working on a sort function-- perhaps i should sort my reviews and ratings in some sort of library? unclear. we will work it out!

CAR SEAT HEADREST DROPPED!!!!!! SCREAMING CRYING KICKING MY FEET!!!! YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN ME LEAP OUT OF MY CHAIR AND MAKE A MAD DASH FOR MY HEADPHONES!!!!!!

in other news, check out their webquest here

tabernacle tabernacle,

lately, i have been procrastinating like never before.

about two weeks ago, i had this huge history project due, and... god, i don't know why i chose to code the whole thing from scratch. i set my own expectations too high before i even started. after a little too much procrastination over break, i was stuck writing pages upon pages of seeming endless papers on random elizibethan history and cramming the formatting of those papers into my buggy little website.

i think that week and a half was genuinely one of the darkest times of my life thus far. seventeen years and i don't think i've ever been unhappier.

many a time, as i drove to school in the morning, i clutched the steering wheel, with my head pounding, and thought "i want to get in an accident." genuinely. as in, yes, i truly was considering suicide to postpone turning in that stupid history project.

which begs the question: if i knew the project would be so difficult and if i knew the project would take up so much of my time, why did i neglect to do it before it reached that point? and, truth be told, i Could Not Tell you.

i suppose the discontent of actually doing what i have to outweighs the discontent at knowing i'll have to do it at some point. i'll push off projects until the scales in my favor, though, to call it "in my favor" is both a definite exaggeration and assumed under extremely liberal defining terms.

does it make a difference, though? i'm unhappy both ways, whether i've done the project or not, and i always end up turning it in.

it might be unsustainable-- actually, scratch that. it's definitely unsustainable. i can't continue pulling the metaphorical wool over my own eyes like this for much longer. but until then, it's working, and heaven knows i'll drain the working until i regret it.

probably procrastinating,

i was prowling through the site of one of the people who inspired me to make a neocities page in the first place (big huge shoutout to her!!) when i stumbled upon a dream journal. as someone prone to... well, creative dreams, i decided what better than to dedicate a portion of my journal to analyzing these dreams? so, here's one i had a few days before halloween, analyzed.

the dream

in the dream, i awake alone in a corn maze. it's dark out, rainy, and the entire maze smells like wet hay. like the horse stables used to smell when all the feces were frozen. there's this sense of urgency, like i absolutely have to get out of the maze as quickly as possible, or else some unnamed Really Bad Thing will happen.

there are a series of puzzles i have to complete to get out of the maze, alongside navigating the maze itself. the first nine i honestly can't remember now-- i only know that by the time i get to the tenth puzzle, i'm exhausted, and really fucking terrified. i'm running out of time.

anyway, i stumble into the corn-clearing where the puzzle is, and there's just this singular jack-o-lantern sitting in the middle of the field. it is looking right at me. all around me, the rain is pouring down, and the corn is swaying back and forth in a non-existent breeze, leaves rubbing against each other in whispers, like that one scene in the A Wrinkle in Time movie.

i stare at the jack-o-lantern for a moment. it stares back at me. and then, in my head, i know what i must do. i have to fuck the jack-o-lantern.

shakily, i walk forward. the jack-o-lantern's circular little eyes and conveniently circular little mouth stare up at me in fear. but i have to do it, because if i don't, Something Really Bad will happen. i unzip my pants.

pulling down my pants is an ordeal. the button takes too long to pop, and zipper gets stuck, and the tight fabric gets stuck around my thighs. and as i'm trying to shake the last leg free, the unthinkable happens: i get a hamstring cramp. stumbling around, i try to get a hold of myself, but my right foot gets caught behind my left, and i fall into the pumpkin, crushing it. and then i'm sitting there, pants pooled around my legs, dick(?) out, covered in pumpkin mush in the middle of the corn maze. the corn around me bends in, pulling me into the rest of the corn, whispering all the while. my pants get dragged off, then the rest of my clothes, and i'm devoured by the corn.

i awake again, and this time, i can't move. my eyes are stuck open and my mouth won't close either. and then i look down. i am a fucking jack-o-lantern. in the middle of a clearing in a corn maze. footsteps approach from around the corner and i know what will happen before the stranger even approaches.

i look up. please, i try to mouth, to no avail. pants unzip. fabric shakes. and then they stumble. trip forward. land on me.

