lost-act

[lost-act]

A Lesson In Chess

My father told me that chess pieces need to work together to check the king. He taught me that no piece works alone and that they are all part of a bigger picture. The first time he pointed this out to me was how he made me view the entire battlefield. He pointed out to me how the action slopes down to a specific point, and how all the action is focused on one end. The other side was a vast field, undeveloped but open. I hesitated to attack that end, too busy defending the intense battle at the queen's side. Still, my father taught me how the bishop will snipe, the knight will defend, and the pawn will support. He taught me no piece cannot stand alone and that there's more than one point on the chessboard.

I love chess, but I was never good at it. I never won a single tournament nor have a high rank online. I just love the idea, the aesthetic of it. But I've never forgotten the lesson from it.

Here I am now, a messy paper before me. I hesitate making my moves, doubling over where should I place the next piece. My opening's a mess, the king yet to be defended, my bishops still trapped, and all pawns are scattered on the deck. I hesitate again, wondering if it's worth opening the king's side. Yet I am reassured again to observe the battleground, see where the king lies. I see that familiar slope again where my father taught me that no piece is alone when facing its opponent.

[lost-act]

Forge of Creation

temper your soul before the flames that foretold this fiery course of creation douse yourself in the fires of old a baptism before salvation

fear not the mallet that hammers your heart with a million pangs of pain fear not the sword that scars your heart with a million swings of vain

the time will come when your voice shall rise from the blacksmith's forge, being shaped to shine to be wielded against the eyes of the eyes of the night

temper your soul before it gets cold under the fiery flames of creation douse yourself with a heat untold till your red with determination

into the fire into ice into the oil into the furnace burning bright a cycle that remains through the night

when you wield yourself before as a heralding being of creation watch where your brittleness falls your weakness falls, before what you thought was your might

into the fire temper your soul hammered to shape by creation burn bright through the night before you is your salvation

[lost-act]

A Realization on How Much Time I've Wasted

A few more years and I’ll realize I’ve wasted a quarter of my life. What I wasted it on is probably a mix of giving every bit of myself to others, figuring myself out, wallowing in self-pity, maybe a bit of sleepless nights, and a spoonful of delusion for non-existent romance.

How much of my life have I used to make something impactful for myself? Not much…not much other than wallowing at 3 AM soon to be 4. Not much other than wasting my life to video games or essays that barely make the mark. Not much other than succumbing to self-pity or mindlessly rotting my brain online.

Does that time I got published count? Maybe. Those times I tried to break free from my shell in an environment that would love to tear you go shreds? Eh…I hated my school anyways. Does finally, actually, for realsies, breaking free from my social hesitance once I entered college count? Probably.

I probably did something remarkable to them that I didn’t realize. It’s still gonna take a while for me to learn and unlearn and possibly remember a lot of things in so many years of existence.

Learning how to love, unlearning wallowing in pathetic-ness, remembering saying “Hi” and “Hello” to visitors.

So many things…so many things have passed and yet I feel like I’ve been stuck being a kid this entire time.

[lost-act]

An Long Vent on Creative Writing - A Vent From a Student of Creative Writing

Don't get me wrong...I love my college and the course I took.

But things aren't just that simple, isn't it?

For the past few months upon finally studying my majors, I've written nothing but research paper after research paper. You may think that being a creative writing major means writing story after story, with workshops right after. No.

Like any other course, there's obviously the basics: theory. I understand the usage of theory because, from what I understand in my theory class that I am failing miserably in, it acts as the very basis of understanding how everyone finds the "truth" to the reality we live in. But the thing is....there was way more than what I can chew.

Literary studies is a research heavy class where we have to analyze and defend our analyses on paper. It's come to the point that, during the discussion, our professor commended how sad that literature produced by alumni authors from our college sound like research papers. I don't know how other colleges sound like because the college I attended is a research college, meaning every class you take there involves a level of researching one way or another (from your majors to your general subjects, research is the lifeblood of my alma mater).

I don't wish to complain. No. I don't, really. I have to toughen myself up if I want to be able to bear the criticisms of beta readers that will end up reading my story. Even more if I want to become an editor, I have to learn how to spot all the little hiccups being made. I have to.

I just find that...as much as there is the word "creative" in creative writing, the writing we do siphoned the "creative" out of it to the point it slowly became "writing."

I sound like I'm complaining again, aren't I? Well...maybe I am complaining. Maybe I am frustrated with the amount of research we're doing to the point that it's shattering the voice we thought we're gonna develop even further. Maybe I am frustrated that we're struggling to write something that half of us aren't even sure is correct. Maybe I am frustrated because I can't get myself to face the facts that I am nothing but a weakling.

And here I am...degrading myself as per usual because I only know how to hate and hate myself over and over for not getting a perfect score. (This might as well be a story for another time)

Every time I look at my essays, I can feel nothing but disgust. I used to have someone to talk to about my ideas for whatever I write and he would encourage whatever ideas I have on and on. Sadly, things went sour between us. (Ah...another story for another time)

I've been burnt to the stump because of how much research I wrote that I don't even know makes sense. I am burnt that I ran through fear because I forgot how to write essays again. How to write proper essays that make sense. I am burnt to the point I want to be silly and make silly things.

But I can't. I shouldn't. (Beating ourselves with a stick again, aren't we?)

