#wait maybe i should put my commissions page on here lol

[enidtendo64]

Hypothetically how much would I have to pay you (real) to finish that YJ girls red eyes looking at the wednesday girls blue eyes sketch a bit more?

going by my commission page, uh probably $200 for fully rendered versions of those pictures, but I'll also add in a picture of Enid and Jackie FREAKING OUT fully rendered free of no charge too!

[exhausted-dog-mom]

Underwater (2020) Fix It Fanfic

Last year, I was commissioned to write a fix it fic for the horror movie Underwater. I had no idea it was a horror movie until after I agreed to write it, lol. I'm a coward at the best of times and writing this gave me nightmares for months. It's 24k words and almost 55 pages long. I rewrote the whole dang movie, lol. The entire fic is on my Patreon, but here are the first 2k words. 

           Norah followed behind Rodrigo as they picked their way carefully through the debris. Her body shivered uncontrollably, her meager clothing long soaked through by water of questionable quality. The tinny, prerecorded voice of the infographics which once lined the walls echoed in the too tight hallways, skipping as sparks crackled along the broken screens. Great slabs of concrete and torn sheets of metal made their progress slow, their flashlights illuminating little more than water. The hallway they were following to CR-7 was far from a direct route, but it was the only one they were both able to traverse, and Norah knew she wasn’t alone in wanting to stick together—not after closing the bulkheads.

           She dismissed that thought. She didn’t have time to think about that. Not when the path before them suddenly stopped, the way forward cut off by a serious cave in.

           “Can we dig through there?” She asked, watching as Rodrigo crouched down and began moving loose bits of rubble.

           He called back, uncertain but willing to try, and Norah began scanning the area for alternate routes. They didn’t have time to double back and find another way. The Kepler wouldn’t last long and every second they wasted not getting to the pods was another second the entire station deteriorated around them.

           She took a chance and put her weight on a ledge above where Rodrigo was digging, shining her light down a narrow passage that might allow them both through. Maybe.

           “Hey,” she called down to her colleague. “I can fit through there if you can.”

           He came up and looked at her discovery, considering the rough looking tunnel.

           Distantly, Norah heard something. A voice. She had to turn her head to catch it, the hearing in her left ear completely gone, but it was there.

           “Hello?” She called out, hope rising in her throat. “Hello? Can you hear that?” She didn’t wait for Rodrigo’s response, leaving him behind as she clambered over derelict ductwork and dodged sharp edges, shining her flashlight on everything as she searched desperately for any sign of life. “Keep talking, I can hear you!”

           She turned her right ear to the ground, tracing the source of the muffled voice to a pile of concrete slabs, the edges sharp against her hands as she began to pull on them with a strength she didn’t know she had. Rodrigo came up beside her, helping to free whoever was trapped underneath. The first thing she saw as they pulled back a layer of rubble was a stuffed rabbit, the furlike fabric covered in grease and who knew what else. She stared at it, confused, for all of two seconds before joy and recognition filled her with renewed vigor.

           “Paul?” Sure enough, as she took the rabbit from upstretched hands, her friend’s face came into view, his eyes clenched shut against the brightness of Rodrigo’s flashlight. She handed the rabbit to Rodrigo, reaching down into the crevice to get better leverage for lifting Paul’s not insignificant weight. With Rodrigo’s help, she pushed back the final slab, revealing the drill worker in all his bare chested glory, his skin coated in dust and grime. His hand held on to hers tightly and she watched as recognition bloomed in his eyes.

           “Norah?”

           “Hi.” She was as breathless as he was, a shaky laugh passing through chattering teeth.

           Paul smiled up at her, squeezing her hand as he laughed right back. “Oh, you sweet, flat chested elven creature.”

           She couldn’t even be mad at him. She was sure she made quite the sight, in her sports bra and sweats, but it was no better than his.

           She watched her friend breathe harshly for a second, lungs taking full advantage of their renewed capacity now that the weight of the debris was no longer crushing his chest. She knew the instant his brain had reoxygenated, because he turned to Rodrigo, a man he’d probably never interacted with before, like Norah, and asked after his rabbit.

           His concern for his little buddy was endearing, though she knew the stuffed toy couldn’t hold a candle to the real Little Paul, alive and waiting seven miles above them on dry land.

           Getting Paul out of the hole was a process, but they did it, the large man standing before them in nothing but a robe, boxers, and one lucky sock. He cradled the rabbit against his chest like a living animal, his attachment to the thing so much stronger after so long down in the deep.

           Norah lead the way back down the hall, flickering blue lights casting eerie shadows on the walls. “There are pods in CR-7,” she explained over her shoulder, the joy she felt at finding her friend alive tempered by a renewed desperation to get out. “The upper decks are collapsing, so we’ve gotta move fast.”

           She pulled herself up onto the ledge, Rodrigo helping her from below. She caught the tail end of Paul’s whining complaint and she rolled her eyes. Leave it to him to find something to complain about during a life or death situation.

           Paul was much larger than either her or Rodrigo, but, as Norah crawled through the cramped tunnel, she was pretty sure he’d be able to fit. She had little trouble scooting through the dark, her movements sending the light from her flashlight in all sorts of disorienting directions. Everything was grey, with the exception of the odd wire or two, exposed copper stinging her wet skin as she brushed up against it. She turned back to look at her two companions, the men clearly having a harder time than she was.

           “You guys ok?”

           “Yeah,” Rodrigo nodded to her, dust clinging to his dark skin. Behind him, Paul grumbled out an affirming expletive.

           Turning back, she immediately recoiled, flashlight dropping from her grasp and teeth clacking loudly in her skull.

           Closing her eyes against the terrifying sight, she called back to the boys. “There’s-there’s someone up here.” She swallowed thickly. “It’s McClellen.”

           Just like that, the high from unburying Paul was gone, replaced by the grim certainty that his survival was nothing short of a miracle and the odds of finding anyone else alive were incredibly slim.

           How many were left alive? How many more would there be if she had waited just a little longer? How many were dead because of her?

           McClellen had no answers for her, blue eyes locked unseeing on something far in the distance. Norah took a shaky breath, bolstering herself as she began to move past the other woman. Their hands touched as she did, the fading warmth she felt deepening the ever growing pit in her stomach.

           If she’d waited, would McClellen still be alive?

           Would Paul be dead?

           Those questions, like all the others, were tossed aside as she resumed the slow journey forward, eyes locked on the darkness ahead of her. There was no telling what waited out there, just beyond the range of her flashlight, but she didn’t have time to lose herself to what ifs and should haves. There were two men behind her, two living, breathing men, and that was enough. It had to be enough.

