EVERYTHING MUST GO
my first post of 2026, wherein i talk about all my ins-and-outs for the year, do a little tapping on the glass. the estate sale to end all estate sales... this could have been an instagram story
Hi everyone.
Happy new year! I have a feeling you’re seeing a lot more of me right now than you’ll ever see for the rest of this year. I went from posting once every few months to posting three times within the span of a few weeks. Bad news for people who hate good news: this trend will continue on for just a bit longer (at least, until the crushing weight of school and grad applications and the labour all topple down onto me)1Before that happens, before the last semester of my undergrad plays out, let me get a few things out of my system.
If you’ve been reading my Substack regularly, you’re also (hopefully) keeping up to date with a certain license plate curator. I’ve been waiting in anticipation for him to release a follow-up to last year’s in-and-out post. I'm very impatient. Maybe beekeeping keeps your hands all swelled up to the point where you can't type proper. He's taking a long time.
CORRECTION - WHILE I WAS WRITING THIS POST, SAM ACTUALLY POSTED THE FOLLOW-UP POST. YOU CAN FIND IT HERE. WHILE I’M AT IT, GO READ CYNTHIA’S INS-AND-OUTS AS WELL. I APOLOGIZE TO YOU, SAM’S VANITY PLATE COMMUNITY, FOR SLANDERING YOUR BELOVED BEEKEEPER LIKE THIS. I WILL NOT MAKE THIS MISTAKE AGAIN.
In my fervor, I ended up wanting to draft up my own list of ins-and-outs for 2026, in hopes of being able to look back on this a year from now. The last time I wrote to you, I alluded to writing up a post detailing my trip to the Philippines over reading week. I’m sorry to say that this isn’t that post. It is in the works. In my head, anyway. I haven’t actually started to write it, but in my mind’s eye I’ve plotted out bits and pieces of what I want to say. Next post will be a whole year-in-review, where I’ll finally talk about what I’ve been up to and how I feel about what I’ve been up to, roses and thorns and all that. In the mean time, this inclination will have to suffice. After after all that? Maybe I’ll get married one day, but who knows? Preferably within the next six months, for no reason in particular. Think I’ll take that thought to the grave, but who knows. Okay, sorry, where was I?
I wrote most of this list out on my birthday, in anticipation of writing and releasing this by the time I was officially a year older. A few things got in the way of that2, but I don’t mind too much. This feels like a much more topical time to send this out anyhow. Also gives me the chance to think of a few more things on a whim to include and decide a bit more on what not to include. I can’t be giving these ins-and-outs all willy-nilly now. Can’t stunt on trust fund babies if I detail the game plan before seeing the play through. Only gonna be speaking in glory here. None of that deep shit.3
LETTERBOXD - OUT
You hear about that Marty Supreme movie? I watched it for the first time with my dawgs a few days ago, and I have to say: it is a good movie, actually. Entertaining watch. Tyler Okonma was phenomenal for the half hour he was allowed to be on screen, and Himothée acted his ass off (literally). Very loud. Not a lot of things it wants to say, and a lot of time trying to say those things. My most immediate thought - beyond the initial what the fuck did I just watch - was that Safdie probably watched Whiplash and thought the moral integrity of the film was way too ambiguous.
God, I sound like such a filmbro just writing that. You already hear how terribly opinionated I am if you’ve been keeping up with my posts so far (or if you’ve been in my physical presence for more than a few minutes). I’m pretentious about too many things already. By the grace of God, there will be no Letterboxd account for me in my near future. The world does not need more of my thoughts. I’m overbearing enough as it is. Imagine having an actual public platform to air that all out. Couldn’t be me! Haha. Ahhhh... Okay anyway,
CLOTHING ALTERATIONS - IN
Short torso, long legs. You wouldn’t know any better if you saw me in public. I’ve worn shirts way too long for my body all my life. I’m not a big fan of tucking button-ups casually, so all my shirts have been flapping around haphazardly all my adult life. On my birthday, I went to a tailor to give life to a few dress shirts paying rent in my closet. I now only wear those shirts when I go out. Now I get to flaunt how long my legs are, and how freakishly short the rest of my upper body is in comparison. More importantly, though - I feel very professional now. Feels like I move up a few notches on the tax bracket every time I get a shirt hemmed to sit at my hip. Give me a few more stitches and I’ll be on the sunshine list in no time at all.
