Tracy is from Manila, who lives for design, and designs for a living.
She is also an educator who believes education isn't limited by a classroom. Among Other Things is what she likes to refer to as her online real estate,
documenting some of the goings-on in her life. Among other things.
It's getting increasingly difficult to manage so many online spaces. There's something to be said about blogs and websites in this age of social media. Mostly that it's become so tedious. Keeping my IG account(s) up to date is work on its own that I've sadly neglected this little piece of online real estateāsad, considering that I pay for my domain yearly. Are domains still a thing these days, or are social media handles enough?
Anyway, proof of life. I really should find the time to properly update my online portfolio. Gotta clear up the backlog especially since the cafe is set to reopen soon(!!!) and I'm excited to work on that again.
Itās the 9th of September, and Iām in Seoul, South Korea. Iām sitting here in my hotel room, resting, as I nurse a cold.
Pons, itās practically a year since you left us, and itās still so hard to accept. Weāre all still navigating our way through the pain and the grief of losing you, I still find myself crying on the way to school knowing you wonāt be there to greet me good morning, to ask me what I have planned for the dayās classes.
I think about the past year, and that day is still so fresh in my memory. The fact that what happened to you took place in the office and not anywhere else is a minuscule comfort. That you were attended to so quickly is far better than the possible alternatives had that happened to you at home, or while you were on your way somewhere else.
Until now, itās still very difficult to find the words to express what Iām feeling. All I know is that I miss you.
So I realized that my usual response to needing something isĀ āCan I make that?ā
Canāt believe Iām realizing this just now. Or maybe I always knew it and just never really thought about it more.
This is coming from reaching into my tote bag and feeling around for my little coin purse that I crocheted, which was squished under my notebook carrier that I also...crocheted. And then I thought about how many other things I wondered if I could make before resorting to just looking for it in a store somewhere.
I distinctly remember thinking if I could make a shelf, create a new handle for a kettle that didnāt have one, a little bag to carry my essentials when a backpack is too much. Iāve made myself a box to carry my softbox bulb, diffuser screen, and remote, coasters for the cafe, an A3-sized semestral calendar that isnāt interrupted by breaks in between months so I can see everything week by week. My first instinct when I planned the 2018 ID exhibit was that Iānot a committee or anyone elseācould mount posters on foam board slats so we wouldnāt just be sticking tarp onto the walls. And I immediately went to National Bookstore and bought all their foam board.
After years of online classes and being able to teach Print & Pub again, Iām getting back into this old habit. I love making things myself, almost to a fault. It always isnāt necessary, I just...want to do things with my hands that doesnāt require looking at a screen all the time. Which kind of resulted in that sem calendar I did the other day.
Iām meeting Aze later to talk about Print & Pub since itās going to be her first time teaching it. I feel bad that Ponci isnāt around anymore to teach it with me, because it was so fun being able to last year. We co-wrote content, and had the kids use our illustrations from the birding guide we did a few years ago for the Ateneo Wild. It was like a nice full circle moment for us.
I really want to write about my Feelingsā¢ but I just donāt have the mental capacity
Normally, I would write a long-ass entry about Very Strong Feelings, but itās 7 minutes past midnight, and I do not have the mental nor emotional capacity to discuss it at length.
But what I do want to put out here is that emotional trauma should have a fucking expiration date. I hate having triggers, and I hate all the feelings that come with them. I hate that there is no justice for things like this, and that I just have to sit and deal.
Teaching seems to have gotten harder, pandemic year 3
Yeah, Iām about to rant about teaching again.
Teachers are always going to get the short end of the stick, arenāt they? Somehow, our students expect us to be constantly available, to always be ready to listen and give advice when theyāre breaking down and suffering mental implosions.
But man, thatās just not fair. Iām not sure if IāmĀ allowed to tell students something like, āYo, Iām having a mental breakdown and I really just canāt handle more than my own problems right now, so if you could justā¦not talk to me for the rest of the month, that would be great.ā Especially with my thesis class, man. I really feel like Iām suffering from anxiety now because of all the mental load Iāve had to handle recently after losing Ponci. So many kids are just soā¦slow? To get things done? Like where is your sense of urgency? And then when kids ask to consult, itās always with the complete disregard for the 2-day rule where they have to schedule a consultation at least 2 days before their desired schedule. Like itās easy to shuffle around my own schedule to make way for the only consultation Iāll have to go to school for.
