#quarantingz

[mypeachprince]

Stop posting so much Jaehyun I can’t reblog them all 😭

Just doing my job 8)

[angeltriestoblog]

I was supposed to stop writing about this pandemic

When it comes to self-improvement, I have tried just about every trick in the book. But I’ve never figured out how meditation works, what more how to get right. I always make sure to get up at the exact time the house is just the right kind of quiet and the sunlight filtering through my bedroom window is not too harsh. My 19-year-old self props up pillows to support my 90-year-old back, and spritzes some perfume to add to the ambience. I switch off the WiFi, ignore my notifications, and choose to focus on the soothing voice that makes my phone buzz to life. Give yourself credit for getting started with us, she tells me. Like I had to do much more than search “best meditation app 2020” “meditation app that oprah loves list” “meditation app with best basic plan” on Google and make the necessary downloads.

Within seconds, I am met with consecutive orders. Keep your feet planted firmly on the ground. Just keep breathing. Straighten your posture. I have no problem completing these, although my legs are begging to be crossed and my back aching to be slouched. But when she tells me to “clear my mind and keep my eyes closed”, this is where things start to get tricky.

When I close my eyes, I see a 24/7 marathon of probably every single thing I’ve done or thought in my lifetime, in crisp high-quality definition. When I reopen them and am asked to ground myself by pointing out three things I can see, I spot the brown paper bag sitting snugly in the corner of my room, the broken guitar split in two after an endless period of cessation, the perfume box bearing the faces of boyband members I used to love. My mind makes an endless number of seamless connections until I manage to associate these seemingly insignificant things to a distant, repressed souvenir from my childhood or a conjured image of what I would like tomorrow to be. Needless to say, I end up oceans away from the bedroom I’m supposed to be in.

I can’t remember a single time where my brain wasn’t buzzing with activity. I am not used to the silence nor am I comfortable in stagnation: I must always be working or thinking of or doing something, literally anything but the rise and fall in my chest. As a writer, this is rarely an inconvenience because I am able to generate ideas at the drop of a hat: these past three months, I’ve produced so many think pieces because, for the lack of a better reason, I literally could not stop thinking. 

But as a person living in a world governed by the coronavirus, I would like to be capable of focusing on one thing at a time, thanks! Now that the virus basically calls the shots on how our world as we know it functions, I feel like it’s more important than ever to be aware of “the now”: which aspects of it are subject to change and which ones we’ll have to begrudgingly accept, and to regulate my emotions and expectations accordingly. But my brain refuses to give me a rest. I am constantly teetering between recollections of the past: a time pre-COVID when I could hug my friends and not worry about the mask that is hurting my earlobes, and visions of the future where all is good and I am free to plan out the rest of my life: academic achievements, org involvement, romantic prospects and all.

I am hanging on to meditation as a last resort: a desperate attempt to clear my mind of the unnecessary so I can put the current situation at the center again. Hopefully so I can regain a little bit of sanity and figure out how I can best contribute to those around me. At this point, the app is reminding me that if my mind starts to wander, it’s completely normal and okay as long as I’m able to redirect its attention to the way I inhale and exhale. Normally, I’d indulge myself but today I’ll choose to guide it back. Congratulations, you’ve completed your session.

Last June 30th, I participated in Novella’s first ever virtual salon, where writers from all over the United States (and me!) came together and created on-the-spot pieces revolving around the theme PRESENT. I chose to talk about my struggle with practicing meditation: I wanted to make it my first attempt at CNF but I think I circled back to the personal essay because it’s what I’m most accustomed to. 

For as long as I could remember, I have practiced my creative process in solitude: within the confines of my safe space, only my blank document and a Spotify playlist serving as company. Although I do have a long way to go before I’m fully comfortable with reciting my work before a crowd (whether via Zoom or IRL), I did love witnessing the brilliance people could conjure in a half-hour. There’s just so much to learn from the community! I can’t wait for the latest post of The Stacks to be released so we can all revel in their greatness.

[rubylioness]

“Relax, recess, all up on the beach, yes”

Listening to "Paradiso” makes me even more frustrated at this quarantine situation. Like-- you really gon’ ruin Summer 2020 like this, Miss Rona? 

