LomoLit: Cleaning up

“You owe me, buddy.” Jay told Amer as he wrapped a frosted glass ashtray in bubble wrap. “You owe me big time.”

“Owe you? For what?”

Photo by lighttomysoul

“For helping you pack all of this stuff without a moment’s notice. You should really work on your planning, dude.”

“Yeah, yeah. But I knew I could count on you, bud. Your beer is on me after we finish this.”

“You know I don’t drink.” Jay kept on wrapping other fragile items like trophies and frames in bubble wrap. He was getting good at it, he thought.

“Well, look here. Isn’t this the shirt we got from that party we went to during our first year at work? It still has holes from the time you got so sauced. I had to pull you up by the collar and the shirt ripped open!” Jay was still ecstatic.

Photo by cryboy

“O god, yes. That night was just… I don’t even have the words to describe it. It was a blackout,” Quipped Amer.

“And this! This thing!” Jay struggled with the words but couldn’t quite find it.

“Ah! That thingamajig we looted from that art opening! I swore we could have spent the night in jail for that stint!”

Photo by clownshoes

“Yes! Yes! Why on earth did we do that for again?”

“I can’t remember exactly. It had something to do with a bet…”

“Wait, I remember. The first one to take a thing out of that boring art event would get to pick the attire of the other for his wedding!”

Photo by neanderthalis

“Which one of us won that bet again?”

“You know who it is. That’s why you’re wearing a tux instead of a beach-wedding inspired suit to your wedding.”

“I still haven’t agreed to that, man.”

“A deal’s a deal.” Said Jay quietly.

And a deal was indeed a deal. Jay was holding onto a clear plastic bag containing a wallet, a ring, a broken watch and a small notebook and he let out an empty sigh.

“A deal’s a deal, man. But this wasn’t part of it. You said I was gonna be the best man at your wedding.”

Jay kept on packing the things inside a box neatly as Amer would. A cracked helmet was put on top of the box like a crown.

Godspeed, Juanderkid.

"Let us go over to the other side. I think Juanderkid will be back very soon. Journey with me, will you?"

Goodnight, travel well Juanderkid. You are missed. Weave a story for us on the other side, will you?

LomoLit: Just a date

Ray cradled the bouquet of flowers in his left arm, he just got it from his local florist. Its delicate wrapping rustled in between strides as he made his way to their favorite deli.

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Photos by mikahsupageek and adash

“You there?” read his text to Pearl.

“Yup, just got here” buzzed Pearl back.

He was whistling and snapping his fingers on his free right hand. It was a nice day, not too sunny but not too wet. The usually scorching afternoon is giving way to the playful gusts of the looming evening. It’s starting to get dark but the rains look like they are far from carpeting the streets of his hometown.

Ray spotted his reflection on one of the windows of a cafe he just passed by. He admired the middle-aged man as if he had just seen an old friend who’s now getting the reins back from life.

He fished for his phone from his right pocket and slowly typed a message for Pearl. He was still walking. The deli was not too far away, now.

Pearl was sitting near the window of the deli. The light cream mantle of the table matched the yellow glow from the lights. The deli was not always her favorite spot in town but she learned to love it because of the great food. And of course, that’s where she had met him.

Photo by inthesky

He tapped on the glass window and gave her a big smile, almost a grin. Pearl waved him in and the bell chimed with her as he entered the dainty place.

He hid the flowers behind his back and playfully waved it in front of Pearl. The wrapping rustled in a lively tune. Pearl’s face lit up.

“Thanks, Ray. They’re so pretty.”

Photo by arifrodriguez

The red roses were still moist and supple. Ray had the bouquet carefully picked by the florist and he tipped the man who had been preparing his flowers for almost five years. He was delighted with the finished bundle. He was sure that Pearl would love it, after all, it is her favorite flower and color.

The two had drinks. Ray had spaghetti with the meatballs placed in a separate platter. Pearl had a salad then wine after. The two laughed and talked, both had a good time – a great time perhaps. Pearl kissed Ray on the cheek before they went their separate ways. She lived in a different part of town.

Photo by why-yu

Ray traced the figure of his jeans and found his phone. He dialed a number and waited for a few rings before someone picked up.

