1 January, Monday

25° in QZT, 3:46 a.m.

The first four hours of 2024 were a unique experience. I hid away with an eight-year-old girl afraid of fireworks and gave her her first makeover. It was certainly an unconventional way to welcome the new year, but what surprised me more was that I have become a person who can hold space for such moments. I have become a woman who can hold space for a little girl afraid of fireworks and sit with her in her bedroom, waiting for the thumping and thundering noises to die down.

2023 came to a close gently for me. So much has happened that I forget most of what has transpired. I lived in three different places in the span of twelve months, got a job, paid my dues, and broke off a four-year relationship, yet I have never felt as full of love and light as I do now.

2023 was a difficult year but, it has prepared me for more adversities in the future. 2023 was a year of being alone but it was a year of relearning how to live with myself. I have discovered parts of me I did not like; parts of me I do not recognize anymore.

I have learned that acceptance and self-love is a harder but a deeper and more rewarding act when you do not have a romantic partner doing it for you. I have learned that hearing someone say "I love you," does not feel as good as when I say it to myself in front of a mirror after washing my face and brushing my teeth.

I was an onion peeling layers. I still am. I have not yet reached the core and I doubt I ever will but the path I am taking shows no reason for me to rush in getting there. Truthfully, I'll gladly tread snail-like and gentle than have it any other way.

A version of me will die when this year ends but another will take its place. I am looking forward to peeling back more layers to finally meet her.

18 September 2023, Monday

Today was remotely the same as yesterday. I slept in and woke up at 12 o'clock-ish. That got me in a pretty sullen mood but I showered with cold water to reset my nervous system. Ate lunch, watched a few episodes of Modern Family, and spent time with Lia again. She asked if we could watch the live action Little Mermaid again so we did. I fell asleep halfway and woke up to red lights flashing 6:44 p.m. That nap felt rough and I still don't feel good. It's a few minutes past 9 p.m. Maybe tomorrow will be better. I never got back to my condo like I wanted to last night.

Highlighting a reel I saw on Instagram. From Absynthe Design: "Art is pointless without passion. You have to go out and create art. Get an actual job doing what you love and make a living by being yourself. You can't just let other people define your life and say you will be a joke, a failure. Follow your heart. You will end up happy and free, mot a starving artist. Love your art and contribute to society by inspiring people instead of wasting time letting others tell you you're worthless. You can change the world."

Right, well that is all I have to say today. I am going to watch La Haine (1995) now.

17 September 2023, Sunday

Nothing memorable happened today, just the normalcy of my life at home. I might regret saying (or writing) that. I didn't read my book today. Instead I watched Modern Family, Only Murders in the Building, The Little Mermaid, and Alice in Wonderland. I watched the two films with Lia, my 3 y.o. niece. We took a long nap after lunch. I got up and it was almost 6 p.m. I hated that I wasted a whole day sleeping. But maybe it was my body getting comfortable enough to indulge in a deep sleep. There were no back aches because I didn't use any pillows. I really should practice that more often. The Japanese have it made with their tatamis and sleeping culture. I remember not having any breakfast options so I had brunch instead. Boiled pork soup and day-old rice. For dinner, I refried the chicken I had last night. All in all, a pretty uneventful day. I'll go home tomorrow. Back to my condo.

16 September 2023, Saturday

Coming home today felt like burrowing your feet under warm sand. Which is just a smart way of saying I love it. Whenever I come home, I leave my work and university and thesis stuff behind. Home is green overgrown plants, my mom's fried chicken in the freezer, dad's big smile because he's that happy to see me. Home is eating ice cream with my three-year-old niece and asking her what happened in school; home is my grandmother with her memories rotting away because of dementia but somehow never falters to wave "hello" to me when I enter the gate. Home is rain puddles and green moss in September. It's warm dinners and the comfiest foldable couch in the middle of the room, taking up the whole space. Home is cooking dinner at our outdoor kitchen while the old folks play cards until nightfall. I love coming home. It's like being reintroduced to my mother's womb. Warm and inviting and nourishing. A place of rest and unanswered messages. Noise cancelling type of thing. Good bye, world. Do not disturb. Snooze. Notifications silenced.

16 September 2023, Saturday

My day was so full I forgot to write in here last night. I had started my day early around 6 or 7 a.m. (I could not remember). I had corned beef, toast, and scrambled eggs for breakfast. After the mundane task of cleaning myself from the night before, I donned myself in my black camisole top and black wide leg pants. I put on lip gloss and the faintest hint of my alexander perfume and packed my day bag. Plum corduroy jacket; 750 mL stainless water bottle; a copy of The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath; this journal; my passport notepad; another top-bound memo pad; wet tissues; headphones; powerbank; keys; & wallet. Originally, I had planned to go to Makati, to drink coffee and read at Spotted Pig in Legazpi Village. But the pathwalk to the bus stop was still under construction and I was dead set on wearing my white mary janes from Andanté again. So I opted for somewhere more in my comforts -- SM North. The car ride there was impossible -- it almost took me an hour! I hated it but Olivia Rodrigo's new album 'Guts' helped keep me at ease. Comfort-seeking has been a theme this week. Anyway, once I got down, it was my usual routine: the stationery section of the department store -> National Bookstore -> semi-empty café. I bought a new blank journal for light sketching because I could never find the strength to sketch in lined journals; a drawing pen; a 2B pencil; and this pen.