And Iām not even sure if itās a result of habits and behaviors shaped by life in the pandemic. That seems to be the easy thing to blame. But what if thatās not it? Do I have to deal with this for as long as I keep teaching?
I keep telling myself that maybe Iām feeling this way because now thereās nothing else keeping me busy from teaching. Thereās no cafe to manage, no friends I can be quiet around and just let the work pressure ease up, no other design work to keep my mind engaged and using the other half of it thatās responsible for creating things out of nothing (rather than the half dedicated to reading papers and trying to decipher what the kids are saying)ā¦
So much work goes into teaching, and I hate the systems that donāt compensate teachers for everything they do. Teaching is so much more than the work that happens in the classroom. And yet thatās all weāre paid for. The performanceānever the work the comes before and after it, which is honestly the bulk of what we do. All the thinking, the consulting, the guiding, the hand-holding, the researchingā¦none of that. Weāre paid to put on a performance in class that the children will hopefully learn something from. The rest is on us.
And sadly, the kids donāt see it that way, either. Weāre so often made to feel that they think of us as sitting on our hands, waiting with bated breath for their work for us to check and review and clear.
I donāt really write as often anymore, do I? Iām not sure if itās a product of just having a lot of things to do that thereās no time to just sit down with my thoughts and write like I used to. I was about to type that maybe just not a lot is happening thatās worth writing about, but thatās just not true. I can chalk it up to being lazy, too.
I spent some time last night reading old blog entries and was pretty amazed at just how often I used to write, and how much I had to say at the time. Now it seems like I have less and less to say every time I feel like writing. Or maybe this is me now post-COVID, where my brain can no longer handle being stuck on one task for too long. Or maybe Iāve developed ADHD. I dunno.
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A N Y W A Y itās the first day of school again. Weāre officially back onsite, at least for most of us who choose to be. But man, online just really doesnāt do it and I blame my compounded laziness on it. Ever since online schooling, I wake up later, and have gotten way less productive. Itās so much harder getting things done that I want to relearn how to be productive. I think the Intersession that just recently concluded helped since I also held those classes onsite. It was a good warm up, since I had to meet my class every Monday and Friday. Now letās see how I do with the new class schedules the school implemented.
Weāre now on a MTh/TF schedule, just like we had in UP when I was a freshman waaay back in 2006 which honestly I found rather perfectā2 days between each class day, regardless of which schedule you picked up. My current schedule for the semester is TFS, with the usual Saturday mornings for thesis. Weāre back to a 9ā12 time slot now, so yay? But letās see how I do with Friday classes and then class again the next day. Ponci was onto something with the MThS schedule being the best setup, but...Thursday is my coding day, and I just didnāt want to have classes on Mondays since Iām usually out on the weekends.
Iām teaching a new elective this semester, so that should be interesting! Iāve been teaching here in Ateneo for 9 years now, and ever since my first year of teaching, Iāve always wanted to try and teach photography. I even remember writing a cover letter to the Comm department since thatās where they have Photography classes but never got a response. But here we are now, with my new elective in tow, almost a decade later. We were playing the long game, boys and girls.
Iām still teaching thesis, and Iāve gotten quite comfortable. I mean thatās not to say I no longer feel anxious about teaching every year. But looking back when I always felt I wasnāt doing enough when I was new to this role, I have to say, Iāve done a pretty good job. Iāve gotten several batches of seniors to graduate, so thatās nice. I probably have the highest rate of not passing kids during the first semester, but last year was the first time I got them all through. Iām pretty sure it was a product of them being good kids in the first place and maybe the extension of leniency during the pandemic. Not sure how good or bad that sounds, if Iām being honest, but Iām excited to be back on campus at last. It was so great doing Print & Pub onsite. I let go of it when we went online because it was being taught during intersession along with Branding which I was also teaching. I couldnāt imagine how a...print class would be purely online. Like why even. But Iām glad to see that the kids had fun. A few of them who took it just this past Intersession are in my thesis class now, so weāll see how that goes. They seem excited. Haha.
ANYWAY I should go back to class preps. Itās 9:47 AM and I know my class is still at 11, but...I wanna go through everything and then test the stupid old projector in my room.
Core Memory: Library banishment in the first grade.
