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demiemdi · 5 years

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Blog #05

February 03, 2020

For tonight's entry, I dedicate this one to my sister-like cousin. Ivy, happy birthday.🎈

I have known you for 16 years already. Eversince, we did things together; when we were younger, we used to take baths together and re-enact some popular scenarios in Mara Clara, Agua Bendita, Ina Kapatid Anak and many more while the shower is on, not minding how many minutes we have spend there doing dramas and all. I can never forget those moments, it only proves that, we can't stop time. We get old, and so memories do.

We'd play barbie, watch Bratz and had that "Oh yes" greeting while having that girly bump after a long time we haven't seen each other. I remember using swimwear during summer, we'll only wear them if one of us will encourage the other to do so. My doll house which I received on my seventh birthday, we used to play them, the "lutu-lutuan" games, survivor of the philippines.😂 It so happened that you live in Manila that time and I was still in Bataan, so we usually just see each other occasionally, my childhood friend lives so far, I'm always at home since I was a kid, no doubt I am still. Char.

First photo was taken at Baguio year 2013 and the second was just recent. It's been seven years already and I'm thanking God that I've shared those years with you. You're sixteen, I'm afraid you won't need me when the time comes. I may not say this everytime but I want you to know that I'm proud of you. You've been a brave girl, you have faced a lot of hardships mostly, all by yourself. I have come up to realize that someday, you won't share me stories the same way you did when we were younger and you were just entering High School. We don't even have that same shirt anymore! Kidding, it's funny how we had that "couple shirt" before, wearing it proudly. And now we both say the same thing whenever we find pictures of us having similar shirts, plus, style! HAHAHAHAHA OC dawgs XD char.

Maybe it's because how our family raised us, that our bonding is beyond strong. You are that one person I won't hesitate to tell everything about, whom I won't have to remind names of people and past events repeatedly whenever I need to mention them again in my chika, the person who won't judge every other stories or decisions I am making, who can bear with both my silence and loudness, and the person who can easily sense what I'm feeling and do nothing about it. Char! You have that attitude, and I have too, so maybe we clicked and had it the best way around.😉

I don't know why I find it funny that you call me "Dem" and the other embarrassing nickname I have in my childhood instead of "Ate" but whatever, I got no issues about it, but it makes me feel you won't respect me and that you'll just roll your eyes whenever you want to roll them. But anyway, you don't do that habitually, so that's totally fine, hehe.

You are my MIBF buddy, but we did not had the chance to do it for the past 2 years because I don't know, you'd tell me you're too busy or too lazy to come or money-less to do so, that's why for two years I do it alone or go with Wilson. Or, maybe because your taste have changed when it comes to books, you're maturing, I can'ttttttt!

Anyway, like the previous blogs, I want to tell these people who are currently reading this how much of a person you are, you're a monster, RAWR HAHAHAHHA! She likes Starbucks, so much!! I remember the first time I tried that coffee, it's because of her. She made me became open of things I didn't know existed, I am not into coffee that's why it never crossed my mind to stop and buy there before, but now, whatever. Still not, but Tim Hortons? It's a yes!! Hello there, WMTBMG!

Want to know more about her? I'll tell you more haha XD She likes Ice cream, knows how to play a guitar, she loves books, achiever at school (valedictorian, flexed 😎), SWIFTIE!!!!! ❤️ A Paramore & 5SOS fan! What else, Adele, Ariana Grande, KathNiel din HAHAHAHAHA for like 8 years, eversince, you won't believe but that's fine, we watched every KathNiel movie together for that past years. We got keychains, magazines, cinema tickets, facebook posts in 2012, but no fancams, no videos nor pictures with them, only by memories and heart. Charot nagdrama sa fangirling life😂

Anyway, most of the time she looks like not in the mood or will just punch you anytime you greet her expression, but she got a kind heart, a soft one. You won't know until she began caring about you, 'cause she's a February baby, toyo gurl you know HAHAHAHAHAHA charot. She loves her family of course, we all do, despite hardships. She dreams about being a cardiologist someday, super brave diba! We are a family of Doctors, dejk. She can paint, she can sing, she can dance Chichiquita, she can look like Kathryn Bernardo effortlessly XD HAHAHAHAHA SANA HALLS!