The viability of my complains seem to just be incessant whines from a student whose passion was shattered immediately. Then again, who am I to understand how being human is? I never know what it means to be human, and I barely even know how to be able to live. So who am I to have a minor sense of vulnerability because of how much I feel myself breaking off bit by bit from one term of majors? If I wasn't scared of illness, I would've been drinking and/or smoking by now. I refuse to, I have promises to uphold. That's why I stuck to sweets despite what my medical history tells me.

So here I am now,, on the border of whining (which I more or less did) and beating myself with a metal stick. On one hand, we could cry ourselves to sleep, and on the other: beat ourselves to shape to "toughen up."

(I really hate the grammatical rule of placing periods within the quotation mark. It makes it look like the sentence isn't properly punctuated.)

On that border, I chose to whine on Tumblr because I have no where else to cry on because I have to get my act straight. Of course I have to get my act straight, I'm almost an adult (despite being very foul mouthed). I have to toughen it up and face those criticism like a real man (fuck the patriarchy and dead white men...eugh).

Yet...being able to vent it out somewhere of how draining things get...without the repercussion of being scolded to "find a way or hit the high way" for being frustrated over the starting majors. Look, they may find it easy-ish but for someone who has difficulty on being more analytical: it's tough ok? Then again that's probably why subjects like these existed: to weed out people who thought are cut out for it but aren't.

Someone pass me a lollipop, I feel like I'm losing my sanity even more. Actually, is it valid to lose my sanity? I don't know. I just remember being scolded by my senior to quit the self-deprecation and get my shit together...which is obviously true if you've made it this far into my vent.

Y'know, if there's a grade ranking, I'm probably averaging at best. I'm fine with it but gods above I hate how I'm struggling to swim when everyone else has jumped past the waterfall.

Ah...this entire rant has turned to me talking about how shit I am, hasn't it? Gods that's why I'm on the verge of dipping to a 70.

Well...Yeah. I'm tired. I'm tired of all this researching, I'm tired of trying to find the "best" that the professors are searching for. I'm tired... really tired. I won't be surprised if I end up failing a subject because of how much mental energy I end up spending to face one subject. I'm sure that sooner or later I'll get professors who will start to sound more and more vague while teaching. Or worse, state that you're wrong when clearly they taught it to you.

This course was built to destroy the ego any aspiring writer has. Why? This course was built to create timeless literary pieces, not one time New York Times Best Selling. No...we're basically scribes who hide records of reality within the stories we create. We're painting a reality that was thrice removed from itself. Y'know...as much as I hate Plato, he was right. We are villains in his eyes because he thinks we're warping the truth. Thing is, Plato, we're turning that truth into an allegory that will surpass the philosopher king you'll put on seat.

I hate this creative writing course. I hate how all my works will slowly sound like a research paper that lacks any form of personality. I hate that my voice is being shattered to be computational and rational. I hate how I got burnt out so easily from researching one thing after the other and trying to understand all these dead white men who call themselves philosophers (women excluded because they're goated).

I hate how I'm no longer the author I thought I was.

Yet I couldn't be anymore happier to know that I have to prove myself that I'm worthy of being an author who is able to create a reality thrice removed from itself.

[lost-act]

Tell me, how do you be kind to yourself when you were taught that the iron whip is what you can remember? Or when you remember when you lost control of yourself over the kindness that was given?

There are two extremes and you never knew balance. In the end, I chose the iron whip. I remember the temptation of kindness, and I'd rather be harsh to become stronger. Yet I look at others who had the balance of both.

I can only remember the taste of iron, the stings it leaves, and the fear it gave.

Maybe it was the pedestal the entire time, where amongst the crowd of people, there's a sniper there ready to fire at one mistake you make. Maybe it was the eyes, or the smile, or the way you stood. When you're placed on the pedestal, there's a sniper to make sure you don't repeat again.

Then again, it can't be that. It can't but it can be a possibility. It's there, lingering, a possible answer, but it can't entirely be.

I only remember the iron whip, the pedestal, and my stupidity. Then again it's too degrading to say stupidity (I said it agian). Again...it's too harsh. Yet it's the only thing I know.

But wallowing in sadness wouldn't do anything. No. It won't. It will only prove that the iron whip and the holder of it is the master of the play. No. You're supposed to stand up and prove that you can allow yourself forgiveness despite the mistakes.

Yet here we are, picking between the iron whip and kindness. Isn't it pathetic that kindness is your bare minimum? We'll talk about it another day. Besides, how can you forgive yourself when all you can hear is the crack of the iron whip dictating your every fault; tearing you apart right before it hits you.

More fragile humans break on such contact. You're on the verge of breaking yet you haven't broken. Why is it so? Ah...you still try to forgive yourself. I don't blame you. That's humanistic (I guess) of someone to do.

How are you still able to forgive yourself...when all you knew was the sting of the iron whip?

I envy your ability to forgive yourself.

I still have yet to learn how you do it. I wish I can be forgiving like you.

Oh to be kind to yourself...surely it can make life a little bit more worth living, right?

...

I see...maybe one day, I can make it out of here.

[lost-act]

Have I ever talked about how I met Death in my dream?

It was another dream where I died in and turned into a ghost. Obviously, I died to something (I don’t remember to what because it was a dream that happened a long time ago) and was turned into a ghost. Suddenly, my surroundings shifted to a haze of what I could describe in modern lingo: the Minecraft Nether roof over the Nether biome proper or crimson forest.

I was there, floating in nothingness and I turned to be greeted by a black-haired man with a short beard. He obviously looked disappointed. He said I wasn’t supposed to be dead yet and somehow I managed to get an audience with him.