I have this memory that sometimes pops up at odd times (now being one of them, as I sit downstairs with my coffee and checking my student's submissions). It's very vivid to me, and I'm still trying to figure out why.
I was in first grade. I was banned from borrowing books from the library for the rest of the year when I was told that I didn't return a book that I had borrowed. What happened was I brought it back to the library when I was done reading it at home, and put it in one of the shelves. I didn't return the book properly, but I did return it. I remember it very clearly.
I felt so wronged as a kid to be banned from borrowing books for that first instance of misunderstanding. I felt out of place since my classmates could borrow books on days we were brought to the library, and I could only read while I was there. I couldn't take books home to enjoy before I went to sleep.
I'm pretty sure the librarians would have eventually noticed that the "missing book" was in one of the shelves as they made sure everything was sorted. But you know, I was still banned for my entire first grade life.
I was allowed to borrow books again after first grade, but I still felt a tiny bit cheated out of enjoying more books in the library for a year. It's a good thing my parents loved buying us books. But I just sometimes feel that my school failed me by not giving me a chance to explain.
More than a year into the pandemic, and we've miraculously survived. But the bleeding is getting harder to stop. We can't stem the tide. I'm fearing the worst for us, if I'll be honest. Not sure if it's because I've lost my incredible sense of optimism and fighting spirit, but it's just really coming to terms with the fact that we just can't keep up.
The bills are piling up, and there has been no assistance from the government despite promises since last year. We were just starting to do okay early this year with people and orders coming in, so we were gradually picking up our pace by trying to evolve once again. But lockdown happened and it basically cut us up anew. We couldn't accept guests which I really feel is how we managed to survive. We don't rely much on advertising, we've always gotten new customers through word of mouth. Whenever we did try going down the ad route, the gains from it were very short-lived and the costs ultimately outweighed them. We couldn't risk losing any more money.
Maybe it's time to let go. We knew the pandemic would eventually kill our small business, we just weren't sure when or how quickly. We survived a year despite many, many other small businesses like us closing up shop. We did so much, but the hits kept on coming and they keep on coming.
I always felt very strongly about letting go and giving up the fight. But I don't see what more I can do, what more I can add, what more I can change. It's difficult to think about letting go. This was the place that introduced me to my closest friends, that helped me grow after so many of life's hardships, that brought me back to life. This place was home.
I'm pretty sure a lot of people would think I'm being overly dramatic about a coffee shop. At the end of the day, it's a business. Businesses live and die, especially during a recession. But there's just so much about this place that I find it so heartbreaking to put it to rest. I know the most important thing is not the place itself. The friends I made, the experiences, the lessons, the memories. But these are all attached to this place which makes it feel like cutting off a part of myself.
The photo above was one I didn't take. It was sent to me while I was in Japan with some friends, so I could make a regular post on Instagram (I had just been recently, officially hired as the social media manager). I've always loved seeing Nine Three like this. Filled with people, very likely people sitting in one corner talking to people way over in the other corner. I loved knowing who our regulars were and entertaining their questions or just talking about coffee in general.
Maybe in the future, we can find that again, if we do ultimately fold. And hopefully, the same life and energy can be breathed into it.
We've been in this hell hole of a pandemic for more than a year now, and it's been so much more difficult to focus on...well, anything right now. It's much more difficult bringing myself to be productive and for majority of this pandemic so far, I had convinced myself that I was fine and I wasn't all that affected. But I guess it was a slow burn, because there have been days in the past month or so that I just. Couldn't. Work. Like my brain wanted to do all these thingsāschool work, personal projects, get some tasks done, but my body just. Didn't want to.
If you're out there reading this silly little blog of mine and you've been having a horrible time stuck at home and kicking yourself for not being productive...you are not alone, and it's okay to not be productive all the time. We're all going through this massive trauma, and we can't force ourselves to be okay with it if we aren't.
I wrote about this on my IG story, but I felt this required an actual post, somewhere. This felt like the best place to do it. I rarely wax sentimental now.
Late night January 29, I was sitting at the cafe counter next to Ryan. It was a quiet evening in the cafe. We had just come from dinner in Teacherās Village after running a cafe errand. He was opening MTG packs and putting the cards on the counter and this particular one caught my eye as it sat in front of me. I read the flavor text quietly, and it rang in my head.
We spent some portions of that evening sitting outside on the curb just talking about our livesāwhat I recall from that random string of stories was how I once sat in that same spot with Pat watching a lunar eclipse and being amused by how the moon looked like an apple in a stocking.
