pretty-chaotic-world

[pretty-chaotic-world]

There is poetry in the small things: the rhythmic clatter of a spoon against ceramic, the way sunlight dances on a glass of water, the hush of turning pages. Life does not demand grandeur; it thrives in the in-between moments—the laughter that lingers after a joke, the warmth of a familiar street, the weight of a quiet sigh at the end of the day.

A girl walks into the grocery store, her tote bag slung over her shoulder, the list on her phone glowing faintly. She moves through aisles lined with neatly stacked produce, running her fingers over the cool waxy skin of apples, testing the weight of a melon. The air smells of fresh bread and something citrusy, and she pauses at the flower section, debating if she should buy herself a bouquet.

Across the city, a man sits in a service center, drumming his fingers on his knee as a mechanic inspects his bike. The air is thick with the scent of grease and rubber, the hum of tools filling the space. He watches the clock, his mind already at the tea stall around the corner, where a steaming cup of chai will soon warm his hands.

At a quiet park, an old man kneels on damp grass, carefully plucking marigolds and jasmine. His hands tremble slightly, but his grip is steady—years of practice. He picks only the best ones, the ones his wife loves, the ones that will sit on their bedside table, filling the room with a fragrance as familiar as their shared years.

In a small apartment, a baby wobbles on unsteady feet, arms stretched toward his mother. His first steps are hesitant, unsure, but the joy in his eyes is undeniable. His mother gasps, laughter spilling from her lips as she rushes forward, catching him just as he tips over. The baby giggles, delighted, as if he has just discovered the secret to flight.

Life hums along, unremarkable yet infinite in its beauty. A waiter wipes down a café table, lost in thought. A student doodles in the margins of her notebook. A dog curls up by the roadside, sighing in its sleep. Somewhere, a streetlight flickers on as the sun dips below the horizon. Another day in the world of quiet miracles.

[pretty-chaotic-world]

imagine the barrel of the gun -- a double barrel shotgun as snake eyes looking directly back at you should you shoot, and prove the snake right? that its venom be stronger than man? or put it down, empty its bullets (guts) and assert your dominance over it assert your own humanity over the snake assert your own holiness over the sinner let your will to live be stronger than anything that stares you down or better yet, harness the strength of that snake grab it, position it, and aim towards the sun for the snake just wants to eat and the human just wants to live so shoot the miserable god that made things that way

[pretty-chaotic-world]

the hunger was never just for food; it was a craving for control, for release, for a fleeting sense of power over the chaos within. it is a storm wrapped in silk—a quiet rebellion disguised as a feast and purge, a ritual of excess followed by the desperate need for erasure.

it begins with the lure of indulgence, a promise whispered by the soft edges of pastries and salted skin of fries, a crescendo of flavors filling the void—momentary comfort drowning the sound of unspoken grief. the body swells with borrowed satisfaction, only to feel the weight of it suffocate soon after.

so she kneels before porcelain altars, trembling fingers clutching the edge, throat raw from confession. the undoing is violent yet strangely tender, a purge of guilt and sorrow masquerading as triumph. the taste of regret lingers like bitter ash, but there’s relief too—brief, fleeting, and gone before dawn.

her reflection is a fractured truth. eyes hollow with longing, ribs like faint outlines beneath pale skin—a war waged in silence, a battlefield no one sees. still, she wears her joy like armor, carefully crafted, polished enough to blind.

it is not hunger but a haunting. it is the ache of wanting to be both seen and unseen, a love letter written in secret to the body, signed with apology and shame. and though she dances on this knife’s edge between fullness and emptiness, she is searching—always searching—for something softer, something whole, something that doesn’t need to be emptied to feel worthy of space.

[pretty-chaotic-world]

I haven’t written anything in literal years. I haven’t been on this app in that long either. This just popped into my head tonight and I’m so out of practice that I don’t even know if I still got it. I would love feedback from fellow writers. It just feels like the phrases that would once come to me so easily are gone now.