I thought it was Thanatos at first, but Thanatos wouldn’t be disappointed. Additionally, he lacked any wings. So there’s only one other god I could think of: Hades.

In my dream, I died. I died and was turned into a ghost. As a ghost, I managed to get myself an audience with the god of the underworld, who was clearly very disappointed. In his disappointment, he sent me to haunt the world of the “living” as a ghost.

I was not sent back to the world of the living in that dream, I ended up haunting what I could describe as a halloween village set.

That’s all I can remember from that dream. Or maybe, it wasn’t a dream at all and I did in fact was before the god of the dead who was ever so disappointed and decided to server ban me from the afterlife for the time being.

[lost-act]

Ngl chat

I would rather deal with a hundred of the worst shadow creatures of the Plane of Astel Void than a human in this plane of reality.

At least I know Hemswatch tried its best holding back its people. At least I know they are slightly more merciful than humans. At least I know that some of them will pity and guard me.

Humanity scares me to the point I would ask Shatter to bring me to Astel Void to live in rather than deal with reality again.

[lost-act]

Telltale Telltle Tale

Tell the moon I said good morning Tell the sun I said good night Tell the clouds not to cry Tell the stars not to dim their light

Tell the birds to sing their songs Tell the flowers to stay a while longer Tell the winds to carry my voice to Tell the rocks to not falter

Tell the world I said hello Tell them I said good bye Tell everyone I love them Tell all of the story I made

Tell me a story Tell me a poem Tell me a message that says to Tell me I've lost myself

Tell me of my memories Tell me of my grief Tell me of my love I lost Tell me of my dreams

Tell the moon that it's beautiful Tell the stars to continue to shine Tell the sun to warm these souls Tell the clouds that it's alright

Tell the birds to fly free Tell the flowers to bloom if they be Tell the winds to bring a lullaby to Tell the rocks to keep standing

Tell the world I said good bye Tell them I once waved hello Tell everyone I loved them Tell all of my story when I die

[lost-act]

The Garden

Bring me back to the garden Where the free birds sing. Bring me back to the garden Where the bluebells ring.

Bring me back to the garden Where the flowers bloom. Bring me back to the garden Where there's no fear or doom.

Here in the garden, There is safety. Here in the garden, There's no need to be hasty.

Here in the garden, I remain away from the horrors. There's no choking demand for that looming tomorrow.

In the garden I stay with no scars on this face. No tears stains or lies that can haunt me today.

In the garden I stay from the morn to eve. In the grass I lay without any thoughts to leave.

How many leaves have been cut? Have the plants been overfed? There's no use to forgetting the small presence of Death.

The grass will be gleaned as to how flowers will be pruned. Branches will be snapped off as fruits are picked up.

Here in the garden, something's bound to die. Be it a plant of animal, or the child inside.

Here in the garden, where everything is calm, a child sleeps in the grass wrapped with flowers plenty.

[lost-act]

I don’t really know what to blog about because nothing eventful is happening other than a headache

Curiously speaking, I still don’t understand how tumblr works or how to get activity on here. Though I could as much say that I’ve ran my luck when it comes to ventures I really want to go through. I don’t really bother much with it because my writing is mere madness. Yet I hope someone out there can understand at my madness and laugh at it.

It’s pretty hard to comprehend things when your mind is stuck focusing on surviving rather than living. I really find that living part difficult because you’re so used to trying so hard to survive that living is like relearning everything all over again. It’s relatively hard as well if you’re so used to expecting the worst out of everything that looking at yourself you realize you’re a hot mess. Like— hot in a bad way not hot as in “damn bish you look slay today” (or something along those lines) and more of “damn bish you live like this?”

Look, when you have a mental breakdown after mass while still in church (btw that breakdown is NOT related to anything church related. I just ended up breaking down all of a sudden mostly because I do not have a stable and/or healthy support system) shit really gets to you. I don’t know how but at one moment you’re happy and next thing you know your entire week is a living nightmare. Yet again I don’t know how to explain it but best I could say is that my fingers are peeling and I am suffering intense hair loss despite not being in my 80s. Next thing you know your entire body hormones start being lil shits and then you realize how you hate being unwillingly subscribed to a natural biological occurrence that literally is another equivalence to flawed biological engineering made by G O D. None of this is delightful and I’d rather not be waking up to another fucking headache.

Huh…my fingers peeling has gotten worse. Lol I just looked at the situation of one of my thumbs and it looks like it’s screaming in horror. Me too, buddy, me too. I won’t lie, my fingers have never peeled this bad until the final semester of year 1. I mean— this…oddity has happened before but then it stopped for a couple of years and then came back to torment the hell out of me now. Maybe it’s dehydration but gods only know because those past few years I was not a hydrated plant at all.

I’ve also managed to finish my first zine so that’s that. I’ll probably make more zines in the future because they’re p fun to make. Though there’s one zine I’m making that I’m putting a lot of effort into because it involves birds and I can’t afford to fuck that one up. I’m not entirely sure if I can sell the photos I took of em considering I’m an amateur bird photographer, but maybe drawing them instead would be better because I really find the lil guys interesting.

Huh…would you look at that? Another idea for me to write. Is it definitely heavily referencing Honkai: Star Rail’s Sunday? Very much so because the lil shit grew on to me as a call out. Except I’m spiraling down into my own insanity and struggling to fly after being caged for so long.