Pretty soon, the cafe had closed but we elected to stay and hang out on the back of his pickup, refusing to go home. More story-telling and some hand holding because that was as far as we had gotten at the time. And not too long past midnight, it became official. In those first moments, it was simultaneously nothing, and everything.
It all feels very poetic. Things were ending and beginning; were nothing and everything. The day had literally just ended and a new one was beginning. While January 30th wasnāt the very end of the month, it was a signal that it was ending and February was coming. Our relationship had just ignited. It was simultaneously nothing and everything.
ā
Itās been a year now. A year! Ryan and I celebrated our first anniversary just last weekend, and itās astounding how itās already been one year. It feels very fast but at the same time, itās like time has gone by so slowly because we feel like weāve known each other forever.
Iām currently sitting at the cafe, taking a break from grading for the semester. Itās only 1 PM, so I think I have some time to pause reading thesis papers and write up a blog entry. You know, to update whoever even finds my life remotely interesting. Or to somehow document the new things that have been going on.
December last year, I made the conscious decision to start bike commuting. Iāve never ridden a bike on the city streets; I donāt even remember the last time I rode a bike prior to getting mine. But the saying really is true, as silly as it sounds talking about thisāit really is just like riding a bike.
For the most part, Iāve always been apprehensive about riding a bike outside the confines of our gated village. It never helped that the common perceptions about bike commuting were that itās dangerous, itās too hot here, itās too polluted. Even without being prompted by anyone telling me those things, I came to those conclusions myself as I sat comfortably in air-conditioned cars as I went about my life in the city. Iāve always wanted to try biking to school when I was in college since my house was essentially just 5 minutes away but it was for those reasons that I never really got to try.
Fast forward to 2019, when the Barangay sent notice to constituents in Loyola Heights that there would be road clearing operations in accordance with the blah blah blah. What it essentially meant for us at the cafe was that parking would be tricky between opening hours to 5 PM. There was one occasion where 4 of us were ticketed for parking on the street during the day. That was no fun. November last year, I got my second ticket which sucked even more because the process was a little more difficult now in the time of the pandemic. Long story short, in involved more going around the city hall compound.
That was the last straw for me, really. I couldnāt hang out at my favorite place without worrying about stuff like that anymore. So a week or two later, I got myself a bike. Along with several essential gear and accessories, of course.
It was meant to be my bike
I went to Decathlon with Ryan to check out bikes, and I learned that the bike I was looking to get wasnāt available in my size. (Yes, I learned just a few months ago that bikes have sizes.) I asked when new stocks would I arrive and I was told that they would on the first of December. So on December 1, I went to different bike stores close by to check out what they had. I actually wasnāt planning on visiting Decathlon again, but I found myself parking in Tiendesitas after visiting this one place near White Plains.
Went back up to Decathlon and saw someone trying out the bike I was looking forāa B-Twin Riverside Matte 100āwith aĀ āsmallā tag hanging on it. New stocks! I heard him say heād reserve it, and the staff talked to each other mentioning it was the last stock of the small-framed Riverside. WHAT. I approached on of them and asked if there were any more in stock. They said they seemed to have run out, but upon checking the unassembled new stock bikes hanging by the side, they found one. It was mine! I asked if I could try it out, and I was so delighted that there was actually a bike thatĀ āfitā me, a small girl of 5ā²2ā³.
I asked if I could have it reserved, and was told they could only hold it for 24 hours. I was hoping to get it on the weekend when I could ask Ry to come pick it up with me, but the guy suggested that I could pay for it already and it could pick it up whenever I wanted. I immediately said yes.
It was mine!
I didnāt remember biking to be this exhausting
Ryan offered to come with me the next day to pick up my bike, and we did. I was so excited. I decided to take it for a ride the moment I got home. The moment I got home, I was completely exhausted. I could barely move, my body was sore, and I wanted to just lie down for the rest of the night. And that was just after riding less than 5km around the village, for about 20 minutes. Was biking always this exhausting??? I felt so out of shape.
I decided that I had to build up endurance before I could start biking to Katipunan. Iād bike around my village as often as I could, tracking how long and how far I biked. It was promising to see I could bike for longer the more I rode around, and I got to practice letting go of the handlebar with one hand to try and signal, or at least adjust my glasses.