[poopindaisies]

June 18, 2020

[angeltriestoblog]

I went from reluctant leader to ACTM officer!

Kind of a late update but after what seemed like an endless discernment period and an unforgivably rigorous application process (on my part), I’m officially the Ateneo Association for Communications Technology Management’s Associate Vice President for Documentations! And yes, I’m aware that’s a mouthful so from this point on, I am referring to myself as ACTM’s AVP for Docs.

I honestly did not see this coming though: Freshman Angel stuck out like a sore thumb in her home org. In addition to finding all upperclassmen intimidating as I do with anyone born at least a day before me, I felt like I was just… not feeling it most of the time. All I lacked was a button that read “I really wish I weren’t here right now!” pinned to my shirt. It was only when I was a sophomore, familiar with the organization’s events and able to see them up close that I realized that I didn’t remember going through most of them myself. Although I’m pretty sure I was present because it was mandatory for all new members, I don’t recall going to a general assembly, being briefed on the different departments within the org, and especially being taught what our core competency was. I was very content with doing the bare minimum as a Docs Head: going to meetings to take minutes and do registration, nagging at the project heads and point people to submit the necessary requirements for post-documentations, and smiling shyly and saying “I’m ok!” when people asked me how I was.

Although I was much more active in my second year, I never realized I wanted to increase my level of involvement until I went to LEAP, the three-day leadership training seminar in Zambales I raved about in my first semester recap blog post. It was there when I noticed the home aspect that ACTM prides itself on: everybody—regardless of batch and predetermined social circle—bonding in more ways than one, both with and without the influence of alcohol, just having a great time and joking around like they’ve been friends forever. I saw just how much ACTM was investing in me to help me realize that maybe I could be an officer too. Maybe I could contribute to the great culture that makes us so much of a family. But of course, that thought quickly found its way to the backburner the minute we boarded the bus back to Manila.

I never really saw myself as leader material after several failed stints in my old school: I was the secretary who forgot to ask the teacher to sign the attendance sheet, or the vice president that ran out of the classroom first during earthquake drills when I was supposed to be last in line to check if all appliances were off. (In my defense, it was an act of self-preservation.) I didn’t realize it then while I was busy wreaking havoc in every homeroom class I found myself in but when I finally grew up, for the lack of a better term, I came to the conclusion that being put in charge of a group of people would only bring disastrous consequences and I didn’t want anyone involved in that.

Fast forward to several months later: I had an individual consultation with my boss Chelsea, the previous holder of my current position, to help with her plans in running for vice president of our department. Somewhere along the way, she tapped me to fill her shoes—a request that was met with a high-pitched “WEH?” that probably shocked everyone on the third floor of MVP that day. I had been diligently doing my work for two years, she said, just as long as she has so I knew enough about the processes. Back then, I was very preoccupied with two other extracurricular commitments and had plans of joining three more the next school year. My goals and ambitions were all over the place and I guess it reflected in the way I skirted around the topic because she just patted my knee (throwback to the time when physical contact was still acceptable) and told me to think about it. Real hard.

I guess this lockdown period also served as the time for discernment I needed: I weighed the pros and cons, made the necessary trade-offs, and got the insights of those I trusted, mostly by pestering them with uppercase keyboard smashes. I’d think I had a final decision one day then wake up the next, completely changing my stance. It’s not like I didn’t want to serve—I guess I just wasn’t giving myself permission to believe I could. I can’t really pinpoint when it happened but one day, my brain went: “What the heck. What could possibly go wrong?”

—

After making the decision to run, I felt at peace, no longer overthinking about every single thinking that could possibly go wrong, just eager for the day application season would formally start. Well, that is until I received the actual notification from the Ateneo ACTM page that said a Facebook group for all AVP aspirants had been made. I tossed my laptop aside and started yelling, much to the dismay of my mother who was on the receiving end of all this panic. Over the next few days, I would watch the electoral talk that followed, a webinar of sorts that basically gave a rundown of the process we would have to go through should we want to take on the challenge. 