Back to studying I guess…

[lost-act]

There’s that desire To cling on to that Something that you Wish to never change

There ‘s a desire To stay in the same Place, time, memory To your heart’s content

There’s a selfishness To Freeze time To make the moment Last and stay

It is inevitable It is unavoidable It is bound to happen No matter what

So cling on to those Silly memories That you don't Wish to let go

So cling on to The faces that you Purposely blur From your mind

There’s your fear Of changing toward The unknown face Of an uncertain future

There’s a fear To let time move Forward and change The world around

The world will Continue to roll And nothing Can stop it

Your fear is merely Nothing but a Speck in the vast Sea of memories

Cling on as Much as you like Because stories are bound to change course

[lost-act]

I remember writing about my mother's bookstore once for a writing submission. It's not my best work (I didn't expect to get published at all for the anthology) but I liked it. I liked how I wrote it to be in a way that it holds all the feelings that I felt and how that "good" I once saw is slowly fading away for a more efficient market.

Maybe one day, I'll share it with ya'll.

Bookstores always remind me that there are good things in this world.

Vincent Van Gogh

[lost-act]

It doesn’t hurt as much as it used to, but now I’m hoping I’m more fine than yesterday.

[lost-act]

The average amount of thoughts a human has per day is 70,000. 70,000 thoughts running through your brain from one point to another weaving elaborate ideas and whatnots in your mind.

In those 70,000 thoughts, 90% of them are repetitive. Roughly 63,000 thoughts are just the same thing over and over again. 63,000 thoughts that you thought of yesterday, and the day before yesterday, and the days before said yesterday. Might as well be the same 63,000 that you’ll think of tomorrow as well.

I don’t mind it, really. I like watching the same episode over and over again, sometimes.

In those 63,000 reoccurring thoughts, about 80% of them are negative. 50,400 thoughts that choke your mind. 50,400 thoughts that hold you back from pushing any further. Fifty thousand and four hundred thoughts… All of which pester you of the mistakes you’ve made.

It’s impossible to runaway from those 50,400 negative thoughts. They live in your mind, after all.

70,000 thoughts run through your brain. 63,000 are old memories you retain. 50,400 are ones that pushes hate into your veins.

How much more sins do I have to carry? 70,000 thoughts that weave webs in my mind, waiting for the moment where I scream “I wish to die”.

70,000 thoughts, 63,000 memories, 50,400 sins.

They say you carry 70,000 thoughts, but it feels like it weighs millions. Millions of weights that burden your heart as the brain pulls strings to keep you afloat. How much more can you carry before its weight crushes you flat?

70,000 thoughts…and all of them asks for “death”.

[lost-act]

Has anyone thought of dancing to the sluggish chaos of insanity? I don't know I just really like the thought of dancing to it, like a drunken night in a jazz bar where swing plays intensely into the dead of night and laughter and alcohol fills the air. I don't like bars, though, too people-y. Though I do understand the importance of people, I just don't like how some things can be too people-y.

My own insanity is mine to bear, and I choose who gets to witness it. But won't it be nice to have someone to dance along to your madness without a care in the world? I can't dance, but I would love to to enjoy the freedom it brings.

[lost-act]

In terms of hunting down cryptids, I'm all down for it in terms of being able to document them without getting my head eaten off literally. I recommend "Lost Journal of Alejandro Pardo" which is a cryptozoology guidebook to Philippine monsters and mythos. I remember borrowing this book in highschool from the Filipiniana section and maybe spooking myself a bit despite not having my third eye open. (Yes...the drawings were that scary for highschooler me... and the latest TADC episode still manage to scare me despite now being an adult)

Also, despite some minor...landmines to say, Trese is a good series that tackles the mythology side of a country that has been heavily influenced by Catholicism.

(For the sake of those with colorful imaginations like mine, I will put a "Keep Reading" tab so that we don't accidentally get ourselves haunted by our own minds towards the unexplainable. Then again...who am I to stop the curious like how I dove headfirst to borrowing that book?)

Most creatures in the book are those not heard of due to possibly being from other regions.

Some of these monsters piqued my interest like that of this leafy creature that is said to captain a mystical boat, though you have to do some odd technique to be able to see it and its ship. The way you find it is by finding a tree that is surrounded by fireflies. I don't remember the name of the creature but I did wrote it down in a story that I long scrapped.

Another one is a supposed sleep paralysis demon in the form of a (for descriptive purposes only) large obese lady. The book said that they are a nature spirit of sorts that inhabit trees and apparently they appear when their tree was taken down to be made into a bed. Depending on their request, they would ask either that a part of the bed be returned to where their tree was or that the entire bed must be returned to the woods. I also forgot the name of this monster but it did scare me shitless to say the least.

There's also the sigbin, a corpse eating dog. In Trese, they are depicted as shapeshifters. Though in the guidebook, they are depicted as these otherworldly dogs that feast on corpses. Sometimes, they are used to track down corpses that have been casted away.

Of course, there's also the engkantos aka the local version of the English's faeries (or whatever their spelling is). There are multiple mythologies pertaining to the realm of the engkantos, one of which is the famous "City of Biringan", a technologically-advance utopia where engkantos live. Though there are other stories that pertain of people managing to get to the realm of the engkantos and being offered food. Even here, the rule of thumb is to never eat what they offer and find a way to outsmart them. Often times these engkantos would wear colonial outfits, like the baro't saya and barong tagalog, and look like forever youths. Though according to the guidebook, once you fall for their trap, they shed their illusion and reveal their true form which often looks like that of a rotting corpse. Of course, variations vary from one another due to the regional diversity of the country.