The biggest obstacleācrossing Commonwealth avenue
By the end of the month and on our last day of operations for the year, I mustered up the courage to finally take my bike out. This was to the apprehension of my parents, mostly my mom, who told me I could just bike inside the village. But you know, that wasnāt the point of getting my bike. While I got it over an e-scooter for the exercise, I also wanted to drive less for various reasonsāavoiding being stuck in traffic, having one less car on the road, not contributing to pollution, saving money on gas and parking, and encouraging other people to do it by showing them itās doable by a noob like me.
The day before I took my bike to Katipunan, I thought I would try biking along Commonwealth. It had a bike lane off the main road which was very encouraging for someone like me whoās never taken her bike outside the village. I initially planned on just riding up and down one side of the highway but as I approached one of the pedestrian overpasses, I looked up and though,Ā āMaybe I should see if I can carry this thing over.ā I did with a lot of difficulty. But I made it across and I biked around UP.
The second time I biked to the cafe (just last week), I tried to take another route that wouldnāt involve me carrying my heavy hybrid bike up and down stairs. To be brief about it, that route was terrifying and C5 sucks. I also fell off my bike, but that was due to my own stupidity. So today, I took the UP route, i.e. I decided to just carry my bike again.
This is great
Last night as I was thinking about how Iād go to the cafe today, I thought maybe I should just drive since Iām bringing stuff over and I want to bring my laptop too so I can sit here and grade. But then I remembered that day I got my second ticket, when I was sitting here working, and the Barangay with the enforcers showing up. The whole point of getting my bike was to free myself of that experience and the hassle of having to park at Pop-up and then walking to and from the cafe. So I strapped the cafe stuff onto my bike rack, stuffed my laptop into my backpack with a laptop sleeve for extra padding, and off I went.
Really, the only thing I find so unpleasant about my bike commute to and from Katipunan is the carrying of my bike to cross Commonwealth. The day I first biked on Commonwealth, they were painting bike lanes onto the main road with a buffer zone which is very encouraging. I saw a FB post a few days ago about an urban planner or something working with the QC government talking about the new bike lanes on Commonwealth and I expressed that hopefully they also consider improving the pedestrian overpasses by adding ramps for those who need to cross with their bikes. With that solved, Iām golden. It will take some time but for now, I can deal.
On my commute today, I thought about when I would finally be able to commute past Katipunan. Maybe Iāll take it a little a time and hopefully the improvement of bike infrastructure continues.
Weāve been sitting through this pandemic since March. Itās the middle of November now, and I sorely miss my friends. I was thinking about this a few days ago when it just so happened that a bunch of us were at the cafe for one reason or anotherāwe really do take for granted the tiny, little things.
I got to hung out once with some of our friends for a birthday thing. We were all standing outside the events hall, wind in our face, cups in our hands, and I was booking a Grab to pick up food from Makati for my own birthday celebration at home that night. It was nice being able to gather, albeit incompletely, and not have to worry about much for a few minutes. To just laugh and hope we could see each other more. It was nice pretending things were normal, when they were far from it.
Weāre 8 months into this pandemic, and a bunch of typhoons have ravaged our country. Our government is failing to serve its people with a few unsurprising exceptions like our Vice President. Small businesses are bleeding and slowly closing, online classes are difficult for both teachers and students, and many have even lost their homes, their livelihood, their lives. Itās hard to imagine that all this would all happen when we were sitting in our little cafe on Rosa Alvero, quietly enjoying the slow but promising upward trend of success and carefully planning growing the business.
Nobody saw 2020 to be this bad. Nobody thought that remembering all the little things like playing board games on Sundays or going out on small dates would bring us some small sense of comfort that hopefully in the near future we can again be thankful that we can afford to be bored.
I do not like the idea of making absolutely everything convenient for me. That sounds strange, but I have a point.
Ever since I was probably a teenager, I always recall my parents suggesting to me if I could have someone pick me up rather than getting to a place myself. My young mind was all,Ā āYeah that makes sense.ā Whether it was with friends, or my then boyfriend, often the suggestion was to always make it more convenient for me.
But fast forward into adult life, and sometimes I still hear that suggestion. And it irks me. Why should other people be subjected to making my life easier? A lot of the time, because I have good friends, they donāt mind. But for the most part, Iām trying to get rid of that little worm in my brain telling me to just ask someone to do a thing for me instead. Itās been so ingrained in my head that it kind of made me a little dependent or helpless at some points in my life. And that wasnāt good for a then young adult.
