Earlier this morning I had already written down at least half a decent post's worth of my opinion about the term “Filipinx” – on how, as a former Mainland-er, I doubt I'll ever understand the real essence of it, but at the same time find it surprisingly relatable in terms of holding on to a personal cultural identity and narrative I can hold on to while I no longer have my feet planted firmly on my hometown.

I had all these ideas built up, stopped to take a quick break and to work on actual work-work, and then when I came back to my draft, read it once and deleted it. Poof. Gone.

Folks, that is my problem. I wish I could come clean and tell you exactly how many times I've done this, but it's happened so many times that I've lost the exact count. I start this whole rant and inner monologue about an opinion I have but I start to get cold feet and, ultimately, erase every single word into oblivion. I fear that my opinion in the matter is not valid. That I have no additional point to make, so maybe I should keep my mouth and thoughts shut. Sometimes I fear that my opinion is flimsy, and if called out (or worse, cancelled), I won't be able to recover. I know full well that W.a is probably the safest space my thoughts and opinions could ever be in, and discourse does happen in a better, more constructive way, but I still live with that fear.

I'm no coward, but I know my emotions are fragile. Heck, people forget that people are humans once they start hiding in anonymity and in numbers, hurling one destructive comment after the other. I don't have a lot of faith in how most people use the internet, and most of the time I have chosen to lurk rather than to actively participate because of that exact reason. But this is the internet – anything I put out here is “receipts”, and modern-day society has developed sleuthing skills that could land them a career in the FBI.

I guess another thing for me to overcome in my writing journey? Sounds about right.

#Journal #PrattlePost

In the same vein as people who occasionally say “I have so many clothes in my closet, but I've got nothing to wear”, I have fallen into the pits of boredom yet I have so many sources to draw entertainment from.

To illustrate, I've amassed the following over a lifetime:

• 71 games on Steam most of which I bought off from sales and have never touched, downloaded, opened, etc.
• 2 gaming consoles; a Nintendo Switch solely for the purpose of playing ACNH and a modded GBA with 3 game cartridges
• 5 cookbooks
• 29 Mousebooks, 95% of which have never been cracked open from their plastic casing
• 40 books in my Filipino Book collection, which I admittedly hoarded on the last trip home
• 16 books I've bought from second-hand bookstores
• 2 library loans (one physical book and another an audiobook)
• 100+ articles saved on Pocket
• 162 Watch Later videos on Youtube

This is probably just a partial list of things that I can potentially do, yet most of the time I've just been sitting on my bed, listlessly scrolling through my phone. Now that I've actually written it all out, I feel both horrendous and disgusted with myself – all this self-talk of “owning less” and being “purposeful” is hypocritical if I own so many but not derive any pleasure and enjoyment from them.

What mindset or framework should I be looking at this current train of thought? The simple answer to my dilemma is to go through the list, but it's weird to admit that I have no motivation to do any of them. No desire to pick up a book. No inclination to cook. The fact that I'm writing this is the only indication that the embers inside my mind have been somewhat stoked, but just ever so slightly – it isn't enough for me to finish anything that I try to start.

It's a weird and petty dilemma for sure, one that I'll probably ponder on a few more days before finding something to occupy my mind again. I've never thought of myself as this person until now. Does it mean that I'm changing as a person and that the old things no longer hold my interest? Is there something else I'd rather occupy my time with? I might not know the answer now, but I'd love to understand where this feeling is stemming from, and how I can fix it for the better.

...

It hasn't escaped me that this is going to be my 25th post (not day) in the #100DaysToOffload and oh wow, I'm actually amazed that I've made it to this point! If I had followed instructions, this would have been Day 55, but as it is, life tends to just take its course and make a beautiful mess with personal plans.

I have been seriously considering it but I've made my decision and at this point going forward, I'll be dropping the challenge hashtag. No, I'm not going anywhere, of course, and I'll continue writing, but I just feel like the frequency of which I post is no longer motivated by the challenge itself, but more of an intrinsic need to write what I feel. It has always been the main goal of this space, and initially, I jumped on the challenge to jumpstart me back to the right path of writing. Right now, I just find it silly of me to be saying “post” instead of “day”, and this is the only way I can reconcile it in my head.