There are monsters such as the allan (idk how it's spelled but funnily enough it sounds like a normal person's name) which is a bat human that feasts on humans... and then a snake-lady called an oryol that is said to seduce men. Though I think the latter is maybe due to colonial influence and woven what may be the Western-Christian telling of Lilith to be localized.

And of course...there are those creatures that rape men and women alike. Or, at least, desire to "have" (marry) the human. There are cases where nature spirits like that of the kapre have shown interests in humans. A Sunday evening show I watch, Kapuso Mo: Jessica Soho, sometimes feature segments pertaining to the supernatural. I always look forward to those segments so I can debunk them (and scare) myself.

[Again, I do not have a third eye, but sometimes I can "feel" when something's off. Though the "third eye" does run in the family, just lucky enough that I did not inherit it... But that means I get thrown to take the fall to make things less scarier for everyone. Hhh...that one time when we were given an amulet (tiny ziplock) with a pinch of salt, a clove of garlic, what I assume is a part of a palm plant used for Palm Sunday, and an amulet of the Holy Family did not ease any of us at all! Additionally, I WOULD LIKE TO TALK TO THE INTERIOR DESIGNER THAT DECIDED FILLING UP THE ENTIRE WALL WITH CLOSET DOORS. WHAT KIND OF DESIGN IS THAT?! AT LEAST PLACE A VANITY OR OPEN SHELF CONCEPT. NEXT THING YOU KNOW YOU'VE GOT A BUNCH OF KIDS GETTING SCARED OF GOING UP IN FEAR THAT AN ASWANG OR TIKBALANG OR A GHOST WILL JUMP OUT AT THEM IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT. IT DOESN'T EVEN HELP THAT OUR PHONES WERE CONFISCATED SO THERE GOES ANY SENSE OF REASSURANCE! DOESN'T EVEN HELP AGAIN THAT I CAN'T EVEN USE IT TO CHECK THE TIME! I decided on just flipping off whatever forces there are because I was too sleepy of dealing with the paranormal at 5 am in the morning.]

I also find it interesting, to say the least, the possible origins of the tiyanak; a vampiric creature that takes the form of a baby. The well known variation is that they are spawned from babies that 1) were aborted 2) died before being baptized. It's most likely the well known variation is spun from the use of local beliefs by colonizers to get locals to convert to Catholicism and have their babies baptized so that they have a chance to go to heaven. In addition, it also solidifies the belief of "abortion = bad" though that itself is where politics and religion start to intermingle with one another and I'd rather not go down that route. I do believe, however, that the possible original lore of the tiyanak is that it is a changeling creature that decidedly takes form of a baby to prey on unsuspecting kind hearted humans. The only way to get out of it varies as well as one either inverts their shirt to get out, or, on off chance face-to-face 1v1 encounter with the demon, invert your shirt and start making silly faces to get it to laugh (yk...like how babies work).

As much as I would like to hunt down and prove or disprove the existence of these monsters, I'd need a bolo blessed by a priest to calm any nerves I have.

All in all, there are a lot more monsters here and it all goes down to how much people remember. I would also like to say how terrified I am right now after remembering the contents of the book because of how much the illustrations are burned into my brain... All I can hope now is that I do not get haunted in my sleep.

Cryptid hunting cryptidcore is so America and England focused... Where’s my Australian cryptid hunters, my Eastern European ghost hunters, my Asian cryptozoology nerds?!? Where y’all are, I’d be interested to hear about local legends and cryptids that are not from England or America (though I’m still interested in those). Hit me up if you have any lesser-known local myths, legands, and cryptids.

[lost-act]

An Informal Analysis of Metamorphosis That I Need for School but I Can't Write Anything so I Decided to do The Old Fashion Way of Writing It By Using Tumblr and Now I Hope Turnitin Doesn't Detect My Paper Being Plagiarized or Else I Have to Archive This Post or Something...Also Using ザムザ by Teniwoha as a Basis for Deeper Understanding and Analysis of the Story

Ok so we all know Franz Kafka's Metamorphosis, right? It's a pretty surreal story of Gregor Samsa turning into an insect (no, not a roach. You're being overrated at this point). What kind of insect? Varies from telling to telling and I'd rather imagine him being a beetle of sorts rather than a roach because dear god I am traumatized of roaches.

Well, in fairness the entire ordeal of "Samsa turned into a bug" is just surface level knowledge of WHAT Metamorphosis is. The bigger picture is beyond "turning into a bug" but rather the "isolation and alienation" from the "turning into a bug". Why did Gregor turn into a bug? Beats me. That's why I'm writing this, and why you're reading this.

Basic rundown is that, obviously, Gregor turned into a bug, his entire family tried to cope with it until his father started throwing apples at him, everyone started to ignore him, Insect!Gregor dies to starvation, and everyone has started to plan on moving on.

Easy right?

WELL THAT'S WHERE WE'RE WRONG!

You see, despite the glaring lack of sources because this is just my rambles for a more professional paper, we can dig a bit deeper to this analysis of what Metamorphosis really means because so far...I'm literally on the idea of "ah yes...this could definitely mean the sense of alienation and isolation coming from a change no one asked for".

And yes I am basing this off of Samsa by Teniwoha. Yes this falls under pop culture reference for Metamorphosis.

(This is the OG Vocaloid ver.)

(And this is the PJSK ver.)

