Reflections on 2016 + Resolutions (LONG AF)

Password?

(not) Christmas

Because my paternal grandfather suddenly died of a heart attack. Great. I shall keep my thoughts to myself.

That little red book

As anyone who know me would know, I have this obsession with hoarding notebooks. And I used to make it a point to buy an expensive A6-size Moleskine notebook every year, to use as a journal of sorts. The idea behind the whole point of journaling was similar to that of Mia Thermopolis in the Princess Diaries; in penning down my innermost thoughts, I would be forced to acquaint myself with my emotions and understand them - and therefore myself, better. I used to possess an almost religious exaltation for journaling. Expressing and writing down my secret thoughts, in my mind, held the equivalence of a religious confession - only that I was both the sinner and the pope.

I used to have this really lofty goal that tens of years from now, I'd be sitting in a big cushy leather armchair, with an entire floor-to-ceiling bookshelf filled with all my writings contained within the same series of standardised, expensive, leather-bound notebooks. Both personal and impersonal, fiction and non-fiction, modern and historical, urban and fantasy...the list goes on. Yet as I grew over the years, my personal writings have dwindled significantly because I've come to realize that I was absolutely no stranger to my innermost thoughts and feelings. Penning them down accomplished nothing, for the crux of the problem was not that I DIDN'T know, or wish to know, what I was feeling - rather, it was specifically that I didn't know WHAT to do about it, and that didn't seem like something any amount of writing could fix. I grew frustrated at the ignes fatui of my emotions. Perhaps my unhealthy amount of skepticism towards everything, as a non-commital pyrrhonist, exacerbated this. And since I had "no chill", what I'd do (and still do) is obsess over the issue and my emotions, over and over again, tirelessly and without fail, until that issue is somehow resolved. The problem is that most of the time, these issues may never be resolved.
Hence nothing that I am unhappy about ever actually leaves my mind. I could be enjoying good food and drink, watching a youtube video, or stabbing holes in a polymer clay strawberry, yet I'd still be angrily mulling over how I wasn't exercising and getting my body back into shape (it doesn't help that I can't do so at the moment because I injured myself), angrily mulling over Z's repugnant and very toxic ex and Z himself for being psychologically and emotionally incapable of extricating himself from her, bitterly ruminating upon my ineptness at writing and expressing myself and my sexual frustrations and my lack of an EQ and how I can't seem to sustain a normal conversation with people, both offline and online...the list goes on. There are a lot of things I keep mum about because I feel like if I ever express them to the people around me, I'd irritate them with how obsessive my thoughts are. My journals served as fodder for all my obsessive thoughts, without serving any useful function of abating them. This also explains the sparse posts over this year and the last.

Anyway, out of all the numerous journals that I've written in, there is only one that I have filled completely, from the first page to the last. It is also my worst and most embarrassing journal because that was probably one of the angstiest and most hormonal periods of my life.

The one good thing about the book is that I had a particular obsession with H.P. Lovecraft, an author who is very dear to me (I have added his name to the list of names for my future pets to commemorate his work), hence I recorded bits and pieces of his writings in my book and I'd go back and read it every now and then to feel momentarily calm and at peace. I love his and Poe's brand of cosmic horror. People underestimate the vivid imagination it takes to write them. It's fantasy without all her dumb and boring tropes. I also have other poems, such as Plath's ever-famous villanelle, Mad Girl's Love Song, Drayton's Idea 61 and the various works of Lorca (what is with my obsession with Spanish poets?) I shall record them all here and proceed to burn this journal.

Mad Girl's Love Song

by Sylvia Plath

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;

I lift my lids and all is born again.

(I think I made you up inside my head)

The Stars go Waltzing out in blue and red,

and arbitrary blackness gallops in:

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed

And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.

(I think I made you up inside my head)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:

Exit Seraphim and Satan's men:

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,

But I grow old and forget your name.

(I think I made you up inside my head)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;

At least when spring comes they roar back again

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

(I think I made you up inside my head)

Idea 61

by Michael Drayton

Since there's no help, come let us kiss and part.

Nay, I have done, you get no more of me;

And I am glad, yea glad with all my heart,

That thus so cleanly I myself can free.

Shake hands forever, and cancel our vows,

and when we meet at any time again,

Be it not seen in either of our brows

That we one jot of former love retain.

