It does get better on a random afternoon.

The past months, I’ve been asking for more–testing my body’s and the universe’s capacity. I’m being the most selfish I can be. Because what more can I lose from just asking?

I’ve tried restraint. I’ve tried audacity. I highly recommend doing whatever the fuck you want. (At least, when you can.)

My parents look at me lately like I’m a fine piece of China. A piece of glass that needs to be behind another piece of glass. Only stared at, never used. Something so fragile that you see the cracks even before they’re there.

If thing so fine, why not be treated like a fine thing at all?

They never really liked fancy China. I never really liked fancy China. (Cue Mulan’s Reflection, the only China we like.) I do collect mugs and ceramics though–one or two from every trip. And I unwrap and use them as soon as I get home! But there was a time when I also kept them in their boxes, collecting dust at the back of my closet.

I tell my friends that I buy them so when I finally get a place of my own, I’ll have this shelf of mismatch glasses, coasters, and bowls that look like plates that look like bowls, and I’ll think about which cup fits which guest–like I’m playing some matchmaking game. I’d serve them in their cup and the satisfaction of finding the perfect fit would probably give me a high knowing the freak that I am. (Welcome back, Monica Geller!) That was the dream! So I guess I’m just like the other girls: playing house and wishing for their darling Barbie dream home.

But dreams change. You can’t go dreaming when you’re too busy surviving. And albeit sad to admit, sometimes they also fade. If nothing else, quietly pushed in the corner for now–just like some of my mismatched mugs.

If I can’t have my lists checked off yet, I might as well indulge myself to use every cup that I’ve bought instead. The darn fancy things need to be used! What good are they all cooped up and shiny but serving no function at all? (Cue Barbie’s What I Was Made For) I think about the woman who hand-molded my cup and painted a weird ahh cat on it, and I think they would love to see their creation with a scoop of ice cream or two. Not just bubble wrapped. Just like how I like my stickers to be stuck and my postcards to be written love letters with. I want them used. I want them to live their glorious purpose. (Cue Loki’s Purpose is Glorious which trended earlier this year, just right after I rewatched the series.)

On my desktop has been this short piece I reread again and again:

I guess what I’m going for here is I don’t want to be treated like fine China. Even if I am one. I sure as hell don’t wanna be the cup in the cupboard that’s so effin’ pretty but has never tasted the sweetness (and bitterness) of coffee.

I choose to lose myself in the company of my friends, doing the things I love, in the haze of all the other overwhelming things, than to just lose myself to nothing at all.

(Cue Valley’s Water the Flowers, Pray for A Garden)

So maybe it does get better on a random afternoon, or maybe it doesn’t. You just decide that it does and you stick with it. Choose your battle, babe.

Hit me up if you’ve found the cure,
Louise

It’s a whirlwind of a life lately. Much like the weather (PH friends, I hope you are safe.) I have more questions than answers the past months. But days also have been filled with friend hangouts, making playlists, raving over tv shows. Just lots of days that I wish were longer. That, I’m utterly thankful for.

Keeping tabs
/Except they’re mostly just my media obsessions

• OR’s new album, yspsfagsil

• Speed walking to stupid song and hitting 200 hrs of workouts this year. And it’s just August? You really do go back to your old coping mechanisms

• Not Suitable For Work!! Mindy Kaling, I need that S2 renewal and AJosh endgame

• A Tom Hiddleston re-obsession right after my Shawn Hatosy and Ryan Gosling obsession (I have a fantastic father so this all on me, I don’t know what my problem is) History was my worst subject ever but if it’s Tom lecturing about Pompeii, count me tf in.

• Watching Cars, Cars 3, and Mulan every month. My holy trinity! Basically sums me up as a person. I know every line and I usually play these in the background when I need a pick-me-up, and God knows how I need it constantly now

• Tiktok edits awakening the sleeper agent interests I had when I was a wee little girl

• Legos

• Year 2 of asking Amazon Prime to bring back My Lady Jane

• Injecting AO3 fics in my veins

• A slow but inevitable descent back into ncity / Neo still got my back (hostage)

• Fearing for my life for November 20 and the back-to-back SOTR and PJO S3 release. Curly-haired yearning boys IN PAIN?! YES, PLEASE

• Chobani and trying out every flavor there is

• Coco coffee, matcha coco, buko juice in general

• Making my doctor laugh with my life and flare updates, and convincing myself that I’m her favorite patient HAHAHA (please don’t pass me to a different doctor. *on my knees* I embody hopecore but I’ve also had ENOUGH.)

  

  ---

  If you’ve reached this far, wow thx for reading my yapping HAHA it’s the first time I got the “near email length limit” warning. Talk to you again, soon!

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Lately, I’ve been so close to trying to accept the fact that I am now sick for at least half of my life for the rest of my life. Living with chronic illness feels like a life sentence. I’m not really convinced that it’s any better than a death sentence. But I get to live. That’s better right? Right?

Around 20 check-ups, 4 blood tests, 5 doctors, I-can’t-recall-how-many-prescriptions, and 16 months later: “Okay. This is how it is. We live with it.” I know most of my triggers. I know my pain threshold. I know the feeling when I’m about to pass out. Certain symptoms have certain schedules. I can work with that. “I’ll live with that.”

And live, I do. There are many good days: Solo trips. Friend dinners. Movie dates. Apparently, you try to make the most of your good days when you know that they’re rare. Days when I get to feel and be normal again. But there are days (like today) when it gets too much that you forget those good ones existed.

I’m really trying hard to make peace with it. But I couldn’t just wait and wait and wait until things get better. (They might not. They will not. That’s the point of things being chronic.) So maybe that’s why I finally decide to send this letter out. I think it helps with that acceptance. Here’s one of the things in my death folder. A small part of it–you’d have to attend my funeral to hear the whole thing. I don’t know when that would be; I’m not dying yet, I have more to live for. But when that day comes, you’re invited.

My mother isn’t happy at all when I tell her that I have a spreadsheet of things for when I die. A death folder. Bank accounts, passwords, insurance claim documents, a playlist for my wake. A notarized will. The last thing I want to be is a burden when I’m gone.

I am dead serious (Dead? Get it, haha) when I write down about my request for my casket to be stickerbomb’d. My one last main character moment. (It is my death, I am the main character.) Anyone who comes to my wake would bring a sticker that reminds me of them and stick it on my casket. Or maybe on a frame on the side, I still have to think this through. The casket was supposed to be a rental in my death plan; I would be cremated. Stored and also thrown in many places. But the funeral parlor said I won’t be able to stickerbomb it if I just rent it, so maybe outright payment it is.