(Here's one with an EN Fanlation of the lyrics)

Yes it's very obvious as to WHY I picked this story for my analysis in college. ALL IN THE NAME OF VOCALOID- anyways.

I'll be sticking with the theme of "alienation and isolation from an abrupt change no one saw coming or asked for". Can I expound on this? I don't know because I am lowkey also basing this off of the Vocaloid song as well. Not gonna lie...this analysis might be heavily influenced by the song Samsa and the event that it was made for. Ifg the name of the event but it also references towards Metamorphosis in a way that Mafuyu's mom hates how Mafuyu changed from being an "ideal daughter" to a "delinquent child" (sounding familiar now?).

"I beg you, please don't throw those apples at me" (EN Fanlation of ザムザ)

So...where should we begin?

Right...The Author himself: Franz Kafka.

So Franz Kafka is an Austrian-Czech novelist famous for his novel "The Metamorphosis". Kafka has a strained relationship with his father, which is pretty evident as he referred to him as being "authoritarian and demanding" (Wikepedia, though this is a direct reference to Letter To His Father as well). On a professional standpoint, he worked in insurance companies which he dreaded because it took the time away from his writing (I don't blame him). It's also here that his father only sees Franz's job as a "bread job" (Wikepedia...again...trust me I'll get better sources guys) where it's basically all just for the bills. His personal life is interesting, to say the least, as it mirrors some characteristics seen in the story.

On another note, The Metamorphosis was published in 1915. What was going on in 1915? World War 1, obviously, fellow history nerds. Well...to be honest there's not a lot of context behind this because The Metamorphosis has heavy references that point towards Franz Kafka's personal life. The pressure of his father to how Gregor's job was basically to pay the debt of his father and the bills (aka being the breadwinner) mirrors to him having a "bread job". I'd like to confess I'm just reading stuff off the internet and Kafka writing The Metamorphosis in three weeks after writing The Judgement. (Sparknotes my beloved thank you). Metamorphosis took like- three years of persuasion for Kafka to get it published out and about.

Another note to take up on is Marx's theory of alienation which is basically more or less about estrangement of people from their human nature. How so? well it's a consequence due to labor division and social class...

So time for a deep dive towards Marx’s theory of alienation because this is something we need to understand rq.

Ok so basically, Marx’s theory of alienation is under ✨Marxism✨ (that’s not exaggeration because this is Karl Marx we’re talking about). The theory of alienation covers different forms of alienation (derived from this guy called Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel) which is objective, subjective, and complete.

Objective: the social world they inhabit is not a home. Could be experienced as a metaphysical fact (extentialism)

Subjective: a) world they inhabit IS a home but they FAIL to understand it, and; b) world they inhabit is NOT a home, yet they BELIEVE it is.

Complete: basically both, seen in the condition of the contemporary world

By the way I just pulled all of this out of Wikipedia so feel free to do a deeper dive because that’s what I’ll do later.

So with this out of the way, how the fuck does Marx see this? Let’s just first off say CAPITALISM right off the bat and then things will start getting obvious.

It’s here that Marx distinguishes alienated labour, specifically the alienation of the worker because of alienated labour. It’s here that it’s identified into four dimensions of alienated labor:

From product of his labour

From worker’s own activity

From species-being

From other human beings

I know I should be explaining what each of these mean, but I’m on my wits end but yeah.

(Yes I’m still referencing Wikipedia)

But overall, Marx’s alienation theory (derived from Hegel and Feuerbach) primarily takes a jab towards the capitalistic cycle that everyone’s stuck in and that those who fall deeper into it slowly get consumed by it and suffer the consequences of alienation.

[Someone remind me to write on this later or maybe organize this cuz holy shit man…talking with someone rn and like- talked about a person’s value…which is pretty interesting and something I might talk on as well because that made me realize it as well which can tie with in the new theme that my group decided on]

So

It's time for us to confront the elephant in the room:

What could The Metamorphosis be possibly about?

I would like to give a nod to the vocaloid songs mentioned above for being a ground base that I started building this idea from (Yes, the vocaloid songs play heavy reference towards the story to the point it had taken lines that reference events in the book).

"The abrupt change Gregor Samsa underwent caused dissatisfaction within his family, leading towards a slow descent of alienation and soon...his isolation over his surreal metamorphosis."

[I apologize for the shitty thesis statement, these things are the death of me, ngl.]

[Update: my group changed the main theme again so now we have “questioning social constructs/roles and status quo regarding labor” or something…which can also tie in to what i discussed with someone because holy fuck how did i not see that now….]

Then again…it could also be something along the lines of:

“The “metamorphosis” of Gregor Samsa resulted into a slow descent of alienation and isolation, which itself brings out the questions of a person’s “value” as a “human being” and if they have any “value” as the persistence of such alienation deprives someone of their human nature.”

(Okay, looking at it now, I think that’s way better to look at but then again I feel like we’re still not hitting any points…EH THIS IS A RANDOM RAMBLE DRAFT FOR A REASON)

Samsa's abrupt change brought about...a mix of feelings within the family. His father's disdain on him, because Gregor was basically the source of income for the house hold. His mother crying because he's turned into a bug. And his sister, Grete, who still tries to help him in some way (spoiler: she got tired of Gregor’s bullshit towards the end).

I think the fact that it's just out of nowhere and out right supernatural for Gregor to turn into a giant insect. Why is there this transformation and whatnot. Why Gregor out of all unfortunate souls???