“Hi, good evening. I was the guy who came by earlier. Yes. Just a quick question… I just wanted to ask about your return policy on rings. Thanks.”

A drop fell on his beat up wingtips. It wasn’t raining.

LomoLit: Flutter (Part 4)

Losing someone is not always through break ups, over a fight, or text messages. Sometimes, it’s the fleeting moments of indifference that can make a then close proximity into a gaping divide that just ends it all for a relationship.

Photo by clownshoes

Dean seemed to drift away more from Mika and vice versa. Gone were the days when they couldn’t peel themselves away from each other. He no longer tucked her unkempt hair into the back of her ears. She was fine with him being away for weeks at end. They both stopped trying even if it was a simple thing like dialing the phone.The distance between them became normal and evident in their relationship.

IT’S KIND OF FUCKED UP ISN’T IT? HOW ALL OF A SUDDEN, SOMEONE JUST WAKES UP AND DECIDES TO NEVER TALK TO YOU AGAIN. NO REASON. NO EXPLANATION. NO WORDS SAID. THEY JUST LEAVE YOU HANGING LIKE YOU NEVER MEANT SHIT TO THEM, AND WHAT HURTS THE MOST IS HOW THEY MADE IT LOOK SO EASY.

By: kellymaneja

LomoLit: Trinket

“I’d like to have a star of my own.” Said the little girl as she gazed at the dark sky one summer. “Why?” asked the boy lying beside her, his brown hair laid comfortably on the soft carpet of grass.

Photo by sixsixty

The two were star gazing. The sky was littered with the shiny trinkets from far away.

“Stars are pretty. I want to have something pretty I can call my own.”

“But you can’t have a star. Look how far it is from where are now.”

“I know. But mom said a girl can dream.”

More summers passed and they grew up. They lay on the grass of the very same hill for many years. They grew in mind and body but the dreams remained young and vivid.

One night, as they both laid in the same spot where they had laid many years ago, the young man blurted: “Would you still like that star?”

“Star? What star?” asked the puzzled young lady.

“The star you always wanted to have.”

“Oh, that. You remembered?”

“Of course, how could I forget? We were lying on the same bed of grass, staring at the same sky and breathing the same air. I wouldn’t forget that for the world.”

Photo by vtayeh

Both were still staring at the night sky. Indeed, nothing has changed; it ws still the same blue tapestry laden with tiny diamonds.

“I still would like a star of my own. But I know that won’t happen.”

“Why?” asked the young man.

“You can’t own a star, silly.”

“Really? Wait here.”

“Where are you going?”

The young man stood up and brushed the dirt off his head.

“Stay right where you are.”

After a while, the young man returned with rope. He had tied the end like a lasso.

“What are you going to do with that rope?”

“Just wait. You’ll see soon enough.”

Photo by hodachrome

The young man anchored himself atop the hill’s highest point. He gave a grunt and threw the lasso into the air. It caught nothing at first but he came at it again. His second throw caught a tiny trinket from the sky. He slowly pulled on the rope and reeled in the little star. The hill became a beacon of light.

“Here you go, your own star.” Said the young man as he handed the star to her.

“How?” the young lady was dumbfounded.

“You said long ago that ‘a girl can dream.’ And here it is.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“I believe in dreams. You should, too. It doesn’t mean that we can stop believing just because we’ve added years to our lives. I think it’s all the more reason to keep dreaming. And besides, I didn’t have to reel in that star for you.”

“Why not?”

The young man just smiled and laid down. He closed his eyes and breathed in.

“Keep that star.”

“I want to share it with you.”

“You already did. Many summers ago.”