i am smushed into a pile of pumpkin gore.

some lackluster analysis:

okay, okay, i know. what the fuck, right? yeah, that was my reaction too: i woke up in genuine cold sweat, shaking, probably still thinking i was a jack-o-lantern. however, do not disaccount the philisophical depth of this dream. i swear, my subconcious is onto something.

first matter of importance, though perhaps not the most absurd... well, maybe the most absurd. the fact that, in dreamscape, i have a dingdong, a mini me, a little fleshstick, is nothing new. i have a dick in many a dream. this dream, however, is the first time that i am made aware of it, and explicitly forced to use it in a no less sexual manner.

phallic imagery, or whatever frued calls lamps and hot dogs, is not uncommon in dreams, i don't think. of the little knowledge i have regarding psychoanalysis (god, freud was a weird one), i'm fairly sure that the presence of a phallus implies agency and power in the form of masculinity. which, frankly, is quite the opposite to what's going on in my dream as i am literally the one WITHOUT agency, forced to comply to the whims of some higher power. but i guess, as the one forced to do the fucking, at least, in the beginning, i have more agency than the pumpkin. i'm trapped somewhere in between, with enough control to keep up the illusion of having power, but not enough have agency over my body and my actions. inherently, the entire process of going through the maze and choosing to fuck the pumpkin, even if i failed, is a performance of masculinity, where i constantly try to trick the audience, and myself in the process, that i know what i'm doing and am doing it on purpose.

now for the actual trial. three conditions: i don't want to fuck the pumpkin, i get to choose if i want to fuck the pumpkin, and if i don't fuck the pumpkin something really really bad will happen. so really, did i ever have a choice in fucking the pumpkinp? or was it just coercion disguised as a choice? i guess i'm feeling used, like i'm being manipulated into doing something that i really don't want to do. and the burden of guilt that weighs down is left entirely on me, because i was presented with the illusion to refuse in the first place.

i'd also like to make a distinction: i don't think that this dream is about sex-- at least, not really. sure, i'm being forced to commit some act that is sexual in nature, but i don't think that's really what it is. it didn't feel like sex; rather, it was more violent, more dehumanizing. (though, now that i'm writing it out, i suppose that could be some commentary on sex or whatever.) i'm being forced to fuck, but i'm doing it for my survival (car seat headrest reference?)

there was more i wanted to write... but i've lost my train of thought. i'll update this when i remember again.

more dreams to come. this was fun,

new year's resolutions are such a commitment.

it feels like every year i give up too soon cumulates in the underlying sense of apathy that threatens to break through the temporary vigor that comes with a facade of a fresh start. "this year, i'll change." how many times in my life have i thought that? not just on january first, either-- how many times has it been a day, a week, a month later, when i catch myself rotting in my room, staring at the ceiling, with yet another unfinished project lying forgotten between the slats of my bed? dust patterned into greyish carpet, i peek through the cracks of my comfortor at the clothes on floor and think "starting now. the years before didn't count."

i could attribute this to so many things, each falling into the previous. everything causes something, or so it seems, because it feels like my inability to follow through on any of my resolutions is a result of every little thing that i've ever done in my entire life. but i suppose the greatest reason is my denial in the since that there isn't some magical thing about the new year that will make my resolution come true. a resolution means that i have to work for my goals, like every other common person.

something about new years has always given me the impression that what i wish for on december 31st will magically come true come morning so long as i wish hard enough. so if i squeeze my eyes shut and will tears into the corner of my eyes maybe whichever old man is watching me from the heavens above will pity my state enough to make my dreams come true.

and when i wake up, inevitably, and nothing has changed, do i have a right to feel disappointed? or maybe the only rights i have are in dragging myself out of bed and starting another mundanely guilt filled day. if only i'd spent the last day working on myself rather than wishing i was working on myself. if only, if only, but i still haven't learned.

so i don't have a resolution, if you're asking. i haven't even thought about it. give me a day, or two, or maybe a week, and i'll get back to you on that. if anything, the only way a resolution has any meaning is if the resolve exists, and at the moment, it doesn't.