But I am absolutely thankful. Because W.a is set-up the way that it is, I have no clue if anyone is regularly reading this, but I've gotten the occasional message on my fnContact and that has truthfully warmed my heart. I've learned so much from reading other people's musings as well – so much so that I've been influenced to make changes with the way I interact with the internet. The pinnacle of my learning would be embodied in the fact that I now have Mastodon and use it! You guys are great – it is exactly the internet that I want to be in.

I'll still keep on reading and writing, and this is definitely not a goodbye. You guys know where to find me (if not, check out my About Me – it's all there), and I'll always keep an eye out on everyone else who joins the challenge.

Signing off now. See you guys on the next (highly irregular) post!

25/100

#100DaysToOffload #Journal #PrattlePost #EndOfSeries

I'm slowly getting back in the groove of things after feeling emotionally and physically drained. I'll be the first to admit that there are just periods of time that my emotional capacity drops to a level where it's enough for the day. Just my luck that at the same time, I had my last two wisdom teeth removed, so it everything was unbearably horrible and disgusting for a while. I'm just glad that's over!

Just wanted to quickly check-in, mostly for myself, to write down all the positive things that has happened while I felt like I was out:

No Shampoo I took a quick little break and washed my hair once with commercial shampoo, but besides that one time, I've grown comfortable with water washing! I still have yet to see the effects of it in terms of helping to lessen my falling hair, but I'm starting to like how I'm able to manage my greasiness (and accompanying dandruff eww) better because of it.

Finished reading my first book of 2020! I discovered the magic of audiobooks. How did I snub them before? They are AMAZING. I've been struggling to read books for a while now, and I still for the life of me can't figure out why, but I felt super accomplished when I finally finished listening to The 7 ½ Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle – it was pretty interesting! I'm still looking for a new audiobook to listen to, so it might take some time before I get to update my Goodreads account.

News I finally succumbed to paying for a sub for the SF Chronicle – partly because I was tired of the paywall, and partly because I didn't want my parents to be getting their news solely on Facebook and Youtube alone. So to practice what I preached to them, I've been reading a lot of diverse news pieces lately (also loving the “Read to Me” aspect of The Guardian) and that has kept me busy in the mornings.

Health Stuff Maybe it's because of my falling hair, but I've also been doing a lot of healthy changes lately. I'm trying to sleep earlier, eating breakfast, eating more greens, drinking my vitamins, etc. Of course, it's not going to immediately show, but at least I feel just a tiny bit healthy!

Cutting my Hair In today's newest achievement, I cut my own hair and it turned out passable!

There's a lot of things I'd still like to write about, but those have been the positive highlights from the past few weeks. Welcome to the weekend!

24/100

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I'm currently doing a challenge called “100 Days to Offload” – you can join in the fun too by visiting https://100daystooffload.com

If you'd like, drop me a message here or on Mastodon (@elisha@sfba.social) – I would be absolutely thrilled to hear from you!

#100DaysToOffload #Journal #PrattlePost

I live with my parents.

That's something I'm not too ashamed to admit, even if I am in my late 20's. I've only been in the country for three years now, no established career unlike the rest of my age group, living in a city like SF. I didn't grab myself a boyfriend to cohabitate with either, although I've heard from a friend in the same situation as I am that that's apparently a trend. I have all the right reasons to be where I am.

The thing is, I grew up with the very Filipino notion that I'll be staying in my parent's house until I either 1) work in a different city or country or 2) I marry and get whisked away to either my husband's household or a house of my own. I've never questioned this idea – in fact, at some point in my teens, I was taking this as reality. My older cousins had followed the same template and my college friends seemed to understand that this was the rule that would govern their lives too.

My then boyfriend's brother put it so eloquently – “Why would I move out if everything I need is taken care of at home”? Rent wasn't an issue since we owned the house. Food was ready on the table when I got home from school or work. We had a house helper then, so really I didn't do an inch of chores unless I felt like I wanted to do them (side note: I did. I grew up loving to wash dishes after dinner). Everyone in my immediate circle would more or less tell you that this is how the upper-middle class functioned and in a way, my third-world life was simple but had all these comforts.

