themorningcatch

[themorningcatch]

they should invent water for men

[themorningcatch]

so annoying of me to have a migraine on one side of my head one day and then have another on the other side of my head what am i on

[themorningcatch]

My friends and I went gallery hopping today and found gems like these. I totally forgot who made the first artwork but the bottom two are by Eguchi Ayane, and I absolutely adore them; it’s so vivid and full of motion that it plays like a movie in my head. I recently have been getting into art, like art art, and paintings and sculptures and the like—but this was my first time viewing art after my extensive studying. And the thing is: I was dumbfounded while looking at every artwork. No theory could support me and my thought process; mainly because these galleries were so small and each step I took was calculated, the curators and owners glancing at us like every movement was an unbearable creak on the floor, the traffic of consciousness in my psyche overwhelming me, but also, somehow, it was because I knew I was a mere outsider in the world of art…art art. That art. There was an exhibit, Museum Watching and the metanoia of surveying a surveyor was exquisite. We noticed that the paintings’s real frames mimicked the ones the paintings’s paintings had. We asked if that was intentional, and the curator said that no, the people who bought the paintings only replicated it. Through nervous laughter, I peeked back at the intricacy in detail of each frame, and I was hit with a sudden realization that one frame could probably get me through a year’s worth of college education or even feed a family (or families!) in the slums of Manila. I wondered about the people who owned the paintings. Who were they? How rich could they be to spend so leisurely on art? Who are these invisible bourgeoisies I thought I only read about in dated books? But truthfully, only now do I think I was mistaken. For aren’t they not the invisible ones but rather the giants, and I only a small mite looking up, seeing only the vastness of their leg and thinking, “Surely, this is not real.” But it is. It is real. This is what I mean when I say I cannot marry myself to art…art art. Or at least I could not; because I did not grow up with the privilege to love them or to see them. It is only now through effort that I cram whatever knowledge I need to understand in my finite mind. And still, it is not enough because art will crush me for not being able to hold its weight. It’s sad…and I don’t know what else to say. I started learning art because I did not want to miss a life that appreciates, a life that knows the specifity and processes something undergoes. But even with that passion, it is somehow only lukewarm, not enough, I suppose, to be anything. So I watch life’s art art at the glass doors. I wish art did not feel this exclusive. Aren’t these just dreams of an artist? And aren’t we all just dreamers in one way or another? The view must be better when you are large.

[themorningcatch]

Every day, I thank God because my Mom is in that cooking phase when she only cooks East Asian dishes. For lunch, I have mushrooms and dimsum at home. That’s pretty rare. East Asian cuisine is one of the reasons I still have motivation to live.

[themorningcatch]

There’s so much power in a bowl of miso soup. I just love miso soup so much.

[themorningcatch]

skyways, hd edition

[themorningcatch]

skyways, vhs edition

[themorningcatch]

One day, I’m going to leave this place for the last time and I will miss this view that I’ve had for so long. I don’t want to forget. I don’t know when that’ll happen but still, I don’t want to forget.

[themorningcatch]

I’ve always loved flowers but I’ve never received them from anyone, but that’s fine because I can get my own...and by that I mean, I can take my Grandma’s table birthday flowers pitifully and put them in my room.

[themorningcatch]

It is a lie perpetuated by the internet that college students can afford coffee shops. In my three years in college, it is a rarity to visit a cafe. This was when my small group had its second meeting and I shared coffee with my friend even though 1. I wasn’t allowed to drink coffee (as my doctor said), 2. I could barely afford it. However, we had a great chat and the interior was nice and cozy. 

[themorningcatch]

please forgive this helpless haze i’m in. i’ve really never been in love before. 

[themorningcatch]

I took these during one of my grandma’s 75th birthday party and she had this sakura palette going on, so I just loved the soft vibes. I did this look under one hour because we were running late and I’m posting this here to tell you, I am weary of the social constructs that social media has chained me with, so I decided to turn this blog into a place where I am hopelessly artistic and/or introspective. This 2018, I have repeatedly said it, I will take my time in learning what I have to, practicing what I can, and letting creativity ebb with no force, and only respect to the ordeals beyond me, that which I have no control over. I will sit and wait, wait for the wonder. I no longer want to feel like I’m running out of time. Like Elijah by the ravine, please be good to me on my stay here. I only want to be more happy and kind. 

[themorningcatch]

I also went fruit picking.

[themorningcatch]

I went camping.

[themorningcatch]

I've been learning how to not speak so much and not have people as the center of my activity. It's been hard but there's some progress. Anyway, I got new glasses so goodbye to these ones. We're moving on, we're moving on.

[themorningcatch]

Good morning. Quick life update:

I'm in my favorite Jollibee where I spend lots of time alone. In a few minutes, I'm supposed to go inside a writing workshop, which is incredible for a girl like me, who has had her life on pause for a while and now it's speeding through that I'm afraid it will end too quickly. But despite these doubts, I believe in the miracle that is grace. It's ever profound. Let's hold on to that for now.

[themorningcatch]

I'm working on learning to write everyday, despite of myself, and I'm doing it by writing things that really excite me (which is fanfiction). So I'm a bit occupied on that. I'm here to ponder on something: people who do what they love, absolutely let themselves be swallowed by it. Whenever I write, I forget to be human because I'm too busy being human to be human. Do you understand? I forget to eat and drink and sleep and sometimes even go to the bathroom because all I do is think about this story or this poem or this line and if I leave, the momentum is gone, it would have escaped me, and its return might be hopeless. I mean, in general, I tend to forget to take care of myself. My body suffers, yes, but my art flourishes. I don't know if I'm romanticizing it but many of my favorite artists, performers, the like—have experienced this as well. There is always some sacrifice on the artist's end to get something good. But still, if you read this, know that taking care of yourself is far more important than being a somebody. After all, if you are not alive and well enough to really be in moments of your life, you aren't really a somebody. I have migraines now because I've done this way too many times, the whole not eating scenario. I don't like to talk about it. But here's my peace to share: please look after yourself. No one can love you or care more about you than you do (excluding God for believers like me). In the midst of your creation, please take time for yourself.