One of my requirements was a long-ass form complete with questions about myself, my leadership skills, the department, and the organization. I remember looking through the platforms of the Executive Board applicants during the first wave of elections and saying to myself, “Wow, I hope I don’t have to fill up something that long. I would cry my ass off!” only to find out that I would have to submit almost an exact replica of that and truly enough, cry my ass off. While Noelle, our EVP, was glossing over everything, I took these pictures on my laptop’s photo booth to express my frustration and sent them to my friend Julia, who was also watching via Zoom. I was actually very paranoid that I had my video on during the call and would end up exposing my contorted facial expressions to all 70 people watching the livestream. Thankfully, the universe was merciful enough to be on my side at the time.

Believe me, I wanted to get started with the work the minute the virtual meeting ended: I felt like I needed to so everything wouldn’t pile up and paralyze me on the day of the deadline. But even early on, I was already pretty overwhelmed and I couldn’t bring myself to do anything. So I lay down on my bed for the rest of the night and played Ribs by Lorde on repeat. It was an effective coping mechanism then but I instantly regret it the next day once I realized just how much time I had wasted doing nothing when there was so much to be accomplished.

I answered the introspective questions pretty quickly: thanks to my sense of self-awareness, I was able to identify my strengths and weaknesses well. What I really struggled with was the platform. I couldn’t generate any original ideas that I felt could solve the problems I spotted—I had wondered if I could just copy paste Chelsea’s platform and add comments such as “Same” or “RT” on the side and call it a day. Thankfully, this is what individual consultations were for. I contacted Elise, a co-Docs Head from the previous school year, and Gella, my boss back in freshman year and both were kind enough to bounce ideas off me and give me reassurance that the working drafts I had in my mind were actually worth executing. With their insight (and a lot of ice cream), I was able to finish my application form days before I expected to.

I also wrapped up shooting my platform presentation ahead of schedule. I couldn’t find any decent background at home besides this one cabinet but I failed to notice that part of its door was actually faded until I was already done filming. In an attempt to hide it in a way that still appeared on-brand, I slapped some star and cloud stickers on the video and claimed that it matched my own name. The only obstacle I had to overcome was practicing for my panels.

The fact that my question and answer session with the Executive Board was to held be online instead of in-person given our circumstances was supposed to comfort me somehow. But either way, not knowing which answers were going to be expected of me gave me a great deal of anxiety. To stave off this irrational fear, I prepared a Quizlet with 27 potential questions or points for clarification on one side, and my response on the other, which I rehearsed with just the right amount of uh’s and um’s interspersed to make it look as spontaneous as possible. Maybe my greatest sacrifice though was boycotting any TV shows or movies until I was done presenting because even the most mindless programming could take away precious brain cells needed to retain more important information.

On the day of my actual interview, I was feeling pretty confident. I had gone the extra mile by preparing an hour early and recording videos of myself answering my imaginary questions on my laptop camera. This way, I felt like I was simulating the actual experience. But not even this form of planning could have prepared me for the real deal. I wish I could tell you more about how it went but I was so nervous that I blacked out. I vaguely remember puckering my lips and flashing a peace sign every time I didn’t know the answer to something and had to respond with, “I will look into that if I ever get the position.” I also remember that not a single one out of the 27 questions I had committed to memory was asked.

As expected, I was the most relieved when it was over, I didn’t even feel embarrassed until much later on. I got out of my smart casual attire, slipped into some pajamas, watched a movie, and finished the tub of Coffee Crumble waiting in the freezer as a reward. Two days later, I had received a message from Chelsea asking if she could call me. My friend Iverson had said that results are announced to all applicants via phone call before being released to the public at night. It’s not a clear indicator that I was the one they chose, which was horrifying because who wants to be rejected over the phone? My younger self hated Joe Jonas and what he did to Taylor Swift for precisely this reason!

Thankfully, I was only met with good news. Chelsea had told me that I had been chosen by the Executive Board and I was ACTM’s new AVP for Docs. I hadn’t eaten breakfast at the time despite the fact that it was 10 minutes to noon at the time so it took a while for my nutrient-deprived brain to generate the appropriate reaction. The joy kicked in eventually: I jumped up and down and yelled I’M SO HAPPY so many times once the call ended that the words have started to lose meaning.