I wasn't too surprised when I came over and had to accept some responsibilities full time since we've been prepped to believe that a lot of things had to be done. Being the eldest daughter also meant doing more of my younger brother's supposed “share”. I used to joke to my mom when I was younger that I knew how to do some housekeeping, I just didn't practice them – but now I do it out of necessity.

Over the past two years, my outlook shifted to being curious about the world beyond my parent's house. It first started when I started dating someone who grew up in Alabama and moved out of their parent's house at 18. Looking back, he might have definitely criticized me for living off my parent's money, and it tested my family's relationship when I ended up staying the night over for the first time ever, unable to sleep, and stressing over the whole situation while tucked away in the living room couch. It was a tumultuous time, and I still talk about those crazy six months in therapy sometimes, but it's partly thanks to him that my eyes were opened – why, indeed, did I have to wait to claim autonomy?

I do understand tho there are a lot of circumstances that actually hinder me from leaving, financial being the biggest one. But when I first opened the idea to my parents, they were pretty quick to dismiss it. Was I crazy? No, there is no leaving. You are staying here. – it makes me feel selfish for thinking about it, of course, but the old notion of staying until I get married is driving me insane now. In truth, I'd like to give myself the chance to know how the world works in my own terms – I don't want to wait until I'm attached to someone to know what I like and do not like doing. It's stupid, but I want to grow and make decisions for myself, all with the idea that my parents will trust me from afar.

I just want to be my own person.

Even if it also means that there's a huge possibility that I'll move back in when times are hard. Or I'll come crawling back to my parent's couch when I'm devastated and crying. Or I'll call them every night for a period of time because I'm homesick (even if I'll just be a few miles away). I'm sure I'll be at their dinner table every weekend, bringing home tupperwares of Adobo, Lumpia and an assortment of vegetables with me so I won't die from hunger for the following week.

Right now, it's shifted somehow that it's now my dad's turn to think it's a preposterous idea, but I'll say it – I don't want to follow my cousins, nor will I comply to the idea of comfort. Not yet, anyway. I probably sound like a 17-year-old, saying and thinking all this probably a decade too late, but I'm optimistic that I can do it and come out alive at the end of it. After all, I'm probably not the only soul out there trying to make it in the world, right?

23/100

Answer to Anon from fnContact: Thank you for the kind message! I'm hanging in there!

---

I'm currently doing a challenge called “100 Days to Offload” – you can join in the fun too by visiting https://100daystooffload.com

If you'd like, drop me a message here or on Mastodon (@elisha@sfba.social) – I would be absolutely thrilled to hear from you!

#100DaysToOffload #Journal

For a few days now, I've been asking myself a lot of questions. There are days where I seem pretty convinced and empowered, but there are also days that I seem to doubt myself and my opinions about something. As I've said before, I've always had a problem with being non-commital and indecisive, and the past few weeks' worth of news has definitely tested the extent of it.

For one thing, I will again harp at the idea that social media could be a double-edged sword. It's been wonderful to see political and social systems being questioned and brought down by the masses (the 1% is shaking in fear), and issues minorities face have been suddenly thrust into spaces where these conversations normally don't occur. It's uncomfortable to see it in broad daylight, even for me, but I like how it has captured the attention and rapport it has always deserved.

But it can be majorly overwhelming too, and while I scroll, read, understand, sign petitions, and donate when and where I know it would create a larger impact on my direct community, I feel like I'm not doing enough. It's petty, but it's created this weird dilemma in me that I feel like a fraud (with good intentions). Will the internet take it against me if I choose to focus on my local community? Will people call me out if I say that I haven't rallied and protested out on the streets? By writing this, am I in effect taking the focus out of the issue? I hope not – I really am just writing my fears here.

