#honestwriting

Ang tanga tanga ko. Bakit?

Ito yung klase ng tanong na hindi naghahanap ng sagot kundi pag amin lang sa sarili.

Pinili kong maghintay kahit alam kong hindi darating.

Naniwala ako sa mga salitang hindi sinabi.

Umasa ako sa taong sanay umatras.

Tinanggap ko ang konting effort na tinawag kong malaking bagay.

Nagbigay ako ng sobra kahit kulang na ako.

Pinilit kong mahalin yung taong hindi handa.

Ginamit ko ang humor para takpan yung sakit sa puso.

Hinayaan kong paulit-ulit akong masaktan.

Tinawag kong loyalty ang paulit-ulit na pagkakamali.

Nag-expect ako sa taong hindi marunong magbalik.

Naghintay ako sa text na alam kong hindi darating.

Tinanggap ko yung crumbs na parang kumpletong pagkain.

Nagpatawad ako kahit hindi ko na dapat.

Pinili kong manatili kahit familiar sa sakit.

Hinayaan kong mawala ang sarili ko sa relasyon.

Naniwala ako sa potential kaysa sa actual.

Pinilit kong baguhin ang taong hindi ko dapat baguhin.

Hinintay ko ang reply kahit alam kong hindi na darating.

Tinawag kong chance ang paulit-ulit na opportunity na mali na.

Nag invest ako sa taong hindi invested sa akin.

Nag-overthink ako sa simpleng desisyon.

Pinili kong huwag makinig sa gut feeling ko.

Naniwala ako na mas madali magmahal kaysa mag-heal.

Hinayaan kong maubos ang sarili ko para sa iba.

Pinilit kong maging okay kahit hindi ako okay.

Tinawag kong patience ang paulit-ulit na pagod sa sarili.

Naniwala ako na kailangan kong itama ang lahat kahit hindi sa akin.

Pinili kong mag-adjust sa gulo kahit wala akong kasalanan.

Nag-joke ako para itago ang lungkot.

Hinayaan kong masanay ako sa bare minimum.

Nag-settle ako sa less kahit gusto ko ng higit.

Naniwala ako na normal lang yung kulang sa sarili ko.

Pinilit kong lumaban sa bagay na hindi ko kontrolado.

Hinayaan kong ma-overwhelm sa stress na puwede namang iwasan.

Tinawag kong courage ang pagiging needy sa tamang tao.

Naniwala ako sa sarili ko kahit hindi ako naniniwala.

Pinilit kong magpakita ng lakas kahit natatakot ako.

Hinayaan kong ma-pressure sa expectations ng sarili.

Pinili kong umasa sa pagbabago ng sarili ko.

Naniwala ako na kailangan kong tiisin ang sakit para matuto.

Nagtrabaho ako beyond limit kahit exhausted na.

Pinilit kong tapusin ang project kahit walang appreciation.

Hinintay ko ang approval kahit obvious na tama na.

Tinawag kong professionalism ang overtime na puwede namang i-decline.

Hinayaan kong akuin ang mistake ng iba.

Pinilit kong maging polite sa toxic coworker.

Naniwala ako na kaya kong ayusin ang chaos ng team.

Hinayaan kong maging mediator sa gulo sa trabaho.

Pinilit kong mag-explain sa taong ayaw umintindi.

Naniwala ako na kailangang maayos ko ang mali kahit hindi ko kasalanan.

Tinanggap ko yung workload na sobra sa kaya ko.

Pinilit kong i-prioritize ang needs ng boss kaysa sarili ko.

Hinayaan kong ma-delay ang sariling break para sa team.

Naniwala ako na dapat ko silang tulungan kahit puwede na silang humingi sa iba.

Pinilit kong tapusin ang task na paulit-ulit lang.

Hinayaan kong mawala ang oras para sa sarili ko.

Tinawag kong sacrifice ang pagiging burnt out.

Pinilit kong mag-improve kahit walang feedback.

Naniwala ako sa maliit na acknowledgment na hindi worth it.

Hinayaan kong ma-stress sa unnecessary na bagay.

Tinanggap ko ang unwanted advice kahit ayoko.

Hinayaan kong ma-pressure sa expectations ng pamilya.

Pinilit kong makisama sa toxic na kaibigan.