Yet I think the reason as to why could also be a mirror to the author's own feeling of alienation.

I'm not sure if it's of any importance but Gregor does have some hobbies (woodworking) that he does on the side. Then again it's too small of a pin to try and hook something to it.

Thing is...Gregor has not broken his routine in the 5-ish years of his job so it's pretty difficult to get a pinpoint somewhere to frame on. Then looking back again to what his “value” is to his family being the sole income earner…it could be inferred that this abrupt “uselessness” in Gregor’s value after transforming has been a form of possible alienation that stemmed from the capitalistic cycle he’s stuck in (this is a very big stretch because I have yet to fully analyze the theory of alienation).

Maybe breaking it down in three parts can help our scatter brain selves cuz holy fuck we got a lot to unpack here and I have no idea if anything I'll write will make any sense because this thing is due at 5pm on a weekend.

I would also like to note that I will be doing a LOT of cross-referencing here and there

Part 1

Gregor turns into a bug

Everyone is mortified

Accidentally hurts himself in trying to run away from his now furious father

This entire "turning into a bug" ordeal is a slap on the face on the symbolism and overall theme of "turning into something else abruptly". Gregor's now a "vermin" of sorts; not just a bug, but someone despicable. He's now a "problem" for the household to deal with (though it's still unknown to WHY he suddenly turned to being a "problem" when in fact he's been doing everything to bring food to the table...I'll probs write further on this because it's very interesting).

[WHY DID GREGOR TURN INTO A "VERMIN" WHEN HE'S BEEN WITHERING AWAY???]

I find the way Mr. Samsa acted to be somewhat a mirror to the strictness of Kafka's own father towards him.

(Ok I’m awake now do yeah)

How does this relate to the theory of alienation, you ask? Well…not entirely to be honest because I said that up there for reference if I do end up saying it here but I think it can connect in a way that it isolates him from his family. Now what I’m saying is pretty much a stretch to what it originally means of “alienated labor alienates the labor from other humans” (which is more or less alienating workers from one another in means of competitive socio-economic activity). Though Gregor’s transformation does bring this thought of the discussion of human worth while they are still considered “human”.

(Actually maybe if i just remember to reiterate my points then maybe I can be more consistent)

Gregor’s worth in his family here is being the main source of income. But when he became a bug, that worth is now at a loss and that coincides with the consideration if he’s still really “human”. Going back to my previous 3 am thought of Gregor “withering away”, Gregor WAS indeed withering away because of how cyclical his life has become. His days have become rather redundant that it could be seen to suck the human-ess out of him. I guess that’s where the other part, the humanity, that Gregor has that disappeared in an instant. I find that the metamorphosis that happened here, despite its absurdity, is the most evident form of metamorphosis that happened to Gregor. What it might possibly be is still vague so I’m probably gonna try to shoot some darts in the dark here.

The alienation that occurred to Gregor is the change of his “value” in “society” (in this case, his family). This alienation led to the perception of his family towards him as “less than human” now that he’s a bug (even though it can be of literal here). Then it leads to his “isolation” where they lock him away in his room.

Part 2

Everyone locked Gregor in his room

His sister, Grete, tries to tend to him

Gregor gives everyone a heart attack

Mr. Samsa starts throwing apples at Gregor for the mishap

Ok so this is where the "alienation" and "isolation" starts to come into play, chat. First the isolation...which already started in part 1 of The Metamorphosis by locking Gregor away in his room because of his...unsightly appearance (LOOK- HE'S A LARGE BUG ALRIGHT?!). So this is where the sense of alienation starts to settle in slowly.

Grete, Gregor’s sister, tries her best to tend to him by feeding him every now and then. This then went on to her moving his stuff in his room out after seeing that Gregor has decided on roaming around as a past time as a bug. His mother also comes in the picture, though with wishing to see Gregor again. This didn’t really end well especially when they were moving Gregor’s stuff out of his room. To Gregor, he refuses to have what reminded him of his “humanity” away. He then proceeded to cling on to the framed portrait, in hopes that his mother and sister doesn’t move it away from his room. From here, Mrs. Samsa gets shocked and faints which made Grete go out to get the smelling salts. Gregor goes down from where he was to see what happened but was met with his now furious father. Mr. Samsa started to hurl apples at him, one of which landed a hit on him and injured him.

With that summary out, this slow descent into Gregor’s further alienation is starting to stem from any hopes that Gregor is still with them even if he’s stuck as being an insect. Grete’s actions lean towards some hope in Gregor’s “humanness” is still there. Arguably so, her actions are perceived as seeing the loss of “human” of Gregor since he’s handicapped.

Mr. Samsa’s response, however, is the sealing point of this alienation. He has visible frustrations in having to go back to work to provide after 5 years of being retired because Gregor took upon the role of being the income source.

Ah…I should’ve mentioned the role of Gregor playing a role towards the slow demise…

Gregor’s role as the main income source meant all expectations being placed on him to be able to pay off the debts and keep the family afloat. His “value” in his family is placed high because he’s the one bringing in the money. Though ironically, his “value” in his company is “replaceable” (yippie, capitalism) as he’s literally at the brink due to his performance. And if not his performance, he is at most replaceable.

Now that he’s basically a handicapped (BUG), his value is literally gone. I mean— what can a bug even do?

I find it here that the role his sister had of being carefree is slowly being stripped away. Gregor had plans in helping her and enrolling her into a conservatory. But now that he’s nothing but a useless bug that everyone is disgusted at, Grete has no choice but to step up.

