ginger the thief

Sounds like a pretty good story… except it’s not. It’s the hashtag I use to document a family pet’s habit of stealing my seat or distracting me from working.

Her name was Ginger and she passed away this afternoon. Practically in my arms. She was an adorable mixed breed of Pomeranian and Chihuahua. She was adorable. Didn’t bark too often but she suffered from an enlarged heart and fluids in her lungs.

My mom adopted her back in 2011 from a woman who was scheduled to fly back to her birth country to retire and be surrounded by her family. She couldn’t take Ginger, so she put out a contest, a writing contest for anyone. Whoever could prove to be the best parent and home, she would give Ginger to them. My mom won.

We welcomed her into our home quickly and almost flawlessly. Ever since then she’s been right there.

We used to watch all sorts of tv shows together from Pretty Little Liars to Hercule Poroit to The Secret of Kells to the very last show we saw together today, Trollhunters Season 2 because we watched the first together last year. She enjoyed the occasional vlog on Youtube. We listened to French cafe songs with the occasional rap songs. We loved the classics and instrumentals. I think she was fond of Johann Pachelbel but I couldn’t find my collection. We took naps, far more than we should’ve.

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She always understood that I needed cuddling during that time of the month. And I cuddled with her as many times for however long I could. This little girl was very close to my heart.

When I lost my first pet- my own very first pet PJ- I was sad. Losing Ginger is devastating. I only had PJ for half a year. I’ve been with Ginger for almost a decade. It was getting there.

I never imagined last Christmas would be our last Christmas with her.

c2ecf946bdaf8490d4d315127131b22ccb60c4a4_hq You never really know when someone’s last Christmas will be or when any of their lasts will be… Today was the last time I’d be sitting on the couch with her, watching tv. Today would be the last time she enters my room, bothers me, prevents me from working, and just cuddles with me. Today was the last day she’d hear my voice.

I’m extremely sad but I’m really glad I put everything down to be with her at just the right moment. I’m will never regret not finishing work because she wanted to be with someone today. I’m relieved to know that she didn’t die alone.

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making art and reading poetry

So, I tried something new today. Sort of.

I read my poetry out loud… and I recorded it.

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Hear me out first before I show you the video. I’ve been dying to mesh together my love for art and writing on one platform for forever. I mean, I self-advertise here on my blog all the time but it never felt right. When I made the video, I immediately thought, “wow, this is super cool”. Granted that I am totally in love with my work and with myself these days. Lol.

Least to say, I was pleasantly surprised.

I picked some old poems to fit the artwork. I hope you guys enjoy it. I’m thinking I may do it again and maybe even read Listening to Georgiana and other stories I have. I really like reading aloud. Hehehe.

 

(I think this video is rather fitting for this year… My aunt’s getting married this coming Wednesday. My sister’s getting married June. This commission was for a friend’s mom, reminding her of the wonderful years she had with her late husband. It’s Spring. I mean, I’m all about love.)

february ain’t so lovely

I’ve been running my art “business” since the year began. It hasn’t been that long but I’ve certainly had my ups and downs since the first of January.

ko-fiI’ve come across a fair amount of hiccups for one starting out a small business/debuting as a freelancer… however you’d like to see this venture.

They’ve varied quite a bit from a laptop no longer able to take my constant load of work to the feng shui of my room/office. It’s all getting to me.

So let’s begin with what had to be done about my laptop.

He needed to get rebooted for one but not before I was able to transfer all my files out which did pose a great problem. I didn’t have enough storage space in my eight-year-old external hard drive. The good thing about it though is that I’ve actually been making money at this time. I dodged the bullet. I bought another WD hard drive. Moved all my stuff… but what am I going to work with now? Thankfully, my supportive sister offered to invest in my art. Okay, cool. Got a new equipment specifically for my art needs. Awesome. But then my drafting table became too short in length and too wide for actual workspace. I couldn’t maneuver around the desk. It was a disaster. Within a week, I felt cramped, overstuffed, and overwhelmed. Continue reading

friends lead to tears | rant

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Everyone has a point of breaking. I find that mine is often when I talk about my struggles with depression, the lack of support I received, the lack of family and friends I was able to reach out to, and the misconstrued perception of depression.

Some have said, we cry during arguments and discussions because we feel so deeply about the subject. Oh, how true this is.