           The cramped tunnel let out to an open space—another hallway, by the looks of it—and Norah carefully climbed out and set her feet on the ground. The light here was red, a sign that the emergency systems were working, at least, and she could only hope that the way to the escape pods was open. She led the way, following a mental map of the rig as automated voices rang out overhead. Their flashlights reflected off the tall windows which surrounded the evacuation room, the reinforced glass surprisingly intact compared to the wreckage all around it. Norah stumbled over a rogue pipe, her mind going blank as it struggled to put together what she was seeing.

           “Captain?”

           Sparks flew, the display illuminating Captain Lucien’s back where he sat hunched over inside the closed off rotunda. He made no indication that he’d heard her, his head in his hands as he sat alone in the dark. Norah hit the control panel, but he didn’t react to the obnoxious sound it made in protest. Squinting through the glass, her heart sank as she took in the damage surrounding him, the escape pods they’d all put so much hope in clearly no longer an option.

           “Shit.”

           “Shit?” Paul winced as he came over to stand beside her, looking over her shoulder into the dark. “What’s shit?”

           “The evac pods are gone.” Norah tuned out her friend’s frenzied cursing as she pounded on the glass, calling for her Captain. Could he even hear her through the reinforced windows? They were designed to withstand sudden changes in pressure—likely why they were still intact—but did that mean they also blocked out sound?

           The answer was no, they couldn’t, and Norah deflated with relief when Lucien turned around, face lighting up as he recognized first her then the men behind her.

           “Norah,” he called, his voice muffled but still intelligible through the glass as he rushed over. “You’re alive.” He didn’t sound like he believed it, but she could understand the sentiment. “The door’s jammed.”

           Right. Of course, it was. He probably would have left if it wasn’t. Norah quickly moved over to the control panel, mentally apologizing to the machine for hitting it as she tried to find some way to override the lock. Absently, she recognized the Captain giving orders to Paul and Rodrigo, both men rushing to obey, though Paul complained loudly between hissing breaths.

           “On a scale of one to ten, how bad’s my rig?”

           His attempt at humor fell a little flat and Norah looked up at him incredulously as the doors opened. “Uh,” she looked him up and down in the harsh white lights which conveniently decided to turn back on. His left arm was in a sling, miscellaneous bruises and cuts littered across his face. Shit. “Ten. We’re, um, seventy percent compromised—breathe too hard and we’re in trouble.”

           He didn’t appreciate her candor, turning away from her with a grim expression before turning back around and reaching for her face with his good hand, looking at her damaged ear with a grimace.

           “What happened,” she asked through chattering teeth, the two seconds she’d spent standing still reminding her body of how cold it was. “Was it an earthquake?”

           “I don’t know.” That wasn’t what she wanted to hear. “I’m trying to figure it out.”

           She watched, still somewhat dazed, as he pulled a large red med kit out from seemingly nowhere, using his one hand to its full effectiveness as he rummaged through it.

           “I don’t understand.” Her voice forced its way through her tight throat, swallowing only thickening the knot living there. “Why are you still here? There were pods here, you could have left.”

           He gave her a look she was sure he’d leveled on his child a thousand times before. It certainly made her feel like one. “That’s what Captains do.”

           “Who cares?” She couldn’t stop the words or the incredulity which laced them. “You have a kid. You should have gone up.”

           He froze, expression blank as his mouth opened and closed, eyes shut as he tried to find the words to respond to that. Instead, he urged her to sit down, returning to the med kit as though she hadn’t said anything.

           “You know any one of us would have shoved your ass into a pod—.”

           “Listen to me!”

           Norah shut her mouth, staring wide eyed at her Captain as he kneeled in front of her, mouth tense as he glared up at her. His French accent was thicker in his anger, coloring his words as he gestured wildly with his good arm.

           “Everyone is getting out of here alive.” He said it with such conviction, Norah was almost able to believe him. “You here me? I already sent twenty two up, Smith reported seven dead.”

           Warmth spread in her chest at the news that Smith, at least, was still alive. She hadn’t let herself consider any other possibilities but having her old friend’s survival confirmed relieved a tension she hadn’t realized she was carrying. She gave a stuttering report of the dead she and Rodrigo had found before coming across Paul, and she struggled past telling him about McClellen, nonsensical words spilling from her lips—she lived three floors up, I was brushing my teeth, her hands were still warm, I shut the bulkheads on the entire East Wing so there’s definitely more.

           Captain Lucien, to his credit, remained staunchly focused on cleaning her ear, damp gauze coming away from it bloody. Whatever was wrong with it, it stung when he touched it, the pain a welcome reminder that she was alive, only living people could bleed, and a grim one that so many people weren’t.

[z3llous]

𝓡𝓮𝓭𝓪𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓬𝔂

@burnthoneymint​

This is my entry for Sanjifest! I started working on this in January, but it fit the prompt well (oof a few months put into this). It has both text and illustration (Lol I hope the difference in quality over time isn’t too bad). I hope you love it!

Prompt: “That is definitely not what I was expecting.”

---

I can't be late

They quickly rounded the corner only to crash into someone, the briefcase previously in their hand hitting the pavement and sliding away.

Shit

They scrambled to get up, looking to see an outstretched hand. Hesitating for a moment, they took it.

"You dropped this." The  pretty blond stranger said holding their briefcase.

"Yes, thank you. I'm sorry I really don't have time to talk." They grabbed it and turned to leave.

"Wait, what's your name?"

"It's Y/n!" They answered before rushing away.

He sighed watching them vanish in the distance.

"Y/n...Damn, they're beautiful. At least I got their name..."

---

Bright colors of flowers decorated the town. He was normally too busy to stop and smell the literal roses that florists put out during the first week of summer.

His eyes trailed aimlessly over the crowd and recognized a familiar form he'd been seeking every time he visited the area.

He couldn't miss such an opportunity.

"Y/n!" He waved excitedly catching their attention.

SUCCESS

"Why hello, I didn't expect to see you again." Y/n said once they reached him.

"You remember me!"

"Of course, how could I forget. Your look is quite signature." They laughed.

"True, very true." He laughed in return and rubbed the back of his neck.

"I was in a bit of a hurry last time we met, so I didn't get a name."

"Oh, it's Sanji." He was sure they weren't from around there, but still hoped they wouldn't recognize it.

"Lovely to officially meet you, Sanji." They gently took his hand and placed a soft kiss upon his knuckles.