i haven't pooped since last year,

christmas has always been my favorite time of year--all the holiday cheer, the jolly spirit in the air... i admit, i'm exaggerating. but, all jokes aside, seeing the lights glowing in the dark evenings when driving back from yet another late practice, stepping into a warm house from the frigid outside air, and sipping hot ginger tea as i'm doing my homework makes me happy to be alive.

i could never relate to seasonal depression, at least, not for the wintertime. is summer depression a thing? because i would have that.

given my love for winter, the holiday season feels like a love letter to that. jingle-bell saturated songs playing 24/7 from the radio, odes to the very things i adore about winter: the creeping expectations of snow, of thanksgiving (not the holiday, though i love that too), of time with friends and family--i love it all.

this year, though, felt different.

to be honest, christmas really crept up on me this year. it seemed like school started, i blinked, and all of a sudden the first semester of my junior year was almost over, and oh wow! winter break. i barely had time to prepare presents for all my family members. junior year had really been taking its toll on me, what with the everpresent tests and the foreboding future of college applications breathing down my neck since september. so all that lead up to christmas might have happened, but i missed it in my depression nap of doing, well, everything and nothing at all at the same time. on christmas eve, i hauled the old plastic tree my parents had bought at costco all those years ago out of the garage and decorated it with my brother, running my fingers along the lines of all the ornaments, memories from too long ago. we didn't have any christmas lights this year, but the house on the corner more than made up for our lacking.

christmas day was nice. my parents forgot to get me a present this year, so they settled for a box of chocolates that will inevitably sit in the back of the pantry for the next year and a half. i bought myself and my brother minecraft with money that i had earned watching him and the house while my parents attended a concert. i can only hope i'll have time to play with him between all the rushing about for my educational future. we invited a few old family friends over for dinner and i stuffed myself with hot pot until i could hardly breathe.

i went to bed early that night, saying my goodbyes before our friends had even left, stumbling up the stairs, feeling like i was about to puke everywhere. i didn't shower, just climbed into bed, curled up in my sheets, and thought about how i should probably do some laundry tomorrow. everything felt a little lacking; everything felt a little hollow. i hadn't woken up excited like i always had, skipped steps down the stairs to check on the presents under the tree, stuck my hand in my stockings to feel around for trinkets. no, i'd woken up an hour later than usual, sat on my bed in the dark, curtains still drawn, and tried to ignore the mess of papers and clothes on the ground. and the rest of the day, too, i had just floated around, like some sort of ghost, preoccupied not with the past, but with all those things i had set off for tomorrow.

it feels as though i am writing about nothing. am i just getting older? is this just a reflection of my own maturing mentality?

maybe i thought i could retain that sense of happiness and naivety for a little longer. maybe i hoped that for the rest of my life, i could continue to set aside a day of celebration for nothing at all, like my younger brother who'd raced around, joyous, waving his new kirby game around and around and around. or this is just because i'd set aside my worries for too long, and now that it's the end of the year, and i have to do all this shit, i can't enjoy anything anymore, too caught up with how i'm literally drowning in all my responsibilities.

the doom and gloom from christmas day, made worse by my realization of it, has carried through to now, enough that i am sitting here writing about it. is this regret or dread?

next year, santa better save me. next year, i can believe that things will be better.

happy late christmas!

please check out monomania here.

full disclosure, this is far from the first time i've heard this album, and most certaintly won't be the last time i listen to it, HOWEVER--i'm tearing bits and pieces of this review from my now defunct rym account while the meat of the review will be my thoughts currently. it feels fitting, at least; certain circumstances have fallen into place, and i find myself listening to this album a lot more than other car seat headrest releases recently.

romantic theory

romantic theory started as one of my favorite songs off this album-- punchy guitar, the cutest little riffs up top, and a catchy chorus of "lalalas" in true car seat headrest fashion (it's not lazy, i'll plead for the umpteenth time, the melody is strong enough that any lyrics would take away from it). a simple chord progression with a simpler drum beat highlights the, well, simple mindset of the singer, echoing the childlike, petulant tone of the lyrics. it's short and doesn't overstay its welcome, even with the slower paced buildup near the end. interpolating toledo's earlier release rebelradio off the compliation album spiritual advice from the vacuum, it's a great opener with some amazing lines-- see "i saw you last night/you were hiding in a poor man's body/but i saw your soul slip out from his fingers." of course, i can't forget the opening line: "i didn't like you anyways!" it really does hit a little too close to home.