I am always in the place where I am most needed. These days, in this pandemic, itās just one of two placesāhome, or the cafe. If I am needed by my students for most of the day, Iām home so I can take their calls. I can take calls anywhere, technically, but I prefer to be in a setting where I canāt be distracted by other things. Sometimes at the cafe, even though Iām seemingly busy with something else, my help is sometimes asked for. And I always oblige. So I stay home for class-intensive days. Else, Iām at the cafe. So I can see whatās going on, see if anything goes wrong, and help as neededāwhether itās to put stickers onto bottles, or make coffee, or handle customers.
If I can do something myself, Iāll do it. If I absolutely need help, Iāll ask for it.Ā I donāt like inconveniencing other people just because itās an option.
Iāve taken to making videos of myself, mostly to get used to hearing myself talk. I think a lot of people donāt like how they sound recorded, and I am one of them. I uploaded my second one already on Facebook, and I am not sharing it here because I dread public access to something so mundane and poor in quality compared to the millions of other videos out there with much more interesting content.
ANYWAY. I started out just using my phone to record the first video I did (and the quality wasnāt too bad in terms of both video and audio), and the reception was actually overwhelming! I mean theyāre all my friends but I didnāt expect too many people to sit through 10 minutes of me rambling or actually leave any comments about it. Surprise, surprise!
The second one has moreĀ āusefulā content in that I talk about a thing I received in the mail that very day. I wasnāt planning on making a new video until maybe a few days after, but the opportunity was too good. Besides, I actually hadnāt thought about what I was going to talk about, anyway.
BUT, Iām not here to talk about the video. I donāt know why I suddenly find it so amusing to record and put together clips and audio. Perhaps itās a new way to keep me preoccupied and cope in this pandemic. Plus itās hell week in school now, and I just finished with 2 rounds of presentation. 2 more on Wednesday, then itās just a lot of grading and getting ready for first semester. Itās pretty crazy how school is becoming (because online learning is not easy, even for us teachers), and itās nice to have a new outlet where I can temporarily distract myself but exercise some form of creativity at the same time.
I think Iām getting used to hearing myself talk, now Iām not liking how my mouth moves when I do. I find so many things to nitpick about myself that itās ridiculous.
I actually would like to try filming myself making coffee downstairs, but...I am still not comfortable with the idea of filming while people are around.
Iāve been teaching Branding at university for a few years now and will again this intersession semester. Given that weāre now moving towards online learning due to the on-going pandemic and how itās affected education, us teachers are now tasked to reexamine how weāve been conducting our classes and adjust given the new platforms weāll be using. Itās close to impossible for us to meet our classes face-to-face, probably removing valuable human experiences and interactions that can happen only in the classroom, and most of us will now be living behind our screens. Itās a very strange new environment that Iām a bit apprehensive about. But we must proceed. Learning must never stop.
Branding. Itās a word most people are familiar with and have their own ideas about. I ask my students every year what they think it is, and a lot of them will tell me that itās an identity. They are correct. Iāve worked on several branding projects, not all of which I am proud of because I was, like most students, young and inexperienced. Back when I was just starting to do design professionally, I thought that as long as a brand stuck to the fonts, colors, and imagery prescribed to them by their designers, that was good branding. But ah, my naive young mind. The more I practiced design and the more I was exposed to the world, I learned that branding was so, so much more.
My work as a freelance graphic designer and food photographer (for a time) allowed me to work with several brands. I will admit that looking back on my first few years as a young designer, I could be pretty arrogant. I had stubborn moments where I felt I knew better than my clients and that they should absolutely take my advice or go with my recommendations. But hello, that went against what they wereāadvice and recommendations. I could say whatever the hell I wanted but they didnāt have to go with it. It was their choice in the end, and what my young self did not realize that my job wasnāt to give them something I think they should use, but to help them tell the stories they wanted to tell through design.
Fast forward to today, in this mess of a year we call 2020, being heavily involved in one particular brand is helping me learn not just about the practice of branding, but how to teach it to my students in the next few months. Branding is all about stories and experiences of human beings. Everything else is beside the point. For a brand to be successful, it needs to connect with humans. It must tell stories that people want to be a part of. More than just having a consistent look or aesthetic. More than getting an overwhelming amount of sales. More than producing content people will like and share and later forget.