 He froze. The gears had stopped turning in his mind, that was a first for him.

"Hello, Sanji?" Y/n tried not to laugh and snapped their fingers to bring him back to land of the living.

"Huh? Uh... Oh...OH! Yes?" His eyes flitted everywhere except them when he realized what happened.

"Would you like to join me for the rest of the evening?" They leaned in, looked up with a playful expression, and offered a hand.

"O-of course" He timidly accepted their hand.

I'm going to die of a heart attack before the sun sets.

---

Hues of pink and purple spread across the horizon, coating the atmosphere in serenity. A zephyr caressed their skin affectionately as they traversed toward the pier.

The remaining rays of the day highlighted his distant form in an ethereal manner. It left them frozen in an entranced state, thankfully he was yet to notice them.

Once Y/n returned they had to muster the confidence to approach him and begin their implied "date".

With my job you'd think this would be easy for me, but no I can't even walk up to him. Damn pretty boy, had to look angelic...

Fortunately, he turned to see them and the problem had been solved.

"Oh, Y/n! I hope your trip was pleasant. I wish you'd let me pick you up though." He said excitedly.

"Yes, the train ride was pleasant. I've told you before, the hotel I'm staying at is out of town. I'd rather not have you making such a trip over me." They stated calmly with a mild smile.

"But Y/n I want to~"

"I know you do. Alright, once I've finally quit my job and moved into a house I'll let you pick me up." They pretended to be deep in thought.

"I won't forget it!" He laughed.

"Yeah, yeah. Now, c'mon I'd like to start exploring before everything closes. I don't normally get to visit the seaside." Y/n held out their hand, trying not show the excitement bubbling within.

"I thought your job required travel." He grabbed their hand.

"It does, but not normally more relaxed areas, like here."

"You never told what you do." He thought aloud looking to the warm colored wisps of cloud.

"I would if I could.  My work often involves rich people, who don't like me talking about their business. I should be out of there soon, anyway." They sighed.

"Oh, that makes sense. I wouldn't want to get you in trouble." He lightly tightened his hold of their hand.

"Don't worry about it. Let's just enjoy the moment." They squeezed back.

---

Their time spent in town was sweet and filled with playful teasing.

As the sun sunk into the sea they bought warm drinks from a cafe and decided to spend the remaining time together on the beach.

Sand underfoot made pleasant sound as they walked, steam from the cups swirled off into the cool night air.

"Y/n?" He stopped walking.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sure you've heard of the upcoming ball at the palace... Would you be my date?" He lifted their hand up, thumb rubbing their knuckles, and eyes glistening under moon light in anticipation.

"That's definitely not what I was expecting. Yes, of course, I'd love to be your date." Y/n gave him a soft smile.

Sanji set their drinks down carefully, before turning around to excitedly wrap his arms around and lift them slightly off the ground in an embrace. He was so happy he couldn't help but laugh a bit.

"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you-" He chanted.

"Alright. Alright. I get it." They laughed.

---

Piano wafted through the air seductively as they took sip of the golden fluid glowing under the citrine light above. 

A figure dressed in auburn approached from behind to sit across from them. 

"Rue, late as always." Y/n stated swishing their drink around to admire it.

"Yes, well one doesn't wake up looking this good." She joked, her ruby nails searched through her bag.

She pulled out and slid a sheet of paper across the table top.

Y/n's eyes trailed over the words taking in the information.

"So Mr. Zero wants me to go out with a bang, huh?" They mused glancing up to meet Rue's Amber eyes.

"It would seem so. He doesn't want you to live to tell the tale." She laughed. Her burgundy lips slowly formed a devilish smirk and she leaned forward. "Surprise him." 

---

Y/n stood outside staring at the paper.

"I might not be able to keep my promise. I don't know if I'll live long enough to have a home of my own. I'm sorry, Sanji."

They took one last look before setting the page alight.

Text of page:

COMMISSION NO. 7326

DEAD OR ALIVE:

DEAD

PREFERRED METHOD:

NONE

LOCATION:

SUNNY PALACE

TARGET/S:

STRAW HAT ROYAL FAMILY

---

Click

Click

Click

The sound their shoes hitting the marble floor echoed in Y/n's mind. The crowd surrounding was nothing more than background noise. The butterflies that fluttered about inside them were far too distracting. Tonight was the night. Be it the end or the beginning, They didn't know.

The people gathered around the stage hoping to sneak a glance of the royal family behind the curtain.

A man with spiked green hair walked up, introduced himself as Bartolomeo, and began a long fangirly speech about the royal family.

Y/n took this moment to look around for Sanji and Rue.

There She was sitting and sipping a glass of wine, classic Rue. She must've sensed Their eyes, for she gave them a smile and thumbs up.

Sanji was no where to be seen, Crowd: nope, Tables: nothing, or maybe the food table? No, not there either.

They took a deep breath and chose not to worry about it.

Finally a  foot peaked out from under the curtain and kicked him, effectively causing the ball to begin. Piano played, Bartolomeo stepped off stage, and the curtains were drawn.

One by one each butterfly once aflutter now dropped dead and began to rot.

There he was, sitting on a throne with the rest of the Straw Hats.

The blade grew warm as their stomach twisted itself into a tight knot. The joyful music felt to be coming from another room.

They were too dazed to notice the people preparing to dance and the royal family walking off stage to join in.

"Y/n?" Sanji called their name again. When he did he get so close?

"Yes...?"

"There you are. Sorry, was that too shocking? I didn't know how to tell you." He rubbed his neck, the tile below seemed rather interesting to him.

"That's...Alright. It's not like you could've brought it up easily." They too found the tile to be interesting.

As nice as the tile was, no solutions to the new problem could be found in it.

"Um, would you allow me a dance?" He offered his hand, glancing at them.

"How could I say no?" They took his hand and smiled, sweeping the dead butterflies under the rug to be dealt with later.

They gracefully swirled around and around, hands intertwined, hearts racing, and warmth rising to their faces. Though they tried to rid of it, a dull ache lingered deep beneath.

The song met its end which led to the beginning of another.

"C'mon follow me." He whispered as they slipped through a door and into a photo filled hallway.

Y/n paused for moment to look at a picture of Sanji running with who they thought to be King Luffy on his back. Many other pictures with others just as happy surrounded it.

I wish I had something like that

He walked ahead and opened a door.

"Here it is." He motioned for them to step through.

"Oh my-" They had lost their words.