Now I know I'm no internet superstar, but I find it absolutely crazy how other people perceive someone else's online presence during these times. I've seen two sides of the coin – a) radio silence on the matter means you're apathetic, but b) voicing strong opinions warrants you debate, and possibly drama. Where can your normal, non-outspoken, netizen stand then? To be honest, this is where I turn everything off on the timeline and turn my attention to the real world.

What I do hope is that this isn't just for the time being. We're all at a good starting point, but changing people's mindset is a gradual process, and I sincerely hope we won't let the fire die out. If there's anything I'm confident I've been working and building on, it's talking about it with my parents (who are your typical, traditional, Asian parents – believe me, they think differently) and finding areas in my life where I can integrate supporting BLM and POC initiatives (shopping local, choosing to look for new and support content creators, looking for non-profits in areas that I actually support [art, tech, learning, job opportunities], etc). I still fear it isn't enough, and I hope someone can forgive me for just doing the “bare minimum” – if that even exists. Or really, I hope I can forgive myself for it.

22/100

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I'm currently doing a challenge called “100 Days to Offload” – you can join in the fun too by visiting https://100daystooffload.com

If you'd like, drop me a message here or on Mastodon (@elisha@sfba.social) – I would be absolutely thrilled to hear from you!

#100DaysToOffload #Journal #PrattlePost

I admit I haven't written a thing because I've been depressed for a while. Yes, there's a pandemic going on. Social unrest is just around the corner and our city is currently on curfew. I'm not too well informed about the matter, so I try to read up on it as much as I can, donate where I think my money would work the most in my community, and overall just educate myself.

But no, that's not what is currently driving my current worry (although those mentioned above are things that I talk about every day with the family) – it's the health of my hair. I am absolutely distressed about how many strands I'm losing in the shower, so much so that I'm starting to slightly detest washing my head. The past week, I've gone to my doctor and opened up the dialogue about it, only to be met by “stick to one shampoo” and “your thyroid test last year was okay” responses that did nothing to calm my frazzled nerves.

The thing is, I love my hair. I remember writing a personal essay in an English class back in college about it, was so passionate about writing my whole ordeal about loving it the way it is, and got a score of A+ on it (if I find it, I'll post it here). There was a time that I was asked what was the one feature I loved most about my face and I blank pointed out that the hair on my head was the greatest thing ever.

That is how much I love it.

My hair isn't commercial-worthy (although my parents used to say that it was when I was younger, all shiny and straight) but it's black and it's absolutely thick. It's mostly straight, but it does this little wave and curl at the bottom that looks really nice when I grow it out. It's unique in its own way, precisely because it's neither super straight nor super wavy. In fact, a friend used to say that he could point me out in a sea of people just by looking at my hair – and I take that as a serious compliment

Selfie of me while wandering about in a park, Taiwan 2019

That's how my hair looked like precisely a year ago, and as far as I remember that's how it also looked like up until a month ago. I have the same length of hair now but it's lying limp against my head, absolutely dry and frizzy. I can't really stand the sight of it on some days if I were to be honest and that's what makes me sad.

If I were to blame something, it might have been my over-enthusiasm to try switching to bar shampoos, specifically the one I got a month or so ago and just recently threw out, but I'm still not entirely sure. For now, I've given up on shampoos and will be trying to go “no 'poo” for the rest of quarantine, in an attempt to at least grow some hair back and make it stronger.

I've actually tried just washing my hair with water in the past and got as far as a month, but I've come up with a strategy this time, after scouring the internet for advice and articles. Here's what my game plan is going to look like:

Sunday – Water + Apple Cider Vinegar Rinse Monday – Water Tuesday – Honey Shampoo Wednesday – Water Thursday – Honey Shampoo Friday – Water Saturday – Honey Shampoo

Saw a few recipes for both the Honey Shampoo and ACV Rinse, but I feel like tweaking it down a bit. In fact, I've tried doing the ACV Rinse last Sunday, and no, the smell DOES stay in your hair until a few washes later. It's Tuesday now and I can still faintly smell it. I joked to my partner on Monday about the whole experience of pouring vinegar down my scalp, but in all honesty, I was embarrassed to give him the heads up that hey, yes, my head might stink a little.