misheard lyrics

i'll be real, i didn't like this song all that much at first. something about the repetitive midi piano in the back and the switch from low fidelity live instrumentals to budget garage-band synths threw me off my first playthrough of the album. but give it a chance; it grows on you, and once you like it, you LIKE it. featuring some amazing lyricism (still far from the best on the album, believe it or not) like the titular "you probably looked like an idiot in that hat," "i thought i was open/i thought i was intimate/but then you asked me my name," "by the time they send the lifeboats/i won't want to leave the island," and the harmoniously angelic "just hands held/and shoulders rubbed/and voices touched in holy harmony." not to mention the cheeky "calling out for distant baselines" followed immediately by a change in the synth baseline. nora knight, too, who you can hear on a few of the higher harmonies, outdoes herself with the subtle but beautiful embellishments up top. though misheard lyrics isn't my favorite off the album, if i'm in the right mood, i can have it on loop without getting sick of it, and it hits the perfect spot between head-bop worthy and painfully depressing.

times to die

cutting in with a strong baseline and a nearly over-reverbed guitar, times to die is Literally Me. it has one of the catchiest choruses off the album and one of the silliest baselines. aside from the instrumentals--garageband efx'd piano and guitar, spliced vocals in a sampled fashion, interpolation of fuck merge records off toledo's earlier work nervous young men-- times to die's lyrics are not to be underestimated. from religious allusions that i can't really comment on to summaries of the barely-adult experience, there's something about the desperation to succeed that shines clear through the lyrics. and it's true: sometimes it feels like the entire world is racing ahead, like time is marching on and on, uncaring and impassive. i might be wrong in this interpretation, but oftentimes, i find myself wishing that i could just cease to exist right then and there rather than play a long and continued game of catch-up for the rest of my life, with characters left and right nagging me to do this and that. an impassioned "get a job!" and mildly depressing yet simultaneously hopeful"i'll get to heaven standing on your shoulders" are heavy hitters for me in this track. my favorite song on off days; never fails to cheer me up.

enjoy (overexposed)

a lobotomy inducing shriek in ONLY the left ear rolling into the an upbeat bass and drum rhythm. frankly, i think this song is often overlooked-- it packs a punch, especially when you've just been broken up with. i do NOT envy cate, with lines like "and somewhere down the line you'll look back/and say you did the best that you could/and you'll be wrong/you're always wrong" cropping up to just HIT you in the face. the entire song has that hopelessly ironic tone, playing on that one saying "you made your bed, now lie in it" (at least, i think). the motif of a photograph pops up here--a snapshot of a relationship frozen in time brought up again and again (and later in souls, too). very ap english of you, will toledo. the twist on the chord progression at the sober to death lines layered over the angry "used to be so human, now it's just the machine" lines never fails me to... well, i don't know, but i freaking love it.

los borrachos (i don't have any hope left, but the weather is nice)

BOY OH BOY OH BOY WHERE DO I EVEN START WITH THIS TRACK? musically, one of the strongest on the album thus far-- from the bouncy rhythm at the start to the wailing cacophony of noise at the end that is an interpolated endpiece (or maybe endpiece was the original sample? unclear) and the shouted "i miss you!"'s up top. it's angry and bitter in all the best ways; the emotion is there if you're feeling it, but not so outwardly in your face that it puts you in a bad mood every time you hear it. it's loud, like loud loud, and the wall of sound is something that i just freaking eat up every. single. time. yearning for those simpler times (as if times weren't simple enough already), wishing for memories that might not really exist, nostalgia for before you knew you'd grow up... GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR no lyrics for this section, just go listen to the whole entire freaking song.

souls

toledo's mandatory rock opera for each album is here, with part two of the two-track set. starting with a reverse that freaking sounds good of los borrachos leading into one of the angriest, most depressing songs in all of car seat headrest history. well, maybe not but still. bodys' evil twin, souls is about going to one of those stupid fucking bellevue parties where everybody is either twelve years old or a pretensious college student who shouldn't be at a party with twelve year olds, getting shitfaced, and hating yourself! heavy-hitter-line after heavy-hitter-line, souls truly is one of those songs that you hear once, and it just stays in your life forever. from "i never wanted you to change/i only wanted you to be different" to the anguished "I JUST WANT TO! FUCK YOU! I JUST WANT TO! HAVE SEX WITH YOU!" i'm of the opinion that will's songwriting peaked here. that's a lie, again. but god, if souls doesn't tear my heart out, stomp all over it, and shove it back down my throat.

