if you fidget long enough the hours literally fly by

i woke up around lunch time. the fact that i fell asleep around 5 am should evoke sympathy.

ogrhulkjarehngiu what do i put next


oh, i got to wear my favorite shirt today. it’s grey and it’s supposed to be xl and i stole it from my uncle’s clean laundry stash and it’s my favorite and has cool words and i like how it feels and looks and don’t tell my uncle because he won’t stop teasing me for being a midget and i am *not* a midget, i’m just really good at picking out everyone’s best items and then taking them


“there’s only the Vibe” a friend once typed in our group chat after i sent in some workings for an oc that will never see the light of day. my character is both a stereotype and breaks all of them, and i was thinking her ambiguousness would be fun to portray, the way that pinning “background character of your favorite show” to your shirt (the grey one, with green accents) automatically makes you very cool. maybe i’ll talk about my oc sometime. maybe i won’t. ambiguousness, you know?

and that’s that on doing everything and nothing all at once.


i don’t know. that’s what i do know.

i don’t know why my mind is firing off in the distance. i don’t know why i enjoy walking around singing ben platt songs at three am to an empty house, i don’t know why marvel makes disappointing filipino superheroes, and i don’t know why rice noodles and spaghetti don’t work well together. maybe because spaghetti is more wheatier. who knows.


and then i think about the concept of borrowing. how everything that makes me me was taken from someone or someplace i don’t remember, long ago.

i live on borrowed land, i’ve grown up on borrowed culture, i dress in thrift store clothes and things saved from ending up in the trash, i wear bracelets passed from person to person, the shoes i wear were carefully stored as its previous owner moved on to better things (better feet? no) and i write these words knowing that its abstract wildness didn’t stem from me, and i wonder, what can i truly call my own that i came into?

nothing. perhaps that’s the beauty of it.


it’s not like people seem to keen on saving their little mannerisms, their stories, their things. it all goes to the trash. and that seems very sad. little objects and tools and knicknacks are little and tiny and should be saved at all costs. why just chuck them away?

there’s a reason i grew up interested in dumpsters. there’s others. i’ve told a few people why. idk, i like the idea of being the catchall for everything unwanted. it’s cool.


like, you know, here? in the islands? trash is like… treasure. depending on where you are and what time is it and can the aguirres’ tattletale lola watch you lug one of the hotel’s discarded speakers away, or is she busy chasing the newest dogs off her chickens? important stuff. and plastic and spare things like that are all kinda important. i was out on the beach yesterday and there were so many plastic bottles. like the little ones. they seemed so lonely.

and there were no dumpsters for them to go to.

sigh.

but here i am, spewing nonsense like the water from the sink on tuesdays. nobody here cares about trash. but then, what do you care about? sunsets, mugs with coffee, fries and onion rings, friendship bracelets, polaroids, stories, people?

they all go one place in the end. trash just happened to get there first.


and maybe that’s okay.

like weeds are only weeds if you see them that way. it could be an happy little flower, like bob ross and his happy little trees that technically don’t need to be there but they certainly don’t hurt anything by existing. and that’s all they need to do. exist. it must be terribly difficult to assign roles and purposes for every single organism on earth to feel like everything is there for the greater good.


maybe this is the greater good. to stare at the wall above the stove after yeeting a gecko out of my bedroom (little son of a tax collector made a mess out of my shirts. not nice, mr. gecko, beGONE) and see stars appear out of nowhere. to slide into the kitchen with a piece of cloth that we’ll pretend is a cape, holding a mug in one hand and singing ben rector songs. to dress up as heroes and actively save the world in my mind. imagine. a hero. can you imagine that, wall? heroes.

i wonder what the wall’s favorite shirt is. bet you lunch it probably has green accents and is softer than my roommate’s blankets.