I've also resurrected my old Boar Bristle Brush to help me redistribute oils and try to save myself from the embarrassment of having dandruff throughout this ordeal. Seriously, that is the one thing that makes me hesitant about all this – dandruff and oily scalps are inevitable in the so-called transition period. No way around it.

I'm hopeful I can still turn this around and have a head full of thick hair again. My doctor says I'm too young to have thinning hair due to hereditary reasons, and I completely agree. I might not have been paying much attention to my hair care recently, but I'm really praying it's not too late!

21/100

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I'm currently doing a challenge called “100 Days to Offload” – you can join in the fun too by visiting https://100daystooffload.com

If you have any advice on No Poo or if you've attempted to do it long ago, I would really love to hear your story and recommendations! Send them here – I would be absolutely thrilled to hear from you!

#100DaysToOffload #Journal #NoPoo #Beauty

As far as I know, this is the only music CD in my immediate possession. Having shifted to Spotify, then just recently to YT Music for all my audio listening needs, I no longer own any physical copies of music, but this one's pretty special – aside from the fact that the album itself isn't on both services. I would never part with it for anything in the world! It's the official soundtrack for one of my favorite movies of all time – MNL 143.

Here's the trailer for the movie (with English subtitles!), but in a nutshell, MNL 143 follows Ramil, an FX/minivan driver, on his last drive around the city. The movie itself is made up of little tidbits of stories of the passengers who get on and off his vehicle, but overall it ties neatly into the theme of despair and hope in trying to find a lost love from years ago.

When the movie initially came out, it was through small private viewings across the city. I don't think they ever went big and showed it in cinemas as it was an indie film, so you can totally tell I was giddy with excitement when the film organization in my university held a screening – a limited seating one at that. I had heard of the movie months before but never had the opportunity to watch it live! They also invited the movie's director for a short Q&A after, so I shelled out all the money I had from that week's allowance to buy myself a ticket.

Now I'm no expert critic, but I fell in love with this movie from start to finish. The story was amazing, the small character stories well fleshed out even if they only lasted 5-10 minutes in the whole movie, and the music! A huge reason why, out of all the merchandise that they were selling after the show, I picked the CD was that I couldn't stop thinking about the songs – they had so much passion and emotion into it, they really carried the scene. Literally, they were stuck in my head for weeks.

I watched the movie again around two years back, when, for a brief time, the studio decided to put it up on Vimeo for paid viewing. Besides all the other reasons why I initially fell in love with it, looking at the locations was a wave of nostalgia. I had ridden through the same route, on a similar minivan. I had walked those streets and heard the same sounds. Maybe I was homesick, but at that point in time, I thought This really feels like a love letter.

MNL 143. Manila, I love you.

Yes, I do.

20/100

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I'm currently doing a challenge called “100 Days to Offload” – you can join in the fun too by visiting https://100daystooffload.com

If you'd like, drop me a message here – I would be absolutely thrilled to hear from you!

#100DaysToOffload #Journal

I had started to write an entry for today regarding how life was slowly going to change into the “new normal” for me and the family, but my head had blanked out. There really is some fatigue that's involved in attempting any challenge – and maybe I've never mentioned it but in the past, I have never really completed a 100, let alone a 30-day one before. The culprits used to be time and energy, but now that I have more than enough of those to spare, it seems as though creativity (and words) is slipping through my fingers! It's absolutely odd.

But I'll try to persist for a little while longer – like everyone who's started (and ended) this challenge, they've earned little nuggets of wisdom from it. I do see that there's value in trying to attempt to write consistently, I might just be trying a little too hard? That might be the case. But believe me, the habit is starting to stick – I was still slightly itching to write something, anything, last night even if I had already done so in the morning.

So, to experiment and to do things differently, this week I'll be attempting to pick seven random objects in my room and describe how they've come to my possession and why they're important to me. I know, very different.

