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"I want to learn how I want to live."  It comes from a conversation with a friend in my last year of college—this idea's been stuck in my head for the year or so since then.  In a broad sense, I'm an adult. In a broad sense, I know what I'm doing. In a broad sense, I'm going in some sort of direction, toward some sort of destination. What exactly the destination is, I'm not sure—but circumstance has set me on a course, and following it has felt easy enough.  But things have changed this past year. As this place—as the circumstances I've accepted as "reality" have grown less and less sustainable for my long-term existence, maybe it's time I question where the hell this path is taking me. What are Dreams? Since I was in elementary school, teachers and movies and motivational speakers have told me to chase my dreams. So much so that I got kind of sick of it. My life has been a series of simple goals. Get good grades. Get into a good school. ...

i'll get to the point.  if i respond to your message several days late, with a "sorry i didn't see this" or "oh i didn't get a notification", there's a good chance i'm lying.  here's approximately what i'm trying to say. this shit's hard, ok. sometimes i'll mark-unread a message so i don't forget. sometimes i don't. in theory it should be easy. i see a notification, type up a response in 20 seconds, and get on with whatever i'm doing. but that just doesn't happen sometimes. i see the message icon pop up (or i realize i've ghosted someone for like a solid week), and a sort of existential dread holds me back from even looking at it. there's a whole area of research around how the internet and social media have eroded the boundaries within our lives—the whole pile of hats we wear, whether it's the personal life hat, the social life hat, or the work hat.  i find wearing the people-interacting hat is a bit l...

I've never felt more human than at this moment, walking out of Walmart with two pool noodles I have absolutely no use for.  People give me strange looks. But let them. I'm free. Free of the cage of "sanity", that the world has built around itself. I can do anything. And that includes buying as many relatively-inexpensive instruments of whimsy as I want. Look at them! They're so colorful. And swingable. And make a nice sound when you hit things. And unlike when I was a child, NOBODY can stop me. Ahem. When considering "what makes us human", I think a big part is our ability to make decisions—or to "exercise free will", if you want to get fancy.  This is the case with anything we create: it's all about the series of tiny decisions we make. The choice to put that particular chord there, to use that specific shade of purple, to have this structure of 3-item list all over the place—creation is channeling our experience into a series of inimitabl...

You know that kid. The one who minds their own business, but will do anything to help a stranger. The one who stays quiet, nodding along with whatever is said.  The one who knows that mistakes are how you learn, but fears the rejection that mistakes will bring. Silence is safety, and in that safety they choose to remain. Tell them, You who were taught to give, and not to take. To listen, and not to object. To appear when needed, and cease to exist otherwise: There will come a day when you are left behind. When you see that the path you walk leads nowhere. When you must realize that the world is not your friend.  To treat it as such is a fatal misunderstanding. This world leaves no place for those who doubt themselves. It will not thank you for being inoffensive. When you hesitate, it will not wait.  You cannot care too freely in a world that doesn’t care about you. Time and effort are precious and limited. Learn when they are valued—when they are not, give sparingly. Choo...

 a/n: is that how you format author's notes? it is now! whew what a mess, i hope this is at least coherent. i tried to avoid sounding preach-ey or like some sorta inspirational speaker cause that feels annoying and condescending, hopefully that worked. writing isn't sacred. which sounds obvious—the act of putting words next to each other is second nature to us. we write when we text a friend. we write when we name files on our computer. when we make shopping lists and other reminders to ourselves.  "oh, but that isn't REAL writing", you might be thinking.  for a long time, i would've agreed. there's real writing. and then there's the silly unserious unimportant writing that most people (and i) do.  but hold it a second. "real" and "fake" are bold distinctions to make. to quote the professor responding to my half-assed answer in an 8am discussion section i skipped the reading for, "please elaborate on that." to be a bit dra...

(yes the title's a bit long-winded sue me) it's been more than 2 years since Bocchi the Rock started airing. if you haven't seen it yet, you should do that. if you're not into that type of stuff, then what are you doing here.  the show itself does a lot to build on the original manga by aki hamaji : banger ost, really creative animation direction, and incredible work by the voice actors. but i wanna focus on its protagonist, bocchi herself. ( Bocchi the Rock , episode 2) more specifically, why does this pink anxiety blob live rent free in my head? (oh, spoilers ahead, though this isn't a show that minds that much) "girlfailure" is a character archetype defined by being pathetic to the point of endearment. these are your huohou star rails, cirno touhous, the entire konosuba squad, etc. train wrecks of characters, massively flawed to the point of being entertaining. and there's bocchi, of course. the thought of starting a social media account turns her ...