~i wanna eat pancakes for dinner, jo~

everything all at once, i suppose

i have never made sense, i never will, don’t worry too much about it

sick Archives - Reaction GIFs

it’s

MY

breakdown and

I

get to choose the level of teenage angst

*i n h a l e s*

hi! i’m jo! i identify as a moron, allergies include shrimp, dust mites, and the whole world apparently, unaddressed depression Thriving, and you’re watching

*THE SAD TACO TRUCK FIRE CHANNEL*

where nothing, and i can’t stress this clearly enough, nothing, goes right

featuring! war! bloodshed! government invasion of privacy! the beginnings of trauma! my nonexistent sanity! and most importantly, pizza with pineapple on it!

have f u n with That, Kids!


when i die say something nice
wear comfy pajamas and bring fried rice
watch all the instagram stories i set to private
the things i’ve only said in the silence

when i die please gather round
pretend i was a memory you won’t throw out
wipe your tears and blow your nose
forget about it all when you go

when i die if i ever called you friend
do me a favor and for an hour pretend
that the person you came to grieve
actually made any mark in the light of eternity


my pinterest feed seems to worry about me and i admire that very much

like lately it’s been full of angry twitter posts and tumblr rants that cry for the dystopian protagonists to begin saving the day and like, can we handle that rn? nope

so now it has art of fantastical places and edits and happy comics and baking recipes and room inspiration and laugh out loud trashposts and all of this grossly domestic vibe which is super sweet but i wouldn’t ever say that if my life depended on it (nevermind that i just did)

the question is is it pinterest,

or is it the people who i follow that saved me from stressing over another source of bad news

either way, thank you


the following is a snippet of something i sent in to select friends, enemies, and undecided, and i figured it fit with the crack vibes this is emanating, so here you go

"i cannot talk very well. 
especially to big macho guys. 
especially if said big macho guy had seen me successfully hurl a knife into a palm tree and cackle like a stereotypical witch 
(more on that later.)
"a n x i et yyyyy"
"jo:
nightguard:
jo: AGHHH HUMAN"

i figured this out last night watching the storm beat down on the windows and honestly it passes the vibe check

my greatest fear is being irrelevant

insignificance

and i wonder why, you know? is it a mental thing to feel everything more deeply than they’re meant to be? is it just me? could i just inherently not be good enough for anyone to want to interact? will i be doomed to leaving people too stunned to react?

and i don’t know
how would i

what is the point of art if nobody sees it? what is the purpose of a message that isn’t heard? why say anything if nobody listens? why exist if it ultimately doesn’t matter?

and i struggle with reminding myself that things don’t require a useful purpose to be loved, and that is Okay, like how technically nobody needs nutella but the world would be a dismal place without it

and perhaps insignificance isn’t a horror, because then when you do anything nobody can say “but you’re supposed to be meaningful!” because you never were to begin with
so you can just reply, “no, i’m being me” and that’s the best meaningful you can get


so here’s the thing

we’ve saying “black lives matter” seriously for a couple of weeks now and the message has been cried out for literal years

and yet, the overwhelming response seems to be “we Know, Stop Saying It :((”

and that’s frustrating

people being hurt without reason is frustrating. the hurters getting away with it is frustrating. the people who were supposed to help about it doing the exact opposite is frustrating. being ignored and being rejected and being laughed at and being forgotten is frustrating.

so no wonder people shout

just all that to say

harm can be passive


a m i n i p la y l i s t

it would be you – ben rector
so will i – ben platt
battle cry – the family crest
paper rings – taylor swift
king of anything – sara barielles


a self portrait

“don’t we look m a r v e l o u s, isn’t it g a y” – talkfine
(look colors)


oooh some beautiful people did some beautiful things lately:

look it’s weez!

evelyn seems so cool

sarah cracked me up

ahhh clara


and finally some closing notes:

  • it’s summer
  • if you look up june 13 2019 and june 13 2020 on here they’re both drastically different but about the same thing
  • it’s summer!!
  • for independence day everyone should watch hamilton and reconsider their heritage (and also donate to a charity of their choice)
  • look up juneteenth and be still for a moment
  • google baby ducks tripping over their feet
  • call enni a duck in her about page on the 27th (pls i’m not kidding)
  • summer!!
  • remember it’s june love who you love and also respect people’s pronouns
  • do something absolutely horribly stupidly childishly fun that screams summer because yes

⎯  𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 : @𝘱𝘢𝘷𝘭𝘹𝘷𝘦 🔮 * ·゚

~we’re all a little mad sometimes, jo~

it will all make sense again

Contact me on IG @theweekndnacs__

hey, hey, hey.

look, i get it.

that tug in your heart, the ache you feel for something you don’t even know, the questions you scream late into the night when you think nobody can hear you, the smile you’ve learnt to plaster on for everyone who just wants you to be happy, just wants you to be happy, but they don’t know what that’s like because they don’t know you, and if they don’t know you then do you even know you and it’s all chaotic, all chaotic?