I once was a writer

I once was a writer, a poet, an architect of words on tattered pages held together by a threadbare spine. Too worn down to keep up with the speed at which I fell in love and fell apart. The metaphors sunk into my cerebral and grabbed hold as if this capability was bestowed upon me by the higher power I often scoffed at. Sucking on a cigarette, head filled with dope, heavy lids exchanging tired glances with the lover of the moment. Perched upon the coffee table is a novel (how novel!) with traces of an ivory powder. His lips dance on mine while I trace the edge of my wet glass with a fingertip, stopping only to gently fish out a cube of ice and grip it in between my thumb and forefinger. My fingers go numb. Is it pain I yearn for? So achingly desperate that I feel the tightening in my jaw, a scream suppressed by a clamped mouth that swallows it back down when it threatens to intumesce from the depths of my throat. I am responsible. I brought the damage to their figurative doors, knocked gently with twinkling eyes that gleefully twirled the royal blue baggie between my fingers. I clung on until my nails splintered and drug poor souls whose only offense was loving me down to the bottom. I am cold. I am thoughtless. My home is a damp, bleak cave where the darkness that resides within me is free to prowl. I conjure up the image of a creature, a twisted snarl and bulging eyes fashioned upon a throne made out of bones from the ones who dared to visit. I still perform autopsies on experiences I had long ago and wonder if it is this suffocation I feel that allowed me to furnish pages with prose; a flowing pen gripped by hands that have made such fierce mistakes. My misery demands to be fed, hungry for the blood that will metamorphose into ink. I once romanticized every flicker of life that was breathed into me. I once desired violently a love so all consuming that it tore me apart, layer by layer. I once was an addict and I once was a writer. I fear one cannot coexist without the other. Is she still inside of me? Do I carry her with me forever?

My journal, with its yellow pages and final date almost a decade ago, says no.

[pretty-chaotic-world]

I can just imagine saying “lobotomies are bad” in like 1949 and having someone say “you’re wrong, the science is settled, lobotomies are the best way to treat mental illness” and guess what? In 1949 I might be the unpopular and socially wrong one. The person with the backwards, conservative thinking. That is the year that António Egas Moniz won the Nobel Prize for lobotomies.

Lobotomies are still bad, but a lot of people have now understood that it’s a deeply harmful and anti-human practice. It was often performed on women (60% of cases were women in the US, a study in Ontario put women patients at 72%) and on gay men. Societal mores have changed on what is psychiatrically appropriate—many of these women were depressed and repressed housewives, or were not naturally submissive to their husbands and considered “combative”.

Many lobotomies were called “ice pick lobotomies” because they involved inserting an ice pick through the eye to sever the part of your brain that feels emotions. There were different techniques, largely dependent on which surgeon you saw. Norbert Wiener said in 1948, "Prefrontal lobotomy... has recently been having a certain vogue, probably not unconnected with the fact that it makes the custodial care of many patients easier. Let me remark in passing that killing them makes their custodial care still easier."

In 1944, the Journal of Nervous and Mental Disease ran an article saying, “The history of prefrontal lobotomy has been brief and stormy. Its course has been dotted with both violent opposition and with slavish, unquestioning acceptance."

Walter Freeman called the practice “surgically induced childhood”—he specialized in lobotomies and performed them until 1967, so he found this to be a good outcome. In fact, he worked on an “assembly line” process where he could lobotomies 20 people a day, and even did a surgical procedure face-off with another doctor in 1948 to compete in an operating theatre to show an audience of doctors that his technique was superior. The other professor was a professor at Yale, William Beecher Scoville, another famous lobotomist known for proliferating the procedure. They called it a miracle cure, and the gold standard for psychiatric treatment.

Scoville’s most famous patient, Henry Molaison, was a 7-year old boy with epilepsy after a fall from his bike. Scoville couldn’t find the problem, so he just destroyed all three regions of Henry’s temporal lobes. Afterwards, the surgeon noted memory loss “so severe as to prevent the patient from remembering the location of the rooms in which he lives, the names of his close associates, or even the way to the toilet or the urinal.”