Side note: Did you know that caskets can cost up to hundreds of thousands in the PH? And if you die of sickness, that’s additional millions on a week of hospital bills. I think one of the must inhumane thing we’ve ever experienced is being denied to bring home the body of a loved one without settling the fees first. And having to pay cash to private hospitals unless I want that 3% mark-up on everything. I’ve always known our healthcare system is fucked, but God this is just too absurd.

I want the wake to be short. No several long nights, I want people to get sleep. Life is tiring enough; death shouldn’t be. Jellies and gummy bears for snacks, a Rodic’s tapsilog meal for my friends and family. And then add whatever else my brother likes. He’s in charge of the food because we always cater to his palate in this household. He would probably buy cornick and nuts, classic. People will be allowed to gamble. Preferably games of pairs, blackjack, and lucky nine, like we used to do at nights. For flowers, I want a bouquet of chamomile (cheaper and local alternative to daisies) and sunflowers, if they’re in season.

Side side note: Flowers are also expensive. Dying is expensive.

There was a time when I planned all this. The narrator grumbles, “She dies and she still has a list.”

My lola (grandma) was always makwenta (someone who likes to keep score.) And I couldn’t be more thankful that she had all her dying expenses planned out. My mom placed it in a HYSA; go mom! I realize I am in so many ways like both of them.

And then I insist that I am still more my father’s daughter. I just know I am and I won’t hide that fact that we’ve all had our favorites. But boy, did everyone love so much.

It’s honestly been a long time coming. I thought I’d be dead years ago–when I first started this death folder. My first death mission, aborted. Not since my mom told me she couldn’t bear the pain of a parent burying their child. Burying a parent is natural, she said. But I don’t think I could do it either. She only cried on the funeral, kept a lovely face entertaining everyone she knew in the wake. But I guess I had to make do like she did. I would manage. That’s what I do. Break down then get things done. So that was the time I decided I had to live. Settling to just be dead inside, rather than again, to be a burden to a person I loved more than most.

Mother really does know best because I’m glad I didn’t die that young. I lived until this moment. Or at least until I learned that there is more to live for.

I hate having to want to live just when my body is starting to betray me.

They say you only live once. No, I call bullshit. (May this be the last curse word I leave on this earth, my favorite one. The one I blurt out when I’m extremely mad and close to tears. I say fuck and shit and putangina too much when I drive, anyway.)

You live when you open your favorite Christmas present, a giant red book of fairytales. One with a slightly puffy cover. Weighs almost as much as you as a kid. You live when you open your next new favorite Christmas present, a walkman and a set of A1 cassettes, your introduction to boyband obsession. You live when you move schools, meet friends you share recess with. Live until you see their children go to the same school as you all did. You live when you get accepted to your dream university, your only choice and your dad’s dream one too. You see that proud moment on his face and know that you’ve done well. You live on that first solo trip, when you think you know everything but honey, you’re a 20-year old; you’ll learn that you know nothing in a few years. You live on your first job. You live on your first resignation, and you live even more on the next. You live when you sign your first apartment, sign your first art print, go to your first concert, first kiss, and many other firsts. There’s so many firsts in this lifetime. And you live on that rainy morning when you just had just the right amount of sleep, and you woke up with no back pain, no rashes. Outside, it’s drizzling–not too hot, not too cold. Even Goldilocks would have envied you. You live today, on the day you’re editing this for the nth time. You live every day.

And you only die once. When I really do die, I hope the people that come to my wake know that I lived many good lives. Some, even happy ones. And I want to thank them for it. I may not be remembered for forever, but I hope to keep all these good memories with me in the afterlife.

“For the longest time, it feels like I have been trying to make sense of life but now I see there is no sense to be made, only life to be lived.”

Here’s to the people, places, and things that have filled my life’s cup. You made my life worth living. This death is inevitable, and I leave knowing that this life wasn’t a burden at all.

I don’t know how many years I still have left but hey, let’s live a bit longer,
Louise

[Friends, feel free to get a giveaway goodie bag before you leave–if I was able to convince my family of this. I can still hear them say “No, you can’t take home things from the wake of the dead!” A Filipino pamahiin (superstitious belief.) Unfortunate, because I would have made a wonderful ephemera pack of my life with a personal rendition of this card.]

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I started writing down “It was an okay year. Nothing spectacular.” But I flip through my digital diary and see how the year was just so full. Full of things I made, full of friends I have, full of occasions we celebrated, full of places I’ve been, full of inspiration, full of love. Despite these clenched fists and the curveballs of the year, life has been good. A year and life that is full.

It’s a pity how I’ve been less excited of things the more I grow old and the more I experience. I remember that line in a post that said “I’ve never been proud of an achievement, just relieved.” I want less of that. I have been so used to achieving things that I do not bother to revel in them. Just another thing off the list. When in reality, it was a thing off THE List.

I mentally slap myself because “Damn babe, stand up! You’re doing amazing, sweetie!!!” The good old you gotta stop and smell the roses or something.

I’m not everything I want to be, but I am in many ways what I would have wanted years ago. There is a younger version of me that is wishing for the things I have now. She is excited, she is hopeful, and she is so so brave. She knows what she wants and she knows in her heart that someday, she will get them. And God do I want this girl back. I want her to know she’s living the life from the list she made written with her glittery pen. Delusions do come true.

I tell myself that next year, I’m channeling her again. A girl who does things because she loves to and because she can. A girl who is not afraid to live life in whimsy. She believes that anything is possible, because, really, it is. Before she became the doer, she was an unhinged little dreamer.

Bringing back that little girl,
Louise

Happy holidays! Life (and my stomach) has been so full. Thank you for being part of my year and filling this life of mine.

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There are places that I keep going back to because there is comfort in what I already know. Footsteps are lighter, breathing is softer, life is just a tad bit easier. I worry a little less knowing I’ve been here one too many times. It’s the same old street with the same big trees and same line of tiny wooden benches where people who walk their dogs sit and rest at. I buy the same ice cream, play the same songs, walk down the same lane just like I used to. Except nothing is really the same. Some leaves have fallen off, they repainted the benches, a running club breezes past me and I ask myself “Where are the brisk walkers and their cute dogs?”

There’s nostalgia in the familiar and there’s a particular kind of ease that only exists in memories. “That was a good day. I’d like to have it again, please.”

But nostalgia is strange; a liar. It makes you yearn for something you cannot have. One more time is never the same as last time.

While there are things that I missed that kind of still feel just like before:
The last day of work before a vacation.
The gentle sound of waves.
The sky changing hues.
The smell of freshly baked bread and coffee when entering a cafe.
The way light enters through the wide windows and how it seeps through my skin.