you chase after answers to questions you are terrified to ask? you hide your struggles and dreams and hopes because they’re too sacred even for your unstable hands? you question the world and you question yourself and you question God or something close to him and you’re terrified that all these questions will push you into a never-ending, never satisfying search for truth and you will never be okay again?

i get that.

i get that.

and you know what?

you’re not going to be okay ever again. no.

we’ve come past the point of no return. there is no safety net, there is no do-over. there’s nothing safe about finding truth. about finding yourself. every act of love is a little step on an edge, every step in fully stepping into the person you are meant to be is a step away from the person you were, and do you know how painful that is?

but that’s when you truly start to live.

you’d think it’d be easier right? you’d think it’s all clear, it’s all monochromed where to go and who you are and what and who you love and what’s right and what’s wrong, but it’s not. it’s hard and it’s messy and frustrating and tough and every single bit of it is worth it.

and that paradox seems so irritating now, right? but you’re gonna turn 14 and then 15 and then 18 and you’re gonna look back and it might not completely make sense, but it’ll click, and that’s okay.

that’s okay.

you’re gonna be okay.

you’re gonna fall in love so many times with so many things and so many people that it will hurt every single time, and you’re just gonna find that love is a choice we make every single day because the ultimate choice to love took some wood and nails and the undeserved wrath of some small-minded broken sinners, and nobody can ever top that but we can sure try to live up to it, in all the ways we know how.

and we’ll start to smile without being forced to, and start running in the night chasing the stars, and finding they were inside of us all this time, and it takes the darkness to reveal this small, stubborn light that can’t be quelled by anything, not even the doubts of your own mind.

it’s scary now, this longing. it’s terrifying. it’s seeking for something you haven’t seen yet. it’s faith.

it’s jumping in eyes wide open knowing you’ll be caught and knowing that you don’t know how you’re going to be caught at this height and this speed.

it’s so. scary.

life has always been, see.

so no. you never truly be okay. but that’s okay, and that’s enough, and whatever it is, maybe it’s exactly what you need.

i get that.

and however long it takes, i’ll be here til you get it too.

happy 13th, whenever you get this.

~little things all the stereotypes, they’re gonna help you get through this one night, jo~

finish the song – letter writer

I wish I could just write all this in a letter to you. I feel like if letter-writing were still allowed then I would still have a way to legitimately talk to you, not just these conversations I have...

ay

we’re back at this again.

not really sure where it came from, but here’s letter writer.

uh

enjoy


dear God let’s have a conversation
i’m just tired of waiting for an invitation
there’s been more thorns than colorful carnations
did you have a plan or was that just my imagination

dear God where are you supposed to be
are you only over the oceans or do you rule the seas
because i’m slowly drowning and it isn’t even deep
but would you believe that i feel like i’m free

yeah, the world is burning did you have a clue, have a clue
we’re all hurting and no one knew, no one knew
is this a tunnel we’re supposed to walk through
so tell me, how the hell, am i supposed to trust you?

forgive the cursing, sometimes i’m inclined
to bring out the sin and my much needed pride
that isn’t holy i realize
but that’s a situation in which you thrive, right?

you’re aware of the growing mess
pick out my flaws and i’ll burn the rest
something tells me though that you know best
who am i to argue when you created this


do i know where that came from? nah

do i hope it meant something worthwhile? yeah

is that really all i can say about this? pretty much

~with shortness of breath, i’ll explain the infinite, jo~

how to mostly stay sane during isolation, a 6 step tutorial

I have so many questions. About the universe. About how life was created. But I’m never going to have answers.
cred to pinterest and then tumblr i don’t come up with this stuff

Isolation is hard.

Like find-the-too-small-shirt-your-cousin’s-grandma-gave-you-and-cut-it-into-a-tank-top hard.

Like walk-around-the-house-getting-tiktok-songs-stuck-in-your-head hard.

Like checking-the-fridge-aimlessly-hoping-for-food-to-magically-appear hard.

Like coming-up-with-all-these-things-that-are-hard hard. 