Part 3

Everyone started ignoring Gregor cuz they’re all working

Eventually they forgot about Gregor

The Charwoman they hired is the one who still recognizes Gregor to some extent

Grete’s violin playing leading to Gregor offending the hell out of the tenants

Family discussion on getting rid of him

Gregor just dying off to starvation instead

The Samsas moving on in a way (notably speaking on the ending as well)

This is the part where the alienation, isolation, and the decline of human value really shines. Why? Because it’s the third part and holy fuck this is where we get existential (not really).

So a lot is going on in the third part unlike the previous two parts.

Gregor’s isolation here is growing more and more since everyone started working to stay afloat. With that, they turned his room into a storage closet, which defeated the original purpose of Grete’s first initiative of giving her brother more space to roam around. It’s here as well that Gregor doesn’t eat all that much, either because everyone slowly forgot about him or him going on a hunger strike. I find it ironic that among everyone who remains in the household, the Charwoman (a widowed old lady who comes by every now and then to help with he chores) is the only one who still acknowledges Gregor (though as a silly little dung beetle) .

Actually I still wonder why the Charwoman is the one that still has some acknowledgement towards Gregor when everyone just slowly moved away from him. (Hmm maybe I should dissect that idea later.)

It’s in this chapter that Grete turns against Gregor after the mishap that happened after him making appearance in front of the tenants that rented a room in the apartment. She was the first one who offered on the idea of getting rid of that “vermin”.

Gregor’s value is literally gone at this point, not only just that but he’s completely alienated and seen as “inhuman” (in a way that is no longer human). His family no longer sees the human nature that he once had when he was human and had some use. It’s at this point where they see him as nothing more than a vermin and that itself led to him just proceeding to die off alone. (Update: I had a double check and apparently Gregor died because of the injury from the apple being yeeted at him... So his dad was the one who killed him ultimately... W H O O P S)

It’s with that the burden is released from the family after hearing word from the Charwoman that “it” has died and she is off to dispose of the corpse. The story closes off with the Samsas going to the countryside and planning on moving to a smaller place. Here, Mr. And Mrs. Samsa realized Grete’s growth to being a fine young woman.

So…

That’s that I guess…

Really this part confuses me a lot because I don’t really know what to say. On one hand this could be beyond just alienation and isolation stemming from the loss of value of one’s human nature. On the other, this is a cycle that continues to persist. The deprecating nature of what is considered valuable in a human is what can lead towards the alienation and soon, isolation, of a person. Mostly seen in the fourth dimension of Marx’s alienated labor is alienation from other humans which more or less describes alienating workers from one another through socio-economic means (think of pay difference or something similar to prevent them from banding together and whatnot). Though in this case, the alienation is more evident in the measure of the person’s worth. Since Gregor isn’t a person anymore, his worth is basically useless and thus he’s slowly being alienated.

Man…I think that’s as straightforward as it seems now…

“Gregor Samsa was alienated due to his lack of worth in his family’s eyes.”

Then again it can’t be THAT easy.

Can it?

To close things off because I ran out of ideas to write, I’d like to say that I might make a follow up analysis that’s more…formal to say the least. As well as an analysis that tackles both the vocaloid song and the novel. For now…my ideas have ran their run and it’s time for me to write my formal essay.

The Metamorphosis stands to me as an enigma as to what it truly means. A short three chaptered story that could cover topics such as the actual metamorphosis of certain characters to the alienation that is discussed here. Marx’s theory of alienation has heavy influence on many of Kafka’s works with The Metamorphosis being one of them. I was challenged at some point by another friend of mine to figure out why The Metamorphosis is considered “non-fiction”. I am not sure if I’ll ever get a proper answer for it.

The story of The Metamorphosis could also be some sentiment Kafka had as well in his actual life, especially with his relationship with his father. Having preference to write while being pressured to be more rational by one’s father could bring forth that feeling of alienation of not being understood. Just like how no one understood what Gregor said when he was turned into a bug. To be alienated is to also be isolated from society. Hegel’s identification of the different forms of alienation can be referenced by identifying that the form of alienation being seen here as the complete form of alienation.

Why haven’t I discussed this earlier? Well because I was too busy trying to figure shit out.

But yes…the complete form of alienation is both on the subjective and objective kind. The world Gregor is placed in (in a social context) is a repetitive cycle that eats itself over and over again. It’s the kind that is self-sabotaging in a way that either you leave it or it eats you alive. As for Gregor’s own home, at some point he failed to make sense of the home his family is trying to make way for him. But in part 3, the home Gregor once knew is no longer a home that welcomed him, it is one that saw him as a “vermin” that needed to be rid of.

All in all, it’s difficult to make sense of the weight of human value and any remnants of Gregor’s human nature post-transformation. His sister’s growing frustration against him bears this lack of empathy to understand Gregor anymore. Imagine that…being backstabbed by someone who first tried to be kind for you. Oh what alienation does to people… as well as the fact that the shift in the value their parents now hold for Greta seeing that she also metamorphosed into a young woman of “value” (married off). I think it’s here as well in seeing this shift in value fitting Marx’s forms of alienation aka “from humans”.

[Look, I’m lowkey rambling here and sound like I don’t know what I’m saying but that’s because I don’t know what I’m saying]

That’s all…I’ll also be archiving this tomorrow but I’ll put it back up in a few days after my essays’ been graded.

Wish me luck on my madness.