Scoville’s wife sought psychiatric care after her husband cheated on her and she had a breakdown. Her husband lobotomized her himself.

In the 1960s, when schizophrenia became a radicalized charged diagnosis that was often used against Black people, especially those involved in the civil rights struggle. Walter Freeman did several pushes to lobotomize Black people, including as young as five, for “hyperactive and aggressive behavior”.

The practice continued in some places until the 1980s. It was used to treat schizophrenia, affective disturbance (mood disorders and people reacting in non-mainstream ways like being an opinionated woman or gay), and OCD, chronic neurosis (anxiety), psychopathic disorders, and depression, among other things. You may notice the old names for these things—things that we might not consider the same way now. Being gay was a mental disorder. Women who wanted independence or respect were often diagnosed. Not fulfilling your traditional societal role was a good way to end up institutionalized.

It was considered, at time of invention, to be an humane alternative to insulin comas and shock therapy (ECT). Many people considered it lifesaving and gold standard treatment for mental illness. Some reports believe that about a third of patients found the procedure beneficial. Others faced dementia, death, incontinence, inability to speak, paralysis, and other effects. Many people were unable to ever leave care again afterwards, though they were more complacent.

I don’t think any scientist who tells you that science is settled is a good scientist. I think that treatments that target people who don’t fit the mold of society, people who are countercultural, and people from marginalized groups should be especially criticized. Psychiatry is a very new field. Part of the phasing out of lobotomies had to do with the development of the first medications for psychiatric use—which in turn have had their own social, political, and ethical conundrums and misuse. Many could consider Valium (“mother’s little helper”) the spiritual successor to the lobotomy.

But in 1949, if I said lobotomies are bad—I might have been met with “Do you hate mentally ill people?” “It works great for most people!” “Without it, she will just be depressed and kill herself” or “My friend did it and all her problems seem better now”.

Lobotomies were bad the whole time.

[pretty-chaotic-world]

the subtle art of being unforgettable 🤍

hello sweethearts, mindy here. i wanted explore how to leave lasting impressions without trying too hard. these are from things i personally observed and things i try to do in my everyday life. being memorable is important, especially for us coquette girliesss.

presence essentials:

master the delayed response

perfect your signature scent

develop a subtle catchphrase

create your color palette

curate your personal style

memorable habits:

social grace

remember small details

listen more than speak

arrive slightly late

leave slightly early

master the soft laugh

physical presence

gentle hand gestures

maintain eye contact

slight head tilt

measured walking pace

relaxed shoulders

conversation tips:

ask thoughtful questions

pause before responding

speak in low tones

use people's names

master the use of silence

remember: mystique is created in the spaces between words. be the girl they can't quite figure out. 🕊️

[pretty-chaotic-world]

2025: My goals and plans

Goal 1: Improve Academic Performance

Read more- Do pre and post lecture reading

Set soft deadlines

Begin writing work as soon as it is set

Have a friend to help with accountability

Create a study group for each module

Goal 2: Improve skin

Use a face mask 1-2 times a week

Gua sha and jade roller daily

Create a skincare routine a stick to it

Use a body scrub a few times a week

Moisturise twice daily

Goal 3: Improve Health

Drink more water

Workout four times a week

Eat more produce

Do a mix of exercise- Weights, Cardio, Pilates

Create a stretch and flexibility routine

Take necessary vitamins

Get over eight hours of sleep

Goal 4: Learn Latin

Do a ten minute lessons everyday

Read one chapter of a Latin book every week

Goal 5: Read More

Read at least one leisure book every month

Set time based goals for reading

Reduce screen time and replace it with books

Goal 6: Improve my career

Find career based internships and experience

Read more about related topics

[pretty-chaotic-world]