Now at the last gasp of Love's latest breath,

When, his pulse failing, Passion speechless lies;

When Faith is kneeling by his bed of death,

And Innocence is closing up his eyes -

Now if thou wouldst, when all have given him over,

From death to life thou might'st him yet recover!

¡Ay, amor

by Lorca

Ay, love

that went away through the air!

One could say that the water carries

a will-o-the-wisp filled with cries!

Ay, love

that went away and never returned

carry orange blossom, carry olives,

Andalusia, down to your seas

Ay, love

that went away through the air!

Procession

by Lorca

Down the narrow street

come strange unicorns.

From what field

from what mythical forest?

Closer still.

now they appear to be astronomers.

Fantastic merlins

and the Ecce Homo,

an enchanted Durandarte,

a furious orlads.

Paisaje

by Lorca

The field

of olive trees

opens and closes

like a fan.

Above the olive grove

there is a sunken sky

and a dark shower

of cold stars.

Bullrush and twilight tremble.

at the edge of the river.

The river air ripples.

The olive trees

are charged

with cries

A flock

of captive birds

shaking their very big

tail feathers in the   

gloomy sombrío.

Y Después

by Lorca

And after that

The labyrinths

that time creates

vanish.

(Only the desert remains)

The illusion of dawn

and kisses

vanish.

(Only the desert remains)

The illusion of dawn

and kisses

vanish.

Only the desert remains.

A rolling

desert.

Encuentro

by Lorca

Neither you nor I are

ready

to find one another.

You...for reasons you know.

I loved her so much!

Follow that narrow path.

In my hands

I've got holes from the nails.

Can't you see how

I'm bleeding to death?

Never glance back, continue on slowly

and pray the way I do,

to San Cayentano,

for neither you nor I are

ready

to find one another.

AND NOW, Lovecraft, my vacation. From The Tomb:

Come hither, my lads, with your tankards of ale,

and drink to the present before it shall fail

Pile each on your platter a mountain of beef,

For tis' eating and drinking that bring us relief:

So fill up your glass,

For life will soon pass;

When you're dead ye'll ne'er drink your king or your lass!

Anacreon had a red nose, so they say;

But what's a red nose if you're happy and gay?

Gad split me! I'd rather be red whilst I'm here,

Than white as a lily - and dead half a year!

So Betty, my miss,

Come give me a kiss;

In hell there's no innkeeper's daughter like this!

Young Henry, propp'd up just as straight as he's able,

Will soon lose his wig and slip under the table;

But fill up your goblets and pass'em around -

better under the table than under the ground!

So revel and chaff

As ye thirstily quaff

Under six feet of dirt tis' less easy to laugh!

The fiend strike me blue! I'm scarce able to walk,

And damn me if I can stand upright or talk!

here, landlord, bid Betty to summon a chair;

I'll try home for a while, for my wife is not there!

So, lend me a hand,

I'm not able to stand,

But I'm gay whilst I linger on top of the land!

From The White Ship:

Where dwell all the dreams and thoughts of beauty that come to men once and then are forgotten. And when I looked upon the terraces again I saw that what he said was true, for among the sights before me were many things that I had once seen though the mists beyond the horizon and in the phosphorescent depths of the ocean. There too were forms and fantasies more splendid than any I had ever known, the visions of young poets who died in want before the world could learn of what they had seen and dreamed. Green shore of far lands, bright and beautiful and to me unknown.. Up from the sea rose lordly terraces of verdure, tree-studded, and shewing here and there the gleaming white roofs and colonnades of strange temples. (Zar)

The city of a thousand wonders...

The city was greater than any city I have dreamed of before. Into the sky the spires of its temples reached, so that no man might behold their peaks; and far back beyond the horizon stretched the grim, grey walls, over which one might spy only a few roofs, weird and ominous, yet adorned with rich friezes and alluring sculptures. Therein walk only daemons and mad things that are no longer men, and the streets are white with the unburied bones of those who have looked upon the eidolon Lathi, that reigns over the city. (Thalarion)