Brands come to life not just in the creation of visual identities, but when it builds communities. Itās not just about marketing and sales. Itās about relating to peopleāeliciting emotions and cultivating trust. People will take care of brands that take care of people. People will stand with brands that stand with them.
Iāve always been somewhat of an idealist ever since I was a stupid college kid. I may have grown to be a bit more cynical as I grew older, but Iād still like to believe that brands should have heart. Yes, they should still be smart enough to maintain and even increase financial security, but brands should also be responsible entities that have souls and hearts. Good brands become part of stories that people tell, but great brands tell stories people want to be part of.
Almost 2 months on lockdown, and I think I have more pictures of Ryan with his cat than pictures of us together. Weāve officially spent more time apart than together as a couple thanks to this global pandemic, but Iām glad weāre doing okay and havenāt gone completely insane. Thankfully, we have silly+adorable pets that occasionally star in our video calls, his more than mine.
I looked back on my old posts in this blog and find myself wondering again if I should just delete all the ones that pertained to my last relationship the way I did on my Instagram feed, or at least the ones where I talk about wedding planning and all things related to that. I read through a couple of the entries and wonder how I managed to get over the hurt that came after. From deliriously happy and counting down to a wedding that never happened, to a complete 180 of being depressed and considering ending everything in a quiet part of campus. It was a struggle to say the least, but sitting here nowāon lockdown and wondering what time my boyfriendās cat will finally be able to wake himāIām glad I managed.
I finished watching the entire run of How I Met Your MotherĀ again for the nth time but skipped the last 5 minutes of the finale. Iāll admit, while largely similar to Friends, I like HIMYM better. The themes were better, there was much less sexism (lol), and the absence of Ross Geller might be one of the best things about it. Towards the end of HIMYM, what really sticks to me was the constant theme of howĀ āthings have to fall apart to make way for better things.ā And I know that kind of came in much later in the series, it really is true. You canāt keep sticking to or running back to the past because itās convenient or familiar. (Which is why I hate how they ruined the Barney & Robin dynamic after they developed so nicely as characters.)
Things fell apart. Now itās time for better things. Even if it means being on lockdown for more than 2 months, or even the possibility of yet another extension. Weāre just getting started.
Ryanās on video chat on my phone next to me and heās playing his usual Call of Duty. Sometimes weāre just like this, on video call but not saying a word and just going about our own business. It might seem strange and sounds like defeating the purpose of being on video call, but in this time of quarantine where we canāt really be with each other especially now that weāre closing in on 3 months into our relationship, itās all we can really do. And I donāt mind being quiet. I suppose this can be likened to being in the same room and just doing our own thing. While I donāt have the pleasure of basking in the cuteness of his cat who likes to sleep at the foot of his bed, I do love the how comfortable we can be in silence.
I was going through Facebook and came across yet another one of Dreiās shared posts of really pretty houses. I tried picturing me & Ryan in those houses and I got to imagining the kind of home weād feel most comfortable in.
Probably not one of the super Scandinavian-style houses with the geometric furniture, and maybe not even the Japanese minimalist-style houses. No, I picture us sinking into a big, comfortable couch with large pillows. I can imagine lots of light and quirky little pieces in every roomāprobably a Godzilla cookie jar, or a shark bowl full of popcorn. Funky patterned pillow cases in the living room, and one of many litter boxes sitting in the corner. Thereād probably be that MUJI beanbag chair that Iāve always wanted sitting in the bedroom near his bed that we take with us from his house.
I can picture us keeping his habit of using laptops on the bed with our own little laptop tables, music playing on speakers across the room, Bai Fan asleep in the bathroom sink and Bowie asleep in his bed on the floor. (I like pretending theyāll get along.) The kitchenās probably not that big, but the pantry isĀ humongousĀ and is always stocked with Yakult, strawberry sour tape, pancit canton, and cookies & creme ice cream in the freezer. My coffee contraptions will still have their own space on the kitchen counter.
Itās probably not huge, but itās filled with light, several plants that my mom will give me to liven up the place, and will almost always smell like coffee.
I picture all these little spaces where we can sit next to each other, whether in silly conversation or in comfortable silence, and hope that eventually thatās exactly the kind of place I come home to after the world gets better.