𝑇𝐻𝐸 75 𝑀𝐸𝐷𝐼𝑈𝑀 𝐶𝐻𝐴𝐿𝐿𝐸𝑁𝐺𝐸 : 𝑆𝑇𝑂𝑃 𝑀𝐴𝐾𝐼𝑁𝐺 𝐸𝑋𝐶𝑈𝑆𝐸𝑆 𝐴𝑁𝐷 𝐺𝐸𝑇 𝑇𝑂 𝑊𝑂𝑅𝐾

𝐴𝑙𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡, 𝑙𝑒𝑡'𝑠 𝑐𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓. 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑢𝑙𝑡𝑠, 𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡? 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑑𝑖𝑡𝑐ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 "𝐼'𝑙𝑙 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑡𝑜𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑜𝑤" 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑠𝑒𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 75 𝑀𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑢𝑚 𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑒 𝑖𝑠 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑝 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑒- 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦, 𝑝ℎ𝑦𝑠𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦. 𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑎𝑠 𝑒𝑥𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑠 75 𝐻𝑎𝑟𝑑, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑖𝑡 𝑡𝑤𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑑; 𝑖𝑡'𝑠 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑔𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑒𝑓𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑡, 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑐𝑖𝑝𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑒, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎 𝑧𝑒𝑟𝑜 𝑒𝑥𝑐𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑡𝑢𝑑𝑒.

𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒? 𝑆𝑡𝑜𝑝 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑏𝑢𝑖𝑙𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑎𝑏𝑖𝑡𝑠. 𝐻𝑒𝑟𝑒'𝑠 ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑜 𝑖𝑡, 𝑛𝑜 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑑.

𝐷𝐴𝐼𝐿𝑌 𝑁𝑂𝑁-𝑁𝐸𝐺𝑂𝑇𝐼𝐴𝐵𝐿𝐸𝑆

1. 8,000 - 10,000 𝑆𝑡𝑒𝑝𝑠.

𝐷𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑎𝑐𝑡 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑙𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑠 ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑑. 𝐺𝑒𝑡 𝑜𝑓𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑐ℎ, 𝑝𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑒𝑠, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑚𝑜𝑣𝑒. 𝑊𝑎𝑙𝑘 𝑡𝑜 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘, 𝑎𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑐𝑘, 𝑜𝑟 𝑝𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑟𝑜𝑜𝑚. 𝐽𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑖𝑡 𝑑𝑜𝑛𝑒.

2. 𝑁𝑜 𝐴𝑙𝑐𝑜ℎ𝑜𝑙, 𝑆𝑢𝑔𝑎𝑟𝑦 𝐷𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑘𝑠, 𝑜𝑟 𝐸𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑔𝑦 𝐷𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑘𝑠.

𝐼𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑎 𝑠𝑢𝑔𝑎𝑟𝑦 𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒 𝑜𝑟 𝑎 𝑣𝑜𝑑𝑘𝑎 𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑐 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑣𝑖𝑣𝑒, 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑦 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑒. 𝑆𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑘 𝑡𝑜 𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟. 𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑑𝑒𝑒𝑝.

3. 𝐷𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑘 2 𝐿𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑊𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟.

𝐵𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑒ℎ𝑦𝑑𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑎 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑡. 𝐷𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟, 𝑜𝑟 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑠ℎ.

4. 𝑁𝑜 𝑆𝑛𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐴𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝐷𝑖𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑟 (𝑈𝑛𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑖𝑡'𝑠 𝐹𝑟𝑢𝑖𝑡).

𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑚𝑖𝑑𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑠𝑛𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑖𝑠𝑛'𝑡 "𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓"- 𝑖𝑡'𝑠 𝑠𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓. 𝑊𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑢𝑙𝑡𝑠? 𝐿𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑝𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑒.

5. 𝐺𝑒𝑡 𝑎𝑡 𝐿𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑡 7 𝐻𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑆𝑙𝑒𝑒𝑝.

𝑆𝑡𝑜𝑝 𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑇𝑖𝑘𝑇𝑜𝑘 𝑎𝑡 1 𝑎.𝑚. 𝑌𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑡. 𝑆𝑙𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑒, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑡'𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑢𝑙𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑐𝑘.

6. 15-20 𝑀𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑡𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑎 𝑄𝑢𝑖𝑒𝑡 𝐴𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑡𝑦.

𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑖𝑠𝑛'𝑡 𝑎 𝑚𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑒. 𝑆𝑖𝑡 𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑛, 𝑠ℎ𝑢𝑡 𝑢𝑝, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑑𝑜 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑚 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑒- 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑, 𝑗𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑙, 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑟, 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟.

7. 10-𝑀𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑡𝑒 𝑄𝑢𝑖𝑐𝑘 𝐴𝑟𝑚 𝑊𝑜𝑟𝑘𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑎𝑡 𝑁𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡.

"𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝐼'𝑚 𝑡𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑑". 𝐺𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡? 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑒'𝑠 𝑡𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑑. 𝑃𝑢𝑠ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑖𝑡 𝑎𝑚𝑑 𝑐𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑚 𝑒𝑥𝑒𝑟𝑐𝑖𝑠𝑒𝑠. 𝑌𝑜𝑢'𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟.

8. 10-𝑀𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑡𝑒 𝑅𝑜𝑜𝑚 𝑇𝑖𝑑𝑦-𝑈𝑝.

𝑆𝑡𝑜𝑝 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑎 𝑠𝑙𝑜𝑏. 𝑇𝑎𝑘𝑒 10 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑡𝑒𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑐𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑠𝑝𝑎𝑐𝑒. 𝐴 𝑐𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝑟𝑜𝑜𝑚 𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑎𝑙𝑠 𝑎 𝑐𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑑.

9. 𝐺𝑢𝑎 𝑆ℎ𝑎 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑆𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒.

𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑔𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑘𝑖𝑛? 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑢𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑘 𝑡𝑜 𝑎 𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑒. 𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑐- 𝑖𝑡'𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑦.

𝑊𝐸𝐸𝐾𝐿𝑌 𝑅𝐸𝑄𝑈𝐼𝑅𝐸𝑀𝐸𝑁𝑇𝑆

1. 3-4 𝐺𝑦𝑚 𝑜𝑟 𝐻𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑊𝑜𝑟𝑘𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑠.

𝑆𝑡𝑜𝑝 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 "𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑓𝑒𝑐𝑡 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑛." 𝐽𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑚𝑜𝑣𝑒. 𝐿𝑖𝑓𝑡 𝑤𝑒𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑠, 𝑓𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑎 𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑢𝑏𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘𝑜𝑢𝑡, 𝑜𝑟 ℎ𝑖𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑦𝑚. 𝐶𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑦 > 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑓𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛.

2. 1 𝐶ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑡 𝑀𝑒𝑎𝑙.

𝑂𝑛𝑒. 𝑁𝑜𝑡 𝑎 𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑘𝑒𝑛𝑑. 𝐸𝑛𝑗𝑜𝑦 𝑖𝑡, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑡𝑜 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘.

3. 𝑃𝑟𝑜𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑃𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑠.

𝑆𝑡𝑜𝑝 𝑏𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑎𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑤. 𝑇𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑠. 𝑃𝑟𝑜𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑖𝑠𝑛'𝑡 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑦, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑖𝑡'𝑠 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑡ℎ 𝑖𝑡.

4. 𝑀𝑒𝑎𝑙 𝑃𝑟𝑒𝑝 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑊𝑒𝑒𝑘.

𝐷𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑐𝑟𝑦 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜𝑜 𝑏𝑢𝑠𝑦 𝑡𝑜 𝑒𝑎𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑡ℎ𝑦. 𝑃𝑟𝑒𝑝 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑓𝑜𝑜𝑑, 𝑜𝑟 𝑘𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑗𝑢𝑛𝑘 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑦 𝑠𝑡𝑢𝑐𝑘. 𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 ��ℎ𝑜𝑖𝑐𝑒.

5. 𝑊𝑒𝑒𝑘𝑙𝑦 𝑅𝑒𝑓𝑙𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛.

𝐵𝑒 ℎ𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓. 𝐷𝑖𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑜𝑓𝑓, 𝑜𝑟 𝑑𝑖𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑟𝑢𝑠ℎ 𝑖𝑡? 𝑁𝑜 𝑜𝑛𝑒'𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢- 𝑖𝑡'𝑠 𝑜𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟.