Above all, she loves me. Yie!!!!❤️ Of course she's my sister eversince I was born in this world and we've know each other since the day she first yelled "Waaaahhh wahhhh wahHhhhh" and up to this day. I've shared her my secrets that no one knows except her, my weaknesses and fears, even the smallest thing that I consider insecurity. I don't know if I can ever meet a person whom I can comfortably talked about everything, just like how I can tell it to this woman everytime. You maybe unaware, but this girl knows you without you knowing her. Maybe because you are one of the people I met or currently meeting? You choose, this one hardly forgets.

To Bilog,

Happy birthday. It's 12 midnight, I have classes later and you do too. But I want to be the first person to greet you though I know someone already greeted you earlier than this early. I can't thank you enough for being my great cousin, I get to be the most real me when you are around while you laugh about how I look stupid with my jokes or how I repeat outfits and not even combing my hair after taking a bath. You are the person who knows me, I do believe that of course, we always had the back seat of the car occupied and share stories during the ride for almost 10 years not counting in the other more times where we talked about people haha, such a chika girl HAHAHAHA.

Always remember that I might not be the first person you run to whenever you feel sad, worried, frustrated, angry or whatever, because I am having that feeling too, but may I remind you in this letter that I am here for you. I'm your ate and that will never ever change. You grow so fast, I kinda miss our bonding before. Anyway, I'm sending you big goodluck in your life, Doctora! Be happy and take care of your heart, okay? Love you bilog, happy birthday.♥️

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bunnyb34r · 3 years

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I got one of those Worlds Smallest barbie dream houses and you know that one video where Froggy had one and was painstakingly putting the stickers in...

The back comes off agsgdgdggd it makes it so much easier

Edit: idk If they changed it to be removable in the later versions or not but the one that comes with Totally Hair Barbie, Malibu Barbie, or Ken does come off

#marquilla #i was struggling and then i was like wait i bet this comes off since its not fused shut...#dolls #i got one when we were out and about so my dolls can have a dollhouse agsgdgdg meta baybeee

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tellmeyourstory-art-blog · 7 years

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Vacancy

Why do we feel misunderstood?

Whether one feels empty or full of emotion we all battle voices in our heads. A murmuring stream of thoughts that act as a narrator of our life. Encouraging us to keep going and shaming us when we do.

An Inner voice always used to be an outer voice from someone who sounded compelling in the past. An angry parent, schoolyard bullies, or a disappointed teacher.

At often times we trust too much in these voices and we start to believe the recesses of our minds are too odd to be safely revealed to anyone. So we choose out of 2 options, as we grow into adults - embrace honesty or acceptability. most of us choose acceptability.

by choosing the comfort of acceptability we stray farther away from the satidifcation we can get from real human intimacy this is the gift we gather when we are honest and unafraid to face up to our weirder outlandish self-thoughts .and find those who can truly love us for being strange, by being free and totally honest.

Many of our real opinions & life experiences we would feel comfort from sharing, are going to be disturbing to society at large

In life we are wandering in a vacant dessert, with our friends standing outside of the glass bottle giving us words of encouragemnt, while we long for utter congruity but constant dissanocne because it is unlikey that we will ever find someone who is on the exactly the same page as the soul as us.

Unfortuntely the problems with feeling misunderstood only gets worse the more thoughtful and perceptive we are

Loneliness is a tax we have to pay to atone for a certain complexity of the mind but shameful for any ‘respectable person’ unless having been recently widowed or moved to another country.

Today I find it kind of Ironic that we moved back to an Australian town called ‘run away bay’

Where life for my parents began, and where life without one of them plus 2 children would begin again. Had we stayed in California my life would have been very different. Part of me has unresolved anger towards the move back to Australia , but as an adult I understand this maybe the atonment for the lonliness tax of a grieving widow.