LomoLit: A Drop

You write your desire on the palm of my hand I clench my fist, afraid to let it go

Drop me a line I will not forget
Your diamond eyes are as pale as the fading sky
Once they were dark, brooding but true
This fetter we have is a fantasy

Photo by ug_a

Every tear glistens in its beauty
I am your pillar, you are my strength
But you don’t want to see
We are swept down the river

Photo by yeahyeahyeahh

You hold on to a thistle
I let out my hand to reach for yours
You kept your wounded hand
The river led to some place I never imagined

Photo by ohpleasedontgo

Ice has melted and gave way to lush greens
Leaves are supple with every kiss of dew
The river grew wide with the coming of spring
I try to remember how every note you’d sing

Photo by kleeblatt

Would carry me into a dream
Or even better, a reality
I am an illusion as you are
We are lodged in a crevice of life

Photo by hodachrome

You crush petals just to smell them
I remember not a single drop of oil
Do you know the way back?
All I know is that I don’t

Photo by myloveletter

You kept your hand to you, reached out not for me
All I know is that I’ll be a poet for you
Kiss me
Use your tongue as a pen

Photo by hervinsyah

Write me a poem
Use my mouth as a paper
Make me believe as I always have
Spring has made it a little clearer
The river grew wider.

fairy tales

JANUARY 24, 2014

"“If you want your children to be intelligent, read them fairy tales. If you want them to be more intelligent, read them more fairy tales.”
― Albert Einstein
“Fairy tales do not tell children the dragons exist. Children already know that dragons exist. Fairy tales tell children the dragons can be killed.”
― G.K. Chesterton
“Fear isn’t so difficult to understand. After all, weren’t we all frightened as children? Nothing has changed since Little Red Riding Hood faced the big bad wolf. What frightens us today is exactly the same sort of thing that frightened us yesterday. It’s just a different wolf.”
― Alfred Hitchcock
“Deeper meaning resides in the fairy tales told to me in my childhood than in the truth that is taught by life.”
― Friedrich von Schiller
"

— I think what a lot of people fail to realize is that fairy tales are about emotional truths. No one reads a fairy tale and thinks that they may literally have to slay an ogre, or steal the golden goose, or wear out seven pairs of iron shoes and dress in a thousand furs to find the prince, but some people criticize them, saying this is unrealistic, this is all there is to the tale. Put a little thought into it. In your life, you may not have to climb mountains to find the home of the north wind, but you might have to ask someone intimidating for help. You may never have to trick the wicked prince into looking into the glass-filled barrel, or the witch into peering into the oven, but you might have to sacrifice someone else’s comfort for your own wellbeing. Your mother might not be wicked, but sometimes you’ll be angry with her. You might not be turned into a Beast, but sometimes it feels like there’s nothing about you worth loving. Fairy tales remind you of that. They remind you that there are troubles and trials, and that this is normal. It is the way of things, and you’ll come through it. (via batbcomic)

10:21PM  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/ZK1xOy15JagJ9

(Notes: 47,205)

Fuck yeah, ACL. Fuck yeah, vicioustwist.

Advice to Young Men from an Old Man

May 21st, 2008 | Categories: Random | by Michael Williams

Generally I don’t look to Craigslist for advice, but I remember reading this post a while back and some of these things have been with me ever since. I am by no means advocating everything that is said below, and have never taken a political or any other sort of position on this website. So read this with a grain of salt and take from it what does or does not appeal to you.

++ Date:2007-02-15, 9:08AM PST — Advice to Young Men from an Old Man ++

1. Don’t pick on the weak. It’s immoral. Don’t antagonize the strong without cause, its stupid.

2. Don’t hate women. It’s a waste of time

3. Invest in yourself. Material things come to those that have self actualized.

4. Get in a fistfight, even if you are going to lose.

5. As a former Marine, take it from me. Don’t join the military, unless you want to risk getting your balls blown off to secure other people’s economic or political interests.

6. If something has a direct benefit to an individual or a class of people, and a theoretical, abstract, or amorphous benefit to everybody else, realize that the proponent’s intentions are to benefit the former, not the latter, no matter what bullshit they try to feed you.

7. Don’t be a Republican. They are self-dealing crooks with no sense of honor or patriotism to their fellow citizens. If you must be a Republican, don’t be a “conservative”. They are whining, bitching, complaining, simple-minded self-righteous idiots who think they’re perpetual victims. Listen to talk radio for a while, you’ll see what I mean.

8. Don’t take proffered advice without a critical analysis. 90% of all advice is intended to benefit the proponent, not the recipient. Actually, the number is probably closer to 97%, but I don’t want to come off as cynical.