An intricate ebony fence wrapped around the garden keeping the delicate flowers safe as they admired the ivory fountain in the center.

"Beautiful isn't it? I often come here to escape the king's insatiable hunger." He joked taking their hand and leading them to the center. "Nothing compared to you though." He smiled and traced along their cheek to move a strand of hair behind their ear.

They grew flustered and took a step forward, only for their foot to be caught on a brick in the path. They both tumbled down.

Y/n had him pinned to the ground. The two stared at each other for a moment to take in what had just happened and then burst into laughter.

Their laughter died first. The pain quickly settled in.

I can't. I can't give him up.

He noticed their expression and panicked.

"Y/n, what's wrong? Are you alright? Did you get hurt?" Concern dripped from every word.

"I- I need to tell you something." Tears welled in their eyes.

"Yes?"

"You know that job I've been trying to get out of?"

"Yeah?"

"It's Baroque Works. They're in the assassination business. They gave me a suicide mission yesterday. I'm supposed to kill your family. I- I can't do this, but they'll kill me if I don't. I can't I don't know what to do I'm-" Their words grew messier and more fearful the longer they talked, until he cut them off from anymore scared rambling.

"It's going to be alright. Everything is going to be ok. You are going to ok."

He lifted his free hand to wipe away the tears.

"It is?" They mumbled.

"Yes, I promise we'll help you. You're not alone anymore, alright?" He lowered his hand to gently hold their wrist and rub reassuringly with his thumb.

"Alright."

He smiled lovingly up at them.

"Together." They whispered leaning down catching him in sweet kiss.

"Together." He responded going in for another.

---

Epilogue:

Luffy, as always, was excited to have a new member of the family. Y/n quickly grew accustomed to the chaotic crew (Pun intended).

Rue was interrogated by Nami. Which, surprisingly, went smoothly. They got along quite well, too well. Within the month of them working together they were caught making out by the unfortunate Usopp.

He never forgot it.

---

"To the end of Baroque Works and the Freedom of  Y/n and Rue!" They Cheered holding up their glasses together in celebration.

Rue turned to Nami and pulled her in for a kiss.

"How did you two even get together?" Usopp groaned.

"Simple, I've always loved shrewd women." Rue joked and slid an arm around her girlfriend's waist.

The devilish couple laughed while Usopp died inside, now he had to deal with two of them.

Y/n sat at the bar where poor Sanji was most frequent the whole evening. He took every chance he got to stop by with a small treat and chat with them, but the demand was high and his visits were few and far between.

---

Finally the sun had set, everyone had turned in for the night, and Y/n finished helping Sanji clean up, regardless of his wishes.

After preparing for bed Y/n pulled him under the covers and turned off the light.

"Shhhh You've worked hard. You must be so tired. Let me take care of you." They whispered holding him close, placing a soft kiss on his forehead.

He mewled and nuzzled into their touch.

They mumbled sweet words and ran their fingers through his hair until they both fell into peaceful slumber.

---

The wattpad cover:

All the illustrations: 

Click

[apathycarestostudy]

Motivate me to get my butt in gear friend !! Uni opens again in a month !! Must finish syllabus before then !! Must stop reading fics and being in denial! Help! (P.S ily :p♡)

Hello hello love. Here are some tips I think will help, mixed in with a bit of nagging, wrapped up with some tough love!

So here we are. First, I’d like to commend you for recognizing that it’s time to get back on the hamster wheel so soon. You’ve a month left, which is ample enough. 

Don’t beat yourself up with time lost

You might be thinking you should’ve gotten up sooner, or done more, or done something some time ago. That doesn’t matter anymore. Yes, I’m an advocate of owning up to your faults, but for one second - recognize it, acknowledge it, and then move the hell on. Never mull on it unless it poses a problem and mulling on it would fix it. So stop all those thoughts - make a firm decision that you will drop all berating, toxic, or otherwise negative thoughts at the door. It won’t go away soon, you’ll need to keep stopping yourself mid-thought, but try to get it down. It’s a simple thing to start with, and I believe you can do this much. My mom always tells me, once someone apologizes, take their apology and leave it at that. The resentment won’t go away quickly, but release it. And I believe when you apologize to yourself, you should forgive yourself, and release.

So please release it.

The three Ps I just made up - paper, pen & plan (or phone, pad & plan)

I tried lmao. Phones be ruining everything. If you didn’t get it tho, by pad, I meant notepad or memo or whatever’s on phones these days. Specialized apps, all of it. It’s just that none of them started with a P and I -

Get your preferred medium of...recording stuff, and don’t make a plan. Yet. I want you to write down a list of things you need to get down before the month is up. A sentence per task. For example:

Get more connections on LinkedIn

Save up 20% of my allowance

Finish a writing commission

Finish a course I signed up for

(..........)

So something like that. One liners you need to finish up. And then don’t plan yet. After you’re done listing everything that needs to get done, you split the page in half (or just write it next to it in parentheses on your phone like this) and write “constraints”. Not emotional ones at first - try and write a logical constraint. Like for the course I signed up for, the logical constraint would be I have no time for it anymore because I got something better - an internship opportunity - and the emotional constraint would be I’m not interested in it anymore, or I don’t wanna lol. So write up some logical constraints. Is the workload a lot? Are you family members sending you off to do stuff for them and you have no choice but to do them and forsake your time? Do you not have an empty notebook to get started? These are all valid hurdles you may face.

Now, if you have some that have no constraints yet, write your emotional ones. You don’t want to. You’d rather do something else. Fanfiction. All of that. 

Look back at your list. What’s causing the emotional ones? How can you get rid of the logical ones? Remove them, run away from them, address them, or ignore them - pick one.

Now, plan.

Distractions

So when I feel like I should get up and do something, I’m learning to seize that feeling prematurely and do it. I say prematurely because you know when the thought matures, you’re gonna talk yourself out of it or dismiss it, so you gotta grab that as soon as it crosses your mind. How to stop doing what you’re doing immediately? Remove access to the distraction. And I don’t mean use those apps - although if it works for you, go on with your bad self. If not, do the old school method of throwing your phone to the roof of your cupboard. 

Yeah. I had this period of time where nothing stopped me from indulging in fanficion - not even deadlines and consequences, which are the biggest things that drive me to do stuff, and the only way I could get over it was to throw my phone over the cupboard. I gave myself a hurdle to stop me from pulling it back towards myself, and not only that, imagine the shame of getting a chair, dragging it all the way to the cupboard, climbing up on that thing, and then pulling your phone down - just squeezing lemon juice in your damn eye and living with that burn. So, put a hurdle up.