And while most of us aren’t totally bereft of human interaction thanks to other family members or roommates or the occasional pet dragon, the overwhelming feeling of slowly losing your mind hangs upon everyone, if it hasn’t already. To put it simply, the human was not created to be solely individual for more than a week. Left longer, they will begin to start talking to the wall, flocking to social media, cutting their hair, and eventually crying in a corner over fluffy puppies jumping over stacks— some clear evidence of mind loss.

Now that’s quite a serious thing, and to help ease the stress of this abnormal new normal, I’ve compiled a tutorial to walk one through this difficult time (or at least spend an interesting five more minutes on their phone.) Feel free to try and let me know how it works for you!


  1.  Breathe.
Breathe In Help GIF - Find & Share on GIPHY

This is rather important. Breathing is the first step to being able to stay alive, which is the intended course for everyone at the moment. I’d recommend inhaling and exhaling, through the nose, in the fresh air and sky, every second, for most of the day and a good part of the night as well.

  1.  Drink water.
Drink Water GIFs - Get the best GIF on GIPHY

Ahhh water. Not only does it taste very watery and satisfy thirst, it is also something vital to staying alive, yet is sadly easily forgotten amid all the very intense couch-sitting. To drink water, find a glass, a pitcher of water, lift full glass (of water) to mouth, open mouth, and tilt. Repeat eight times a day for maximum effect.

  1.  Wash hands. 
Wash Hands Nicksplat GIF by Hey Arnold - Find & Share on GIPHY

Seeing as the biggest issue is catching germs and viruses, one extremely helpful thing is to wash and moisturize your hands, in that order. Washing hands involves, as aforementioned, water, soap, some unwashed hands, and a nifty song that requires you to continue this process for about 20 seconds. Don’t forget to dry!

  1.  Self-reflect.
Run Into Wall GIFs - Get the best GIF on GIPHY

Also known as staring at the wall for no reason whatsoever for an extended period of time, self-reflecting is a useful thing to do in times like these, when so much of the self’s external circumstances have changed. To self- reflect, find a (blank, colorless, like your soul) wall, arrange yourself into a chair or a very unusually comfortable position on the floor, direct your eyes to an imaginary dot on the empty canvas before you, and ask yourself this very important question: “Do pineapples truly belong on pizza?”

  1.  Sign up for something new.
Im New Here GIFs - Get the best GIF on GIPHY

This step wholeheartedly approves of following new recipes on Youtube such as quarantine coffee and 2 ingredient cakes for the very positive results and aesthetic instagram posts and absolutely protests against cutting/dying your own hair (or, in unusual cases, your dog’s) for the same reason. Instead and in addition to, we advocate for things such as knitting classes and workout livestreams, best done by sitting on the couch and not actually following along. 

  1.  Resign yourself to the lack of society and get a pet rock.
Star Wars The Garbage Will Do GIF - StarWars TheGarbageWillDo ...

As much as everyone hopes to get things rolling in the next month or so, the truth of the matter is we may never need to dress up for anything important for quite some time, which is a fact we should be capitalizing on and break out those Halloween costumes from last year (when people actually went outside specifically to seek out other people). To boost morale, get any random fairly comfortably sized rock and showcase it in a videocall, which is also a wonderful way of connecting with other humans, even if all you do is stare into their soul as you discuss your rock’s pronouns. In your Batman costume, no less.


I hope these steps have laid out the road to keeping your mind intact and your humor in good taste as you continue this week in quarantine, but most importantly, that enough people convince themselves that pineapple on pizza is a horror and must be removed at once. 

i wrote this for school and thought it was funny don’t come after me

one time use

(important disclaimer: this isn’t about you. i have nothing but good feelings for you and that’s tea. we chill)

i like to think i’m a normally nice kid

that i’m empathetic and that i care and that people can come to me to talk about anything and i’ll listen

because if i’m the stronger one than nobody can notice when i break down

because i will not be the weaker person in this conversation

because i won’t be the one that walks away, just like everyone else did

so when you texted me and said you had a bad day

when you were feeling like nobody cared about you because you were just ugly trash

when your mom was being overbearing and draining your good vibes

i was there

i was ready to listen

because i cared and that’s what friends do

so when i said “tell me about it” i meant talk to me bro

i didn’t mean blast off about your disgust of star war hater trolls and your twisted desire to murder them

i didn’t mean degrade yourself to the point where you expect me to join in your self-hate

i didn’t mean spew about how everyone’s done you wrong and how it’s always girls that just ruin everything with their sickening girly ways