She was wandering a desert with no friends around the outside of the bottle to encourage her, stuck with her inner voice telling her being closer to her deceased husband, the man who gave fire to her dreams, and passion to her life and 2 children was the right thing to do.

My mom worked really hard to keep us afloat, I know this because, she was never around. But I had a roof over my head and though little affection, there was love, Jim Henson style puppet shows at story time and flushing the monster in my dreams down the toilet in the middle of the night.

My memories of love, and happiness are far and few in between but almost always shake me to the core when they come flooding back one of which was the moment I learnt what ‘Vacancy’ meant.

We were on a way to a Hotel, a long day of stretching highway, the dusk sun warming the cheeks of my face as my head rest against the tinted window. Th car radio giving its best solo preformance setting in my head the deepest nostalgia for music and long road trips. I always loved car rides because driving seemed to be one of the only times we spent together as a family.

The yellow and oranges soon faded to midsummer blues and the slow inertia of the car turning into the parking lot of a fairly average looking higheay hotel woke me from my hypnotic passenger seat nap ( that I still get to this day) I have fixated on the glowing blue and red sign ‘NO VACANCY’ with half the letters lit up, though I couldn't read yet the flourecent tubes fascinaated me enough to be curious so I asked why they hadn’t fixed the broken sign.

My mom explained the sign said ‘NO VACANCY’ and that the No was lit up when no room was available at the hotel.

Later this would lead to drawing myself living on the moon with no vacancy signs lit up around me.

Maybe she empathized with this picture because she loved it. Has America been to her a Hotel with No Vancancy, and had Australia more room available? I once heard her use health care as an excuse in passing conversation with a babysitter as it wasn’t free in America but later on in life I would sit outside her locked bedroom door listening to her drunken slurs on the phone to her at the time lesbian lover crying about how she resented her own alcoholic father, that she had watch him beat her brother and how betrayed she felt from her own mother choosing to stay with him, until he’d die just the same way she would 10 years later.

It seems histroy really does repeat itself - if only in the smallest ways.

Now that I’m older i’m resigned to think my mother held her dreams in my Dad, and though they seemed very much in love in photos I wonder if this fuelled her grief the most.

it seemed 2 children were not good enough for her to make decisions, not without a husband. She needed a lifestyle, she so desperately wanted to fit into a picture. The ones you see in magazines that she worked so hard to eventually get a little bit close to something normal before utterly destroying her self.

She had my sister and I take cutlery lessons to learn how to use a set of 7 utensils before attending a funeral for my dad at his development. Wherre we would fly up in his helicopter and spread his ashes over the golf course part of his Luxury resort. I remember my mothers Louis Voutton hand bag being stolen out of the boot of her car that day, and the chaos that insued when she blamed my half brothers and sisters, who were of adult age at this point. She looked at me sternly and told me ‘never to trust them’.

And even though she had tried, to put my sister and I in velevt stockings and white dresses, to eat like the upper class and understand the gravity of what was going on. I was still just a kid, and really all I remember of my fathers funeral was hiding under the table and playing on a small hand held videogame console someone gave me as a gift.

The death of my dad, the grantituous gestures of love we jump to - spreading ashes in his helicopter over a golf course.. and dining lessons

but to me - all I cared about was video games and gobbling my dessert with a spoon even if it wasn’t the correct one.

My mom was a very scary and powerful woman to me, and so I turned inward very early on attempting to find comfort there.

I was a weird little kid.

As kids we have no one to compare our reality too, so I didn’t mind being diferent, or even know my family was ‘abnormal’

Children and Adults cope in the same way when reality is too painful, on impulse it seems we construct our own made up worlds to escape boredom and awaiting attention. A baby screaming in its cot will eventually soothe itself by imagining his mother is their by sucking his thumb for example.

At age 4 mine was being Veterinarian Astronaut. I would run around the house with a bag on my head catching small lizards and putting them in my space shuttle a.k.a my Barbie traveling dream house. I remember trying to pay for a space burger by inserting paper money into my moms computer from the 90′s which were a fairly heavy looking thing but still delicate, so I ruined it.