maude gone

i don't have much to say about maude gone, to be honest. it's a necessary cooldown from souls, and the trumpet solo at the end is one of my favorite moments on the album, after the ending of los borrachos and the climax of souls. the harmonies are beautiful and can lull me to sleep, although that can be both good and bad. if i'm in the mood for it, maude gone is great. if i'm not, i skip it or else i'll literally fall asleep. extra points for the literary references, though. english major will toledo never misses with those.

sleeping with strangers

will's lyricism strikes again, this time with a happy song that I thought was about hookup culture when i first heard it! and then i listened to the lyrics a little more closely and cried for an hour! sleeping with strangers has some of the cleverest allusions to suicide in the car seat headrest discography, all sang almost desperately over a peppy, catchy melody that gets stuck in your head before it brings you to tears. from standout lines like "will they have to cross my legs" (an allusion to the dreaded death erection,) to the very title referencing the fact that when buried in a cemetery, one is literally "sleeping with strangers," every freaking line is the perfect combination of a ironically silly, and way too sad. god. i'm tearing up just writing this.

anchorite (love you very much)

anchorite is tough for me to review, to be honest, as i'm not a big fan of the song. it strikes me as too long (wee woo! hot take alert!) and the screaming at the end is good, but not built up enough by that literally hour long break in the middle. and how it has aged! to be honest, my least favorite song on the album, and a skip every time unless i'm doing a full playthrough. many like this track, and i can see the appeal, but it's just. not for me.

final rating: 9.5/10. one of will's best works (with the exception of anchorite, although... perhaps i can be persuaded after a few more listen-throughs). viscerally emotional, heart wretching, gut twisting, eye popping, jaw dropping, tear flooding.

and that's it for my first music review. again, please check out monomania here!

always,

remember when i was excited, desperate, even, for my spotify wrapped just a few days ago? like a naive, ignorant infant, oblivious to the world beyond?

yeah. i remember too.

i've looked forward to spotify wrapped season since the very beginning-- as someone who prides themselves on their music taste (valid or not), i often find myself counting the days before i can see what my listening stats for the past 12 months look like. and the silly little additions that spotify includes every year-- like my listening aura, or my musical city, hell, i don't know, what animal my fursona will be-- make the wait all the more worthwhile.

which is why, after a long and excruciating wait, i was completely disappointed by the ai slop spotify tried to pass off as their "craziest wrap yet" or whatever else they did to promote it. from frankly brain-rotting pacing to disgusting glitchy background graphics, from lazy statistics to a lack of creative side quests, this spotify wrapped might have been the blandest and most boring i've ever seen. the only difference in this wrapped and the last (aside from all the missing parts) was a weird, ai generated look into your listening phases of the year, which might have been fun had they not been dragged out for fooooooooorever and named completely incomprehensibly.

the playlists, too-- explain to me why there were bands i'd never heard of and songs i'd never played in my music evolution playlist!

of course, while spotify is becoming increasingly sleazier, that's not what this rant is about-- no, it's more about a trend i've noticed. companies have been hopping on the generative ai trend since the first models came out like two-ish years ago, developing their own bs chatbots in an effort to follow the sheeple-mob-mentality of the ai craze. and if these models worked well and added more to the features of the platform while enhancing previously existing features, that would have been perfectly fine with me. but, of course, it hasn't worked out that way.

a downgrade in quality of already available applications has been broad. while that may be an effect of a multitude of different things (such as the increased layoffs since the aftermath of the pandemic), i do feel like the excessive investment on the unecessary ai side is also partially to blame. take an application like notion, for example, which has been so focused on upkeeping and developing its completely useless (an annoying) virtual assistant that other, more important things that directly impact user interface and efficiency are neglected.

not to mention the idea that ai can replace human originality and uniqueness. this most recent spotify wrapped is a clear example of that-- the lazy development, the sloppy graphics... we know the company can do better than that. yet they settle for mediocrity, since it's cheaper to make an ai develop playlists and other statistics rather than pay actual humans to come up with cool ideas. what a disappointment.