There are also things are that are new, things to look forward to. Maybe some things that someday, I’ll also come back to:
A book I’ve never read.
A lovely store I chanced upon.
A gelato flavor I’ve never tried.
A neighborhood to get lost in.
A workshop I just signed up for.

We leave something of ourselves behind when we leave a place. And sometimes, we return trying to find it again. (It’s not there anymore.) Places change. People change. Yadda yadda. But I also just like coming back because I’m not ashamed to know the things that I like, the things that make me feel more me. And I am trying to make sense of the fact that these two are not mutually exclusive.

I want to revisit places, talk to the same people, draw and write about the same feelings, do things over and over because I like to, and because I can.

Nostalgia is confusing.
It will never be this way ever again.
It could be worse.
It could be better.

And nostalgia is a privilege–a little luxury that proves you’ve lived a life worth longing for.

I hope you find something you’d love to come back to. And you get to live it many many times.

Writing this has been nostalgic. And I’d gladly come back again. And again,

Louise

Things and quick links

I have so much to share but also, I do not know where to start. I’ve been chronically sick, so this year has been shit. I used to joke about dying in my 30s and I just want to take it all back. I decided I’m going to be okay, or at least pretend to be, so this will be a story for another day. On good things that distracted me recently that’s not work or the clinics:

• Binge-watching Superstore

• Watching a whole lot of tennis with my parents

• Chef & My Fridge Youtube clips

• Read: The courage of wanting things

• Read: Doing nothing for a whole weekend

• Read: The quiet thrill of not being for everyone

• The guilty pleasure of rom-com books: The Wedding People, Funny Story, People We Meet on Vacation

• Weekly Pilates

• Tiktok walks instead of Tiktoks in bed

• Buying a Kinbor Weekly for next year

• Drawing for myself again

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Then my day had gone haywire.

My past 24 hours since then has been distressing to say the least, but I’m deciding to still send this out. I need that little treat more so than ever, and I figured someone else might need it too.

It’s been a long day. (Dare I say week, month, even year.)

There are so many little treats I held back on. Well, I am highly aware that I am a person who is hard on herself. Eldest daughter in an Asian family trauma and all. I made this to allow myself to be selfish at times, even when it feels like I shouldn’t. Or that I can’t.

“You deserve that little treat.”

And you don’t deserve the bad things happening to you. Sometimes, bad things just happen to not-so-bad people.

Go get your little treat,
Louise

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Call in the morning when you wake
Maybe tomorrow, we’re okay
(When it’s a sunny day)

Light blue. But still, blue.

Haven't had enough to do
But I'm not ignoring you

I’ve been feeling like a time traveller; breezing through June, July, August, now September. And by this time I feel like I owe you a proper letter.

But everything that I have written down has been too personal. Too detailed and too open. They’re for me and not for anyone else to see. Listing things in bullets is what I do best, so I hope these journal entry snippets would suffice:

Sweat sticking to my skin. Warm summer air.

I write about the medical technician drawing my blood, the small talk with a stranger. I write about almost getting into a car crash with a politician, thinking holy sh*t, I’m alive but this is where I die. I write about being left behind, how I stopped being bothered by it; until again recently. Then I write about how disposable one can feel and I’m spiraling once more. I feel myself wavering. Floating. I write about my days as if I only observed them and not lived them.

A glass of iced water. Late rain showers.

I write about going to the same place three times in a week, how I’ve become a creature of habit. I write about a nice weekend out with friends. Laughing until you cry. Crying until you laugh. Then another day out, and another. I write about how these days blend into each other. Oh how I wish they wouldn’t. I write about two recent concerts from my two top artists, another one through the screen. A five-year visa, one more month before I leave again. I keep counting like before. I write about feeling too much and then going home feeling nothing at all.

Many things from my days I’ve noted down and yet, I send a song instead: beabadobee’s Sunny Day explains more of what I could not write about:

I’ll keep you posted
I promise I’m better

I’ll write better things soon. On better days.

After all, there is just so much I can bottle up inside. I am still just a love letter girl in this double tap world.

Until the next sunny day,
Louise

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inevitable. this is what i told my father about her mother, my grandmother, on the day of another surgery. “she’s strong. all her tests and vitals are good as always,” is what her children and the doctor said. i told my father otherwise. “she looks okay but you do know she will die soon; you know that, right? the surgery means nothing.”

i know that i was brutal for that, but somebody had to be. and i know it wasn’t going to be any of her children. they believed that their mother is too tough to break. a diamond. she wasn’t the best mother, but she was still their mother. they hated seeing their mother sick. and i hated seeing my father sad. and if i had to choose between the dying and the living, i would choose the living. so brutal, i was.

my father asked “ano dapat gawin?” (what should we do?)
“wala. (none.)
“it’s bound to happen.
“at least when you accept that, you can properly say goodbye. tell her you love her, just spend the rest of her days with her.
”you’re not killing her with that goodbye. you’re just letting her know that she lived well. enough if she wants it to be.”

i hugged him. they visited my lola the next day, right before she was dismissed from the hospital. she passed on just two days after. inevitable.

my grandmother had dementia for years before this. talking to her was like talking to a shell of a person i used to know. it hurt me to do so, so i talked to her less and less. so really, i’ve lost her since then. when i learned more about her life from others, i thought that maybe this was her way of forgetting all the pain she’s been through. to break down her walls; to be weak, at last.

everyone describes my grandmother as a strong woman. and i have to admit, i was always a bit scared of her. but i was well-loved as the second apo (grandchild). i resented her for being a harsh elder when she didn’t recognize us anymore, when she started throwing hands and sharp words. but i learned to accept that she was this way because the world was harsher to her. well, a diamond can only be one after being forged by fire. it’s weird to think how my grandmother was once also just a girl – a girl that had to live a difficult life. raised six kids on her own. an unfaithful husband. a tough past behind her. and while most eulogies during her wake were centered on this – thanking her for her strength – i thanked her for teaching me that i do not have to be. a ‘she walked so we could run’ moment.

strength is my father’s family’s weakness. which makes sense because they were raised with tough love. they could do everything on their own, just like their mother. all of them too strong, too good, too perfect. which is great. but one does not need to be perfect to live a good life.

one does not need to be strong all the time.

