poffitoo

Latest Posts by poffitoo

Now that I’m out of school, I find myself desperately wanting to make things. Maybe because I work in software which is far too intangible. Maybe because I neglected my creative side for years while pursuing academic excellence. Maybe because I’m struggling a bit with life in general, and creating things for fun grounds me. So that’s how I’ve ended up with like 4 different fiber arts projects going, and I’m teaching myself German, and I’m taking a creative writing course, and I’m rereading a childhood favorite series. And it makes me so happy.

So go make things. Make them badly. Start projects and leave them half-finished for months, or finish them and marvel at the lopsided, messy, beautiful thing that you and only you made with your own two hands. Pick up that new hobby you’ve always wanted to try, be inspired by a random Instagram post of someone else’s art and try to replicate it, take a community class that sounds half interesting.

life is too short to only do one thing. Make the most of your time.

Just a random thought that popped in my head.

Even the most normal movie by Luca Guadagnino ended quite disturbing…

movies where someone hears an important message only once and retains all the details….

girl if that were me, we’d be fucked. I have to reread emails like 4 times.

i think everyone needs a god of some kind. and by that i don’t strictly mean religion. you need something that’s bigger than yourself, that you can anchor yourself to whenever you feel lost—whether it be nature, the moon, the sea…

every day i wake up and drink my silly little coffee while God eats my heart like a pomegranate in front of me

when they say “you’re hot” but kafka said “you’re the knife I turn inside myself” like do better

need a fleabag rewatch desperately and soon. to deal with this horrible feeling that i am a. greedy, perverted, selfish, apathetic, cynical, depraved, morally bankrupt woman who can't even call herself a feminist. or something.

from The Agony of Intimacy by Jeanette Winterson, published in Granta

[Text ID in ALT text]

Prelude, Brynne Rebele-Henry

Sleeping Bacchant by Károly Lotz (19th Century)

Fyodor Dostoevsky, Crime and Punishment

chen chen, nature poem in ‘when i grow up i want to be a list of further possibilities’

—Stephen Adly Guirgis, The Last Days of Judas Iscariot

Rainer Maria Rilke, Rilke’s Book of Hours

-Trillium by Louise Gluck

Blythe Baird, from If My Body Could Speak; “Concerns from a hot-boxed jeep”

[Text ID: “How do I stop / carrying everything / that had ever / happened to me?”]

Birthright, George Abraham

Wild Flowers in a Field - Mikhail Guzhavin

FRANNY CHOI

I found more sisterhood on strangers than in my own home. -P

carrying the weight of my unfulfilled dreams everyday is getting kinda hard ngl

i like to pretend i already died and asked god to send me back to earth so i can swim in lakes again and see mountains and get my heart broken and love my friends and cry so hard in the bathroom and go grocery shopping 1,000 more times. and that i promised i would never forget the miracle of being here

— Susan Sontag, from “Reborn: Journals and Notebooks, 1947-1963”

Luigi Rossi - Primavera (detail)

— Eduardo C. Corral