(cupboard = dresser btw, not sure which word y’all use so)

You don’t need a whole lot to get started

Going back to not having an empty notebook. There was a time I needed one to get started, but I didn’t want to go out and buy one, and so I kept putting off my work and blaming the fact that I don’t have a notebook. You don’t really need the notebook to get started. I could’ve easily pulled out my laptop and used One Note or MS Word or whatever if I really wanted to work. I mean I hate using digital stuff, but I could’ve sucked it up if I really didn’t want to go out and really wanted to work. The right answer was I really didn’t want to work, not the notebook.

Just start. Screw the notebook, screw your shitty pen, screw the messy table - just start. Shove all the mess to the edge and cram your arms in that tiny space and just start. You don’t need highlighters or a bottle of water or quiet time or the lights dimmed three notches down or your face moisturized or your plants watered - just start.

Not saying all of that is unnecessary, or wouldn’t help, but when it comes down to it, you don’t need all that to start. Don’t waste your time preparing to study or work. Just start.

Just start. Get your scrappy paper that’s 1/4 cut in a weird angle and just start.

One thing is better than nothing

I know I’ve said that a whole lot. A WHOLE LOT. But it’s true, and you truly need to take that to heart. If you’ve scratched one thing off your list, that’s good. 

But here’s what I’d do if I felt like I needed to do more.

First, seize that feeling. Next, do more. Start a little mantra of, “Just one more!” and do it like you’re taking one more cookie out the cookie jar. One more cupcake. One more chip. One more practice question. Romanticize it. Say it like you desperately want it, even if you don’t and do it. Oftentimes it’s the start that has us feeling some type of way, but once you accept what it is - as in you start eating it a little more quickly - you’ll sink into it and release that feeling. Next thing you know, you’ll find yourself done with one more thing.

Still tho, one thing today is one thing off your plate. Celebrate that, and promise you’ll do one more - at that moment or some other time.

Lesson from Naruto: give yourself a self-rule!

So there was this character in Naruto that was a total failure. He didn’t make it into the ninja academy, so he decided to give himself a self-rule: “If I run 500 laps, I’ll be accepted as an alternate.” which means he’ll be placed as a back up in case an already accepted student drops out. His father finds out, scolds him, and says that’s not a self-rule. That’s a wish. A self-rule doesn’t involve anyone else. A failure to accomplish what you say is accountable to you. Not circumstance, not anyone else. 

His father says, “Because of that [a self-rule on your self only], you are able to gather your strengths and focus on your efforts...That is how a self-rule works!” So how does the character change it? “If I can’t do 500 laps on my hands, I’ll do 500 push-ups!”

You see what I’m going for? 

I am not saying do 500 laps on your hands - this is a ninja anime we’re talking about here - I’m saying apply a self-rule that keeps you accountable and feeds into your efforts. Say, “If I can’t do ten practice questions, I’ll do ten rounds of this example question!” Give yourself an alternative you have to do if you fail your first attempt, and have it be of the same magnitude. What happens if you can’t do both? Keep adding on of course! The character would say, “If I can’t do 500 laps on my hands, I’ll do 500 push-ups! And if I can’t do 500 push-ups, I’ll do 500 sit-ups!”

Limitations exist, and you may not be able to get it the first few times, but eventually, the character manages to do 5000 laps - and he falls tiredly into his father’s waiting arms.

Just a little nice bonus I thought would be fun to add. I do something like this, but not as well thought out of course - I’d say something like, “I’ll do process design questions right now, and if I give up half-way, chemical separation processes is waiting for me.”

I thought I’d stop here because it’s getting kind of ramble-y and I think this’ll be enough of a push to get you started. Maybe not a push even - a nice little pat from your friend that’ll evolve into a push by your fine self. You can do it. Just start LOL.

I’mma end this with a positive note from that same episode of Naruto. Here’s a quote from that father to his son when he asked him why he was so chipper when he failed so much and couldn’t be “strong” (as in overcome the obstacles in his way). I see this in our lives, be it with friendships, biting your tongue when your boss yells at you, or giving up after failing a class.

“True victory isn’t about winning from someone strong. It’s about defending what’s important to you!”

[artinterviewmagazine]

Conversation With Taj Bourgeois On Selling Their Paintings Online For A Living

Marius Larsson: So first of all how long have you been selling paintings? About 2 years now? Taj Bourgeois: Yeah I quit my job driving taxi in December so a little over 2 years. I had a week where I made negative $70 and that was that. I had to do something different. ML: What made you think you could make it as an artist, and how did you initially get started? TB: I didn’t think I could make it lol, but also felt like it might be my last chance to give it my all. If I didn’t at least try once in my life I was concerned I’d feel like a hypocrite if I were to tell my daughter to follow her dreams. Pretty much I just posted on Facebook “Would anyone like to commission a painting?”. I got five responses, one of which was for $600. Honestly I don’t know if I would’ve felt the drive to commit if it weren’t for that, but also my strategy was and has been basically to just make paintings everyday, so people would see I was taking it seriously and in turn take me seriously. ML: And had you been painting much prior? TB: I had made like 7 or 8 paintings in the months leading up to it, so people were aware what I was getting into and I guess displaying some level of skill. Prior to that I hadn’t really painted since around the time my daughter was born in 2012. ML: What kinds of things did you start off painting? TB: In 2012 or in the months before doing it full time? ML: Tell me about 2012, why you took a break for 4 years and then what got you back into it in 2016. TB: When I found out I was going to be a father I had been in college for just a couple semesters taking random art classes. I was just there for the school loans... ya know.. didn’t want to get a job. Anyway I was in a painting class, and it was pretty much my first time painting. I watched the Basquiat documentary “The Radiant Child”, and it made me think about painting in a very different way. A few months after my daughter was born and I won a couple awards for paintings I did for the college’s annual art show. Then I enrolled at the Pacific Northwest College of Art for the Fall semester, but by that point I was learning about hundreds of artist’s on my own time, and was becoming inspired to try all kinds of things other than painting. I felt I did so well that semester that I decided college wasn’t going to be a good use of time or money, so I dropped out and just followed my train of thought for the next 4 years which led back to painting. ML: How did it lead back to painting? TB: I had been driving taxi for a year and a half, and during that time I felt more and more disconnected from any of my previous modes of art making. I was pretty much sitting in the cab making memes and digital collages. Toward the end the collages I was doing started to become more refined, and I started thinking about the merits of painting the imagery I was putting together. The first thing I painted after all that time was an image of flaming goose which was a meme that had been going around. I decided to painted it very large. It was just something I thought would help test the waters again, and also something I figured I’d like to have on my wall. Of course painting a giant meme is going to get a good response online, so I did a couple more, and then painted some scenes from photos, and then from my imagination. Tried to paint the collages I had made but didn’t quite feel right to try to change their medium. ML: Ok so you had a few commissions and then what? You’d post your paintings for sale and people just kept buying them? TB: Yeah although the first 6 months were pretty rough. In April I only made $500, so I was cutting it close, but I was still in the mindset that most artists have, which is like their art has some mysterious value to it and should be expensive, but then I realized it would make more sense if I took it more seriously as a job and charge by the hour, so I started painting more small funny stuff. Like for me it made more sense to sell a bunch of little humorous $50 pieces than cross my fingers on a $300 piece cause it would take me the same amount of time to do 6 of the $50 ones. It wasn’t until around 6 months that I made my first piece that multiple people wanted, and so what I did was make it multiple times, and that’s when things started to pick up. ML: And what was that piece? TB: It was spider man on the floor of an art museum looking up at a painting of a goofy fish with a human face, and spider man is saying in a thought bubble “That Painting Looks The Way I Feel!” It was originally from an old comic and spider man had been looking at some kind of parody Picasso portrait, but you know with memes pieces get replaced, and the mood changes. The fish’s face was a better mood than the Picasso probably.