𝐸𝑋𝑇𝑅𝐴 𝑅𝑈𝐿𝐸𝑆 (𝐵𝐸𝐶𝐴𝑈𝑆𝐸 𝑌𝑂𝑈 𝐶𝐴𝑁 𝐴𝐿𝑊𝐴𝑌𝑆 𝐷𝑂 𝑀𝑂𝑅𝐸)

𝑀𝑜𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑆𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑐ℎ/𝑌𝑜𝑔𝑎 : 𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑢𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑡ℎ.

𝐺𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑡𝑢𝑑𝑒 𝑃𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑒 : 𝑊𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑛 3 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘𝑓𝑢𝑙 𝑓𝑜𝑟.

𝐷𝑖𝑔𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑙 𝐷𝑒𝑡𝑜𝑥 𝑁𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 : 𝐺𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑎 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑘 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑑𝑜𝑜𝑚-𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔. 𝑆𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑙𝑦, 𝑖𝑡'𝑙𝑙 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑣𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝐼𝑛𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑚 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔.

𝐿𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑛 𝑆𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑁𝑒𝑤 : 𝑃𝑖𝑐𝑘 𝑎 𝑠𝑘𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑖𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑖𝑡. 𝑌𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑝𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑎𝑙 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑎𝑦, "𝐼 𝑤𝑖𝑠ℎ 𝐼 𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑤 ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑡𝑜..."

𝑆𝑇𝑂𝑃 𝐶𝑂𝑀𝑃𝐿𝐴𝐼𝑁𝐼𝑁𝐺, 𝑆𝑇𝐴𝑅𝑇 𝐶𝐻𝐴𝑁𝐺𝐼𝑁𝐺

𝑇ℎ𝑒 75 𝑀𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑢𝑚 𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑑𝑜𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒- 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑖𝑡'𝑠 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑒𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑝 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑒𝑥𝑐𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑠. 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑑𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑔𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡? 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑡'𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒. 𝑆ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑢𝑝 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑤𝑎𝑦.

𝐼𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑦 𝑡𝑜 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑖𝑡, 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑏𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔. 𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑜𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔. 𝑇𝑖𝑚𝑒'𝑠 𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔.

[pretty-chaotic-world]

here's to all the shit we never finished

It starts with a rush, that electric hum, a spark, a flicker of what might one day be— the fire burns hot, the wood stacked high. At first, plans unfold like wings. But the climb is steep, the air thins, and tired, over time, you forget. Soon, you’re crawling      towards something…      towards a half-lit dream etched in a half-forgotten memory—      a green light      at the end of a stranger’s dock.      Embers turn to ash, smoke to silence. The wind dies,      the paper fades.      You don’t finish goals; you abandon them.

[pretty-chaotic-world]

i have a lot of fears. spiders, heights, the permanence of death, the impermanence of life. my biggest fear though, is that i’m not much of anything at all. i’m afraid that if you stack up everything that makes who i am, it would still stand shorter than a blade of grass. back in elementary school, my teachers would hand out these cute worksheets. it was typically on the first day back from summer break and they were always titled something along the lines of “all about me” and covered in smiley faces and hearts. it was supposed to be an easy, fun activity. just something to ease kids into the school year—a way for the teacher to get to know you better. the questions would start off simple, asking things like name and age, then progressively get more detailed. favorite color: green? or maybe purple? i’ve always liked pink but everyone likes pink. favorite sport: i’ve never been athletic. favorite food: i’m not really sure, there’s too many to choose from. five adjectives to describe yourself: that’s the question that always got me. i would sit there for minutes, pencil in my hand, staring at my blank paper, unable to begin. it wasn’t that there were so many adjectives that settling on only five felt wrong, it was more so that i couldn’t even select one without feeling like i lied. how does someone describe nothing? i always thought as i grew older something would change, that i would somehow develop a solid personality, be good at something, be someone worth knowing. but for some reason as the years go on, i still find nothing interesting about myself.