because guess what

i’m your friend, not your asterisking therapist

although judging from how you just unloaded all your worries without the same attempt to watch your mouth, i doubt that even you know that

and maybe that’s fine

maybe we’re all just using each other for something

but i’m really tired of this touch and go

the green dot stays on your profile picture for days while the three grey dots enclosed in a text bubble refuse to appear at all

for weeks at a time

then suddenly, as if you actually really cared you ask, you finally ask how i’m doing

and of course you leave me unread

of course you minimize your own needs in some attempt to make me feel important

of course you spam me with panicked texts after one minute of me not responding

because what am i if not someone who’s just always there for you without fail

what am i if not something to vent to and instantly ditch to get started on your day

what am i if not this person you cling to while wishing for someone to understand you, someone who can get all your problems and feelings, like what am i even here for

i’m just that person in the background of your oh so dang important narrative and your initial bff texts clearly don’t prove otherwise

so i’m gonna put my phone down

because you just need to calm down and stop being attached to franchises that don’t even know you exist

you need to believe in yourself more and actually choose to reach out because nobody can see you when you’re sulking in a shell

and you barely even text me dude but you need to stop making everyone the villians because you’re only as much of a victim as you want to be

but most importantly

i am not a candy bar you rip open and cram into your mouth to try to make yourself feel better, whose wrapper you callously crumple and throw away

and it’s time you knew that

you don’t get one time use buttons with people, they’re not expendable

and you, of all people, should know

you should know

you should know

you should

you

~i ain’t tryna mess with your self-expression but i’ve learned a lesson that stressin’ and obsessin’ ’bout somebody else is no fun, jo~

twitter bio talk

We're on a never ending quest to find the very best artistic plant backgrounds, screensavers & wallpapers. Follow our Plant Photography board for minimalist plant art, aesthetic, & close up inspiration.#SativaScienceClub #PlantArt #PlantPhotography

i was scrolling on twitter waiting for class to start on zoom (because that’s a thing now) and joe walker’s bio stuck out in all the itty bitty textposts about cats and covid and cheese curdles

most bios go like this:

*insert name*/ *insert age*/ *insert pronouns*/ *insert hobbies/ *insert any random thing here*

*cutesy quote stolen from tumblr*

*lists every single project they were lucky to earn money from*

*occupation followed with a phd*

*very clearly a fandom reference waiting to be noticed*

*something absolutely absurd*

joe walker’s went like this:

be excellent to each other

no periods, nothing formal

just be excellent to each other.

and i thought that was cool.

because we’re not really good at doing that.

at the very least we have “be nice” or “be the bigger person”, like somehow to swell oneself up to be superior than your equally flawed fellow person under the pretense of being better is a good thing. and who knows that in trying to be the bigger person, we just prove that we’re the smallest of them all? and what’s wrong with being small? who decided these sizes would mean moral competence?

we’re just confusing like that, aren’t we?

people are the worst at being people. they lie, they cheat, they hurt, they curse, they invent laws to keep other people out, they create a world that has decades worth of trauma that may never ever properly heal. is it the sinner in need of a savior? is it the way it’s always been? is it our own passively accepted depravity? is it all of the above?

but joe walker’s just like. be excellent to each other.

we don’t really use excellent casually, so to read it in a twitter bio hits differently. excellent. what is excellent? the spam of kudos on a particularly precious piece of fanfic worked so hard on? a beautiful photograph? a catchy song? the hearts of all the dudes and dudettes and to-be-decided that are just exuding love and care into a broken world by showing up and doing their jobs every single day? is it the livestreams and the youtube videos and the singing comps? is it all of it?

maybe excellence is so commonly simple it’s the rarest thing of them all.

i’m not sure where i was going with that. i’m not sure that this post, or this blog, or this person can even be considered excellent.

but i figure it can’t hurt to try. to reach out, to speak up, to fall hard, to truly care, to talk to that kid not really responding on the chat, to not hesitate to call someone out on their small-mindedness, to be aware of my own dangerous flaws and habits and fix them, to be both accepting and cautious, to not care what people will say or think, to not let my fears control me, to truly be okay with being the messed up, broken, happy person i am, to get to the point where i can look at the reflection in the mirror and actually smile, to be someone for someone. maybe not everyone but at least one someone.

the excellence thing could easily be taken to the point of humanistic tendencies. but so could hate. so could fear. so could anger. maybe it’s better to err on the side of goodness.

at least on our bios we can say we we tried,

and maybe in saying that, we actually start to be excellent.

that would be cool.

joe walker cool.