“the world is tough enough as it is. there’s no need to add to that. you can be soft and have a life worth living just the same.”

but then she also just had to make do.

i wish i could tell my grandmother this when she still remembered our faces; then maybe her last chapter could have been softer. instead, i just tell my own parents, and myself.

i wish that in my grandmother’s next or afterlife that she could allow herself to be weak. to know that she could ask for help. that she does not need to wait until she’s old to break down her walls. that she was never alone. that she feels loved. because she was.

it’s her “nine days” when i started typing this so i send this letter to send her on her way: lola, i wish you’re living an easier life now.

not my lola’s favorite apo,
louise

on a lighter note. links and things.

i’ve been consuming more and more media:

• loved high school return of a gangster (a lighter weak hero class 1)

• loving dreaming of a freaking fairytale (it’s absurd and i can’t stop watching it!! sobrang babaw, sobrang OA. ends this week.)

• earth arcade’s vroom vroom also just ended. was my weekly inaabangan for june. Na PD, pls never retire.

• youngji feat. DO’s small girl on repeat.

my brother and i booked an impulsive trip to taiwan next month. then i found out that epik high is gonna be there during our trip so i also bought a concert ticket. i clearly do not make sound financial decisions when i’m going through it! so hello, this is how to lose millions when your grandma dies. 💀💀💀 but YAY i’m seeing my ults again in the next 3 months - epik high, nct dream, and doyoung!! maybe it is true that the secret to life is having something to look forward to. 🤡

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i fear i have become too comfortable with my girl rotting season. i could not stop wasting time. it is haunting to think that i used to equate it with wasting life, but i’ve found relief to giving in.

hours turn into days into weeks into months.

and i stay the same.

I've been wasting time searching
Never in on the joke
I think, taking my time is running in circles, and
I feel bored when I'm home alone, but-

i have been both chronically offline and online at the same time: replying to people has been such a daunting task, and scrolling comes as second nature. i saw this post that sums up how my months of absence has been – as one does when one has spent too much time on the internet that the algorithm has perceived thy self too well:

it took me two hours to get out the house yesterday. despite having planned it the day before: i would go outside, breathe in polluted air, work in a coffee shop, a new one i’ve been meaning to try. make a day out of it! i had loose deadlines, so i’m really just hanging out. but i am tired before i even start things. i kept asking myself “should i? should i not?” i already enjoyed playing the day so dearly in my head that i felt no need to actually go.

two hours and i eventually did.

And we can drive away from this adolescence

i’ve read from one of madeleine dore’s letters that if you are to experience a wave of fatigue on attempting to start something, then it’s a sign there is no waking energy there – the task needs more time in the unconscious.

i like this thought a lot. maybe a little too much as i’ve been basking in this unconscious so leisurely. i tell myself that i am taking my time, i am not wasting it.

“it is not time wasted if i enjoyed it.”

girl rotting,
girl resting,
Louise

(also just a girl making excuses)

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Shop merch

on things i have been lovingly wasting time on:

• lovely runner

• doyoung’s solo album

• catching up on my journals

• scanning random pieces of papers before throwing them away

• bridgerton polin season

• that’s that’s me, espresso

• making ice candy

• 2010s movies

• thousands of saved photos on my phone

event alert

@journaltambay goes to the south! one of the few times i don’t second guess going out of the house. hang out with us if you can! we promise a fun day:

🗓 june 15
📍 nook studio, alabang
✏️ pop-up, workshops, + more!

this promo is also an excuse for me to dump my journal spreads for the past months:

xoxo

TL;DR – Another existential crisis in the last year of my 20s. How fitting. She thinks she’s in a novel or something.

I want to say I’ve been thinking about what I want to do or be but that would be a lie. I haven’t. I haven’t wanted to be something in quite a while.

I know I still like doing what I do now because I also know how it feels to not to. But lately I often question myself if I do things because I genuinely enjoy them or because I don’t know what else there is to be doing.

I’ve talked with friends recently how I’m not particularly sad but I’m also just not excited for things. Not entirely happy. (But to say so is a bit hypocrital. I’ve been in much worse places.) It’s like I’ve lost passion for things and I’m just here. Being.

I grew a year older. Does this feeling come with age? Is this just how it is? Knowing that things are different but also the same. Here is fine. Here is okay. But it’s scary to be just here. It’s scary to be existing and not living. But it’s all I can bear at the moment.

There are these lines in 7dream’s new song, UNKNOWN, that I teared up to tonight. But as I state too much, I’m a Pisces and I will cry at many things.

No, never be scared of trying
To reach again the dreams
You momentarily forgot
To hear the voice of your heart
So, what if all of this could just be so easy just like?

I had three cakes this year with three sets of people I love. I’m here. I don’t know how long I’ll be just here, but my dreamies tell me that I can find myself again in the unknown.

Take it easy, no rush
I know you got it

Here,
Louise

March in moments and numbers

1 solo trip. 2 markets. 3 birthday cakes. 4ever in this 7dream sht.

P.S. No new art yet because I might not send this out if I overthink it some more. But here is a poster print I recently got that I stare at for comfort. It’s by a Thai artist I really like, @day.s.of.light.

P.P.S. To same age gurlie who dropped by Komiket and saw and small-talked about my “don’t freak out, we’re only twenty something” sticker and we somehow joked that next year it’ll be “let’s freak out, we’re now thirty something” – GURL I DON’T THINK IT’S A JOKE ANYMORE. I AM STILL THINKING ABOUT THIS SMALL INTERACTION. I hope you’re doing better than I am.

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January is for drawn out moments. Yellow. A pause.

Pass me the salt, tell me how you like your eggs. You show me the new leaf that sprouted on the plant on the counter. “I haven’t watered it in a while.” Relentless little thing, I thought. You tell me you’ve been watering it instead.

January is for beginnings. Green. A start.

We set the table. Put down our half empty cups. And I wonder how many more slow things are often overlooked.

Unfolding,
Louise

The first month will always be my free trial month. So hello, here’s a very late happy new year! (Or an early happy Chinese New Year!)

While January is for fresh slates and new things, I wanted to redraw this old line that I always seem to write again and again in my journals. A promise of good days. A wish for a good year.

The past month has been long. Just like how I want it. I used to hate slow days but I appreciate them more now – Please linger a tad longer. Please let me feel things a bit deeper.

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So here are puzzle pieces from the past two months of “inactivity.” To help remember – Art markets. A weekend trip. A wedding, green dress. Another wedding, pantsuit. Catch ups. Baking with expired butter. A second round of baking with newly bought butter. Haircut. Fairytales. Roses. Holiday romcoms. Twinkling lights everywhere. Being told that you did well. Asking if it was enough.

And here’s my last art for the year. A goodbye and a welcome. 2023 feels like a fever dream. It was tough but it made me tender. And soon, it will all just be a memory. A year that fades, just like the years before it.

It’s so hard to stay soft in a harsh world but this year taught me that being soft does not make you any less strong. I wish to stay tender and believe in the promise of something better.

