deciding to devote all my attention to whoever's talking to me at the moment; i want people to feel comfortable talking to me, not like i'm elsewhere, not like i'm doing something else. also adjusted some social media settings to be quieter, sensing people pulling away when meeting in person and that's alright. i just need to focus on myself.
talked to one of my instructors yesterday and it was great. i do worry that the way i talk — so fast and brisk — is overwhelming; how can i talk about things in a measured enough manner? i think i'll go to the park to read in the morning again
first week of school. realized i've (always?) been so solitary, wondering how i can change that to be a little more outgoing — but not as forward as i was sophomore year. eager to set a good example for myself by not procrastinating this time around...
roommate moved in fully today, i'd cleaned the apartment (not fully, thoroughly, but a general sweep and declutter (at least superficially) and today i learned a very important lesson, which is to always wash my dishes & cookware right after i finish eating.
school resumes on monday, which is a day away, and im wondering if what im feeling right now is a general expectant and resolved anticipation, trying to look ahead postgrad but not knowing how because i didnt have an internship this summer.
recently ive been thinking back a lot to my days in high school in __ — it feels a little solemn to start getting to know a place only when you know you're about to leave it. i finished reading A Farewell to Arms a few days ago and the ending was anticlimactic; onto The Sun Also Rises.
this morning i walked around on campus (just the art school) to put up flyers. it was around six thirty when i got there and the area felt like it was rolling over in its sleep. it reminds me of being a tech monitor and doing my rounds around seven, sometimes six fortyish, and dashing around the art school buildings under the cover of the early morning.
started reading A Farewell to Arms... first few pages had me feeling so disinterested. I'm not sure how I got myself into Hemingwayisms when I find his writing itself so terse... what I loved about Cannery Row was how the language didn't feel like it was rationed out; perhaps it makes sense, then, that Ernest Hemingway's writing feels like this because of what he had gone through.
The other day I tried to put into words in my diary the way a climate shapes a people; I didn't get very far because I got tired of my handwriting. My letters knot into a scrawl and it doesn't feel elegant, pretty, satisfactory; but yes, I was trying to explain how it feels to see and meet and talk to people who grew up with some kind of weather, the way idioms grow out of customs that relate to the land itself. I think it's appealing to me because I have this romantic vision of plein air painting by the shore, (like Timothy Wilson's landscapes, or Camilla West's), and it intensifies when I think of passages from Virginia Woolf and W.H. Auden...
whoa. its been an intense couple of days. finished reading three books this week (Cannery Row in a sitting) and mulling over this feeling when the book ends, when you can feel the last few pages coming, when that romance, that relationship, reaches its conclusion.
everything is so intertwingled
was about to transfer some of the sentences i had been underlining to my commonplace book, when the emptiness of the pages, way too free without the reassurance of rules and lines, at once felt disgusting to me. this handwriting, this scrawl revolted me — but why? Is it because it isn't easily decipherable, and if it were incomprehensible, did I feel that it should be so in a more beautiful way?
i loathe this feeling; it feels like a sluggishness (maybe from sore muscles), a stagnation that's all the more reinforced with the still water standing in my sink, which i need to figure out how to fix, if by some online home remedy or by calling maintenance... there's a kind of sloth that feels offputting.
read for two hours or so today, it was slow, leisurely reading, which was nice, but fuck i'm slow. wonder if quantifying my reading pace (forty pages an hour, sheesh) will do more harm than good?
goddamn the tour i gave today was so scattered: speech littered with ums, ahs, and sorrys, anticipating apologies. but i somehow bs'ed my way through it which is solid. // just finished a BWF RR (roughly) — I need to remember how this feels. it feels good. hadn't realized how weak my arms were — hopefully if i keep working at it, one day i can complete a proper pushup. // also realized im more resourceful than i thought i was; was able to find some makeshift items so there aren't really many excuses to resort to.
got my dental stuff sorted out! and with the magazine done and the summer not as grueling hot — truly 炎热 — i feel much better now. i think i can set a good tone for myself this month :•) —— also excited to finally start the fanpage for fruits and veg. cheers to all
so glad to have finally logged out of netflix. did watch a ton of stuff ive wanted to, though:
it does feel real good to have a deadline to work towards, though. its gonna be a rough few days but i still have a month to get in touch with myself again.
been feeling emotions much more complicated and nuanced than i had before. i think this is a fruitful thing as the lifelong journey and path of learning who i am stretches on
mostly watching bojack horseman and doing very inefficient work for the magazine. tearful and very emotionally charged phone call with dad. i cant imagine myself living to forty, death always felt like an emergency, a random accident in the near yet distant future where things happen to stop. maybe i should imagine how it'd be like at old age. i told dad that i can't be best friends with mom because we're so different and because maybe on a subconscious level, i dont want to be — because i want to be there for myself. so dying alone doesnt feel so scary of a prosepct. i just — here it goes again, just want to be part of a community, to feel like this has a purpose, especially when design is at such an identity crisis ridden state. oh god.