(he’d know. he played voldemort.)

~each and every one of our immortal souls, jo~

i’ve killed three people (well, thought about it anyway)

10 Reasons to Watch Starkid’s The Trail to Oregon – Short Story Long

everyday i start to sympathize with junior from starship a little more because all bugs can DIE, thANK you very MUCH. good DAY. you are NO friend of MINE, SIR.

ahem

that wasn’t the point.

(not that there was a point, but for the sake of the topic at hand we’ll make up for ourselves, an imaginary point, sharpened to perfection by everyone’s blatant disappointment that i’m not a doctor making money and my own internal angst that i’m not a doctor or making money.
specifically the money part.
that wasn’t the point either.
dang.
forget i said anything.)

anyway.

i have stolen a towel to protect my fair, hyposensitive skin from further insect attacks and these questions from maya’s blog, so with my casual confession to theft, we shall begin.

enjoy.

or not.

whichever happens first.


What is one vice you must fight against the most often?

aLL of ThEM
aLL

Which fictional character can you relate to the most and why?

lex foster from black friday because girl same, charles boyle from b99 because girl same, and agent curt mega from spies are forever because girl same. and diane from awae because i too would switch train seats to yell at gilbert for being a moron. oops that was more than one–

Pick three historical figures you wish to meet and have tea/coffee with. What you would discuss with them?

shrabani basu, katherine johnson, and nick lang let’s talk science, spies, and storytelling masterpieces queens

What story world would you choose to live in until your dying breath?

snaaaaap nothing’s coming to mind rn, but maybe something from the mandalorian, awae, or little women? i’d say hawkins and hatchetfield but i’d like to live thank you very much.

actually no i’m choosing wakanda wakanda sounds dope let’s head there permanently

What is one movie you wish more people would watch? (Or a book if you’re really not into films.)

you should not have asked me, a beloved film addict and analyst, for just the one that was a m i s t a k e
-jojo rabbit
-hidden figures
-a beautiful day in the neighborhood
-harriet
-knives out
-this is too much oops

What is your preferred weapon of murder?

see, i’m a simple potato. knives are just *chef’s kiss* sleek. equally thrilling are those small handguns most often seen in noir films. singing the reprises from every musical also works.

Do you prefer fiction, nonfiction, or poetry (to read, write, etc.)?

it really depends on my nonexist emotional status. if i’m mostly stable we can do nonfiction. if i’m in angst mode we will read every last fic from the ethan green & hannah foster tag and we. will. not. stop. everrrr

If you could be one age for a day, what age would you be and what would you do?

*at this point the little sonofawordwewon’tsayhereforthelittlechildren— the mosquito returned to be the physical representation of my imposter syndrome and forced me to grab another towel. now i look like that blankets and sunglasses vine. it’s for survival*

17, so when people ask if i’m the dancing queen i can go hAh yoU thOuGHT

… or 21, so i can do everything without someone asking if i should ask my parents for permission. i choose to buy 36 frozen pizzas, thank you very much

Do you ship Earnin and Imraldera? (if you don’t know who they are or don’t know the answer, it’s easy: it’s yes, you do)

what a flabbergasting ship name that would be, no thank you

Which of your bloggery buddies (alliteration always amazes) would you end and why (back to murder, we are!). How would you cover it up?

is
is this
is this advocating for murder
how violent
probably enni, because she can’t seem to die. and i’d just say she was gonna go try finding the aflac duck and that would suffice.