Have a good year-end and an even better new year!

See you in 2024,
Louise

#artvsartist2023

(A December 31 edit because the 2023 wrapped came in last minute.)

Doing my yearly accounting and computer clean-up, so here are my favorites in #artvsartist2023.

As the years go by, the stronger is the crippling feeling of not being able to accomplish things. Growing up with an engineer father and an accountant mother, I’ve always relied on math and numbers. So I count the things I do – even with my art. I often wish there is a formula to creating so I can make sure that I can keep doing it for as long as I can. Art is something I love to do but data is just something I trust more. The left and right sides of my brain are on a never-ending battle. I interchange T and F every few months for my Myers-Briggs type. I will then joke that these are just bi things, but whenever I ask “Is it enough? Is it worth it?” – the answers never add up.

Yes, I did make a lot this year. No, I did not make more than last year. I am learning that worth, though, is just not in numbers.

I love the art that I’ve created this year. I am from-the-bottom-of-my-heart grateful for the people who trusted me to visualize their thoughts and stories for them. Most of what I’ve done for work this year are more personal, both for myself and the lovely humans they’re for. And it is scary how the less art I make, the more of myself I bare in every piece; even when the outputs are not for me.

I may not be able to share them all, but each one matters. Tiny things, arts, and moments that I should really appreciate more of. Thank you for letting me create and share parts of me for another year.

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The older I get, the list of people and things I long for gets shorter. I haven’t concluded yet if that’s a good thing. Or if it’s just another coping mechanism – the less I want, the less I get, the less I have to lose (and eventually, miss.)

On a short day out with friends, we briefly talked about other friends that we’ve lost. People we just stopped talking to. How maybe some people are just there for certain parts of our lives. Half jokingly, in my head, for the plot. I know, though, that I am partly to blame for this, too – because I tend to withdraw whenever I’m having a hard time. But that is still too mortifying to admit out loud despite being so hyper-aware of most things wrong with me, so I agreed with the previous notion instead. We all have past lives that we lived. We all have somebody that we used to know. (And I am trying better to not detach and keep everything to myself.)

I do miss some people though. Like how I think of this childhood friend whenever I see a stray dog in one of my afternoon runs. Scared that it will chase after me; because of that one time we had to run our lungs out from one. In formal dresses we both hate. We jumped a fence and got ice cream after. Laughed about it for a week, at least. But this present stray dog just stares as I pass him by. Then I think of said old friend. And it makes me wonder I ever get thought of in the same way.

Sometimes, I think that this is just how it is. Like how it just faded till it ended – they just come back as a passing thought. A fleeting feeling. Sometimes, I let myself be tender, and I miss them for a short while.

I’ve been thinking about these lyrics from I Hated Myself (Tablo’s Words) a lot:

Tell me, who can love me when I hate me?
I've been feeling like I'm free-falling lately
Is anybody out there? Out there?
Will anybody care when I'm not here?

Must have been such a long process before Tablo could put this song out. I cried when I first listened to it. But then again, I cry a lot.

And another runner-up is BRB.

If you miss me, then call me
Don't worry, I'll be right back

Eventually, I chose to draw a different Epik High song for this letter. It rained a few nights ago and the sketch for Rain Song just visualized in my head. So I went with it. These 3 songs are all from the same album, and all had a common theme: missing a loved one. Being missed, in return.

When it rains
And I can't sleep
And sad music plays
Like the lyrics to an old song
I think of you

“This made me think of you” is one of the fondest things ever to be said. And I want to say it more. I don’t want the people I love to just become people I miss.

It’s been a while. I thought of you,
Louise

P.S. Why does my art look good when I’m struggling?

P.P.S. SCREEN TIME - EPIK HIGH FT. HOSHI ON NOVEMBER 1!! I AM ON MY HORANGHAE CLAWS. GO GET IT MY APPLE PIE MANIFESTING KING!!!

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Waiting,
Louise

August things and just one link

My head is still buzzing (and will be for this month, too.) I’ve been drawing and story lining a lot. Just not for me. A bad habit I have to break is that I never just like something. I always let it consume me. But there’s always a limit to how things should sparkle, lest they catch fire. So I have very few things to share for now. Or I just cannot share them yet. But it excites me. The type of wait that is good. When waiting means there’s something worth waiting for.

In other obsessions, I NEED to recommend the K-drama, Moving. Melo and slice of life disguised in superpowers and violence. Insane. That is the only thing I’m linking today because it is so good, nothing else compares.

Ending with how August has been in 4 memes:

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Raindrops on the window sill. Postponed plans. Choosing to lie down on the cold hard floor instead. Speakers off so I can hear the rain. But then I can also hear my thoughts. Too many thoughts. I turn the speakers back on but lower the volume. Back aching. Moving to the bed.

July is that 3-hour break in between classes where you don’t really know what to do. Or there are many things to do but deciding that this is just not the time to do them. A time in the shadows. A time where existing is a tad bit too much.

Cold air. Soft pillows. Under the blankets. Fidgeting with the loose threads. Scrolling though my phone. Fidgeting, again. Warm. A bit too warm to my liking. Missing my alarm.

July is a series of soft moments and quiet places. Where you learn something by being nothing. Where a day wasted is a day well rested. July left me in a haze.

Not all of it was a waste,
Louise

Read: July. I slept a lot. The sleeping gummies work a little too well on me. Mukha lang akong maraming ginagawa kasi mareklamo akong tao lately HAHAHA but I spent too much time on my bed, on the sofa, in the coffee shops I just sit in for hours in an attempt to be away from the comforts of the house. But then those places, too, become too comfortable. I still feel guilty for months like these. But less.

Shameless self promotion

July is also like this Grandmacore washi tape I released this month. My favorite from the set.

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July things & quick links

• Growing My Garden MV by Reese Lansangan. The song for this month’s art now has a BEAUTIFUL music video. I’ve played this so many times, ANG GANDA!!

• Some short reads I enjoyed:

  • How to be alone without feeling lonely

  • The problem of what others think

  • Girl dinner~

• Art eye candies & inspos:

  • Rie Koizumi’s works

  • Sakshi Jain’s GIFs

• What I’ve been watching:

  • Barbie - my Tiktok is still full of Barbie up to this day.

  • Nimona - Been looking forward to this. A huge fan of ND Stevenson!! (If you’ve seen the comics newsletter I often share here, it’s most probably theirs)

  • Earth Arcade - Supposed to watch Season 2 but I’ve been replaying Season 1 first as background noise when I do shop stuff. Youngji, ILY!