ML: How many paintings had you made by that point? TB: Around 70, but had sold maybe 20 ML: What materials were you using? TB: During the taxi days I was in the store (Fred Meyer) and saw this canvas that house painters just lay on the floor to catch the paint drips, and I was like damn 4x15ft for $13? I should get some in case I feel up to making some big paintings someday, but I have always been such a frugal person that it wasn’t until I saw the apple barrel brand paints that I was like damn ok lemme just buy a couple of every color and see if I’m into this. I also bought a gallon of white house paint to “gesso” the canvas. I still use this method on big pieces, and can always stretch later, but lately have been buying a lot of canvas already prepped and stretched. ML: So do you only sell through Facebook and Instagram? TB: Yes oddly enough that’s like 95% of sales. A few every now and then from irl shows where I live here in Portland (Oregon).

ML: I want to go back to something for a second. You mentioned you started painting in 2012, but then you won a couple awards a few months later. How old were you. How did you excel so quickly considering you said you hadn’t painted prior and what were those painting? TB: I was 24. I think painting is one of those mediums where “ability” is far more subjective than most things. You can view enough of it without trying it yourself to the point that when you do try you’ll already have a grasp of it. I have been interested in painting my whole life, so picking up the brush I already had thousands of hours of experience just thinking about it ya know, so like with that show at the college I knew I wanted to make something big and bold. So I cut myself a 4x7ft canvas and ended up making this multi-colored deer looking straight ahead with sort of hypnotic gaze. That was a people’s choice award, and the other got me a scholarship offer, but for that one I basically had just copied Twombly lol.

ML: How would you describe your style today? TB: Hmm I try not to, cause I try all kinds of stuff. I feel my technical skill level is mediocre but maybe my creative level is high? Different people are going to appreciate different things, and I’ve always been more interested in what the painting depicts over how it’s made. I mean skill aside I think most paintings are pretty umm I want to say “derivative” haha are people still using that word in serious? I’m having fun though, staying curious, and I think that comes across. What’s the point of describing my “style” anyway?

ML: I’m curious about how you view your own work. TB: I view my own work with my own eyes lol. I view my art like a loving father or maybe more like an observer, a bird watcher? No, ok I think I understand this question now. My approach to painting is often like a mix of writing, drawing, and making memes. Often I have the idea and it doesn’t really matter how I get there unless the technique is the content itself as with a lot of abstract art. Like, I will entirely base a painting on a sentence describing the image itself with little concern about how i will make it. Like “a shuriken stuck in the back of a smiling man”, so I’ll paint some sky, a fence, some grass, blue jeans, man has no shirt, shuriken, blood, he’s holding a beer, he’s smiling alright i did it… nice. That’s one way I view my work as a route to an image. I used to do this all the time before painting. I have an art book from 2015 where I used this method a lot like I’d write down ideas, and then go out and make them happen. Some elements of the end result were arbitrary although I always tried to have good composition and quality documentation. I didn’t think of myself as a photographer though I certainly was and was good at that aspect too, but it was more the means to document my performance, sculpture, installation… sentence made real. I also view a good portion of my paintings as elaborate pages ripped from children’s books that don’t exist (yet) and they’re filled with weird cute characters I never really had any intention to keep making in the first place, but I’m still doing it for some reason maybe because I like the idea of an overarching narrative, but mostly I think cause they give me a deep nostalgia for illustrations in picture books I saw as a kid or like panels from graphic novels.

ML: That answer is all over the place! I guess that’s what i get for asking such a broad question, but there’s a lot to work with there. Tell me about being a Father. You said it was kind of the catalyst to start making art. How do you think it’s affected your work? TB: Naturally it changed everything. Before my daughter was born I was just so much more aloof, timid, uncertain about making anything. I’d spend so many days just floating around “hanging out” drinking, smoking etc. Maybe I’d draw a little, write a little, play some music, but always felt like I was just killing time waiting for something to happen, and then it did. Suddenly I felt obligated to be at home most of the time, ya know, like a good dad. Other than that I was still in school making the most of it for the short time being. So for that first year I was either home with her or at school. I was just making stuff every day all the time, and it became an insatiable habit especially once I started sharing it online. Yeah honestly I felt the pressure was on. Like I had waited too long to pursue my passions so I had to make up for lost time. I’ve been addicted to making and sharing things everyday ever since. As for my daughter’s influence, yeah I love watching her grow and the things she makes inspire me as well. I’m a bit of a romantic when it comes to modern art and its mythos. I still vibe off what picasso said about how it took him his whole life to paint like a child, so I feel really grateful to work with her. I have literally thousands of her drawings stacked all over the place. She’ll sit down and do fifty drawings in an hour so I’ve gotten a white board lol. Also like I mentioned before it was kind of insane of me to quit my job to become a painter, like I have a kid, rent, bills, a car, and I’m just going to suddenly start painting happy devils to pay for all that? Well, yeah it felt like my last chance to make my dreams a reality. I just wanted to be able to say I did my best and tried to make it work, for myself, and to be a role model in that sense as well. So far so good.