The land of pleasures unattained. There came we to a pleasant coast gay with blossoms of every hue, where as far inland as we could see basked lovely groves and radiant arbours beneath a meridian sun. From bowers beyond our view came bursts of song and snatches of lyric harmony interspersed with faint laughter so delicious [...]. We approached the lily-lined shore. Suddenly a wind blowing from over the flowery meadows and leafy woods brought a scent at which I trembled. The wind grew stronger, and the air was filled with the lethal, charnel, odour or plague-stricken towns and uncovered cemeteries. (Xura)

Where there is neither time nor space, neither suffering nor death. Green are the groves of the pastures, bright and fragrant the flowers, blue and mystical the streams, clear and cool the fountains, and stately and gorgeous the temples, castles and cities of Sona-Nyl. Of that land there is no bound, for beyond each vista of beauty rises another more beautiful. Over the countryside and amidst the splendour of cities rove at will the happy folk, of whom all are gifted with unmarred grace and unalloyed happiness. Gardens where quaint pagodas peep from pleasing clumps of bushes, and where the white walks are bordered with delicate blossoms. I climbed gentle hills from whose summits could see entrancing panaromas of loveliness, with steepled towns nestling in verdant valleys, and with the golden domes of gigantic cities glittering in the infinitely distant horizon. And I viewed by moonlight the sparkling sea, the crystal headlands and the placid harbour..." (Sona-Nyl)

Gotta love the last one, it sounds like my name.

NOW THAT I'VE COMPILED EVERYTHING, THIS BOOK SHALL BE BURNED.

WHAT IM DOING THIS HOLIDAY :D

1. Make Lolita headpieces for Lolita coords - Constellation, Spring of Europa, Chocolate, Chocolate Carousel
2. Halloween themed jewelry that I didn't get to make.
3. WRITE. (Need to stop deleting my drafts and find inspiration somehow). Maybe I need to stop obsessing over this one story and try starting new ones. HOW THOUGH IT'S SO HARD TO GET OVER IT.
4. Fancy earrings for fancy events (ref to Google Drive)
5. YUNOMORI ONSEN :D
6. Fun lolita outings with TL and MD (do #1 first)
7. Catch-up session with sec sch friends
8. Drinking with Dorreh and probs Tzar
9. Dates with Z? Gotta wreck my brains for 1 cool Christmas one. Or romantic one??? UGH I SUCK WHAT DO NORMAL PPL EVEN DO ON DATES APART FROM EAT? ALL MY DATES JUST INVOLVED FOOD, HANKY-PANKY, AND MOVIES IM LAME. Also have no idea if he still intends to come over to my house and cook. I hope so. He's got mad cooking skills
10. Taiwan trip?
11. More calls with Nate(?)
12. Collect Colourpop highlighter from uni friend
13. Re-adjust my sleep cycle (might be impossible if I do #11) and start exercising. Possibly ban myself from instant noodles but we all know that's not gonna last very long.
14. Buy basic necessities. By that I mean Lolita Lempicka perfume, the Kneipp body oil, body scrub and LUSH New Shampoo.

I should go back to writing my essays and not this blog post

Same as previous password

Also I keep getting distracted by Hieronymous Bosch. The Garden of Earthly Delights. It's so trippy and messed up, I LOVE IT. Fascinating guy.

Are You Fucking Kidding Me (UPDATED)

Password same as the previous one.

I feel like I should stay away from most people when I'm in one of my moods. Or I'll just end up snapping at everybody and end up unleashing all my repressed rage and frustration that I've been hiding with regards to that particular person onto them. Even if they're not the source of my bad mood. Which will probably scare them, and make me look like a psycho.

In general I do my best to avoid showing actual anger at anybody, in the rare occasion that I actually do get mad. But from my limited experiences, I have classified them into levels:

Level 1: mild subtweeting and small rants to friends who roll their eyes and question why they put up with me.
Level 2: explicit tweeting and long angry internal rants
Level 3: actual discernibly different behaviour towards subject of anger. Noticeably colder and more distant. While angrily crying on the phone and venting towards Fairy, who puts up with my shit, amazingly enough.
Level 4: Passive aggressive behaviour directed at subject. Noticeable rise in snarky rude comments.
Level 5: Snarky rude comments continues to increase. It is at this point that subject should confront and attempt to resolve the situation. If ignored
Level 6: Actual confrontation where I speak angrily but at a normal volume. If no compromise is reached
Level 7: I speak angrily at a louder volume and actually tell the subject to shut the fuck up if subject attempts to interrupt or badly attempt a rebuttal. No snide comments at this point, just pure insults and swearing. Past this point, relationship/friendship/whatever is probably gonna end badly, or take months or years to fix up.
Level 8: I storm off, cut them off completely from my life. Will engage in psycho behaviour if subject attempts to pursue the matter. Better off waiting for me to cool down. Might take weeks or months.

