Unsent Texts

Texting is not one of my specialties. My friends think it's terrible, my mother doesn't mind, and my mind says I could work on it. By the end of the day, I am still one terrible texter (woah is that a legit word?!?). I could receive a message, scroll my notification bar to see it, reply it in my mind, and baaaaam! forget that it ever reached me. However, everyone has somehow coped up with the given situation and they accept my (in)sincere apologies with open arms.

Except the fact I am terrible at this game, some texts really intrigue me to compose a reply so epic, a publishing company might want to publish them in a book called 'texts from nightmares' or something cooler than this one. I couldn't send them. But I could write about them. YASSS.
- these kinda 'shaming' texts do not work on me. You're disappointing who and who and who. The only true disappointment I could ever feel is from me to me when I fail to accomplish a task exclusively mine. The rest isn't my concern. BYE FELICIA!
- duh I just had to bring tea, my love my bae, in this punny text series. I don't mind if someone openly expresses their disapproval towards me, it couldn't matter less to me *grinning*
- okay so I don't mind compliments showering me or something but coming from wrong person, instead of a staged thank you, my accurate response is this.

And of course, there's a reason why they're gonna be called unsent texts. Because I wouldn't like to start a riot with some text-ish sassiness.

*flips hair*

what are your kinds of unsent texts?

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PS: watch 'art journal with me: process + tutorial' on my YouTube channel


Deadline Chaser

I have a problem. And it has become so permanent that it doesn't feel like a problem anymore.

I am a deadline chaser, due date dedicator. I get my work done on time, umm maybe a few minutes before the deadline, which isn't a flattering habit. I am almost sick of it, but things do not work out otherwise.
I was an aspiring A Type once. Folders neatly done with tags and books lined up, like trained soldiers, to be read. Everything looked perfect, from the look of it, of course. It never worked for me.

My brain has a permanent chaos running through it and it only stops to work when the due date waves a hello; then I have to wave back. I have come to accept the fact that if it's the only way I can work, without pretending to be an A-Type person with multiple notes sticking on my planner or events extensively planned ahead for the rest of the week, I am fine with it.
I was worrying and almost sobbing to myself how my life should be a masterpiece of perfectly curated plans and events, a life where I work by the ticking of clock and nothing happens without having it mentioned in my fancyass planner. Afterall, it's in the unwritten books of my beloved preppy lifestyle. But I feel uncertain about it.

What works for me is working when I can. Chasing sunlight right before twilight to take photos in natural light, hastily scribbling down words for assignments, and finishing things off two minutes before they're due; they work for me.

So while I dream for the fancy A Type things and hopelessly buy more preppy stationery, I am profoundly ready to be myself, a deadline chaser.
What kind of person are you; deadline chaser or A Type pro?
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The Skin Screams

If someone would have told 7-year-old me that people were going to rate a person by the color of their skin, I would have started a fist fight. Flash forward to this time, I think I'm pretty helpless now. I see people discussing dark skins if they were a problem. If lighter skins were the only symbol of beauty, half of this world would be deprived of beauty. But it's not the only measure. It really shouldn't be.
I was never told how things like that could happen. My childhood is full of memories of running wildly with my friends when we played silly games, reading books, made up of old pages and new pages smell, and so many adventures that are not saved in my memory anymore but they left the aura of their occurrence. It seemed like life would always be like this, people would only worry about why I don't have good marks in certain subjects, girls of my age would only care about who got the highest grades in college. Out of all sort of problems life could offer, it offered the problem of skin colors.

I hate it when people point out 'skins'. 'You could do xyz to fair your skin color' 'Have you thought about using a product to lighten your skin color a bit?'
I see it happening all the time. In the society where my roots are, people want a fair bride for their sons, fair faces to be called beautiful, and fair skins to be cheered.
I once read a quote ( I only vaguely remember it) that said don't point out something in a person that they can't change in 10 seconds. When I talk about how having a brown/dark/not-fairly-white skin is a problem, I'm reminded how my skin is fair than those I'm talking for. My skin is fair but still brown. And if the brown skin is ever going to be discussed, I'll add my bit. I am doing it right now.

I don't care how someone looks like, whether their skins is darker or lighter than mine, or things that are beyond their control. I want to be around people who are striving hard every day to be better, who are innovative and creative, who are kind and speak the words that comfort the ears.
(s/o to hair tool : Irresistable Me's Diamond Styler - review here )

Beauty is a whole another thing; not just a skin color. If you're ever going to need a reason to be bigger than someone else, find a dignified way. Do better things than them, be kinder than them, be more successful than them. If you cannot be all these things, don't point out the things you were born with yet they didn't.
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