9. You’ll spend your entire life listening to people tell you how much you owe them. You don’t owe the vast majority of people shit.

10. Don’t undermine your fellow young men. Mentor the young men that come after you. Society recognizes that you have the potential to be the most power force in society. It scares them. Society does not find young men sympathetic. They are afraid of you, both individually and collectively. Law enforcement’s primary purpose is to suppress you.

11. As a young man, you’re on your own. Society divides and conquers. Unlike women who have advocates looking out for them (NOW, Women’s Study Departments, government, non-profit organizations, political advocacy groups) almost no one is looking out for you.

12. Young men provide the genius and muscle by which our society thrives. Look at the Silicone [sic] Valley. By in large, it was not old men or women that created the revolution we live. Realize that society steals your contributions, secures it with our intellectual property laws, and then takes credit and the rewards where none is due.

13. Know that few people have your best interests at heart. Your mother does. Your father probably does (if he stuck around). Your siblings are on your side. Everybody else worries about themselves.

14. Don’t be afraid to tell people to “fuck off” when need be. It is an important skill to acquire. As they say, speak your piece, even if your voice shakes.

15. Acquire empathy, good interpersonal skills, and confidence. Learn to read body language and non-verbal communication. Don’t just concentrate on your vocational or technical skills, or you’ll find your wife fucking somebody else.

16. Keep fit.

17. Don’t speak ill of your wife/girlfriend. Back her up against the world, even if she is wrong. She should know that you have her back. When she needs your help, give it. She should know that you’ll take her part.

18. Don’t cheat on your wife/girlfriend. If you must cheat, don’t humiliate her. Don’t risk having your transgressions come back to her or her friends. Don’t do it where you live. Don’t do it with people in your social circle. Don’t shit in your own back yard.

19. If your girlfriend doesn’t make you feel good about yourself and bring joy to your life, fire her. That’s what girlfriends are for.

20. Don’t bother with “emotional affairs”. They are just a vehicle for women to flirt and have someone make them feel good about themselves. That’s the part of a relationship they want. For you it is a lot of work and investment in time. If they are having an emotional affair with you, they’re probably fucking someone else.

21. Becoming a woman’s friend and confidant is not going to get you into an intimate relationship. If you haven’t gotten the girl within a reasonably short period of time, chances are you won’t ever get her. She’ll end up confiding to you about the sexual adventures she’s having with someone else.

22. Have and nurture friendships with women.

23. Realize that love is a numbers game. Guys fall in love easily. You’re going to see some girl and feel like you’ll die if you don’t get her. If she rejects you, move on to the next one. It’s her loss.

24. Don’t be an internet troll. Got out and live life. There is not a cadre of beautiful women advertising on Craigslist to have NSA sex with you. Beautiful women don’t need to advertise. The websites that advertise with attractive women’s photos and claims of loneliness are baloney. All they want is your money and your personal information so that they can market to you. The posts on Craigslist by young “women” seeking NSA sex, and asking for a picture are just a bunch of gay troll pic collectors. This is especially true if the post uses common gay lexicon like “hole” as in “fuck my hole” or seeks “masculine” men, or uses the word cock (except in the context of “Don’t send a cock shot.”) There are women on Craigslist. They are easily recognizable by their 2-5 paragraph postings. Most are in their 30′s or older.

25. When you become a man in full, know that people will get in your way. People who are attracted to you will somehow manage to step in your path. Gay guys will give you “the look”. Old people will somehow stumble in front of you at the worst time. Don’t get frustrated. Just step aside and go about your business. Know that these are passive aggressive methods to get you to acknowledge their existence.

26. Don’t gay bash. Don’t mentally or physically abuse people because of who they are, or how they present themselves. It’s none of your business to try to intimidate people into conformity.

27. If your gay, admit it to yourself, your parents, your friends and society at large. Be prepared to get harassed. See rule 14. If someone threatens you or assaults you, call the cops. Have them arrested. You have no obligation to self sacrifice because of who you are. As a gay person, you’ll have more social freedom than straight men. Use it to protect yourself. Be prepared to get out of Dodge if your orientation makes your life unbearable. Move to San Francisco, New York, Atlanta, or New Orleans. You’ll find a welcoming community there.