[pretty-chaotic-world]

i am given birth to by my mother. i am brought home to a falling-apart trailer. i am fed and i am not fed enough. i am aged into a small being with opinions and some semblance of autonomy; my childhood is a video game and i am given three objectives: sit down, stay quiet, and cease to exist. i am made good at the last part; it is a god-like sort of art, and so i do. silence is suited for me as well as i am suited for silence. 

i am told, gently, by my third-grade teacher to stop writing in passive voice. the noun of the sentence should be the actor, the doer, the taker. i am not a taker. never the actor of my own consciousness, of my own unconsciousness, remember, now, i am ceasing to exist. 

i am uprooted like a wilting plant, no sunlight, chipped terracotta pot, placed, never planted. grow, says the sunlight seeping between the drawn shutters, and i deny its case. i am made a masochist at all of eight-years-old, i am made for withering away. i am made mother, made martyr, made clever, made more, made machine. 

i am placed in a foster home and told the new rules. i will sleep at 2130 and wake at 0600. i will eat blueberries and coconut yogurt and i will make good grades. i will behave. i will sit down, i will stay quiet, and i will cease to exist. 

i am told, gently, by my ninth-grade teacher to stop writing in passive voice. like this, you are the subject of the sentence. i am brought home; i am subjected to my sentence. i am taught, i am created, i am embittered, i am disillusioned, i am ceasing. it is all i know how to do.

blurring letters litter the pages before me. maya angelou, oh pray my wings are gonna fit me well. oh, tell the hell-child to return to her cell. mangled beast, worthless mongrel, ceasing. perfect child, perfect victim, passive. the sentences are diagrammed by my expert hand and i am diagrammed as well, pages in a folder, problem child, trouble-maker, mentally unstable. infinitive, preposition, page-break. 

my eleventh-grade teacher is asked why was it okay for maya angelou to write in passive voice? she responds, because to write in active voice would take the focus from the corpse to the crew. i like that. i understand it. the pages aren’t so blurry anymore. i trace them with my fingertips, letter-by-letter. her bones were found//round thirty years later//when they razed//her building to//put up a parking lot. 

i am no longer still, silent, ceasing. i am no longer wilting, and no longer made, i am maker. 

grow, says the sunlight seeping between the drawn shutters. i am neither the corpse nor the crew. i reach forward with trembling hands,

and i pull the cord, and the light floods through.

[pretty-chaotic-world]

Why do I keep promising myself happiness in the future, when that future isn't even promised to me?

I know that future might not hold me. But what scares me is that I might not be in the future that I dreamed of and paid the price with my present. To conquering my dreams that my present self is afraid to pursue is what the future is all about. The future always seems brighter. I am always much better there. Much different from what I am. But when that future starts to unfold, I find myself breaking my own promises. Those sacred promises I made to keep going. To find solace in knowing that the future has everything I ever wanted. But I forget about the part that I too exist in the future. And I never changed. The self that promised the future to get through the present exists in that future too. By Keeping my happiness secured in the future so as to not let the present steal it. Do I get any part of it? No. Do I get that future with happiness? No. I delay my happiness to an even further future, to make sure that future has it and present shouldn't. To accept happiness in this messed up present feels like failing. If this is happiness why even bother chasing that future which has nothing other than this messy present? So to invent hope I secured my happiness in the future. The farther it is from my hands, the hopeful I get. 

[pretty-chaotic-world]

a powerful reset for 2025

create a “no” list

write down things you’re absolutely saying no to in 2025, like overworking, toxic relationships or procrastinating and respect your boundaries.

unsubscribe from things that don’t add value

this goes from e-mails, streamings and services to beliefs, commitments, addictions, habits and everything that drain your energy and no longer makes sense to you.

set small, realistic goals

big and vague goals are harder to achieve. we all did at least once some megalomaniac goals that we didn’t achieved because they were too unrealistic to that moment. instead, set goals that you can achieve to fulfill your sense of accomplishment and actually accomplish something.

have a pre-reset day before 2025

disconnect from your phone for a couple hours and journal about what you’re leaving behind and what you’re welcoming in this new year. align with yourself and what you want and deserve. meditate about the vibe you want from now on.

