The moment when you've been listening to a song for a long time but this time you *actually* pay attention to the lyrics and

Oh.

My.

God.

Thx 🇨🇦

Anytime 🫶🏻

Troye Sivan delivered hard for his sophomore album. The Good Side and Dance to This are my standout track but not one singles remix of them. 

Ang buhay ko ay nasa facebook groups. Haha. Sabi ng isang kakilala, antagal ko raw hindi nagfacebook. Kasi nu'ng lumabas 'yung PLE na lang ako nag-post uli, konting update, para magpasalamat sa parents. Hindi niya lang alam na tambay ako sa dummy account ko, na member ng sangkatutak na group sa facebook.

Wala akong personal na kakilala sa karamihan sa mga 'yon and until now wala pa rin akong bagong nakilala na personal. Lurker lang, pero sila ang isa sa sumusuporta sa mental health ko. Pag nakikita ko 'yung uplifting na comments ng iba sa mga problema ng iba (kahit hindi naman ako nakaka-relate sa problema nila), parang nahi-heal na rin ang mga problema ko.

Dun din ako maraming napupulot na bagong kaalaman tungkol sa real world (haha, favorite ko 'yung kasabihang, ano ba 'yung real world, alangan namang nasa fake world tayo all this time? so sa context na ito, ang real world para sa akin ay anything outside med). At some point, parang ayoko na rin kasi makipag-usap sa non-med friends dahil tinatamad na ako mag-explain ng kung anu-ano, gusto ko na lang ng someone na matic makakaintindi ng struggles. Sa facebook groups hindi ko naman kelangan makipag-usap with a specific person, pero pwede akong magkaroon ng some sort of conversation with a post or comment. At doon, hindi masyado nagmamatter ang background ko so walang prejudice.

At some point, nauumay na ako, kasi parang puro med-related na lang 'yung alam ko, hindi ko na ma-distinguish 'yung jargon sa hindi jargon, kasi parang paulit-ulit na lang lahat. Feeling ko parang isolated na ako sa society; 'yung mundo namin, kami lang nakakaintindi, at 'yung mundo sa labas, 'yung ibang tao lang ang nakakaintindi.

Actually, ngayon ko pa lang nadidiscover na sangkatutak na (dati alam ko lang isa o dalawa, ngayon ko lang na-identify isa-isa na marami sila) sa mga kakilala ko dati ang may asawa't anak na, lumipat na ng trabaho, nangibang-bansa na, pumasa sa licensure exam(s) nila, at iba pa. At pakiramdam ko talaga mula noong 'di na ako pumapasok sa ospital, bumait ako at mas naging patient na sa mga tao.

In case nalabuan ka sa mga pinagsasabi ko, ito 'yung isang example: may time dati na sobrang frustrated ko na sa mga taong pumupunta sa ospital na hindi alam 'yung kwento nila o ng kamag-anak nila kung paano nagkasakit at 'yung mga detalye ng mga idinadaing. "Nagkaroon ka ba ng ubo nitong nakaraang linggo?" "Hindi po." "Wala kang ubo?" "Wala po." "Nagkaubo ka ba at any point sa nakaraang dalawang linggo?" "Hindi po." Tapos malalaman mong 1 week na siyang inuubo. Everyday akong naka-rage mode at may trust issues.

Ngayon, I think, narerestore na 'yung empathy ko at mas understanding na ako sa mga ibang tao (e.g. kung bakit hindi nila maalala kung uminom ba sila ng gamot o hindi, kung anong nangyari, etc.). Hindi na rin ako laging galit. Hindi na ulit nakabase sa mga exam at certain metrics ang self-worth ko.

At madalas pa rin akong nakatambay sa facebook groups.

the angel and demon on the shoulder symbolism oh im sick

*Married life playing in the background

This idea was probably funnier in my head

Yes, I’ve done the work analyzing this relationship’s problematic traits and I’ve come to the educated conclusion that I still want them to fuck

Obsessed with the fact that Crowley is always careful to say “for Satan’s sake” or “where the Heaven” or “for Hell’s sake” rather than anything that might show deference to Heaven, BUT when Aziraphale starts to reject him at the end of episode 6, he’s so distraught that he slips up and says “oh God.”

And by “obsessed,” I mean I’m going to jump out a window

at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

Gregory asks Michael an important FNAF lore question..

want runs deep in you, heavy and thick, and the dam is creaking under its weight.

want is like dust, thousands of years worth of dust on your heavy shoulders and you dare not move. if you stay very still and keep to yourself maybe no one will notice.

want is like grief, love left unclaimed. want is like hunger and you are famished.

wanting is dangerous, so you smother it.

Au where Damian comes to Gotham with the goal of infiltrating and eventually overthrowing Batman instead of inheriting the mantle. Not much changes from canon except for the fact that he views everything that batman owns as his. That's his future cave and his future batmobile. This also includes his robins. After all everyone knows Batman wouldn't really be Batman without them.

Cue a very bewildered Tim being lectured on his eating habits by a righteous Damian who won't let one of his people take shortcuts with their health.

#ineffable idiots

I love how, in this scene, when the International Express driver mentions his wife, Aziraphale immediately turns to look at Crowley.

Thanks to @springofviolets for the screenshot!