So for today, here's a bottle of the perfume I use – Vince Camuto's Fiori

When I was younger, I was never the girl who was obsessed with how I smelled. Of course, I'd put on my deodorant before heading out the door, but besides that, I never really put any lotions, creams or perfumes on my person. It even came to the point where I would joke about how I wasn't female and human because I didn't smell like a flower garden, like everyone else who I passed by did. I was part envious, but I was so low maintenance, I couldn't exactly care while walking under what probably felt like 100F weather.

On the other hand, my first boyfriend was more high maintenance than I ever was. His family would frequently see the dermatologist and get facials and creams to help maintain even skin texture. If I didn't have the annoying habit of ruffling up his hair, he would've used hair gel on his head every single day. Now I'm not saying I was a total slob, but it took years for me to realize that besides basic hygiene, some effort was needed. And so, one day he gave me a small bottle of perfume (right) that he got as a free sample from a purchase of his own cologne.

I didn't really use it right away, nor did I really like the scent of it. The whole concept was so foreign to me, I only probably used it once or twice in the months after I received it. As a memento, I brought it with me when I moved countries, and somehow, the memory of it evolved to a scent of something familiar. Little by little, I started putting it on my wrists and on the sides of my neck (as is recommended). I put it on as a lucky charm on my first ever job interview. On days that I felt bad about life in general, I'd open the bottle a tiny bit to get a whiff, and sometimes, it worked to calm me down.

As a feminine take, I was also starting to become obsessed with the idea of having a signature scent. You know, the kind where you'll know it's your friend or your mom right away when they walk inside a room. Maybe it wasn't about smelling like a flower field, drenched with the same scent from head to toe, but I was gradually changing from basic to more-than basic, and that upgrade included finding my favorite pair of earrings (pearls) and one go-to wristwatch (a classic Rose Quartz Swatch). As a side note, did you know that if you take your watch to the Swatch shop for some yearly basic maintenance, they can take a look at it, tune, and polish it for free forever? I really dig that aspect of it.

The tiny bottle lasted for three years before I had to purchase the bigger bottle late last year. I've since moved on from the feelings of that relationship, now happy with someone new, but it's become such a huge part of who I am now that I don't think a morning's routine would be complete without dabbing a few spritzes on my wrist. Sometimes it's still a lucky charm, but more often than not, it's more of a reminder that I've changed, hopefully for the better.

19/100

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I'm currently doing a challenge called “100 Days to Offload” – you can join in the fun too by visiting https://100daystooffload.com

If you'd like, drop me a message here – I would be absolutely thrilled to hear from you!

#100DaysToOffload #Journal

It is now 9 AM, Sunday morning and I've been awake for roughly around one and a half hours now. I'm usually the first person awake at home, regardless of which day of the week it is, so I know that's a “healthy habit” I've finally accomplished this quarantine. Other less desirable quarantine habits I've unlocked are drinking home-made lattes every day and sleeping at 3 AM on more than a few occasions. I know, I should be getting more than 8 hours, and I'm still working on it.

I've never written a journal entry this early in the morning, but I suddenly had the urge to fire up the computer. Usually, I'd flip through my phone for hours while laying in bed for quite some time before deciding to start the morning (at mid-morning time), which I also know is a bad habit. A lot of people advocate for getting up early, meditating, stretching, journaling, but my idea of peace in the morning is catching up with my friends on the other side of the world – when I'm waking up, they're about to go to sleep. When I'm about to go to sleep, they're about to start their day. Those little spaces of time where we're all both physically awake give me a sort of calm and structure – I wake up with my friends on my mind, and I go to bed with their words echoing in my dreams.

But going back, I guess what I wanted to write about really were some thoughts I had last night with this whole experience being in W.a and the fediverse. I'm writing this as a very light, and casual user, so apologies if at some point I sound very ignorant and uninformed, and feel free to share your opinions with me as I'm still learning. We all have to start somewhere!