28. Don’t be a poser. Avoid being one of those dudes who puts a surfboard on top of their car, but never surfs, or a dude with a powder coated fixed gear bike and a messenger bag, but was never a messenger. Live the life. Earn your bonafides.

29. Don’t believe the crap about the patriarchy. More women are accepted and attend college. More degrees are awarded to women than men. Women outlive men. More men commit suicide. Men are twice as likely to be victims of violence, including murder. If you consider sexual assaults in prisons, twice as many men are raped as women (society thinks prison rape is funny). The streets are littered with homeless men, sprinkled with a few homeless women. Statically,women are happier than men. The myth that girls are being cheated by our educational system is belied by the fact that schools are bastions of femininity, mostly run by and taught by women. Girls outperform boys in school. It is the boys in school getting fucked over, and prescribed Ritalin for being boys. Real wages for men are falling, while real wages for women are rising. Just because someone says something enough times, doesn’t make it true. You have nothing to feel guilty about.

30. Remember, 97% of all advice is worthless. Take what you can use, and trash the rest.

vicioustwist | sanfrancisco |02-15-07

...

This is from A Continuous Lean, those who are familiar with the site will know the happiness in my heart after reading this post. It's from a man of taste, style, provenance and impeccable nature.

Forgive the grammatical errors, the author of ACL intentionally left the errors in place, much as I have done to retain the essence of the article. I think the post is highly motivational and consists of real talk points for young men as well as other members of our society. 

Though placed in an Americana setting, the salient point in the article ring true. The many fallacies and legends are falling apart, much like the decaying notion of what it takes to be a man.

I thought myself as someone who has grown into something desirable, as per my preferences but as days go on, I realize that I am far from the man I want to be: words, actions and thoughts wise. And that path to discovery that I am still to take excites the hell out of me. It always will. Even if I get to that age when I still try to kick my way out of a headstone.

There are indeed many things that make a man. But don't take my word for it.

pantyhosed

“A man is not old until regrets replace dreams.”  -John Barrymore

Photo credits: Clayton Cubitt.

Visit the man's colossal pinboard of interesting finds and perspective here.

I've been thinking of creating a Tumblr account for a while now. My friend suggested the thing when I told him he was already famous on the site (among poets and literature peeps) and he is. He suggested that I'd get better reach when it came to audience. Though, I thought, I have all the audience I need in this personal space.

Tumblr has a certain thing for anonymity. The mysterious and the hidden at the same time being exposed and extroverted. Everything is projected outward but with a black strip to mask identities. Clayton Cubitt is not one of those fellas on Tumblr.

He puts out, not in the perverse way. His photographs show just that and his head on approach to the usual secrets in the real world. Gritty, dirty, flashy, real, rigid and starkly familiar. You can say that it's a bit hipster, meh, everyone has his two cents about everything.

I've been following his work for more than 5 months now. And I can say that I highly enjoy his works and his class. Dirty classy.

I especially like the way he connects his photographs with quotations from people I haven't even heard of. It is a diverse collective. His photographs look larger than life but occur within the dimensions as they do. 

i will haze you

I Will Teach All of You How to Live

by Sterling Cooper

Dearest Fraternity Men,

Judging by the majority of the posts on TFM, most of us can agree on a few things: We love women in spite of their terrible attempts at humor; We love top shelf bourbon and the cheapest light beers; We wear the North while we represent the South; We believe in free market capitalism so much that we’d rather kill every baby seal in the world than allow our tax dollars to go the man at the liquor store bragging about how his “Obama check” is paying for his fifth of gin. However, many posts here are troubling to me, and I can no longer stand idle without addressing a few problems.

1. Coming from money is great. It means that you come from good stock, and your family has made something of itself. However, it is not a reason to exclude anyone. Many of the men we purport to respect are self-made success stories. Almost all of my brothers with trust funds have elected not to touch them in favor of making their own way, and having something even grander to pass on to their children. We all love America. Therefore, we make ourselves out to be liars if we scoff at the American Dream.