---------------------today has got to be the last day i fall into this rut. a tarot reading from 4.30 has me pulling myself out of this situation. reflecting on a reading from a month (& a week or so) ago, this overall feeling of stagnation, delay, unmotivatedness has got to be resolved.
another day half wasted away, familiar thump of a headache: i want to turn this life upside down, shake it a few times, and reorganize it. called mom yesterday, we talked about life and death, i tried to explain gifts as bundles of responsibilities, it vaguely worked. she still clings to the subject of a car and how i haven't gotten one: its just so much.
i think it'll restart with a better sleeping schedule and forcing myself to do things. sometimes the weight of a body feels redundant; i wonder how itd be like to be all spirit, all consciousness, just pure energy floating around.
half of my summer break has passed: a full two months have gone by, and i have a month and a week left. kind of funny, kind of sad how i keep drafting up grand calendars trying to portion out my time in some ultra efficient way but it doesn't work. even the tiny projects have come to a halt... damn. might need to create a section to keep track and hold myself accountable.
it's been a drowsy, sluggish, tired, uninspiring couple of days, maybe two weeks — i keep falling out of routine. yesterday scrolled through my photos and found it tragically amusing that i'd use Meitu to really dig into my insecurities... i dont find myself that self-deprecating these days, i think mostly because i've accepted that things are as they are & it's best for me to be grateful for what i have: movement, senses, the like.
social media is getting really tiring. or maybe its because i keep accidentally falling asleep and wake up with a faint headache. but it's also sadly romantic, i think, to search for an audience while quietly panicking about this crumbling world. wonder if America has come to terms with its fading out? i wish this country could keep to itself, improve its infrastructure, but it's so characteristic of it to seek infamy and go out guns ablaze.
mythology still feels so important, so primal / i hope i can enjoy the rain more next time, when it thunderstorms
dreams blending into the real and physical; been in a rut of sorts. i think its because i haven't been exercising... days are quiet and short, i think i'll clean the apartment today and have a nice long shower. devote some time to journaling again.
dang i netflix sprinted real hard and finished watching the midnight gospel and the good place. wow. overall i know i need to pull myself out of this rut. kind of accidentally pulled an all nighter yesterday and stayed up till 7 am, then fell back asleep and woke up at noon. take care of myself omg
finished the whole Bojack series in 3-4, maybe 5 days. Adult animation really getting to me, i think its because it can be so whimsical (like with tuca & bertie) but also so serious and real. i want to note something about how BH is haunting: its the "keep dancing" mentality, but also the mass of faceless audience members and canned laughter. also the scene in The View from Halfway Down where Herb assures Bojack — that was also haunting, the way the music grows more positive sounding, optimistic almost, finding notes in the major key. i wonder if i'll feel at home with death; thinking about how that TikTok i saw a while back talked about the final moments as something peaceful, an eerie calm.
I'm listening to music I'd return to all the time last, last summer in 2019: tunes i'd download from Xiami because my VPN was super shaky. I like keeping some songs to myself. it feels nice, like a sense of knowing.
Looked into geomancy today and tried out a very amateurish, loose reading. I asked something along the lines of, “will I settle into a reliable routine (for my graphic design work)?” and drew Amissio as judge, Carcer as sentence/reconciliator, and Witnesses Fortuna Minor and Conjunctio.
After looking into blog posts about each and thinking over what I’ve been talking to with Mom lately, I’ve found it necessary and crucial that I heed her advice and attend to Carcer.
I’ve felt that my lack of private transportation has been a significant limitation to my movement, though perhaps it points more specifically to my two week long or so stretch of staying indoors: maybe the drawing is pointing me to explore the area more, take more public transit? Quit the convenience and ease of *just staying in*?
Fortuna minor makes sense, especially when combined with Conjunctio and Carcer — however it feels like there are also several contradictions in this set — Carcer and Conjunctio are inverses of each other; is it more severe of a situation because Carcer is my sentence?
Ultimately I can make sense of this, as Amissio tells me to let go of this [query?] and move on, that it does not help & is not good to be so jealous and possessive over things: for they will be lost anyway; energy is transferred, neither created nor destroyed.
I’m typing this under a stormy looking school of clouds, illuminated by the light that escapes in between
Back to the query, though: I’ve felt like the past two months, maybe even earlier than that — this half year so far I’ve been reassuring myself incessantly as well as telling others that I “need to settle into a routine,” “fix my sleep schedule” — but if I keep dallying on like this nothing will happen and I’ll feel pitiful and sorry for myself.