anyways, long rant over! here's my wrapped:

perhaps capitalism really has failed us,

i'm a few months late to this movie-- if you could call it that-- and it's safe to say that the glowing reviews were not an exaggeration.

what suprising depth and thought for a minecraft movie of all things!

i had heard about parkour civilization near the end of the summer, when my tiktok for you page became flooded by a tidal wave of, in retrospect, surface level references regarding "one block for the raw chicken or, god forbid, a one block vertical jump for the raw beef." at first, i dismissed it as yet another internet fad that would pass in a week or so. and it did pass... but its reviews and its reputation did not.

so that's why, late at night yesterday, i found myself finally clicking into that two hour long youtube video... and maybe watching the two hour sequel immediately afterwards. it's safe to say i only regret it a little bit, and only for how it completely destroyed me during morning practice the next day.

so then, what is parkour civilization even about? the bare bones of it are this: evbo, the main character, lives in a civilization-- a parkour civilization!-- where everything, from the economy to the social relationships made, is built upon parkour. items that are more "expensive" are made that way by a more difficult and life-threatening parkour jump, while cheaper items can be purchased with an easier, safer parkour jump. the hierarchy of this civilization-- a parkour civilization, even-- is built upon the back of a dwindling lower class, the parkour noobs. it's the goal of each parkour noob to become a parkour pro, a more "skilled" group of parkourers who live directly above the noobs. likewise, it is the goal of the parkour pros to become a parkour master, and it is each master's dream to become the single ruler of the civilization-- dareisay a parkour civilization-- the parkour champion. evbo aspires to make his way to the top of this hierarchy... the problem? he's a parkour noob, and one of the only ones left, at that. all the other noobs suck at parkour so bad, they've fallen into the void.

following trials and tribulation, plot twist after plot twist... spoiler alert: evbo becomes the parkour champion, following the major plot points of a classic hero's journey.

so a stereotypical movie made for ten-year-olds on youtube who can't focus on anything longer than five seconds managed to not only keep me engaged, but motivate me to write a review about it? how the FREAK is that possible?

and to that, i respond: this story is so much more thought provoking than it presents itself.

the commentary on the american dream-- "you get what you want and you get what you deserve!"-- isn't even as deep as it goes. i could talk about how the structure of the civilization as a faux meritocracy, controlled by the greedy and self-serving upper class is an allegory for the notorious top 1% in the united states today. but that's been done before. just look at all the amazing imdb reviews, all those impassioned youtube comments... there's too much praise for that aspect of the movie to count, and anything i say here would just be echoing the words of someone else, who might have phrased it better than i.

what caught my eye further was the intentional choice for parkour and the parallels between that, and real life.

again and again throughout the movie, the fragility of the hierarchy is demonstrated through absurd comic-relief moments. parkour pros can make one wrong jump, fall, and die (or end up in jail, but it's all the same, really, with that cruel and unusual 50 year sentence) just like a noob. the same goes for masters, and even the champion, as evbo states in the sequel. so then, why is it that people keep on jumping? wouldn't be fine to stay, satisfied with a secure place in life, with less danger of immediate death?

in the end, it all comes down to a leap of faith. a dream. a dream to rise to the top, to do better, to become better than you used to be, to rise out of the "lower class," never satisfied with what you have. and if it means risking it all with each and ever jump, watching as your neighbors and competitors fall back to the bottom, then it seems to a be a worthy price to pay.

evbo might have become a parkour god in the end, but all that does is portray the nature of our own society more starkly.

in a world where it is impossible to become a god, and everyone clamors for a chance at the champion spot (which, in the story, is given to evbo's endearing but perhaps not-so-parkour-ly-talented master friend), it's clear that hard work alone cannot get you as high as one needs. no-- it boils down to talent, luck, connections, and a shitload of balls-- which, frankly, is something that we've always known. but to see it demonstrated so casually, offhandedly, even, in a minecraft movie called parkour civilization?

if that isn't a wake up call, i don't know what is.

which brings me, finally, to the conclusion. how does this connect to the real world? to the modern day? my english teachers would be proud of me. if you're brave, ballsy, good at what you do, and have a lot of connections, you have a shot at becoming the best. at becoming rich, at becoming the next elon musk. at being a part of that elite, 1%, a parkour master; or, if you're aiming higher, that parkour champion. but with that, you have to be willing to take a leap.