I will never forget how much she yelled at me, the way she looked at me so utterly ashamed.

I must of been fairly difficult to deal with, I liked staying up late at night and sitting in the middle of the lounge room convinced of aliens visiting.

I believed I was protecting my family by being the first to greet otherworldly intruders. I would find weird places to hide and wait in hopes of meeting them and sometimes I would cry at the realization everyone was asleep and i was sitting in the dark alone until my sister or the babysitter would come turn a light on for me

Now that I’m older I realise my childhood imagination was a way for coping with early anxiety. The aliens I had been wait for were my mom stumbling in drunk from a night of drinking, it seems I was always hiding but waiting for her.

My moms picturesque need to have the lifestyle of a perfect family, velvet stockings, country clubs and fine art, and the disapointment of not being able to achieve that slowly turning to numbing it with a drink while I , her lizard catching, barbie hating, astronaut veterinarian daughter ruining her computer

Was both of us in our own ways just begging to be understood, but not quite on the same page.

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appreciationofspace-blog · 7 years

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How Did I Find Minimalism?

Lots of people have asked me this, and even though I have known the answer for a very long time, it's only now that I have decided to actually share it with people. It’s not one of those soppy, motivational stories that everyone loves to hear about, and well, to be honest, the story is very long, complicated, and a little... odd. Originally it all started when I was about nine or ten years old. At this time, we lived in a average sized three-bed home, on a small cul-de-sac on the top of a hill. Sounds very picturesque, am I right? Yes, indeed it was. On the outside. But inside of my house, it wasn’t very picturesque at all… don’t get me wrong, it was clean and all, and somewhat tidy, as my parents were never dirty or messy people, they were much worse, they were hoarders. And they knew they were hoarders, and still do to this day. Anyway, back to me, when I was about seven or eight years old, my sister moved out of the family home for good, and I decided, as a small child, and now the only child in our somewhat large home, that I wanted to claim my sister's old bedroom, as well as my own, and of course, as the youngest and most spoilt child, I got my wish. My sister's room was the smallest of the three, so I decided I was going to use that as my ‘sleeping chambers’ and that my now old bedroom was going to be used as a large toy room. So that’s exactly what we carried out, I had bunk beds and my few favourite toys in the small room, along with a small TV and a VHS player, and the bigger room held most of my toys. And that was all great, I had my large wooden doll house and my many dolls with toy cots and prams, I had my bratz dolls and barbie dolls and my large collection of Build A Bear animals with wardrobes and clothes for them, and boxes of polly pockets, my toy box full of the happy land play sets, and that guitar I never learnt how to play. And yet, there was still more, there was miscellaneous objects that were, well, kinda just… there. But that's how I was brought up. I thought that it was normal to harbour dust on everything because half the stuff you have, was never used. Having two bedrooms made me accumulate a lot more toys for myself, my parents would notice empty space in my toy room, and, just like any other materialist, would want to fill it, so that they could say that their child had the most toys, or the biggest doll house, they wanted their child to walk into a room and see their own personal toy store, except everything there was all theirs. And wasn’t that every child’s dream? Of course, it was mine, too, until we made a decision. My sister who had moved out of the home all them years ago, had just given birth to her first child in early 2010. And me, along with my parents were very close to the baby, so we decided that she needed her own room for when she came to stay with us overnight. So we made the decision to turn my small and cluttered sleeping room into a spare bedroom again, along with a travel cot for the baby. But then we had a problem. Over the years of me having two bedrooms, the amount of things I had almost doubled, so moving all my things back into my old, medium sized bedroom was out of the picture. So what did we do? Did my parents make me sell or donate some things that harboured dust? Nope. we simply moved me... and my many dusty belongings into what was my parents bedroom, and not only the biggest bedroom, but also the biggest room in the entire house. All my items seem to fit in there well, and everything was great for about three years, until one day, I was lying on the bottom bunk of my new metal bunk bed when I looked at my room, and realised that I didn’t like all the mismatch drawers