2. If your fraternity does not haze its pledges, you are in a social club. Whether it is national council-based like “Balanced Man,” or mandated by your respective school’s administration, the lack of hazing denotes a lack of pledging and, in turn, a lack of true brotherhood. We don’t haze to feel superior. We already know that we’re superior. We haze first because we were hazed. It is tradition. We do every alum a disservice if we water down our pledging processes. Pledgeship, while fun for actives, is more about putting raw iron through fire so that it can become steel, than it is about keeping our shoes constantly tied and our drinks constantly full. The reason we are so close to our brothers is because we all went through the same hell and came out the other side.

3. There is a difference between good humor and disrespect toward women. The phrase, “make me a sandwich,” is funny all day long. We pride ourselves on the number of women we sleep with, the attractiveness of said women, and our ability to juggle several at a time while convincing them that this is how college works. All of this is in good fun. But GDIs reading this column, make no mistake, you will find no one faster to defend a woman than a fraternity man. We joke all day long about women’s roles and sexual activity, but when push comes to shove about a woman, we skip pushing and shoving and go straight to fists. Women are beautiful, smart, and funny, and damn it if they don’t have the best invention ever created built into their bodies. Men, don’t feel guilty about making fun of sluts, but don’t you ever dare disparage a woman of true class.

In conclusion, I think it’s important to sum up what being in a fraternity is about, and why we pledge. We don’t take pledges because they’re cool guys or they can drink a lot. We take pledges based on the content of their character. Can you survive the hell we’re about to put you through? Are you worthy of our energy? Can you party like Charlie Sheen, pound like Wilt Chamberlain, work a room like Sinatra, and command a board of directors like Warren Buffett? Will you do something with your life? If these questions lead to “yes,” then you’ll get a chance to prove yourself. GDIs (I know y’all are reading this), let’s get one thing straight: I don’t think I’m better than you. I know for a fact that I’m better than you. In fact, this goes for anyone reading this. I’d probably party with most of y’all. I’d hang out with a few of y’all. But make no mistake, I am better than you, and if you don’t think the same thing about yourself in regard to me, then I don’t want to know you. We aren’t better because we drink a lot. We aren’t better because we have money. We aren’t better because we pledged hard. We aren’t better because we don’t have to buy drinks to get pussy, even though all of these things are true. We’re better because we know we’ll go on to build empires. We’re better because we don’t doubt ourselves. We’re better because we have the secrets, we have the grip, we have the tradition and – most importantly – we have the character of champions. So go out tonight (whatever night you happen to read this), get drunk, make mistakes, find a girl to introduce your dick to, fight a wolverine, punch a liberal in the head…fuck it, rage so hard that your Sperry’s come UNTIED. Just know that whatever shit you get into, all of us are going to make it our primary goal to one-up you. Because that is how brotherhood works.

from www.totalfratmove.com

estranged strangers

I'm Not A Finished Person
by Gaby Dunn

I think I knew who I was better when I was 14 years old than at any other period in my life. The thought kind of depresses me. At 14, I had all these intense beliefs and ideas about myself and other people. I knew I was “a hippie.” I knew my aesthetic of choice included vintage leather bags and fringe and tie-dye. I kept my hair long and wild like Janis Joplin. I listened almost exclusively to classic rock. But I knew I believed in art and in freedom and in helping others. I wrote and I painted and I read poetry and literature. I believed strongly in human rights. I also wanted to shave my head and join the Peace Corps, and I never doubted for a minute that that’s what I’d do.

Even in college, I feel like I was more sure about who I am than I am now. I was a journalist and I believed in that institution wholeheartedly. I thought for sure that I would only ever report the news, and even held some superiority and disdain for pop culture writers. The last big piece I wrote was an interview with “Call Me Maybe” singer Carly Rae Jepsen. Granted it was for the New York Times Magazine (#humblebrag) but it’s certainly not where I thought my career was headed. Nineteen-year-old Gaby would have some choice opinions for current Gaby. And current Gaby would find them cute, but ultimately worthless. Because I’ve adapted and I’ve changed.