ML: There seems be a big disparity between artists who make a living off their work and artists who don’t, and what I mean is that when you think of an artist making a living off their work you usually think either they have gallery representation, some kind of branding, or business making the same kinds of things again and again, and yet you seem to have been able to find some middle ground and do all of those things without a business, a degree, or a gallery. What’s it been like overall/how is it going? TB: I still got my foodstamp card haha, but to be honest things are better than ever. I don’t know I just keep at it every day. My belief has been that if I just keep making stuff the right people will notice. I’ve never submitted my work anywhere or asked for opportunities. I let them come to me. I just want to make the art not deal with the other stuff. If a big gallery wants to make money off me they most certainly will but for now I’ve just been doing small independent spaces, and cafe’s which bring in a little extra money but pretty much all my sales are online where I talk to every single person directly.  The most surprising thing has been how many people are interested given that I have less than 5,000 followers/friends. To me that’s a pretty good sign that as my reach grows so will opportunities and I’ve been going hard these past two years. I think I’m just going to be making bigger, better things as more people become interested. I don’t know any artists doing it this way or any way really. I’m not sure Portland is the place to make it happen, but god bless the internet! Getting a college degree makes no sense whatsoever except for becoming a teacher, and I think we know how that’s playing out these days, so I’m just grateful to be doing what I’m doing even though teaching would be pretty cool. Technically you don’t need a degree to teach you just need people who want to learn.

ML: One thing that seems to have helped you gain momentum is the price of your pieces. I don’t think I’ve ever followed an artist pricing their work so low that wasn’t just really kitschy stencil art or something. I see some of your pieces for $600 that I’d see in a gallery for $6,000 no doubt, but then I see a great deal of $50 pieces. What made you decide to price your work this way? Has it changed over time? TB: Yeah and it’s always the “artists” that comment on the prices being too low which is ironic cause usually all you ever hear from the average person is mocking how ridiculously high the price of art is generally. Basically I think other artist’s scoff because they’re projecting their insecurity regarding the real value of art, and maybe a little envious they can’t let go of their own pieces as though the abstract painting they made in a few hours should be worth thousands when they could be making a dozen similar pieces in a single day.  But um yeah I pretty much think of my stuff as like $30-$50 an hour and really like  that’s fucking amazing for a job. Yeah idk I have worked some shitty jobs, and it doesn’t make sense thinking that my work should be above what a person like myself can afford in the first place. When I first started though I still had the mysterious art value notion and was pricing things around $200 that I’d price $70 now, and didn’t sell much at first. It wasn’t until I started doing smaller pieces and gauging my time that I started selling a lot more and trying a lot of different things. It’s not like i’m making art specifically about making money but I can understand why people are so interested in this aspect. I don’t think it’s very common huh. When I first started I tried to justify it as a performance piece called “The Painter” haha. I used to title all sorts of things in my mind as a means to cope with the daunting reality of the situation “Working Construction”, 2014. Even during some of the lowest points I think it helped me maintain the peculiar sense of an artist identity I didn’t want to let go of even if I was letting go of everything else like “Burning All My Journals & Paintings″, 2015

ML: Haha what is that last one about? TB: Around the time I stopped living with my wife and moved into my own place I decided to not bring much along with me. I think the title is self-explanatory. ML: I’m wondering if you could talk about any reoccurring themes or characters in a lot of your paintings like the blob fish or spicy boys. TB: Ya know I think most everything just comes to me on a whim and if it works out or holds my interest I’ll keep playing with it. I guess blob fish and spicy boys are like representative of the comedy/tragedy masks or something. I think I’ve simplified a lot of themes in my paintings just so I can keep the flow going. I’m looking forward to spending more time and space on pieces in the future and elaborate on certain things I’ve wanted to express but didn’t know how to put into words. ML: How so? TB: Well, for example. Sometimes I will paint something I’ve seen in my mind, like, dreamed or hallucinated, but not often because a lot of the time I feel I can’t do it justice even though a lot of my stuff is very much informed by these things that I don’t exactly control. It’s like I take video stills from the internet except they’re from my mind, and the screenshot is something I only had to opportunity to view briefly, but even with a split second hallucination I will think about it for weeks and often will just paint its most basic components. Anyway I’m gearing toward eventually elaborating on the more complex ones because lately I have had some visions that have come to the forefront of my interest. Hopefully will get to them after a few more pet portrait commissions haha. ML: What do you mean by hallucinations? Is your inspiration mainly inspired by dreams or do you mean drugs as well? TB: Most things I just write down as interesting ideas to play with, but I guess I don’t want to get too much into talking about drugs. However there have some recent experiences I’ve had with substances like dmt and the things I saw during that I have been thinking about ever since. So right now I’m just trying to get to the end of commissions and then give my attention to some new projects. Have a show in March. Don’t know what I’ll do for it, but certainly no shortage of ideas.

ML: Where do you see yourself going or where would you like to go, and any other thoughts on painting/selling/art in general? TB: I want to go to the top haha. Well in most ways things are better than ever, and I’m incredibly grateful and I can certainly tolerate having things going at this pace at least another year, but would like to make more serious/invested work that I’m really proud of, get some more money and attention and access to better time/space/materials. At this point though even if I had to get a day job I feel I’m completely committed to doing this work. It’s pretty much how I gauge my self-worth for better or worse. Just hope I can find my groove within the process and better understand myself, inspire others, and I wish I had something more insightful to say, but at the moment I’m a bit preoccupied hustling and just having fun with this upcoming show. Thank yaaaa.

[ilegnangeli]

Random May Thought #1

I think I may have forgotten how to properly write an entry on Tumblr. Much features have changed since I last posted here. If it weren’t for Instagram’s connect to Tumblr feature, I wouldn’t have updated this blog in years. Last I posted was a picture of my penmanship in Mandarin. I was still a student in China back then. And well now, I am back to the mothership.

Two years ago, COVID-19 didn’t exist. Oh wait, it did, they just hadn’t named it yet or they haven’t discovered it yet (I actually remember they used to call it nCoV). Two years ago, I was still lying in my bed in my spacious dorm room probably wondering why time flew so fast. Two years ago, I was a completely different person. I had plans two years later, you know. Plans that got soiled. I didn’t think I would still be here. I should be experiencing spring elsewhere and yet I’m basking in the scorching heat of summer in the Republic of the Philippines. Not that I’m complaining. Alright, fine, I am.