This had already happened before, it’s happened several times since 2020 began: after maybe two months or so of diligent exercise and eating I was feeling good, but then going home for a while had me feeling bloated, sickly, with a pretty low opinion of myself. But now it feels different, it feels like I have more of a purpose to make these decisions & stick to them, because I can refer to geomancy (or at least my filtered down version of it) as a checkpoint, a landmark.
watched Gummo today, was struck afterwards by the scene where Tummler's eating spaghetti in the bathtub and hadn't realized there was a strip of bacon taped to the wall... it's then driven me to this spiral, rabbit hole of Youtubers doing various challenges, all name brand; thinking about TV dinners again. was steeped in this kind of ambivalent, hard to comprehend feeling — not really pity (i'm sure they wouldnt want that from some random stranger), a kind of detached resonance, maybe? it reminds me of that view from my trip in 2019, where the gas station was abandoned and the paint was peeling and flapping in the wind. it's a little funny that that stuck with me so much that i used it in my survey/choose your adventure game thing i made a month or so later.
but yeah, i dont know, i suddenly dont feel that alone, i feel grateful almost? for having such strong ties in some of my communities. something about not wanting to see people be forgotten
finally bid farewell to my way too blank yard where i was still clinging to whatever new modernism it was. excited!! for a messier website that i will gladly return to regularly to tend to.
still thinking about what Venkatesh Rao wrote about not having a stable, defined, reliable home in cyberspace: the past few days I've been wandering back and forth between social media (Instagram, Twitter) which feels like walking in a mall that's almost gonna close down alone. Coupled with this cloudy weather (every day feeling like the last, or more so like it's going to rain at any moment) i've been cooped up in my apartment which i've also been quite unmotivated to really do a deep clean of. I am excited to work on my gift for M though, even if it feels half a year too early to start.
poked around some small diy blogs and websites and came across some really nice writing about things in general; also would like to revisit some of these but putting them into my queue on are.na feels like too much. i think what i was trying to get at yesterday with my allovertheplace twitter thread was that i want to see people hacking together their own tools, no matter how janky they may seem. after having been on are.na so much for a while i'm coming to realize that maybe whatever tool, application, service, platform it is, it won't feel fully comfortable to me if i didn't build it. and so using are.na sometimes feels like snacking on "healthy junk food," what this piece gets at —
[got distracted from this by other online things, but] I'd like to write about this more extensively, more in depth, sometime soon. a lot of stuff on my to do list right now, and yet I also am struggling with this urge and impulse to throw out a bunch of links. but the good folk over at e-worm.club recommended these sites/ people's writing, which i want to safekeep here, at least: Francis Tseng, (writing section—) if i recall clearly he gave a tour of his worldbuilding/devlog channel at the spring channel walkthrough. his friend Casey also presented recently and it got me thinking about devlogs, games, these (virtual) worlds as something more than an immersive fun experience, something with the potential to shift our cultural understandings of connection (should i find a different word for this?)
Today I am grateful for my past self for collecting comfy tunes. I have this distinct memory of organizing a hs art gallery show with a few friends that didn't get approved, and staying in the space that afternoon, blaring this music as I worked away on a large piece of fabric (it was a piece of linen [?] around four, five feet on each side), jabbing a blue ballpoint pen at it to make up a random composition/portrait.
Setting up the shows was the most exciting part of running the gallery; it also became a sort of shed, a place for me to put unused art materials. Dusty and safe.
I think i was pretty judgmental; it's something i'm still working on. A lot of these artists' spaces, I've found, feel so important to me. From my mentor's studio where I'd work/lounge
about to public monuments that I'd return to, trusting in the shadows of their sculptures, sketching has been a meditating and comfortable practice, as I've been able to be with myself more
fully. i do sometimes wonder if the insistence to keep my hands busy comes from some other type of dread... more on that someday, i guess.
also been thinking about my habits online. i feel this here — neocities — has been the one place i feel somewhat at home. even though i want to establish some sort of twitter practice (?) so that i can thread thoughts together in a more stream of consciousness way, writing on twitter is still tweeting which is so different from writing... after talking to a friend and having an important conversation about the more unglamorous parts of being in the arts/design (jealousy and envy, feeling inadequate, fear of missing out on connections, etc.) i've been trying to resist the impulses to compare. not sure if talking about it with them made my case of this worse, but i guess this is all part of letting go of the ego.
Wish i could return to the beauty of Zero's soft gradients, but that's such an illusion, measuring food and energy in such a rigorous, scientific way... today I accidentally woke up real early around 5.30 and then slept until 10 again; this all feels almost too much.
|august 29~september 4||_||~||_||_||_||_||_|
|september 26 ~ oct 2||~|
|september 3 ~ oct 9|
|september 10 ~ oct 16|