Tinawag kong compromise ang paulit-ulit na effort sa harmony.

Naniwala ako na kailangan kong mag-adjust sa lahat.

Hinayaan kong mapahiya sa group kahit mali sila.

Pinilit kong makinig sa hindi ko gusto.

Naniwala ako sa social norms kahit nakakasakit.

Hinayaan kong mawala ang sarili ko sa grupo.

Pinilit kong maging mediator sa family drama.

Naniwala ako sa mga expectations ng society.

Hinayaan kong i-ignore ang sarili ko para sa crowd.

Pinilit kong sumunod sa plan kahit gusto ko mag-stand out.

Naniwala ako sa small talk kahit boring.

Hinayaan kong mabitin sa conversation.

Pinilit kong tapusin ang event kahit uncomfortable.

Naniwala ako na dapat laging maging polite sa lahat.

Hinayaan kong mawala ang sariling opinion sa group.

Pinilit kong ngumiti kahit ayaw.

Naniwala ako na dapat laging mag-adjust sa iba.

Pinili kong maghintay sa traffic kahit late na.

Hinayaan kong ma-frustrate sa slow internet.

Pinilit kong tapusin ang long queue sa grocery.

Naniwala ako na dapat ayusin ko yung minor mistake kahit maliit.

Hinayaan kong ma-late sa meeting kahit puwede agad.

Pinilit kong tapusin yung tedious na task sa bahay.

Naniwala ako sa simpleng effort na hindi worth it.

Hinayaan kong ma-delay ang sarili ko sa unnecessary na bagay.

Pinilit kong umayos sa lugar na hindi komportable.

Naniwala ako sa advice na walang sense.

Hinayaan kong ma-stress sa minor inconvenience.

Pinilit kong sundin ang rules kahit absurd.

Naniwala ako sa small gesture na hindi meaningful.

Hinayaan kong mapahiya sa public kahit hindi ko kasalanan.

Pinilit kong makisama sa awkward na situation.

Naniwala ako sa hype ng ibang tao kahit hindi ko gusto.

Hinayaan kong ma-overthink sa minor na bagay.

Pinilit kong mag-adjust sa weather, sa noise, sa discomfort.

Naniwala ako sa unnecessary na worry.

Hinayaan kong maging tanga sa sarili ko kahit alam kong mali na.'

Sulat lang ako ng sulat kahit alam kong wala namang nagbabasa bukod sa sarili ko.

Canon EOS 6D, Takumar 55mm f/2

[EN] I spent the whole week stuck at home, chained to the computer, only to end up alone with the kids for the weekend. It poured rain. My wife dolled herself up like Trzaskowski on election night and went off to her class reunion in her hometown. To keep from slipping completely into the abyss, I took the kids to Memuak. It’s a sort of museum — part sailing, part Sztynort. I’d heard many times that it’s this amazing, must-see place. It’s not. I mean — it’s fine. Nice that it opened. Nice that it exists. But honestly, I don’t get what all the fuss is about.

A few photos. A few exhibits. Some books. A couple of tablets with quizzes. Three VR headsets with 360° recordings. Maybe if someone’s never seen anything like that, they’ll be blown away. But the resolution is so low you can count the pixels with the naked eye. There’s also a bit of “gamification” — “spin the crank until the virtual object unfolds.” Yawn. There’s a sailboat simulator — interesting concept, with a tiller and a sheet, you can pull the rope and learn to sail on dry land. Although it’s a bit too complicated for younger kids. The older ones have already sailed on a real boat. There’s also a four-player mini-game at the end, with four steering wheels. The idea’s great, but the game itself is boring as hell, and the technical integration… not even worth discussing.

I don’t know. Maybe if someone’s digitally excluded and has never seen a modern video game, they might get excited about this. But come on — it’s nothing special. Sure, I get it — a VR headset isn’t something everyone has at home, but it’s hardly cutting-edge tech anymore. I’ve got two. And the first one’s a good nine years old. You know what I mean?

I know, maybe I’m complaining unnecessarily. It’s great that places like this are being created — Mazury still doesn’t have much to offer in that regard. Maybe I’m just not the ideal museum visitor, though I do have my favorites. I remember the City Museum in Dzierżoniów very fondly. But here? No wow effect. I don’t feel like I have to tell friends to go. I didn’t have a great time. I’m not rushing to recommend it to anyone.