(seriously tho don’t do the murder kids)


and that was that

enjoy your day folks and never miss an opportunity to smash a bug into a dead little pulp

if you care to spread the sentiment:

-when does all this craziness officially become a dystopian
-what’s the strangest word you ever heard
-who let the dogs out
-how do you respond to facebook clickbait
-what’s does the a in “jo a ruth” stand for (wrong answers only)
-what is the worst star wars movie
-how would you remove evidence of arson, given 5 minutes and a tool of your choice
-whaaaat dooo youuu know about loveeeeeee

~your wagon is on fiREEEEEEEEE, jo~

cinema

blood-moon photo

it’s saturday night.

crickets chirp outside the empty hotel, echoing into the surrounding greenery. a few complacent rabbits hop through dust and gravel, nibbling at the blooms that fall from the front trellis. the dog slumps over on the roughly made welcome mat, the cat airily lounging on one of the corner chairs. the faint sound of geckos can be heard if you close your eyes hard enough.

inside the almost abandoned establishment are three men.

one leans back, portly and grey, wizened hands curling around an off-brand cell phone as he videochats with his wife, who adjusts her headcovering and scolds him to take care of himself. “who knows what could happen out there?”
“mhmm.”
he does. he’s the nightguard.
but he straights his torn cotton tank and nods, laughing in his deep guttural tones that almost drown out the crickets.
opo. yes.” he hangs up, stretches his flabby, tattooed arms behind his head, acknowledging the others with the raise of his eyebrows.

the shuttle driver, a small wiry man, with broad wrinkles streaking across his oily face, strikes a match, lighting up a fresh cigarette. the box tucked into his stol– borrowed cargo shorts clearly describe what a life of substance abuse lead to, yet he raises said substance to his lips and inhales.
it’s not a life he chose, but one he was born into. the only one he knows. he looks up.
“did you eat dinner?” he asks in accented voice of his daughter, who walks around to the hotel’s kitchen, phone in one hand, printed memes in the other. first of her age group to go to college, making her own coin, he was as proud as hell of her, and he’d said so often enough. she gestures to the plate of spring rolls in her hand and disappears as quickly as she appeared. such were girls, such were their ways.

the third man has no such vices as smokes or love, not to the others’ extremes. perhaps when his little hut’s become a better sized apartment on the mainland, when his secondhand shorts and tank top become a fine two piece suit, his beaten plastic sandals real leather dress shoes (they say the luxury of living rich is paid by doing nothing enjoyable, but didn’t the ends pay the means twice over?). as it is he puts his earphones in and makes small talk, a knife in his hands as he grasps a branch of wood, slowly shaping it into, well, whatever his hands decide.

none of them have much reason to be here except for that one fascinating, unknown, mysterious word: quarantine.

is it fate that brought them together? a curious job that proved to be more than just a way of earning money? who knows. Dios has made them stay, and it is Dios that will allow them to leave without catching the pla– the covid19, as the social medias say. the question of what happened to the other numbered viruses begs asking, but nobody bothers to.

“look at this,” the shuttle driver declares in broken tagalog mixed with abbreviated english. he raises his phone as a movie, possibly streamed from some shady site in germany (what’s germany? who knows) plays. there’s bombs and explosives and great big men that look like they would if they were white save the day, and everything’s big and huge and dramatic.

“ah. cinema,” the security guard notes. the phone is propped up against a motorcycle helmet, and all three lean back and watch, muttering approval and commentary amongst themselves.

suddenly there is no hotel. no lobby, no crickets, no animals, no night, no quarantine. they find themselves into a world that looks so similar and yet so different from their own, and they enjoy it immensely. if they had been born anywhere but here, perhaps it would truly be their world, but Dios didn’t plan it that way. one could wonder why, but one didn’t, since doing so would disrupt the movie.

they sit attentively, and the night ceases to exist.

in the corner of all of their eyes, a small kid with wild hair and dinky glasses, in a too big shirt and a definitely borrowed pair of gym shorts, curls up on the stool behind the counter. their face almost sinks behind the clunky laptop barely anyone uses but them.
the kid is peculiar at best, and Dios knows how often they’ve been discussed by all three (with occasionally the shuttle driver’s daughter), from their unusual antics and shifting personalities to how adept they were with any piece of technology.
they have been observing quietly, and their hands fly over the keyboard faster than is humanly possible.

but the film continues to stream, and they, too, fade from existence.

shoulda known this would happen

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what a funky time to be alive.

the fact that i used the word funky in relation to the act of living should concern you.

mmm. what even?

a plastic bowl sits on the counter above me, a few breadcrumbs scattered on its rim. two minutes ago it held the most basic white bread toast with absolutely nothing on it, not because there was nothing else in the raided kitchen from whence it came, but its consumer was too lazy to actually look.

