulse." She said.
That brought a little bit closure. I wish in his last breath he knew that every connection he's built has coming back to him. That in the end he felt the opposite of loneliness.
Farewell Farido, you will definitely be missed.
some essays to fill your time
Just a bunch of things I've read recently.
The Authoritarian Roots of India's Democracy by Tripurdaman Singh
Why is Everything So Ugly?
Casual Viewing by Will Tavlin
“You are Next”: Unmarried Urban Women in India and the “Marriage Talk” by Shilpa Phadke
Crossing Days by Thomas Dai
Inside the Indian Manosphere by Lhendup Bhatia
Optimism and Desperation by Camilla Grudova
Everyone is Cheating Their Way Through College by James Walsh
Blunt-Force Ethnic Credibility by Som-Mai Nguyen
When My Authentic is Your Exotic by Soniah Kamal
The discontent of Russia by Joy Neumeyer
On anti-political projects by Kat Rosenfield
'Correcting' historical wrongs is a slippery slope by Manu Pillai
some more:
Social media and the collapse of ritual
Where are Lucy's friends in Materialists?
Sociologism Literature by Harry Schiller
Passion and Palestine by Derek Penslar
New TV Novels by Lisa Borst
From Progress to Catastrophe by Perry Anderson
The Crane Wife by CJ Hauser
The Trouble with Friends by Weike Wang
29/06/2025
Life lately: uneventful, but progressing. Mostly it's just about work, and more work. Back in 2023, in one of our session, my therapist asked, what did they do to you that makes you refuse to go back there?
Ironically, this is what they've done.
Plus, now I have to lead my own team.
So back in May, when my brother brought me a ticket to see Thunderbolts*, right at the end of the movie (before the post credits), I felt like Yelena Belova LOL. Miserable team leader who's sometimes felt voiceless, blindsided, but too stubborn to giving up. Outside from work, my social life is a disaster. Thanks God for Bucklena discord though.
I remember couple days ago, at the meeting, my friend asked whether we should just took notes. I said yes, that's and, we should be answering questions from discord. He looked at me in shock then said, discord? I realize my mistake then correct it, Slido, I mean from slido.
So, I cherished my uneventful life, and the silly things that comes in between. Maybe someday soon, I'll find a courage to start writing again.
28/02/2025
Some said we face dark days ahead, some other said that people just being skeptical, and that everything's alright. I (being the stubborn person that I am) do believe that with hardship, comes ease. So here I am, catching every drop of hope from simple everyday life. The warmth of sunlight when I walk among the trees, sweet scent of freshly delivered bouquet of flowers, inspiring words from old books I found in my father's collection, and a random notes at the public park as a reminder of a happier days.
Katniss Everdeen once said that what she needs is dandelion in the spring. A reminder that life can be good again. Yups. Someday soon, life will be good again for us, Indonesian people.
20/02/2025
Remember when we were young
Afraid but brave enough to swim away
Imaginations big enough
To dream a better life
(Sleeping g at Last)