As all my readers here know, I have depression. It’s not something I contracted from someone else or not something I can drive away with medicine. It’s there and will always be a part of me. It’s tiresome hearing people take it lightly or think of it as a joke just as much as I think it’s not okay to laugh when someone tells you a story about abuse or bullying. It’s not okay to say that you are smart and turn around and do stupid things you know are stupid.

It’s never going to be okay.

My family is like that.

When I talk to friends, I always end up tearing up or crying because they’re the family I’ve chosen for myself. They’re the family that I know I’ve chosen because they understand or are willing to.

So when people tell me, you should love your family, I want to say, but do they love me? Do they love me enough to understand or WANT to understand? Do they love me and choose to be better people? If you have someone in your life struggling, would you really laugh at a stranger who is also struggling? You wouldn’t if it were you struggling. You wouldn’t because you know but you don’t need to know to WANT to understand.

I’m especially critical of my parents who preach day in and day out the Catholic beliefs, who go to church every Sunday, my mother who is part of a choir, goes every first Friday. She gossips. A LOT. She bullies. She’s mean. She pretends to be saintly. She talks behind people’s back. She believes she is her best self even though she knows she does all those. I have pointed it out more than I wish I have had to. My father, he is close-minded. He is a victim of my mother’s bullying but is a bully himself. He is mean. He is a racist. He gossips. He criticizes while turning around and doing the same things he has criticized. And to him, I also point out the flaws I wish they’d correct.

I tell them over and over again, the same way I have to repeat, I am depressed regardless of the smiles. I have to repeat, it takes all my energy to get up. I get dressed to pump myself up for today. I have to give myself a pep-talk, positive affirmations because they don’t. I think better of myself so that I can better.

Why is all of this important?

Why wouldn’t it be?

If you think that just because you practice a religion or something you’re automatically a good person, then you’re dead wrong. You have to actually be a good person in the way you act, not the way you pray. And if you tell people to love their parents, know their situations first. I do love mine but sometimes, I don’t and that’s okay. I don’t have to love my bullies—who would.

being a bad friend

 

After watching the above video, I got to thinking about how I was like growing up. What type of person and artist was I?

I was probably the friend who bullied a Suzy. I grew up thinking that I was great at art and I was especially exceptional in comparison to others. I’ve obviously learned otherwise. Not only did I learn it the hard way, or that I didn’t improve because of similar reasons to this video but also I also became a better person because I realized how I’m really not all the bee’s knees.

I’d just like to point out, I was not the friend mentioned in the video and I don’t know Lemia Crescent personally. I only thought to make this blog because I felt like in some way, I was that sort of friend and thinking about it, I felt quite disappointed in past me. Lol

Setting aside how I grew up and what lies were being filled into my head, I was the kind of child surrounded by toxic personalities. In Georgiana, I talk about this poisonous environment I surrounded myself in but that was teenager me. What I recall now is somewhere around the time I was nine or ten. I was in grade school and around a year or two of living in States (because I moved when I was 8 from the Philippines).

Everybody thought I was quite talented and no one seemed to hold a candle to my innate skills. As a child, I thought, wow, I’m so wonderful. So wonderful became so great, so creative, and overall the best creation of God… well, not to that extreme but my ego did swell.

Around the time I was nine or ten, a newly immigrated Filipino girl (ie not me but sounds like me) enrolled in the same school. She was talented and she was smart. As you know, I had issues with others being smarter than me because of how I grew up. So, right off the bat, I didn’t like her.

I didn’t treat her well and when I did, it was to save face. I was the goody-two-shoes type of girl and I wasn’t going to break that image even though I was extremely jealous.

Thinking about it now, I bred a lot of negativity between my set of friends and hers. Behind each others’ backs, we talked about each other. And before you say, how do you know she talked bad about you, I only found out later on in high school that that was the case. I wasn’t liked and to be honest, I wouldn’t have liked me either. I was a slight snobby and a lot like a maldita (which means a real pain in the butt lol to put it nicely). I wasn’t the best person I could be. I wish now that I had just befriended her and shared our interests with each other. Maybe at some point, we did talk but all I could remember is this younger version of me hating on her.

I guess, overall, this was another one of my reflections and goes to show how proud I am of me for the growth I’ve achieved in the last two years. I’m sure that if I had looked back at this before my healing journey, I wouldn’t have thought much about it. I hope she’s doing well and that she’s still drawing if not professionally then as a hobby because if memory serves me right, she was one heck of an artist.