In the café, I ordered an iced matcha latte and found a quiet spot on the loft upstairs. Sketched for a while and learned that the drawing pen was not compatible with the paper. It feathered, ghosted, and bled through the other side. I disliked that. Buyer's regret set in for a while. So I went on to read Sylvia Plath again. My god, do I relate to her so much. The way she speaks about her womanness, her despise of men, her dating life. It was all too real and relatable. I feel like I had lived her life in some postmodern-21st century-generation Z-third world country way. I admired her for how she wrote about the banality of life in such a tender, soft spoken, almost dreamy lens. I want to be able to write my journals like that. The more I read about her, the more I aspire to grow in my writing. At the end of my reading session, the woman beside me inquired of the book I was reading.

"May I ask what book are you reading?" she said, chuckling. I closed the book and showed her the book cover. She asked to take a picture and I said, "Sure." with such friendly conviction. I regretted not asking for her name or socials at least. I think I would have made a new friend, a bookish friend. But such is life. Maybe that was the only role we had in each other's lives. A short sixty-second conversation about a book. And that sat alright with me. I was only a messenger, and she, a lovely, curious woman. I packed up my things and left the café. I didn't look back. I didn't have to. My day ended in happiness and fulfillment and the knowledge that putting myself in places where people shared the same interests, would lead me to meeting new people to share conversations with, and maybe even memories with. Everyone starts as a stranger.

14 September 2023, Thursday

Took a first step today. I finally got around to making a Da Vinci Resolve project file for my thesis. That task was shoved to the back burner when my friends' theses came rolling in. I want to believe that I've been much too busy, but I was taking the easy way out and have been slacking off for months on my thesis. What I did today was a good thing. Proof that I can put myself first if I wanted to. I know I'm capable of it, I just have a little trouble getting the engines started when I wake up. But I'm steady in changing that part of me. I try to make myself lemon-ginger tea when I awake. Doing something for myself alters my mood first thing during the day. I'm having trouble waking up early, though. Which is another way of saying I have trouble sleeping early. It's social media. I have to lay off it for a little while, or at least use it to a minimum. Gentle reminder to schedule my social media use. I should just replace it with reading books and writing and crocheting. I never learn or gain anything good after spending hours on my phone. I need to spend more time offline; detached to such superficial things, too concerned about who has already viewed my stories. I guess what I am trying to say is that prioritizing myself would mean to cleanse every aspect of my life that is not good for me -- social media usage included. So tomorrow, I shall be more mindful of this. I shall be more conscious of how I spend my time & day. After all, when the present has passed, it's gone forever. And I'd like to cherish every second, every breath, as long as it still fills up my lungs.

13 September 2023, Wednesday

Laundry day. I feel like I'm counting down the days until it's laundry day again; my own personal equivalent to a corporate man's "patiently waiting for Friday." Doing laundry is such a mundane task but it feels almost ritualistic to me. Every two weeks, I get to spend an hour and a half doing laundry. I almost look forward to it at this point. The idyllic whirring of the silver machines, strangers sitting next to you, avoiding your glare, the dusty ceiling fans, and afternoon television drama about a fucked up family or a third party romance. It's always the same. And there is something about the certainty of going to a laundromat that comforts me. Imagine, people going there to do the same task of washing, drying, folding clothes, leaving everything they have going on in their lives for an hour and a half. Like going to church on Sunday, but this time people wash their clothes and not their sins. Ah, laundry day. My Sunday service, no gods or offerings required.

12 September 2023, Tuesday

I got inspired today. I got out of bed today with a plan: To eat at Maisen because I have been craving their katsu curry. And as it so happens when I go out alone -- one thing led to another. After munching on the delicious cut of pork tenderloin crisp to perfection and smothered in luscious curry sauce, I decided to go to the bookstore. Fully booked (as always) with that one guard who always follows me through the aisles because I look so much like someone who shoplifts books (sarcastic). Traipsing along the rows of books I have memorized for visiting too often, I come across the poetry and memoirs section. And there, lodged between thick glossy books is a copy of 'The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath'; and as I said, I got inspired. Listing down other books I want to buy before I forget: (1) Essays in Idleness by Yoshida Kenkō, (2) The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion, (3) If not, Winter by Sappho, translated by Anne Carson.

I got inspired, and so the birth of this journal. I have accepted that I am bad at sticking with habits and routines because I fancy myself as a too spontaneous, easily distracted girl, but I would have to split myself open, harvest my soul, and ship it out to sea before I give up on writing; even if it is just about the silly happenstance that is my life.

So it begins...