and cupboards that kept my clutter under control, and I didn’t like the piles and piles of DVDs and VHS tapes that took up all my floor space, and I didn’t like my wardrobe full of clothes that I didn't even like. I didn’t like that my top bunk was unusable due to the amount of stuffed animals there were on there, as I simply had nowhere else to store them. I realised that the amount of stuff I owned didn’t bring me joy, and in fact, 80% of it was an inconvenience. But of course I was so young, how could I know what I wanted when I was only twelve or thirteen? I automatically started my decluttering process. It wasn’t too extreme, as at this point, I still had sentimental attachments towards almost everything. I was a vulnerable kid, with not many friends after all, and my weekends were usually spend hosting lonely tea parties with myself and my other fluffy inanimate friends. But I did downsize my stuff a considerable amount. Let’s fast forward another year, and I was going through a terrible phase in my adolescent life. Where I had enough of everything, my annoying parents, the bullies at school, homework, and well everything that would irritate a teenager at that time. So I had decided I wanted to run away to go and see a friend that recently stopped talking to me for reasons unknown. But then the thoughts ran in my mind… if I were to leave home, what would I do with all my stuff? Sell it of course. Most things were trash, and I threw away about twelve bin bags worth of stuff, and sold the rest. I was left with, well ,not much, my large hat collection, and a lot of clothes. But that was pretty much it. I still had that guitar that I still didn't know how to play, though. But after I had ran away, worried everyone, got found and returned home, I was happy. I was happy that I had accomplished not only my mission to board 4 trains and travel 200 miles, but also, realising that I didn't need anything other than myself and the clothes on my back. It was at that moment, when i was in the car on the way home from my long adventure, and when I arrived back into my empty bedroom at one o’clock in the morning, that I realised that I wanted to travel the world. It filled me with a feeling of pride and adrenaline, that I had never felt before. But for now, I had to stay in school and live a normal life, so I wouldn’t get bullied any more than I already did. But it was when school and college had both ended that I really dived into minimalism, once again, by accident, after another planned trip gone wrong. I made another friend, except this friend was further then two hundred miles, this friend was almost ten thousand miles away, but I thought they were great, and I wanted to meet themI I was almost eighteen at the time, and after dropping out of college a year early, I had more time to shop and accumulate stuff, mainly to fill the void that was inside of me, due to nothing more than sheer loneliness. I first decided I wanted to meet my far away friend was about a year ago, I told her I would get my passport and I would fly over to see her, but then she said, “Alix... If we move in together, what would you do with all your stuff back home?” And then the little minimalist button that had been stored away in the back of my mind had resurfaced. I’ll sell it all, and this time, for real. By this time we had downsized to a two bedroom flat due to my parents getting made redundant, and everything I had still from college and the last few years of high school were still boxed up in my bedroom. And then one day I got a pair of scissors and a large rubbish bag, and I ripped, cut and chopped up anything and everything, I was determined that I wanted to live with my friend on the other side of the world, and after being housebound from anxiety for so long, I quickly realised that this was my lucky break. All my clothes went, and yes, I mean all of them. I went out and bought two t-shirts, two pairs of pants and two hoodies, and that was it. And I owned one pair of shoes, after sellings or giving away about thirty other pairs. I gave unused colouring books and notepads to my niece and her two little brothers who loved to draw. I sold the computer I never used. And what's the point of an iPad when you have an iPhone? I sold my iPad and my two of my three 3DS’s… why would you need three DS’s when you could only play one at any given time? I sold all my dusty ornaments and game merchandise, I finally let go of my large hat collection, only keeping one baseball cap for the summer, and a beanie for the winter. And why did I have a separate laptop for ‘gaming’? I don't even ‘game’. And that guitar I never learnt to play? Mother had to sell that without telling me, I could never bring myself to do it.Because i would always say “Nah, I’ll keep that, I’ll learn to play it some day.” ‘Some day.’ I had 5 pairs of black underwear and 5 pairs of black socks so I wouldn’t have to spend hours trying to match them up. I kept my one doll that was helping me through my anxiety, and that was all my owned, I could fit everything into a medium sized tote bag. But then the unthinkable happened, the friend I had done all this for left. For reasons I still don't know. At first my heart broke… But, not at the fact of her leaving, but at the fact I sold my whole life away to be with her, and then she left, even after knowing all this. And amongst all my heartbreaks, I still had the desire to declutter, and even when I had nothing to declutter, I would find something I no longer needed. The clutter that my parents had was irritating me more and more each day. And that's when I found the word, the label, the meaning, of minimalism. I watched one documentary and I was hooked. My heartbreak from the girl I had never met seemed to disappear instantaneously, and I realised, this is what I was searching for my whole life… I wasn’t looking to leave home, or to find a friend, I realised that the though of packing up into one bag and leaving, and wanting to be homeless, made my heart happy. Knowing that you’re not tied down to a two storey house with a front and back garden with a mortgage to pay made me feel happy. Knowing that I didn’t have to work in a dead end nine to five job, five, six or even seven days a week to pay petrol for a car I now know I don’t have to drive. All the expectations I was getting told as a kid, “You have to study well to get a good job” or “You have to save up all your money to get a good car” were all wrong. You didn’t need the poshest car, or the fanciest home to be happy, I wanted the stars to be my roof at night, and the earth to be my bed. I didn’t want to sit at a table and eat with my parents, I want to sit around a campfire with different people every day. I didn’t want to go back to college to then work ‘till I died to pay rent for a house I could never own. I wanted to explore. I didn’t want to be prisoner in an office nine to five, every. Single. Day. I didn’t want to be filling out taxes. I didn’t want to spend my life watching TV. I wanted to write about my experiences, and I wanted to take photos and selfies of everyone and everything around me. You can’t do that when you're still paying for your house to hold all your stuff back home. If you had no stuff back there, then you wouldn’t have to still pay rent on your house, or on a storage facility. Everywhere I go, my house will come with me, because between me and my backpack, I am my home. Home isn’t your collection of candles, or your wardrobe full of clothes, home isn’t owning seventeen towels for a family of three, home isn’t all the meaningless things on shelves that serve no purpose. Home is you. Home isn’t the bricks and cement you live amongst. Home isn’t the tiled roof or the shed in the garden. Home isn’t the poshest dining table or the fanciest cooker and fridge. Home isn’t the novelty chocolate fountain or carrot chopper you got as a housewarming present from that neighbor you don’t really know. Home isn’t a personal toy shop for your kids. They don't want that. They want a few special things, but most of all, they want their parents to play with them. Thats home. Not four hundred barbie dolls of every size shape and race. Home is colouring with your child, not buying them too many colouring books that they’ll never even finish them all. My home is me, not where I live. My family is the experiences and memories I’ll make, not the people that raised me. They’re cool, but they’re not me. They’re my parents, but they’re not my family. I’m me, and although my parents could never understand how I could live without seven thousand pieces of clothing, and they’ll never understand why I literally ask for nothing for Christmas, and they’ll never understand the peace and harmony I get from seeing empty space. They’ll never understand why my shelves are now bare. But it’s okay that they don’t understand. I’m doing it right. I’m happy, and they’re not, and I think that explains everything. Maybe one day, when they’re old and grey, they’ll realise they didn’t need all them bed sheets or candles, or two freezers for too much food that got wasted anyway. They’ll realise that they didn't need fifty cans of baked beans at any one time, or that seven sweatshirts are too many sweatshirts, but even though I have tried to tell them how happy minimalism has made me, and helped heal my heartbreak, depression and my anxiety, but still, they refuse to believe that minimalism is nothing more than a bunch of loons living in a wooden shack in the middle of the forest. Maybe they choose to stay sad, I don’t know, but I’m going to live my life the right way. And as I’m sitting here writing this, wearing already half of my entire wardrobe, I have never felt more happier, and richer than I do right now. I have found myself, and I now know this is the best way to live, why anyone would want to live differently I’ll never fathom out, and that’s why I no longer associate or talk to people who are not minimalists. As they’re simply not me. And that's why I didn't find minimalism… Minimalism found me.

#minimalism

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