• I also got my GIANT gomdo this month eungggg~~~

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✶

Constant things I draw includes the beach, sea view, mountains, getaways in general. A car every now and then. Because driving far away is a comfort my dad passed down to me. Every weekend from the ages of 0-7, we would go to my grandparents’ homes in the province. Leaving the city. The expressways were non-existent. We didn’t need it then. Driving was a joy. An event. Not a task.

“Lucky” was my dad’s green pickup’s name. A Mitsubishi. Embossed in bold big letters at the cargo bed cover. I liked saying that word as a kid. Mitsubishi. Like it was some sort spell. Maybe if I say it enough, it would indeed bring luck. He would speed us down the then trafficless roads; my cousin and I at the back, feeling the wind in our air, the unknowingly mad and reckless children we were. Cinematic. A core memory. So close to the infinite moment Charlie believes in.

Then my parents got their own place in the province. A place to settle down in. The pickup, sold. Replaced with a better suited family car, Miles, a sea-green Nissan. “Smiles Miles” was her full name. And Miles did run many many miles. My dad still worked in Manila, and daily, he would leave right at the same time we were picked up for school. He would be back home just an hour or two after we’re home, too. Like magic, really. I was too young to know it was actually effort. I’d only realize 10 years after when the sides would be switched. When I would be the one doing the exact same thing as they did. Looking forward to weekends on the road, every minute another kilometer close to being home.

I’m stuck in traffic as I think about all these. I type a little draft on my phone and consoled myself that in a max of two hours, I’ll finally be able to lie down in my own bed. And I’m just really thankful for all the road trips and vacations we had when we were younger – before I had to drive by myself. Now I think that my dad did those so he (and in turn, us, too) associate driving with those good days. And less with the fact that it was also just a daily thing he had to do. Like I, now. Again, a joy. An event. Not a task. But it also instilled in me this urge to run. To choose flight over fight.

Often when I have to go to the metro for work, or for events, or even just for fun and friends, I would always think how I’m the same number of hours away to the beach. Or the mountain. The perks of living in the middle of it all. Heck, it’s even faster for me to go to Subic than it is to Makati with the traffic conditions now. The not-so-silent voice in my head says maybe I should just run away. Somewhere farther. Adopt a cat along the road. Or three. Oh, what a sight it would be. Just a human and her passenger kitty princesses. She’s crazy but she’s free.

But my heart swings back and forth between familiarity and escape. The ricochet between the two, bad. Routine or running – I still don’t know which one I would miss more.

Fight or flight has never really been a choice before. The answer has always been obvious. Then it isn’t anymore.

Can’t run forever,
Louise

Side kwento kasi may nakasabay akong kotseng kuba pauwi: In elementary, I wanted to be a race car driver after watching Herbie: Fully Loaded. I jumped from dream to dream then. I don’t remember much of it, only in photos, but we had a Volkswagen Beetle when I was a toddler. Just like in the film. A secondhand one in a classic bright red. I haven’t driven manual in years but the only reason I learned how to is because I still dream of driving a Volks at high speed on a race track. Not as a profession anymore, ofc. Just as a bucket list thing. Seeing a kotseng kuba on the road always makes me giddy like a child. & maybe the traffic otw home was worth it.

Why it took this long for me to share Vacation Manor’s music, I don’t know. Can’t Run Forever and Thoughts in Progress are songs of theirs I play a lot when I draw. Below are runner-up songs for this art. It took me longer to choose than to type all these. All very very good ones I want to share and maybe draw when I have the time:

let’s run away - Sarah Kang, Orion Song, Patrick Hizon

I tend to choose flight over fight
‘Cause staying in place is hard sometimes

Over 85 - Hojean

Shit gets boring but I know
That I will be alright
'Cause I'm off in five

Vienna - Billy Joel

Slow down, you're doing fine
You can't be everything you want to be before your time

June things and quick links

Haven’t shared a random list in a while so this will be some kind of halo-halo. (Breaking news: DoJaeJung kumain ng halo-halo sa Pinas, thus, halo-halo living in my head for the next days.)

• Read Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow at the start of the year and reading Isa’s newsletter makes me want to revisit it. It really is good. Monstrously consuming. Read when you can.

• Life←→pothos metaphors always hit right:

I'm Fine I'm Fine Just Understand

pothos

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3 years ago · 531 likes · 40 comments · ND Stevenson

• It started with just this hmp! Now, my feed (and gallery) has been consumed by these type of memes since then.

• This was a few months back but I keep going back to it in my mail:

Sunday Morning

Small kind specks

I’ve been thinking about the way, when someone knocks over a glass, the first thing we say is, be careful not to cut yourself as you pick up the pieces. The mess becomes an afterthought. What matters is that nobody gets hurt. And sometimes when the person in front of you…

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3 years ago · 10 likes · Marla

• I bought prints from @pngianne more than a month ago. They’re so pretty. Smacked them right in front of my work area.

• Stuck in my head: Broken Melodies. Life is but a dream. We got history. I just wanna! Feel the chemistry. Feel you next to me.

• Stuck in my head (2): Raining in Manila. LSS malala. Sobrang lala. It’s been Raining in Manila, hindi ka ba nilalamig?

• Watching Ha Ha Bus during lunch times! (Because yes, I’m an iPad kid; I need a show before I could eat.) It’s a travel variety show with HaHa, Byul, and their children. They eat. A LOT. SO much that it might as well be a food show.

• How do I believe in my practice enough to devote the necessary time to it?

• Sonnyé’s very short animation that inspired me to get back to a certain personal project.

• If I Had Three Lives by Sarah Russell:

• Mga random tweets na kinatuwaan ko lately, aka nurse, nakangiti nanaman po siya sa phone niya: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

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☀

“When we finally get there, will we ever leave? Will we find that all we have is all we really need?”

Sounds like summer. Salt in the air. Sweat sticking to your skin. Distant voices. Voices you don’t know. Voices from people who are trying to get away from it all just as much as you.

We went to the beach this month. The short trip felt like this song.

☾

“On this dark night when the moon isn’t bright, if I could grow brighter, grow brighter, that would be nice”

Sounds like staying in bed. Not asleep but dreaming. Craving to get some air. But the curves you’ve left in your mattress feels nice. Too nice. So you stay.

We got sick after. So I really did stay in for the past couple of days. Wish we hadn’t left the beach. Barely moving would have been better with a view. Days at home feel like this song.

PSA: SHOP RE-OPENING

A bit delayed because of the weather and how I’ve also been under the weather. But it should be open by the time this mail is sent out. I remade some designs that I’m attached to. And parts of this was shared years ago but I thought they’re worth re-sharing.

Like how the sun glows in the day and the moon glimmers in the dark, you too, will shine in your own time.