As I’ve grown up, things have become less black and white — colored by experience and hearing about other people’s stances and worlds outside my own. I guess this should be obvious but at 24, which is very young still, I am constantly surprised at how my ideas and opinions can shape-shift. As recently as seven months ago, I might have told you something I believed and I might have really, really believed it at the time. I might have been rigid about it. I might have thought that was the only way for me.

And then you meet someone. Or you get diagnosed with something life-changing. Or someone has a baby. Or you have a baby. Or maybe nothing specific happens. Maybe you just read something or spend some time thinking about a topic and you change.

I feel like I change all the time. I don’t think I’m even the same person I was yesterday or last week or last year. In some ways, it makes me uncomfortable. It makes me feel like I’m not a solid person, like I don’t have morals or that I’m not intelligent. At the time, I honestly believe the views I’m holding but in two weeks, I could completely change my mind.

Certainly, I’m not made of Play-do: There are beliefs I’ve long held and can’t anticipate ever backing down on. I have always been and will always be a feminist. I’ll always pause the radio if Eric Clapton is playing. I’ll always think George Harrison is the best Beatle. I will always be a writer, in some capacity. (When I was home for Thanksgiving I found a journal of mine from when I was 13 and one of the entries just said: “Someday I hope I am a writer in New York City.” It made me cry.) So these particular aspects of me are non-negotiable. But I love debating or having deep discussions that challenge why someone feels the way they feel. And often, I am open to changing my mind. Does that make me the weaker party? Does it mean I don’t have values or direction? Does it make me too mold-able or, god forbid, too young?

I’ve been thinking maybe it just makes me an “unfinished person.” I don’t claim to know everything or to think other people can’t teach me valuable lessons. Like Chuck Palahniuk wrote: “Nothing of me is original. I am the combined effort of everybody I’ve ever known.” (And yes, I’m aware that quoting Palahnuik in a 20-something, college-educated penned exploration of identity is highly suspect and unoriginal but go with me.) Maybe I know who I am, as a foundation, and then life will keep happening, building in the assets: a light fixture here, a couch here, a mural there.

I don’t think that’s anything to be ashamed of. A lot of us are “unfinished.” Maybe it’s better to think of yourself that way so you don’t get too set in your ways, strict in your beliefs or high-and-mighty about knowing it all. Maybe no one is ever “finished” and if you think you are, you’re about to be wholly and wonderfully and terribly surprised because that’s the way life works.

...

It makes sense but what's disturbing about this is that it MAKES sense. It is frightening to think about the notion of not knowing yourself fully now as you think you have had back in the day. It's always a fear that creeps up whenever you get your mind to it. Not knowing yourself, the people around you as well. The names and faces that matter may have changed, too. It's some deep shit right there. And I am reading Thought Catalog again.

THE real 100th

ON BEAUTY

I think there are two types of beauty.

The easier kind is inherited beauty. Youth and its accessories. Flawless skin, toned muscles, bright eyes, silken hair. Also, the ageless genetic gifts of symmetry, grace, and form.

While I cannot help but appreciate inherited beauty, I do not respect it as much as the other type of beauty.

Earned beauty. Laugh lines, scars, stretch marks, tattoos, the folding wrinkles of age. These are marks life leaves on the body. A roadmap of a body’s temporal path. Each crease tells a story, each scar a mark of honor.

I’m perplexed by people who buy jeans, or boots, and scuff and distress them right away. Better they should enjoy the inherited beauty of them new, and as life works on them, the earned beauty will shine through. Be patient. Appreciate it. The process is as important as the destination. Earn it.

The same as our bodies age. Enjoy the beauty and blush of youth, but also the patina and mystery of age. Be young and beautiful. Be old and beautiful.

You were given a body. But have you earned it yet?

By Clayton Cubitt

"50-50"

Ito'y isang post mula sa isang talented writer, dating kaklase at batchmate sa pagpasok sa org nung college.

Minsan ang kalaban ng peryodista ay ang deadline, para sa manunulat naman ay ang kawalan ng sanib upang makapagsulat. Sa paglalakbay nya para sa paghahanap ng maisusulat ay nagagawa nya ang iba o karamihan sa mga nakalista.