the dress code for quarantine day who knows is as follows‌:‌ one (stolen) oversized, thrice worn shirt found by rummaging through the wash, a pair of shorts that still have intact pockets, whatever fits inside a tired hair tie, and absolutely no respect for societal norms. in previous iterations of this day, some actual thought behind outfits existed, but now that everyone’s pretty much comfortable with everyone else they’re stuck with, nobody pays attention if one wears the same thing three days straight. it’s moreso that they’re happy, well fed, and okay with who they are that matters.

because if you aren’t gonna make peace with yourself, who’s gonna do it for you?

except, you know, everyone on social media, but since when did we use social media as an escape from the current reality of social distancing and a way to make ourselves feel connected even though we all know that this shallow sense of stability dies the instant we leave our phones, because humans are desperate like that? never. totally. we’re better than that, right? our efforts into doing something to bring gratification into our lives hasn’t been reduced to scrolling endlessly on instagram, right? we aren’t capitalizing on this pandemic to boost ourselves, r i g h t?

at this very moment, my phone is about to be invaded with a text to start thinking happy thoughts. i’ve narrowed down the possible senders to my uncle or to the chill group chat. alas. it shall go ignored and (very likely) deleted to cry over stargirl tonight.

it’s hard to be positive about everything when artists are losing jobs and people are dying and despite all of this, the people who should be doing something are too busy tweeting away their ignorance to feel validated. (no, i’m not trying to be subtle.)

it’s hard to know that for all the good i’ve experienced because the world was put on pause, someone’s getting the short end of the stick and they’re getting cut because of a virus that’s taking over the whole dang world. we are in a whack dystopian ya novel, and we don’t seem to acknowledge that because our minds can’t accept anything less than happiness.

but sure, let’s #flatten the curve.

this is cynical, isn’t it? yikes. i’m sorry. i have the ability to fit into an opposing negative mindset without personally agreeing with it and, well, that leads to pointless, intellectual conversations between me and the cat, or texts like the one above, so… i mean, make of that what you will.

otherwise it’s been alright.

no people means i can let my shaky voice echo through the empty lobby and pretend i have something worth saying. nobody around means i can dance my head off on the roof, wind whistling past my headphones as nobody can watch me make a fool out of myself letting the words fall out, dancing around in childish, childlike movements. i can watch the stars at night and the faint planes hopping in and out of constellations without the fear of creepy jerkwads watching me from their rooms. it’s almost freeing to be apart from society. which must say a lot about said society, but we don’t have the emotional health to get into that—

the point is life.

is.

messy.

it’s like the mug cake i made on a whim a week (wait was it a week time is a construct of the matrix) ago, in which i literally just threw flour, sugar, chocolate, and oreo baking crumbs into a mug and threw that into the microwave, and i should’ve thrown the microwave out when the mixture exploded into this sweet, almost edible disaster dessert. there’s so much good and bad and sweet and sour and who-knows-what-those-weird-flecks-are, and to focus on one specific thing is like picking up a crumb and putting it under a microscope.

(what you should get from the above paragraph: life is cake. eat it up.)

and i want to capture all of that, all of that pain, that beauty, as chaotic as it is, because that’s what makes us. that’s life. and there’s so much to be said for living in the moment, no matter what you believe about living or what to live for.

holds it up like that meme ‌i just think it’s neat.

so idk what’s next for this blog. i’d like to branch out some more, bring a sense of depth to even the littlest things, do more reviews, talk about feminism, poke fun at everything possible, do something that would help me develop myself but also, gah, who knows, let someone on the web have a small drop of good in their life?‌ how should i know? i’m a kid, i have homework, i should be practicing, don’t ask me why i’m philosophical today because i do NOT know and that’s FACTS.

uhm.

for the foreseeable future, i’d love to create whatever you’d like to see in, again, this weird worldwide headspace, so please, any topics or things you’re interested in or would like me to talk about, drop below. or just to talk. i’m down for both. @spiritupinsta is also up for anyone who wants some hopefully ‌feel good stuff for the soul (and if you’d like to help run the page, talk to meee), and recently i started @jodoeswords for more fictional pursuits (because again i fall into the struggling and broke artist type pls help) and ultimately?

i’m here. and i hope, somehow, someway, that means something. to. well, anyone.

i think we all do, and that’s why we’re here, trying to reach out in our individuality.

yeah. this got personal fast okay bye

~hey, you’ll be okay, jo~