✶

These pair of pins have always been my all-time favorite merch. A lot of big things I love compacted in such a tiny little thing – skies and the cosmic, the longing to wander, the search for wonder. Believing that there is a time (and space) for everything (and everyone), but also trusting in the universe when I can never just figure it out. That maybe somewhere in between, we do get to find the balance within it all.

It’s been a good few years since I first released this and both a lot and nothing much has changed since then. Every day is just another day where I try to keep close whatever it is that fills my heart with light. Hoping it shines through. Hoping the flickers ignite enough that I can share the light. And I hope these pins help you to do (and feel) the same.

✶

It took a while for me to remake this, despite it being the one thing that I was always asked to restock in stores. Tbh, I didn’t feel like sharing the light the past 3 years. It was just wrong to do so when I can barely ignite a spark of my own. All I had were fading flickers. I needed to be selfish for a while. I needed the light to not die. Even if that meant I had to hold it close to just myself. So thank you for patiently waiting. This pin was not an exception to having needed to wait for its own time.

Treading lightly, glowing softly,
Louise

SHOP MERCH

There is no obligation to buy anything, but if you would, sending you love and MANY MANY thanks. Something for you: Use code SHOPEUNGG to get Php50 off when you spend Php500 and up. 💛

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Happy 1 week since The Dream Show 2 in Manila! I offer you my post-concert emotions and photos.

I started really getting into NCT in 2018 during their Empathy era. Baby Don’t Stop was my national anthem. (Feel free to judge me now just by that, HAHA.) Imagine vibing to a song with just two members in it and later on finding out they actually have 18 – and even more now. I don’t remember what exactly was it that had me drawn to them but I do recall retweeting Chenle’s Halloween picture as Pennywise because he is the epitome of the two Cs I fall for: cute and crazy. I told myself then that I’m adopting this kid.

And I adopted his 6 best friends with him. [Insert “strictly sold as set, do not separate” meme.]

Later that same year, I went to Korea to have a pilgrimage trip for Wanna One during the release of their last album before disbandment; them being a project group and all. I wanted to take it all in from the source. Partly as some sort of goodbye.

There were three moments from that trip that are heavily ingrained in my brain:

1. The feeling I had in Coco Capitan’s exhibit.

2. Going to Busan, Park Woojin’s hometown, for the first time. And trying (and failing) not to cry in a restaurant that decided that ‘Spring Breeze’ is the perfect background music to eat curry katsu to.

3. Spontaneously visiting SMTOWN Museum & Store at the same week of Regulate album’s release (that I honestly didn’t know about), and enjoying it SO MUCH.

So not only did I get Wanna One’s Power of Destiny album, I also took home with me a Haechan cover of NCT 127’s Regulate. What was intendedly my closure to W1 had me opening my eyes (pun intended) to another group. I wouldn’t want to brand NCT as my rebound group, but they were. They really were. Simon speaking the truth when he said that they’re a real vibe killer!

That whole year I just kept convincing myself that they’re just fun dudes that are fun to watch, I’m not stanning them. Especially not NCT Dream. I’m not falling for another group with an expiration date. I’m not that dumb and I can’t take any take more of that. I’m not a masochist.

*whispers* Well, maybe I am. Maybe I am all of that.

The Dreamies debuted as kids in between the ages of 14 to 17. Spent their literal youth together. It was their concept after all – to remain as a member at the prime of their youth, and to graduate from the group once you’ve “come of age.” Said concept was a hell of an emotional warfare. Both for them and the fans.

So 2020 was a fever dream. Every dreamzen remembers exactly what they were doing when SM finally announced that not only are they scrapping the graduation system, but that they’re also bringing Mark back. That 6Dream live during Ridin’ promotions where Mark showed himself on the screen just when the live was about to end… [screaming, crying, throwing up.] IS THIS THE REAL LIFE, IS THIS JUST FANTASY?! moment (And I literally ALMOST threw up because I was doing jump rope in the garage while the live plays on the iPad in front of me. Core memory.)

Fast forward to last weekend. In A Dream.

I’ve been living in a dream since.

My Youth was (and is) Chenle’s favorite Dream song (and the Dreamies would often mention it.) It is mine’s as well. In particular, it is this exact performance that I love. The one where they sang it live in Haechan Radio and you could just see how happy they are to be promoting together again.

NCT Dream is my youth. They grew up together, and I grew up with them.

I am still very much fixed on my TDS2 conclusion that as much as I love the Dreamies, the years have proven that they will forever love each other more.

So I just thank them for being as they are. For sharing their youth.

I thank them for all the memories. My youth.

TDS2 was supposedly my retirement concert. I would still love them and listen to them and support them, but prior to last weekend, I have come to terms that it wouldn’t sadden me anymore if I didn’t get to catch the next one or something like that. I just really NEEDED to see them as seven. But Chenle couldn’t make it to the Manila-SG stop – as to why I keep mentioning him. I MISS MY CHILD. TERRIBLY. So scratch that bring it back, I guess I just have to live a little longer. See you at the encore and/or TDS3!

Longing for the day I see our 7 shining stars in one stage,
Louise

My Youth Wallpapers

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I was trying so hard to not share a sad song but yeah, that is not happening. Not now, not any time soon. Blame the Pisces for longing for ✨drama✨

This month’s mail took some time and that is because I have been taking a lot of time for most (if not all) things lately. Time is also taking me. March marked another orbit 💫, another year older.

I already had this whole ass emotional dump write-up prepared, but I am also very hormonal right now and scrapped most of it just to type something just as equally emotional. Hormones, ugh. Anyway, in it, I said I was never big on birthdays. That I didn’t like being celebrated. It felt like a burden; makes me feel like a burden, despite being told that that’s not what it is. (Taking in reassurance is not my strong suit.) That’s basically the reason why I left on a two-week solo trip on my birthday month. Not to celebrate, but to avoid celebrating. Idk, if you get it, you get it. (And then Tiktok, my unwarranted therapist, perceived me the whole trip and kept bringing up avoidant attachment style videos in my FYP.) That maybe I do. I do want to celebrate. It’s just been so long since I felt that way that my brain very unanimously decided that I didn’t like it when damn well, I DO.

I was told growing up means being honest. About what I want. What I need. What I feel. Who I am. And I may still not be that big on birthdays. Blowing candles just gets less satisfying as the years add on. (There can only be a limited number of candles on the cake, too, without it being a fire hazard.) And maybe what I crave more than cake is its sweetness 10 years ago. (But to hell, I can never do salubong parties anymore.) But I also just know that I would be glad to have a slice, this year, too, when I look back 10 years ahead. So yeah, I’m coming to terms with being okay with craving celebrations (Read: It’s okay to crave to be remembered. To be loved.)