The potential is there. It’s creative. It looks nice. But also — a bit modest. And honestly, a good guide in a museum is worth their weight in gold. Irreplaceable. Not an audio guide — a real human being with passion, telling stories with flair and humor. That’s worth paying extra for. Sure, you can sometimes get a weak one, but when you go somewhere for the history, it’s great when someone can really bring that history to life.

After the museum visit, I had a sleepless night. Fell asleep around two. The dog woke me up. Saw it was well past three. My wife was still roaming around that other town. Must’ve been a good party. I fell back asleep around five. At nine, my mother-in-law and daughter were probably throwing pots at each other from across the room or something. Slept terribly. But Sunday — not too bad. Though that’s a story for next time.

[PL] Cały tydzień siedziałem w domu, przykuty do kompa, by na weekend zostać samemu z dziećmi. Lał deszcz. Żona się odpierdoliła jak Trzaskowski na wieczór wyborczy i pojechała na spotkanie klasowe do rodzinnego miasta. Żeby nie osunąć się w całkowitą otchłań, zabrałem dzieciaki do Memuaka. To takie muzeum – trochę żeglarstwa, trochę Sztynortu. Wiele razy już słyszałem, że to jest takie mega super miejsce. Nie jest. W sensie – spoko. Fajnie, że się otworzyło. Fajnie, że jest. No ale, na miłość boską, nie wiem, z czego to pianie z zachwytu.

Trochę zdjęć. Trochę eksponatów. Jakieś książki. Trochę tabletów z quizami. Trzy wirtualne hełmy z nagraniami w 360 stopniach. Może jak ktoś nigdy nic takiego nie widział, to go zwala z nóg. No ale rozdzielczość jest tak słaba, że można liczyć piksele gołym okiem. Jest też próba gamifikacji – „kręć kołowrotkiem, aż się rozłoży wirtualny przedmiot”. Ziew. Symulator łódki — tu ciekawa koncepcja. Jest ster, jest szot, można sobie pociągać za linę i pouczyć się żeglowania na sucho. Aczkolwiek dla młodszych trochę za skomplikowane. Starsze pływały normalnym jachtem. Jest też na końcu takie miejsce z czterema sterami i minigierką na cztery osoby. Sam pomysł świetny, a mimo to — gierka nudna jak flaki z olejem, a integracja tego w jeden system… szkoda gadać.

Nie wiem. Jak ktoś na co dzień jest wykluczony cyfrowo i nie widział współczesnej gry wideo, to może być czymś takim podjarany. Ale to żaden poziom. Ja wiem, hełm VR to może nie jest rzecz, która leży u każdego w domu, ale to też żadna kosmiczna technologia. Ja mam dwa. A pierwszy ma dobre dziewięć lat. Wiecie, o co c’mon?

Wiem, może narzekam niepotrzebnie. Fajnie, że takie miejsca powstają, bo na Mazurach w tym temacie wciąż bieda. Może i nie jestem idealnym klientem muzeów ogółem, choć mam swoich faworytów. Muzeum Miejskie w Dzierżoniowie wspominam bardzo dobrze. No ale nie miałem tu efektu wow!. Nie mam tak, że muszę zachęcić znajomych do pójścia. Że spędziłem super czas. Że teraz zarekomenduję to każdemu.

Zalążki są. Jest pomysłowo. Jest estetycznie. No ale też odrobinę biednie. A w ogóle — dobry przewodnik w muzeum to skarb. Sprawa nie do przecenienia. I nie żaden audio-przewodnik. Żywy człowiek z pasją, który opowiada o miejscu ze swadą i humorem, jest na wagę złota i wart dopłacenia do droższego biletu. Wiadomo — można trafić na słabego. Niemniej jednak, gdy idziesz gdzieś dla historii, to fajnie, gdy ktoś potrafi Ci tę historię sprzedać.

Hello fellow readers!

Just this past weekend I finished Chanel Miller’s Know my Name, a memoir from the perspective of Emily Doe and her experience of the highly publicized 2015 assault that occurred to her on California’s Stanford University Campus. 

I personally remember reading about the case when at work at a CUNY campus and feeling horrified by the details and lack thereof. I remember the lack of identity and empathy that Emily Doe received from a select audience and the strange headlines regarding the defendant. But I digress.