Since then, I’ve spent my time familiarizing myself with my roles and responsibilities while getting to know everyone else on the team. I’ve had a video call via Google Meets with the people in my department where we leveled off, got to know one another better, and set our goals for the year as we watched Chelsea eat pasta. Very wholesome! EC Wars was also pretty fun: all eight departments of the organization were head-to-head in different challenges. It kinda reminded me of high school intramurals but with less broken friendships. We had to auction one another a la Unsubtle Syota Searching, make a Tiktok introducing our department, its relevance and the roles of each member (which officially launched my career as the org’s official Kris Aquino impersonator), and had a chaotic game of Bring Me through Facebook Messenger. Yes, it’s possible but not if you’re a PLDT subscriber! I also got put in a group with other members of the EC for an activity where we had to make an IMC campaign for a chosen advocacy. As the Mind Readers (named as such because of the multiple instances we sent the exact same message at the same time), we were assigned to tackle sustainable fashion and I have to say that our finished product was, as Dani Rosales herself would call it, “hot”.

This week, we’re on to the more serious stuff: revising internal procedures, refining platform points, etc etc. The fear caused by my self-doubt is further compounded by our current situation, which is keeping us from performing our tasks the way we envisioned we would. But I am a hundred percent confident that since I’m with the right people and we’re all doing the very best we can, it’s going to be one crazy fulfilling year ahead for all of us. I’m endlessly grateful to ACTM for taking a chance on me! Shoutout, of course, to: (1) Chelsea for serving as the final push I needed to decide that serving this organization is what I wanted to do; (2) all my friends who told me I had nothing to worry about while I was being neurotic and who were the first to congratulate me and say that they told me so; and (3) my parents who listened to my rants even if they were 90% org-related jargon.

Wishing you all love and light,

Angel

[reformation-lioness]

GIVE US MORE TIM DRAKE X READER PLEASE

please I am illiterate and lonely I need this content to keep me mentally alright.

[angeltriestoblog]

The state of the world has once again taken a turn for the worse, and like all other similar instances, I turn to the comfort of the written word. With that being said, I wanted to put it out there that I have no intention of speaking over the narratives of those who need to be heard the most during this time. (I guess it pays that I don’t really have much of an audience here.) It’s just that I’ve always said that writing helps me compartmentalize my feelings and figure out my next course of action, and I guess this time is no different. I need to get my thoughts down somewhere I can see them instead of having them flit around aimlessly in the deep recesses of my brain.

—

These past few days, I have been made more and more aware of my smallness. Following the (first degree) murder of George Floyd, I’ve had access to all the information surrounding his death: who did it, how they did it and why, the implications of the act, and the several ways black people of color and their allies are standing in solidarity to counteract this brutal display of injustice. I’ve come across several petitions that hope to hold certain individuals accountable or raise issues to the national level, funding sites that aim to provide financial assistance to those most in need, and resources with the intent to educate that demand to be circulated on a wide scale. While these have technically showed me how I’m not entirely powerless, that I do in fact have the ability to enact some sort of change, it’s still difficult to stomach that the change I am capable of making is not as substantial as I want it to be.

I understand that what I’m feeling is a hassle, at worst—nothing compared to those on the streets, to the black people of color who have to fight for rights that are supposedly inherent to all human beings, who demand justice for all those who have fallen because of police brutality only to have these cries fall on deaf ears. I do not have to face various forms of oppression and microaggressions not just when this topic is trending, but throughout the course of my entire life. I do not carry this lingering fear that every step I take outside of my front door could be my last. What happens to their community is absolutely sickening but the thing is, we haven’t even seen all of it. Keeping tabs on social media, checking up with actual victims of structural racism often deludes us into thinking we know exactly what’s going on and how hard it must be, but access to all of this information doesn’t erase the fact that I am watching everything from afar.