Another year and I am still here,
Louise

P.S. I had more than one wish when I blew my candles this year. Selfish? Yes. Hopeful? Even more.

P.P.S. Ending this reminded me of Frank O’Hara’s words which is the type of vulnerable I aspire to come close to in this lifetime: “It’s a summer day, and I want to be wanted more than anything else in the world.”

P.P.P.S. Bawi ako with happy songs which was my default background music for March just because the album is named “Last Birthday”

Next month na lang ang photo dump. Here is but one of the many sweets me and the alagas had for March. Still reeling in from the fact that I really gave myself a month off. ♫ Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?~ ♫ (3 weeks lang cheka, di ko kinaya at nagsubmit na ko ng stuff kahapon) But I have read so many mababaw novels and not-so-babaw fanfics, I FEEL INSANE I FEEL GREAT, I will be sharing all about it soon. Til then, I will let the “food as a metaphor for love” tag consume me.

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You asked me once, “How do you like your coffee?” because I said I’ll be out to buy a cup. And it’s the first time I thought about it. On the way to the cafe.

(It didn’t actually take long. But my brain tends to talk to itself a lot lately. The drive was just 5 minutes. 10 because I took so long picking out a playlist before actually going. Should’ve just walked only if the sun wasn’t burning that day. I wished it would rain. I like the rain. Not as much as after Parasite came out. But I used to unabashedly love it.)

Ah, yes, the coffee. It would depend on where I’m getting it, and what I’m doing for the day. Cold brew in the morning. Something with milk to last me the afternoon. I had a looong Flat White phase. And an Americano phase. A Kopiko 3-in-1 phase! Java Chip was my first ever Starbucks order. I was a grade schooler waiting for the mall to open. I didn’t know what to order but Java Chip sounded cool. The barista was somehow concerned. “There’s 2 shots in this?” and little me just nodded her head. I would want to try out whatever’s recommended if it’s a new place. But I often can’t do the small talk. I’m thankful for friends who ask before I get to order. “I’d have the same.” And I’d get a mocha or something fancy when I feel like I deserve a treat. Today, I don’t feel like I do.

It’s past 10AM and I haven’t had a cup yet. I haven’t done anything yet. I go back to blaming the lack of coffee in my system. I figured this day is going to be long.

I didn’t send all that to you. I asked what you preferred. Told me you don’t even like coffee much. You’d just get the sweet option. I ended up ordering the mocha.

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I went out to buy coffee. I go home holding this terribly sweet thing in my hand. And a cookie. You like cookies. Chocolate chips. The carrot cake slice, more, but they didn’t have it. Please don’t get diabetes.

Said terribly sweet thing made my day better. The day was still long, but better. Bearable.

So every time I go to Bo’s, I would order a hot-mocha-large-no-whipped-cream (because I still don’t like whipped cream no matter how much you did) For a while because of this moment. Then, because I’m used to it. Long after, because I’ve grown to like it.

You made me start getting other drinks without the need for it to be a reward. Which now makes it even harder for me to answer how I like my coffee.

I still have my go-tos, but every once in a while, I get to be one of those people who asks to add sweet cream to their cold brew and maybe even 2 pumps of white mocha syrup. Almond jelly? Why not? On a regular day! Because you told me that I just can. So I do. I could blame you for it and also thank you for it. You made it less about the coffee and more about doing/getting things that make the days better. Not just getting to do things when the days are good.

I wonder what else I ended up liking because people I like liked them. What other things I would not usually do if it weren’t for some kind of interaction. Picking up  others’ bits and pieces, inadvertently taking them with me.

Maybe this is what they mean when they say you are you, but you are also made up of the people you love. Sometimes, even after you stopped loving them.

Maybe not all the time. But every time I see mocha in the menu (which is almost in every cafe menu like ?!?), I think of you.

I like coffee and I liked you, too,
Louise

Happy hearts month. You can download this month’s art and send it to someone you think about all the time.

February Downloadables

February things and quick links

• I gave myself ‘love’ as a prompt for this and it’s always been the same things: coffee and some painfully sweet lyrics. Nothing new to see here. HAHA. Ooh, pink car is a shoutout to EH’s new EP, Strawberry.

• Every day is just another day where I randomly dance to New Jeans’ OMG. Gusto ko lang malaman kung ano nilalagay nila sa music nila kasi ISTG, may SOMETHING! 😩 HAHAHA

• Obsessing over @jociejuritz work (heart eyes. HEART EYES!) and thinking about enrolling in her animation course. Been meaning to use a lot more of my time this year to learn again.

• This Manileña tote (yes, kasya laptop, di ko expect!!) I’ve been using it every time I go out of the house. I also got Ross Du’s prints which are LOVELY.

• A month late but I just started on my 2023 journal. This year, too, I’m using A-hong’s Goodnotes Template.

• This Jaemin doll haunts me. I NEED it!!! 🔪

• Recently subscribed to Ask Polly and been binge reading stuff from their archives:

  • I want to be Hannah Montana

  • Sometimes romantic love is not enough

• SVT’s In the Soop Season 2 - my break time is watching their break time.

• Art tips from this Twitter thread (and from all the QRTs from the original tweet) BAUL OF INFORMATION!

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Timely, I guess, how another month has ended. January felt like a whole year of its own. And I would like to start again.

What I’m trying to say is I’m all over the place right now and everything feels too much and also too little. I know it’s a slump, a burnout, whatever else it’s called. And I acknowledge it. Mostly because I knew it was coming. And it shall pass. Just like it has before. In the meantime, I will be playing video games and revisiting my AO3 bookmarks.

Gimme (and you) a happy February,
Louise

P.S. Happy birthday to the loml, Doyoung! HAHA. Hibang pa rin for 2023.

P.P.S. Somebody sent me Ko-fi this morning, THANK YOU! You made me revisit this Substack in my supposedly ghosting season, hahaha. & you don’t know how much you’ve made my day. I am going to go out to buy good coffee as soon as I send this.

January things and quick links

• This letter from Ask Polly on feeling like you’re going SO slow

• Ten Things and Ten Things, Part Two from Lisa Olivera. There is this tenderness to her thoughts.

• Sliced bread conspiracy theory by queen Toni

• Cars 3! I watched it thrice the past month HAHAHA. My coping mechanisms are weird.

• In my layas-na-layas nanaman phase, so I’m looking into Vietnam things (particularly these lists of places on where to eat and drink coffee) ‘Gusto ko lang talaga magkape sa malayo at maligaw’ is my constant mood the past weeks. And the chances of me doing so is really up there right now.

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