Even for my very bad spat with Fairy this year, that was about a 5. The last time I got mad at Zucchini cuz I was convinced he has been lying to me about how he was over his ex and not gonna pursue her, that was about a 3.1, which would have escalated at most to a 3.5. Or 4. Depending on the circumstances.
Most situations don't make it past a 3 or 4. 8 probably only happened once or twice in my life.

Also my essay isn't as bad as I thought it was, I'm just unnecessarily harsh, apparently.

How I intend to function in the real world:

I don't. :'D

I'll just have multiple emotional breakdowns every time I have to do a presentation and the people around me are going to eventually get sick of my uselessness.

It's like my roommate said (in a very poorly timed moment when I was still being very emotional and trying to get over my freakout which made me feel a billion times worse and I got kinda mad because REALLY, THAT'S ONE OF THE SHITTIEST THINGS ANYONE COULD BE SAYING AT THAT MOMENT IN TIME but NEVERMIND. I NEED TO STOP BEING BUTTHURT OVER IT) - I live in a society where presentations are unavoidable and I'll just have to die. Over and over again.

I kinda wanna publicly declare my autism so that I can find some way to get exempted from all this.

I have no idea how I'm going to get over this very stupid, very irrational fear. I really don't know how to fix it.

My presentation went better than I thought it would - in a sense that I didn't stammer a lot, freeze up completely while presenting and start crying on the spot. Instead I froze up multiple times, continued speaking as clear as I could after that, and only cried after the presentation in front of my friends sitting at the table with Z holding my hand and telling me he was proud of me.

I wish this could be solved by a matter of preparation. I could prepare for a presentation for 10 years and I'd probably still have a major freak out on the presentation day itself. I wish it was as simple as me being unconfident about my content, but I'm not, because I'm usually fairly confident in the arguments I make. I don't like to attribute my fear/social anxiety to autism, even though I know for a fact that that is actually valid, because that feels like the easy way out. And unlike most whiny tumblrinas on the internet, I don't like having to ask to be excused or be treated specially because of my mental disorder. But I have to admit that it's very tempting. Because I hate presentations THAT much.

I'm just thankful that everyone in class were really, really friendly and supportive, and did their best to be as encouraging as possible. They were being so nice in their feedback:

On a side note: Look at that perfect handwriting. How the hell...? 

And I also got sent this:

Kinda melted my heart. To a larger extent than depicted in the photo.

So all of that really made my day, and made me feel a little less shitty about being a dysfunctional human being.

On a less depressive note, my social circle has expanded, and my relationship-that-I-don't-know-how-to-define-because-we-actively-swerve-trying-to-explain-it (One side of me -Fairy calls this the INTJ side lmao- is extremely vexed at this not-knowing but my rational side is telling me it's ok to not define things) with Zucchini (apparently I named him Pasta in my previous post. Oops) is going well. I am unaccustomed to this peace, this no-fighting, and all these sweet little thoughtful acts that I've never had the fortune of receiving. I wish I knew how to reciprocate and express my gratitude but I don't. Hopefully I'll figure it out. I tried asking this really loud and obnoxious semi-friend of mine, but I don't think I have the shamelessness required to actually do what she says. Hell no.

I'm meeting MD and Tall Lolita tmr :DDDDD
I'LL BE WEARING LOLITA :DDDD
I'M SO EXCITED

I will be - E. E. Cummings

I Will Be

i will be

    M o ving in the Street of her

    bodyfee 1 inga ro undMe the traffic of

    lovely;muscles-sinke x p i r i n    g S

            uddeni

    Y         totouch

                             the curvedship of

                                                         Her-

    ….kiss      her:hands

                                    will play on,mE as

    dea d tunes OR s-crap p-y lea Ves flut te rin g

    from Hideous trees or

         Maybe Mandolins

                                      1 oo k-

         pigeons fly ingand

    whee(:are,SpRiN,k,LiNg an in-stant with sunLight

    then)!-

    ing all go BlacK wh-eel-ing

    oh

        ver

              mYveRylitTle

    street

    where

    you will come,

                             at twi li ght

    s(oon & there’s

    a             m oo

)n.