As we all know, I started out searching for a platform, and W.a presented itself as the perfect place. I briefly had a Medium account with none of my writing in it, just to see how I felt about navigating through their features, and I had issues with their paywall. Not to mention the quality of the articles that were thrown in my newsletter inbox – I for sure didn't sign up for a ThoughtCatalog or Buzzfeed, so why was I getting so much of those kinds of articles? I also tried making an account with Proseful, at the same time I made this blog, but the community aspect of W.a won in the end. It also immensely helped that I started writing at the onsent of 100 Days to Offload, which I was quick to email Kev Quirk about, enthusiastically telling him in an email (despite not knowing who he was personally) that oh man, I really am down for this thing.

It's been a little over three weeks and since being here, resurrecting Feedly and reading everyone else's daily thoughts, I've learned a little about the fediverse and decentralization. I'm no techie and I use the internet based on familiarity – meaning, what my friends use, I'd use because they're there and of course, there's FOMO involved. It's also half because that's what was recommended to me or it was what I found during my research on things (not too deep research then), so again, familiarity. But I'm glad to be experimenting and although I'm just watching everything from the sidelines, I'm curious about how this all works. Security? Yes. ActivityPub? Amazing. The idea of not being locked into just one space? Brilliant! No one posting to chase clout and being entirely just themselves? Absolutely.

So I try to bring all this knowledge back to the friend group where, if we were all physically together, I'd be met with blank stares. It's as if I said something that was way too woo-woo and totally above their heads, and I'd get a polite nod for my efforts. For a hot second I thought maybe this was a niche thing I was excitedly getting in to, or maybe I just wasn't explaining my recent discovery properly, but there's also the realization that people aren't as enthusiastic as trying out new things, especially if there is no hype for it, or if it doesn't serve them any immediate purpose or reward them in a significant way.

In that area, I feel utterly defeated, and I slip back to my own corner. At least in my case, no one wants to leave what they've become familiar with. Am I the exception for going against the tide? But then again, I have to explain time and time again to everyone who asks, even to relatives, why they're not able to follow (stalk) my life so easily. Sometimes I feel like it's a sin against society not to be “online” present, but that's not the community I want to be in either! I like the current set-up I have right now: write, share things, interact, be happy, and get on with my day.

18/100

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I'm currently doing a challenge called “100 Days to Offload” – you can join in the fun too by visiting https://100daystooffload.com

If you'd like, drop me a message here – I would be absolutely thrilled to hear from you!

#100DaysToOffload #Journal

When I was younger, I found an old book that used to belong to my grandmother – a hardbound, one-inch, burgundy-colored book with yellowing pages. It was filled to the brim with her handwriting, detailing how to cook one dish after the other, newspaper clippings of recipes, and little scribbles of flowers in every one or two pages. I wasn't too interested in what it really contained, but I was absolutely fascinated by the idea of having a notebook to keep all of your worldly knowledge in.

Fast forward to high school, I stuck with the same creative writing class all four years. Our teachers changed year after year, but there was one who started her class by asking us to bring in an empty notebook at our next meeting. Without thinking about it too much, I brought in one of my extra wire-bound ones and called it a day. It turned out that it was supposed to act as our “ugly notebook” for the rest of the year – a sort of commonplace book and diary rolled into one, where I would write anything and everything in it. Very apt, since the notebook I had wasn't pretty, to begin with.

At first, it was hard to get started – I would constantly forget my notebook at home. I used to have a diary, as did any other 5th grader, but it was years since I had written down one coherent thought. Stories (fanfiction) seemed to take on a different route and poured easily out of my head, but inner thoughts? There were days where there was nothing to write, no new knowledge or interesting thing to put in it. Sometimes I felt that it was useless to have it even. But as the months went by, with a bit of practice, I found myself reaching for it more and more. I realized that it's absolutely not true that there's nothing “new” to write – what it really is is a matter of constantly censoring myself, again and again, refusing to acknowledge that my thoughts existed or thinking that they were “dumb” and unworthy to be written down.

I now realize that my teenage years were absolutely riddled with insecurity and self-doubt. Before anyone put me down, I had already crossed that line mentally, thinking that I wasn't good enough. I wish my younger self, the one who's hopes and dreams were only starting to find a voice on the pages of an ugly notebook, felt more confident, more empowered.

The year ended and my teacher left, but the ugly notebook remained.

17/100

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