This book was another perspective that adds to the me too conversation. It was refreshing, beautifully eloquent, and many things left myself tearing up in public on my commute. It is a visceral experience that is best digested. I personally savored it in chunks because it was intense and a lot to process. 

One of the most endearing and relatable things about the book is Miller wanting to protect those closest to her from the fallout. She states that she “...wanted to preserve their peace” (45). She mentions the story of her parents doing their best to not ruin Christmas for her and her sister. Even though they knew what really happened to the cat. And just like her parents, she compartmentalized moments and breakdowns. She would: “do what I had always done: detach, keep going” (44). But much like those jars that she would hide away in her metaphorical basement, they would come back. They would materialize out of thin air and to her dismay she would start the journey again, deep down. 

Miller alludes to her being like one of those departed students from the tracks. She writes: “so on that January morning in 2015...was like being read a letter...it was not about a death on the tracks ...this time, it was my name” (44). I personally remember being that far away from myself. I felt both everything and nothing. And that trauma is hard to describe to others. Miller did so tremendously. It is poignant. And that keenness is sharp and quick to the cut. Miller’s words are as powerful as any weapon but delivered with the soft vulnerability.

Rape, trauma, and the experience of being a victim are just a shortlist of the things that Miller touches on. Moreover, she also highlights the way society and education connect to mental illness. The complex way that things get put on hold and how we as human beings are not supposed to drop the ball even when we’re suffering. This is mentioned as one of the ways that Miller developed her coping mechanism of dissociating from the painful realities of the world: “...we settled for perpetual numbness.” (43). The content states the way Miller and her classmates were urged and encouraged to move on with their lives regardless of the fact that many of their acquaintances and friends were killing themselves. One day they were there, the next gone. No explanation or further harping of the “ugly truth.” 

This “perpetual numbness” echoed the idea that even though lives were being lost and morale was low students shouldn’t and eventually couldn’t run the risk of pausing. To be pause meant to stop, to stop meant, to lose momentum. This loss of momentum was precious and because you were going against the grain of what was expected of you. It meant there must be something wrong with you. Miller continues: “to be unstable meant to fall behind” (42). This is something that happens to many people but sometimes these moments can wreak havoc on our lives. But we are humans and we are not perfect. Yet it is expected frequently. And the shame that accompanies our failure to meet such expectations are searing. 

Before I get even more ahead of myself, the book was overall, a passionate and poignant account of a woman who lost her voice and identity but found that she always had it. Regardless, of all the smoke and mirrors those determined to tear her down had set up. Approaching the end of her book I’m struck by the following words: “hold up your head when the tears come, when you are mocked, insulted, questioned, threatened, when they tell you you are nothing...” (328). These words will comfort those that have ever been dismissed or sneered at. This empathy can provide guidance and kindness to those who need it.

Rating: 4.25

It's pretty bizarre when you think of how every single person on this planet has a deep, complex life full of fears, dreams, thoughts and opinions, just like you and me. Each individual is an intricate web of all this stuff, and we wonder why there's so much wrong with the world? We're all so caught up in our own webs, unable to fix problems we are both aware and unaware of. We're all caught in this perpetual cycle of broken adults raising broken children, who then continue the process (UNLESS they can break free from it). I'm not about to generalize everyone because everyone is different.

How can we possibly hope to change the world for the better when we can't even change ourselves? I'm not saying all people in power have this desire. Hah, I can think of quite a few that have made it obvious they have ulterior motives (or just don't care). In fact, it seems those in power tend to be some of the most broken of us all. How scary is that? When you put yourself on a pedestal, and refuse to really look at yourself, that's where you stop growing as an individual.

Just look around you. School shootings, suicide, murder, robbery, abuse, all of these things and more are the product of broken people. I do not condone any of these things, but it's important to understand what drives these people to do these things. Rather, what they went through.

Unless we all try to understand ourselves and our problems, and how to move past them, we won't make much progress. This needs to be an active effort, because doing nothing is just as bad as actively hurting those around you.

But you know what? I think most people are too wrapped up with their own lives that no one else's matters. Or they grow up privileged with no exposure to any of the struggles so many live with. Or they're too busy just trying to survive in this shitty world. Sometimes it seems like it's all hopeless and just an unrealistic ideal. Who knows.