Names For Pets

Cats:
Bartholomew
Pushkin
Dormammu
Apocalypse
Robert Louise (Stevenson)
Mjölnir
Reykjavik
Sørøya/Søren
Dr. Facilier
Descat (ideally pair this with a dog and name him Descartes)
Ferdinand
Bosola
Colonel Snazzypants
Professor Puddinpop
Von Clawswitz
Howard Philip Lovecat

Dogs:
Albus Dumbledog
Algernon Blackwood
Odin
Zorro/Zoro (Zoroaster i.e. Zarathustra)
Descartes
Taco
Enchilada
Cheddar
Avocado
Hummus
E.e. Cummings
Denmark
Frederico Garcia Lorca
Salvadog Dali
Hieronymous Bosch
Claude Monet

*

Leave Me a Place Underground

Pablo Neruda

Leave me a place underground, a labyrinth,

where I can go, when I wish to turn,

without eyes, without touch,

in the void, to dumb stone,

or the finger of shadow.

I know that you cannot, no one, no thing

can deliver up that place, or that path,

but what can I do with my pitiful passions,

if they are no use, on the surface

of everyday life,

if I cannot look to survive,

except by dying, going beyond, entering

into the state, metallic and slumbering,

of primeval flame?

Swan and Shadow

John Hollander                  

Zucchinis

It was 4+ am.

I was up talking with the guy I'm dating about this shiba inu that presents the owner with a zucchini as a manner of greeting whenever the owner comes back home (Go to the instagram account Mod_uk for adorableness).
I said I'd love zucchinis and we made a pact that if he brings me a zucchini I have to hold on to it throughout our lessons, all the way back to my dorm. Challenge accepted.

I hope he really means it and gets me a zucchini.

I love zucchinis.

That is all.

And because of this, I have christened the dude I'm seeing with the pseudonym "Zucchini".
Am proud.

A Real Post

Enter Password here for uncensored version

I am really bad at committing myself to blogging regularly. Something I really don't understand, considering that I have had zero issue with doing that in the past. I can't help but wonder if this just means I've become more boring as a person because I'm (very) slowly transitioning into a functioning adult or if I just suck at any kind of commitment in general. Writing - personal/creative/informal has always been very instinctive to me ever since I was younger but I feel like that is less and less so now and I despise myself for that. Every time I open the Google Docs, I feel this sense of dread and trepidation. I skim over my writings, because I'm afraid of reading it too closely and finding it stupid and problematic, and subsequently starting over. I used to have less problems opening up to people but now I'm struggling with expressing myself, and confiding in people that I hold dear to me. I struggle more with making simple conversations. I worry that whenever I excitedly babble on and on about the stuff I love - art, art history, poems, literature, Marvel, jewelry making and cute stuff etc. I am annoying/boring people.

I can't help but feel that this is the case, especially when I think about my past relationship, where I was so sure that I was in control of everything and being taken care of, when I was really not. I realized how much I changed myself for him, and how much I was changing my goals, letting go of my expectations and what I wanted for myself and in life just to make it work. I don't want children. Oh, how I resent myself for that. I want to move to a temperate country and live in a small but cosy apartment, with a cat and a dog, or two cats and two dogs. And maybe a romantic partner in which marriage may or may not happen - I don't think it's necessary. My previous one was an exception in the sense that he was so bloody annoying, emotionally manipulative and constantly harassing me to the point that it drove me absolutely crazy. I'm really trying to change that in the current relationship I have now. Even if this is a casual one that doesn't eventually work out, although I must admit that it'd be nice if it does, despite the problems we have, though I'm too wary to even hope for it.

I feel like I'm just losing some of the interesting parts of myself that make me me, and am regressing into this socially awkward, bland, shell of a human being. What happened to the parts of me that wrote and read voraciously, made jewelry and doodled and painted?

In confessing my doubts and fears here in this blog I hope to reacquaint myself, through ponderous reflections, and with these parts of me that seem to be lost amidst the sea of academic and social stress that I am pervaded with ever since university life began.

My parents are so fucking noisy writing or reading is impossible in this household.