yet, all our lives, we've been told to stay where we are. fit in, don't stand out. if you wait, if you're patient, if you trust the process, your time will come.

how contradictory is this world? which is right? both? neither? evbo stood out. evbo fought for what he wanted-- as a noob with a lot of nerve, talent, and even more luck. but evbo's master friend got where he ended up through sheer charisma, connections, and an arbitrary test when he was practically a parkour baby.

with none of that-- like the masses-- are we all reduced to parkour noobs? pros, if we're lucky? are we forever doomed to a life of mediocrity? a life of falling into the void? without evbo's luck and talent, or emf's connections and charisma, where would we all be?

thanks, evbo on youtube for making this wonderfully thought-provoking work of art. this will surpass that bullshit minecraft movie or whatever the fuck for sure in terms of historical impact.

watch parkour civilization here!

dreaming of becoming a parkour master,

anxiously waiting to base my entire personality off of this year's spotify wrapped, which is hopefully out tomorrow.

i already know what my wrapped will look like, but i am eager nonetheless-- after all, what is my devotion to car seat headrest without a shiny, official, spotify approved wrapped to prove it?

as a celebration for this momentous occassion, here is a poem composed for this very situation:

i am the first leaf fallen

from the car seat headrest tree

the other leaves will come

but none of them will be

as big of a car seat headrest fan

as me

(this is a lie... i wrote this poem fucking around for a class-thoreau-inspired-nature-poem a month or so ago)

i'll update you all with my wrapped when it comes out tomorrow!

awaiting your applause,

edit (12/03/2024): the spotify wrapped did not, in fact, come out on the first of december. it looks like it's coming out on the fourth, instead. fuck spotify!

happy black friday everyone!

i'm seventeen now-- i have to go around and update all my bios. it's a crazy thought... one more year, and i'll be an adult

to be honest, as i do every year, i hoped that i would wake up one year older (officially) and somehow be able to get my shit together. obviously, that didn't happen, and i spent my entire birthday and the day after rotting in bed. today... well, i said that today would change and i'm not rotting anymore, but i'm not doing much better either.

anyway, here's a belated celebration-- to another year of life! hopefully, this year is the year it all changes... thinking of starting a digital diary to keep myself accountable. we'll see.

thanks for reading!

damp and dark seattle weather has me feeling like it's constantly dusk. the sun has been setting all day-- it never rose.

contrary to popular opinion, i'm a big fan of this gloomy atmosphere. i feel tired all the time anyway, might as well have an excuse for it. now i can go around saying i feel tired because of the dark sky, the cold, etc. now i am complaining for a reason.

complaining is the topic of today's reflection (my first one, but whatever) because i feel the need to complain about how often i complain. i am a serial complainer-- whenever there is a lull in the conversation, where the average person would redirect to a more worthwhile topic, i complain. sometimes, i don't even feel strongly about the things i am complaining about. when i complain about the rain, trust that i do not truly feel that way, i just need to blame something for the exhaustion i am feeling.

about three months ago, i decided i would make an active effort to stop complaining, and then i forgot about that effort immediately until this morning, when i found myself complaining about the same thing for the third time to the same group of people.

it dawned on me then how little they care about this trivial thing that i cannot seem to stop myself from sharing with them. what would i gain from sharing this minor inconvenience with a group of friends who couldn't care less, other than a few pitying looks before we move on to bigger, better things? i, personally, never know what to say when someone else begins to complain-- how can i expect better from others when i start to do the same?

anyways. a new year's resolution, a few months early: stop complaining.

the weather is great.

see you all next time!

finally finished this page. currently hiding in my car in the rain at 6 in the morning outside the pool. having turned in my english homework after working on it all night (and morning, i suppose), i suddenly regret choosing to skip practice. i probably could have finished my english homework in the time between practice and school. but whatever.

it's been getting colder lately-- the tree in front of my house has finally shed its leaves, and the dreary seattle weather is starting to seep in. to be honest, i love the rain, especially when i'm on the inside looking out. but, at the moment, the interior of my car is not nearly inside enough, and i'm frozen quite literally to my bones.

i'll start working on reviews and stuff-- copying older drafts from my now defunct rym account as well as copying over some of my forgotten letterboxd reviews.

see you all next time!