May

May was meh.

The new job is, well, a new job. I have nothing to say about this for now. Everything is going fine for the most part, and the few things that bother me can be addressed some other time.

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April

The initial plan was to write something with a little arte, like maybe start with a scene description from Noah Baumbach’s Frances Ha, maybe include a dialog or two, and then fluidly transition into a persuasive thesis statement on adulthood, credit scores, and being “undateable.” Too bad I’m too lazy to pull that off, so I’m just gonna go ahead and say,

Hey, guys — it’s gonna be May! (N*SYNC, anyone?)

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March

I watched six movies this month. Five out of six were romance films; the odd one out was Captain Marvel.

I didn’t write notes about these movies. I didn’t even think about them that much. I needed to rest my mind; I had enough shit to worry about this month.

When I watched Alone/Together I cried practically the entire time. I didn’t, no — I couldn’t think too much about the film. I don’t even remember anything about it; I just know that the tears started pouring the moment I saw CAL.

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February

I welcomed February with exactly $0 in my bank account. Usually I save at least a hundred bucks after each billing cycle — but this month? Pff. I had nada.

“We got bills to pay,” sings Taylor Swift. So this month I paid the bills, I took charge of my brother’s rent (long story and not mine to tell) and I shouldered other expenses too. I couldn’t even let my paychecks simmer into oblivion. They were gone as soon as they arrived; it was instant sublimation.

But I’m fine, I guess. My family still eats regularly, I still have a job, and I can still afford to drink beer every now and then. I come from a lower middle class household so treading the fringes of financial stability isn’t new to me. I’m used to this; we’ll survive eventually.

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January

What is it about revolutions around the sun that triggers strange sentimentality in people?

I’ve been a cynic my entire life that for so long, temporal markers have done nothing to me and my jaded butt. Why care about resolutions, anniversaries, and even birthdays when everything is doomed to end anyway? I think the great absurdists of my time had a point when they asked, “ano pang point?”

But when the calendars changed about a month ago, I realized that maybe this “why bother” attitude is an entire demon on its own. Mary Oliver (bless her soul 😢) was right: darkness, too, can be a gift.

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