CALLUSES (PALMS, FINGERS, HANDS IN GENERAL) - IN
FINGERLESS GRIPS - IN
COTTAGE CHEESE- IN
PROTEIN SLOP - OUT
POSING (IN FRONT OF THE MIRROR, AT MY LONESOME) - IN
I’ll lump these all together to spare you from the excessive bro talk. Those who have known me for a while have known about my obsessive stints into lifting. What’s great about taking a break from picking up things and putting things down, is that the body never forgets the movements. Bones have good memory. If you’re as meticulous about keeping track of progress as I was, you don’t really have to worry about remembering the benchmarks to start at or to try and beat. Great for somebody like me, who don’t think all that much. Thank you, Don Don from 2023, for keeping track of all your lifts. Thank you, Don Don from elementary school, for being really into eating cottage cheese with canned peaches before I knew about how good for muscle growth it was. My love for the cottage cheese game is ingrained in me. Back in the day, I would gulp it down like diet Coke by the can. I don’t eat it for nourishment, I eat it for nourishment. While I’m at it, thank you Ryan Coogler for Sinners. No further questions please.
LISTENING TO ALBUMS FRONT TO BACK - IN
I have so many playlists, you know? A quick glance at my Spotify profile will show you all my monthly rotations, all the different singles I’ve obsessed over. Love me some 3-minute doses of good brain scratching music. I don’t think this is a sign of my mental corrosion. I think it is good that I like retracing the brain grooves, good that I enjoy tiny parcels that I can revisit. I also think it is good to have a bit of change. This past year, I’ve went out of my way to try and sit down and listen to one new (to me) album, all the way through, per month. I did end up listening to quite a bit more than that (about 40ish, like really listening ) I thought my musical palette would expand quite a bit, but turns out I like what I like. Here’s a few albums that released in 2025 that I loved, in no particular order:
That Quadeca album is really something. If you haven’t listened to it yet, and you don’t want to sit through an entire album based off the whims of one man’s opinion, you owe it to yourself to at least listen to GODSTAINED off that album. My song of the year. Ear nectar. Smells like daytime lawns after a rainy night, distilled into audio form. Like that first sip of water when your mouth all parched after a mid-day nap, that kind of good. Also that Rich Brian album is worth mentioning. If you haven’t listened to him since 2020, now is your time to do so. Or you can also not do that. I wouldn’t be able to tell either way. You’re the one reading this yap sesh. Let’s do the next few ins-and-outs rapid fire.
BEING ASKED OUT AT WORK - OUT (HOPEFULLY)
Is it something that I’m doing? Please stop asking me out at work. Please stop asking me out when I’m being paid to be nice to you. I promise that I am genuinely curious about your life, but also please know that my smile is getting minimum wage plus tips. I don’t know why this happens to me so often. I’m not that charming, I just think I’m a good conversationalist. And Filipino. Maybe that’s a rarity nowadays. Unless you are Michelle Obama4, do not interact with me while I’m clocked in like that.
SUBSCRIBING TO LOCAL MEDIA OUTLETS - IN
I’ve been subscribed to the Hamilton Spec for the past six months. You should be, too! It’s good to keep up with your neighbours, and to fiscally provide for those who do good work close to you. I don’t know if a Shonen Jump membership counts but I’m gonna throw that one on here too. Support your mangakas. Read more manga. I can write a whole dissertation about my reverence for Tatsuki Fujimoto or for Hirohiko Araki. One of these days I’ll write a post about Jojolion5 or about how the ending for Jujutsu Kaisen’s manga was good, actually. I don’t think I’m fully grasping what a new years in or out means anymore. These feel like wishy-washy resolutions. Moving on.
FREQUENTLY EATING, AWAY FROM HOME - OUT
COOKING EVERY DAY - IN
I’m gonna make a whole post about my reverence for food preparation one day. Speaking of reverence:
REVERENCE, WORSHIP, GIVING THANKS AND PRAISE (IN AN ARELIGIOUS WAY) - IN
BEING A LITTLE DELUSIONAL - IN
BEING FILIPINO - IN
I spent most of my New Year’s Eve at Sharang and Emma’s get-together. I had a cheeky conversation with my friend tucked away from everybody else. They’d asked me about how I’m so optimistic, what keeps pushing me forward. I was a little tipsy when they had asked me, so I don’t completely remember verbatim what I said - but I do remember mentioning treating myself as if I weren’t myself, as if I was a close friend that I was rooting for, that it was much easier for me to conceptualize wanting the best for somebody I love than it was to do the same for myself, so my self-confidence is then much easier if I were to deconstruct myself and conceptualize my own person as somebody else.
