There’s a monster at the end of this book. It’s the blank page where the story ends and you’re left alone with yourself and your thoughts.
Has it been a year since I moved out of my parents’ roof? It wasn’t all too easy; but it was what I wanted—cutting the financial umbilical cord and make a living on my own. So far away from everyone I know, from everything my parents ever told me, I had no one to depend on but myself. Living independently means coming home and dealing with a pile of dishes and unwashed clothes before you roll in for bed. You will amaze yourself with your sudden ability to create feasts out of canned tuna and scrambled eggs. Living on your own is, after all, developing the ability to adapt, and to appreciate the luxury of food whenever you can get it. Living on your own is making decisions on your own: should I have dinner at Jollibee, or at a restaurant where you don’t have to look for your own seat? It is living on takeouts and teaching Ilonggo swear words to Ruby, who left home when she was 18 and never looked back. It is missing home and your mother’s cooking and the books in your room and the sound of the TV and your two little siblings arguing over it.
Anonymous asked: i saw a photo of u naked ;)
LOL I’m no Miley Cyrus. Getaaaawt.
So the point of my keeping a notebook has never been, nor is it now, to have an accurate factual record of what I have been doing or thinking. That would be a different impulse entirely, an instinct for reality which I sometimes envy, but do not possess. At no point have I ever been able successfully to keep a diary; my approach to daily life ranges from the grossly negligent to the merely absent, and on those few occasions when I have tried dutifully to record a day’s events, boredom has so overcome me that the results are mysterious at best. What is this business about “shopping, typing piece, dinner with E, depressed”? Shopping for what? Typing what piece? Who is E? Was this “E” depressed or was I depressed? Who cares?
In fact I have abandoned altogether that kind of pointless entry; instead I tell what some would call lies. “That’s simply not true,” the members of my family frequently tell me when they come up against my memory of a shared even. “The party was not for you, the spider was not a black widow, it wasn’t that way at all.” Very likely they are right, for not only have I always had trouble distinguishing between what happened and what merely might have happened, but I remain unconvinced that the distinction, for my purposes, matters.
—Joan Didion, On Keeping a Notebook
Had it not been for my sleeping like a log, I would’ve been the first to hear about how your day went when you came home from work late last night.
isabelquinones asked: Jessan! I've known you since you were a writing god (which you still are btw) but now you are one heck of a painter/ artist too and I'm so proud of what you've become. I should start taking lessons from you, teacher hehe. Talk soon, please? <3
I miss you, babe. Life would have been lots cooler if you and I were on the same zip code. But LOL on the writing god. Hugs.
Anonymous asked: ive been trying to find a planner that has no lines on it & ive always wondered what planner you're using? you really have a neat drawing and you have so much talent. :)
Ay mars mura lang yan sa SM! Hahaha! Thank you thank you. :”>
Pulling an Alaska Young ‘cause no shelf. Also, I just moved into a new apartment.
Anonymous asked: How about a proper life update kid?
You really don’t what to read about my recent breakup haha!
Anonymous asked: Hello! I adore the things you post, they are lovely. You made me start journaling again. Do you use a special camera for photos and how do you print them out?
My trusty good ol’ digital camera and Instagram. I go to photo shops to have them printed. Thanks!
Anonymous asked: Please don't stop doing what makes you happy.. I've been so inspired of your writings and to be honest, I've been checking your blog often, trying to catch if you added another post. So if you have the time. Please.. This is a message from a fan. don't stop, don't pause, just paint or write. I want you to know that you're making other people smile when they read a fraction of your blog, and I'm one of those people. P.S I sent this on the ask box to be anonymous and all
Can you not go on incognito so that we can’t talk?