Life has been pretty tough lately. I think I wrote the same thing in one of my book reviews in Goodreads. After reading that book by Paul Kalanithi, I became more aware of how finite life is. I’ve always loved books that sorta ended in tragedies (maybe it’s the masochist in me lmao). But reading a memoir of someone who suffered a similar fate to those fictional characters I’ve read before, reading through his personal struggle made me think about how life—at the end of it all—is truly fragile.

I also read through my old entries in here. I laughed at some. I smiled at some. I sorta became sad after reading some entries. But I’m glad I wrote. Now, I’m feeling like continuing this thing I do often when I’m overwhelmed by life: writing. There’s a sense of bittersweetness to reading your old diary or journal entries for the world to see. Two nights ago, I dug through my old notebooks and read some of my written entries in there. Ten, nine, eight years ago versions of me who loved writing and sharing her thoughts on pages of now worn-out notebooks. Again, I’m glad I wrote.

Writing is probably something I’m not really best at but I’m good at. And suffice to say, I enjoy it. I love writing and it’s probably going to be the end of me. Funny how going back home, here in the mountains of Rizal, transforms me into a sentimental freak. The life in the city is probably the most ideal, future-focused lifestyle but the old soul in me will always go back and try to rekindle the sad and happy memories of the past.

Right now, I’m sat at the end of my bed. With a laptop. Typing these random thoughts. I see my piano on the left. I see my bookshelves right in front of me. And I see my luggage, to my right, that I haven’t used since I got back from China (I didn’t use this for my trip to Japan, I used a smaller one lmao).

I leafed through the pages of my old planner. It was the planner I used for my final year in university. I saw this “Dream Board” that I ever so creatively put together using cutouts from magazines, stickers, and sticky notes. I wrote there that I would make films, music, and literature. Funny how those “dreams” became reality. One by one. I also remember listing down the places I’d always wanted to visit in that planner. I remember writing all the countries that I would, one day, visit. And by some weird miracle, I’ve ticked off so many of those places. Well, except Amsterdam (because damn, the Netherlands is so far away). But don’t worry self, we’ll get there. Eventually. Lmao.

My dream board was extended to the next page where I listed down so many things that I would save up for. Teenage me would be proud of herself because ten years later, she has owned that John Green book collection (she now even has at least three versions of each book John Green has published, I know that’s ridiculous but please stop judging me lol), she has also owned two MacBooks (an Air in 2015 and a Pro in 2020), she has bought a digital piano (God, I srsly am in love with this piano, teenage me would cry out of joy I swear), and she has travelled to a lot of her dream destinations and countries. Teenage me would be so proud of who she has become. I seriously sighed as I typed that last line.

Ten years. Feels like an entire lifetime ago. I didn’t think life would be this fast-paced. I mean, thanks technology but boohoo because here I am, somehow struggling, asking myself every single day, hour, minute why adulting has to be this difficult. I sorta blame my teenage self because, she wished for this moment. She wished to fast-forward to my yuppy self. But then again, who am I to complain, THAT WAS ME ten years ago. Bitch, you did not. Lmao.

Earlier this afternoon, it’s nighttime as I type this, I spoke with one of my co-workers. We haven’t known each other that very long. But it feels like we’ve known each other forever. She’s a Libra, just like me. She’s a 92-liner, too. Oh the joy! And she’s a psych major, I envy her. Sometimes I still wonder why I didn’t take that path in university. Accountancy was shit and as much as I loved my Sintang Paaralan, I just didn’t want to be there anymore for personal reasons. You’d know, if you ever met me in person, I’ll tell you. Wow, am I really that good at moving on? Anyway, being a communication major is and was a great experience. I hate competitions but I joined so many competitions in that field and lost some but you gotta win some, right? So I did. Thank you for the wonderful experiences, Piyu.

Whoa, I didn’t think I’d be writing this long. But I’m not done yet. So as I was saying, I spoke with her. She isn’t just a colleague to me now but more like a best friend. I never thought I would meet someone my age who spoke the same language as me before her. I’m a nerd. If that isn’t already obvious. And if being caught by our director talking about Sigmund Freud and Maria Montessori isn’t enough proof, then I guess let’s talk about global warming, greenhouse effect, and the melting polar caps. I like talking about ideas, phenomenas, and books. Crucify me! #ReasonsWhyImStillSingle

I’d been praying about something recently. And I only got that clarity when I finally spoke to her about it. We’ve been on this topic for about a month now. And occasionally we like to make fun of this topic. But I guess, when something isn’t really meant for you, God will make a way for it to not, you know, find its way to you. Thank you, LORD.

She told me so many things that made me realize that the person I like right now probably has his reasons why he’s not making the first move. And I understood that. She insisted that my feelings were valid and it was okay for me to feel those things—to think those things. But oh my goodness, I told her, this person is so lucky. Like I swear to God. Because I don’t really “like” guys that often. I don’t feel easily attracted to anyone. So it is by some miracle that I ended up liking this particular human sub-specie (bro, you should feel privileged, too bad you won’t be able to read this). Anyway, It was so clear to me. And I had to move on. Immediately. But what’s weird about it is that I just took a nap. And when I woke up from that nap this afternoon I felt nothing. Like that feeling expired almost immediately. It completely dissipated. So ridiculous, right? I’ve harbored feelings for this person for some time now (it hasn’t been that long to be honest) and I’m just over that feeling now. In an instant, too. I don’t know why. It’s probably one of my talents.

Wow, I really do move on fast. Don’t I? Am I cruel (to myself) that way?

So I had decided to busy myself with work. Plan about my graduate studies. And hope for the best. But for now, I’ll enjoy the rest of my leave from work. I sighed. Again. As I wrote that. My head hurts. I don’t know why. But it does. And I almost typed that in Korean.

On another topic, I’m thinking about compiling all of my literary works in some way. I also feel like commissioning my niece and my older brother to illustrate some of my poems for me. I’ve actually thought about this like a year ago amidst the pandemic. But the lazy ass in me just kept postponing. And I blame myself for procrastinating because all my “plans” haven’t come to fruition. But I’ll get my shit together. Eventually. I need to make this happen. At least before I expire. Lmao.

P.S. I’m tired. I actually stayed up late last night. Or should I say earlier this morning. I video called one of my ex-colleagues. It was also a really nice chat. But I’m not used to staying up late anymore. I’ve burned tons of midnight oil in university. NEVER AGAIN. I’m sleepy to be honest.

P.P.S. Tomorrow’s my elder sister’s birthday. I’m going to post ancient pictures of her on my stories.