So instead of sulking so much that my reaction could be misconstrued as an attempt to make the conversation about me, I tried to channel all this frustration in a more productive manner. I’ve reduced my Twitter time because my timeline has magically morphed into a raging cesspool spewing hatred and anger and is thus getting in the way of my journey towards being an effective ally and concerned citizen. I’m definitely not saying this because the people I follow only ever tweet about the resurfacing of the #BlackLivesMatter movement—hopefully, at this point of the post, I’ve already made it clear that I am far from apolitical. It’s just that my following can easily be classified into two groups: those who wear their ignorance on their sleeve and actively resist any form of education, and those who are so ruthlessly divisive that they scare away anyone who wishes to be educated. The world is already unforgiving enough as it is and I refuse to take part in that kind of culture. I have been trying to ease my way back in though by looking at tweets almost exclusively in the likes of some of my most politically aware friends (hi Pat, Ryen, and Alyanna—I hope you never have to see this) and checking the trends sporadically for any live updates.

Not only have I realized just how many hours in a day going on that stupid bird app actually eats up, but I’ve also had a lot of time to educate myself and reflect on my previous actions. I figured that if I’m so upset about how my impact on a global scale is terribly lacking, I can always start on a more personal level, which is probably just as revolutionary. I’ve watched movies, gone through articles, and even started on this book called White Fragility by Robin DiAngelo, which debunks why exactly it’s so hard to talk about racism with white people. In this process, I’ve learned that everything I knew about the concept was surprisingly shallow and surface-level. Having first claimed my badge of wokeness when I was 15 (and engaged in some pretty performative activism at the time, if I do say so myself), I was shocked to find out that everything I collected from viral hot takes and recommended YouTube videos that claim to be an extensive guide to fundamental social movements possessed an unforgivable degree of inaccuracy.

For instance, all this time, I was under the impression that I could only be a racist if I called someone ugly because of their dark skin or curly hair, or said the n-word whenever I sang along to Caroline by Amine. As long as I didn’t do those things, or any other form of discrimination towards a marginalized group, I was in the clear and had nothing to worry about—I could get a star on the Good Noodle board. In reality, to quote Scott Woods, racism is “a complex system of social and political levers and pulleys set up generations ago to continue working on the behalf of whites at other people’s expense, whether whites know/like it or not”. It is not something we actively choose to participate in, but something that we are born into—literally who would have thought!

Because racism has been demonized by everyone with working mental faculties (as it should be), it’s hard to own up to the fact that at some point, we have subconsciously picked up racist behaviors or exhibited racist tendencies at some point in our lives. Every time someone tries to point out where we went wrong in the hopes of giving constructive criticism, we have our defenses up, a list of receipts of all the times we tweeted the #BLM hashtag prepared to show that we are, in fact, not the villain that we were made out to be. This is a counterproductive exercise that helps nobody. If we truly want to step up and show our support for the movement and those working to make it happen, we must first be open to the possibility that we have done wrong and we have so much more to learn.

As a kid, my beauty standards were very Eurocentric, like most Filipinos: according to a study conducted by me based on years of personal observations and experience, we are the country most obsessed with whitening soap and hair rebonding treatments. I called my friends the n-word as a term of endearment and previously used AAVE (African American Vernacular English) in my tweets to give them a little bit of personality. I chose not to watch chick flicks that revolved around interracial couples because I felt that the difference in their skin color got in the way of their chemistry. One time, when my mom and I were walking to WalMart during a vacation to the States, we came across a stocky black man and my initial reaction was to hold my purse closer to my body. I remain deeply ashamed of these beliefs I held, which were admittedly born out of ignorance, and I acknowledge my responsibility to continue to eradicate any traces of these I may still have.

I am also doing my best to extend the same compassion I have for black people of color during these trying times towards my own countrymen. We’ve struggled enough during this pandemic thanks to the sorry state of our healthcare system, and now the government seems hell-bent on speeding up the passage of the anti-terrorism bill. This threatens to impede our freedom of speech and help government officials get away with incompetence and even abuse of authority. If anyone gets a hold of this blog post and chooses to interpret this paragraph as an open threat to the President, this could be the last time you could ever hear from me, and this frightens me beyond words.

I know this isn’t a new contribution to the discussion but here are some links to helpful masterposts containing a variety of resources should you wish to donate, learn, or sign. This goes for both issues in our motherland and what is supposedly the land of the free. Let’s stay vigilant, let’s stay compassionate. Wishing you all the love and light the world still has left to offer.

[n0cturnal-being]

This quarantine made me realize that I'd really rather move out of this house