Ang galing ng pagkakabuo ng simpleng artikulo at sigurado akong marami ang makakarelate dito. Kaya kudos kay Ms. Aina Buenaobra. Di ako magtataka kung mababasa ko ang mga sulat mo sa mga dyaryo o iba pang limbagin dito sa bansa at sa kabuuan ng pagkalawak-lawak na internet.

Bisitahin ang kanyang blog sa Nature.Ethnicity.Women.

Sa kanyang pahintulot ay ipinapaskil ko sa aking blog ang kanyang isinulat.

Sanib (n.), more common term—writer’s inspiration

“Huwag mo ng antayin ang sanib. Journalist ka. Hindi ka aabot sa deadline mo kung aasa ka sa sanib.”

Iyan ang isa sa pinakahindi ko malilimutang linya ni Sir Abner Mercado sa aming klase noon. Sinabi niya ito upang ipaalala sa amin na kaakibat ng pagiging peryodista o mamamahayag ang deadlines. Maliwanag naman sa akin ang aral na ito, ngunit ang masaklap ay ang identity crisis ng pagiging peryodista at pagiging manunulat.

Kung ikaw ay 50% journalist at 50% writer, malaki ang magiging problema mo. Karaniwan kasi ng may 50-50 na kalagayan ay nangangailangan muna ng sanib bago sila makasulat. Ilan sa mga problema ng pagsusulat ng walang sanib ay ang mga sumusunod: 

1. Johny Pa-deep. Hango mula sa pangalan ng sikat na artistang si Johny Depp. Una sa mga problema ng may 50-50 ay ang tunog Johny Pa-deep. Nais ng bawat manunulat na magkalaman at lumalim ang kaniyang artikulo. Ngunit asahan mong kapag walang “sanib,”imbes na matalinhaga, pa-deep ang kalalabasan ng artikulo. Trying hard kumbaga dahil nag-try naman ng hard ang manunulat upang matapos ang artikulo kahit walang sanib. 
2. Happy New Year! Bakit happy new year? Dahil sabog! Sabog na sabog ang article na isinusulat mo. May mga pagkakataon na sabog dahil ang dami mong magagandang ideya at isinusulat mo lahat iyon. Ang problema, hindi mo sila mapagtugma-tugma o kayang buuin bilang isa. Sabog din kung isip ka ng isip pero wala kang maisip kaya nag-free writing ka na lang. Yung nasulat mo, malayo sa tema ng artikulo na dapat mong tapusin. 
3. The researcher. Wala ka namang gagawing thesis o research paper pero hala! Sige! Maghapon ka sa library, basa ng basa ng kung anu-ano. O di kaya maghapon kang online nagtitingin-tingin ng kung anu-ano ulit. Bakit ka nagpapaka-researcher? Simple lang. Dahil umaasa kang magiging inspirasyon mo ang isa sa random books orandom posts sa internet. Umaasa kang sa pamamagitan ng anumang makikita mo, ikaw ay magkakasanib. Umasa ka lang at walang nangyari. 
4. The wanderer. Parang The researcher din pero imbes na pagbabasa, paggala naman ang ginagawa mo upang makahanap o makakita ng mga bagay, tao, lugar, o hayop na magbibigay ng sanib sa iyo. Palakad-lakad ka lang sa kalsada, sa parkeng malapit sa bahay niyo, sa mall, sa ecotrail, sa banchetto, at kung saan-saan pa. Kakalakad mo, nakalimutan mo ng magsusulat ka nga pala. Fail!
5. Combo. Combo, ibig sabihin, kailangan mo ng kombinasyon ng The researcher at The wanderer para magkasanib. Lalo ng nagkaloko-loko! Siguradong hindi ka na makakapagsulat kapag ganito. 
6. The Script. Bakit The Script? Kasi “Nothing.” Dahil wala kang sanib at hindi tumalab ang sanib-invoking activities na ginawa mo—you finished NOTHING. Kawawa ka naman. 

Pero ‘wag kang malungkot. Ganyan talaga ang buhay. Minsan nga yung sanib mo talbog pa yung kay Emily Rose eh! Darating din ang sanib mo. Magdasal ka lang na dumating ‘yon bago ang itinakdang deadline kundi siguradong exorcised ang kahahantungan mo.