give yourself permission to change

we often stay stuck in old versions of ourselves, so let this new year be the year you let go of outdated expectations you (or society) put into yourself. change your mind! take risks! start over!

redesign you bedroom

if you can, change up your bedroom (or any room you can/want) to create a space that feels fresh and motivating for the new year, like adding fairy lights, plants, move your bed and desk, create a functional corner to study/work. any small changes can make a big difference in how you feel at home.

prioritize! mental! health!

because a strong foundation in health, specially mental health in this era, is essential and boosts every other part of your life. try to live slower, don’t overconsume in social medias, don’t overshare, do therapy, take your meds/vitamins, journal about your feelings, have a trusting person you can always vent to and get help.

[pretty-chaotic-world]

30 Ways to Romanticize Your Life 🌸

Life is more beautiful when you slow down and notice the magic around you. Here's how to romanticize your everyday moments:

 Wake up early to watch the sunrise.

Use your favorite mug for morning tea or coffee.

Write love letters to yourself in a journal.

Go on a solo date to a cozy café.

Light a candle while you work or study.

Play soft instrumental music while cooking.

Take a walk in nature without your phone.

Organize your desk with pastel stationery.

Capture small moments with a disposable camera.

Make your bed every morning.

Wear an outfit that makes you feel confident.

Add fresh flowers to your space.

Watch your favorite childhood movie.

Dance in your room to nostalgic music.

Try a new skincare routine.

Write down three things you're grateful for every day.

Learn calligraphy or start a creative hobby.

Keep a collection of your favorite poems.

Use a fancy pen for your daily notes.

Take a luxurious bubble bath.

Treat yourself to your favorite dessert.

Read a book that inspires you.

Keep a vision board of your dreams.

Watch the stars on a clear night.

Use aromatherapy oils for relaxation.

Write a letter to your future self.

Wear perfume even if you’re staying home.

Set up a cozy nook for reading or journaling.

Look for beauty in small details.

Smile at yourself in the mirror every morning.

[pretty-chaotic-world]

Cecília Meireles, from a poem titled "Silk and Ashes," featured in Antologia poética

[pretty-chaotic-world]

I had a red dot on the palm of my hand for over a year, near the left-hand fate line. I wondered for a while if I gave myself a tattoo of error when my grader's pen met an open wound without my notice. I thought cancer, then shrugged it off until the dot turned black, and sick, I poked at it with tweezers.

When I was twelve or so, I fell off my bike. After an agonizing hour of first aid, everyone was sure all the gravel was gone but me.

Vindication. The last piece of my childhood driveway worked its way up, cell by cell, and made its way to the surface.

[pretty-chaotic-world]

25 Questions for a Fresh Start

Reflect and take the next step toward your goals!

1. What are my top three priorities for 2025?

2. What is one habit I want to create this year?

3. What personal qualities do I want to develop?

4. What will success look like for me in 2025?

5. What is one bold goal I've been hesitant to pursue?

6. How will I take care of my mental and physical health this year?

7. What do I need to let go of to move forward?

8. Who in my life supports my growth and goals?

9. How can I add more joy and fun to my daily life?

10. What financial goal do I want to achieve by the end of the year?

11. What new skill will I commit to learning in 2025?

12. How will I organize my time to stay productive and balanced?

13. What motivates me to reach my goals?

14. How will i track my progress and celebrate small wins?

15. What does my ideal work-life balance look like?

16. What experiences or adventures do I want to have in 2025?

17. How can I be more present and mindful in my daily routine?

18. What will I stop doing that no longer serves me?

19. What is one relationship I want to improve this year?

20. How can I contribute more to my community or causes I care about?

21. What are three books I want to read for self-growth?

22. What limiting belief do I need to challenge and overcome in 2025?

23. How will I make time for rest and self-care throughout the year?

24. What is one risk I'm willing to take for personal growth?

25. What legacy do I want to build or continue this year?