I thought about it a bit more. To be quite honest with you, my optimism is a bit more newfound. If you had known me a few years ago - right around the turn of the pandemic - you’d know that I wasn’t always like this6. Hard for anybody to even swallow that, considering my ego is as big as my head7. Let me be clear: I believe in myself so hard that you’d think I’ve gone mad. At one point in my life, it was out of spite8 though nowadays it’s a bit more pleasant than that.
I’ll talk about it more in my next post, but for now I will say: my father did not live to see me graduate. Did not live to see me make the sunshine list. Did not live to retire in the mansion I was going to buy for him. The next best thing to do is to live as if he will be there to witness it - because he will. My life is much easier to want to do well in, if I conceptualize my day-to-day as if my ancestors were living through me - because they are. I know I already made them all proud, but I also know I can do a bit more, break a bit more ground, move a bit further up. To do well is an act of worship for the ones who bled for me. Can you blame me, then, for how hard I rep me? I feel like I’m tapping the glass a bit with this one so let’s move on.
BEING 23 - OUT
BEING BUSY (FOR THE SAKE OF BUSY) - OUT
BEING BUSY (AT THE EXPENSE OF MY LOVED ONES) - OUT
BEING BUSY (FOR THOSE WHO CAME BEFORE) - IN
MOURNING - IN
PERSISTENCE - IN
Okay whoa whoa whoa. So many ins and outs all at once. Let me chill for a sec.
All of my gym sessions (and, if you partake, your lifting sessions too) contain copious amounts of me sitting and doing nothing. Most of my time spent lifting is actually just resting. A few days ago, while hanging out on the bench between sets, I thought to myself about how easy all this exercise stuff was. I don’t mean that in an egotistical way. If you had the terrible misfortune of being on gymtok (especially anything related to post-break-up fitness) you’d be exposed to the notion that working out is a pain, a struggle, a challenge that you must face, one that you must work through. Worse still, you’ll find folks using this as a complete substitute for proper therapy or processing of emotions. I don’t think it is bad practice to better your physical wellness and utilize it as if it were somewhat of a barometer for other things going on in your life. All the kudos to you in the world if working out makes you feel better. Lord knows it does wonders for me. I do take problem, though, with the idea that lifting weights is a form of penance, a punishment for the body that you must endure to be better.
Let me dispel all of that really quickly by saying: being in the gym is the easiest part of working out. Actually working out is the easiest part of working out. The challenge - like any good habit - is being consistent with it, but the actual process of lifting, in itself and especially today, is stupid easy. You’re in an air conditioned room, in a stable environment, oftentimes with nobody bothering you, oftentimes sitting or standing or resting whenever you feel the need to. You have agency, complete control, over the tensions and the easing of tensions in your body. If this is what punishment looks like, Hell must be a really cool place to be. In my eyes, lifting is just a neat hobby I get to do that also happens to have some other tangible benefits outside of the hobby. Again, I must stress: nothing wrong with lifting for the sake of a healthier life at all. Also nothing wrong with lifting for the sake of lifting. The moment that you problematize it, though, is the moment where you lose the plot in my eyes. Probably not good. Can’t express clearly why that is right now, but anecdotally I’ve witnessed this mindset leading you down some dark places.
To be able to do any of this labour is a privilege. I can afford to pay for a gym membership. Can afford air conditioning. Proper nutrition, rest, abundant access to knowledge and resources about sustainable, healthy exercise. I’ve been thinking of mourning in a similar manner. Morbid as it is to say, it is a privilege to be able to mourn those I’ve lost. I mourn them, in a warm bed, in the arms of my friends, in a clean home. I mourn for my father with a full stomach. My chest is hollowed out whenever I think about those who have left, but my room is tidied, my bedding is dry. How could I not work this out? How can I not work out? How can I not mourn? That’s not to minimize any of the actual labour underpinning all this.9 But if I’m in a place where I can do so comfortably, I must be pretty well off.
If you know me personally, you’d know that my past six months have been marked by my pronounced, inimitable, chummy relationship with absence. I have felt its curves with my own two hands. Know what its like to bury those who came before. Unlike the pulling and pushing of iron, there is an insurmountable weight to the grief. If effort were the sole means for keeping the people I have in my life, the vital barometer for which the Fates decide who stays and who leaves, then everyone I have ever loved would know my presence until the day I draw my last breath. Lifting, then, does wonders for me in this way, for it is one of the few constants in my life that is driven solely by my ability to persist. My gym is a little sanctuary, one where I have at least a morsel of agency, a sliver of time to worship and praise the body my ancestors have bled for. Let's hope I keep this same energy all the way through 2026.
Give thanks and praise to 2025. What a terrible year it was. What a good year it was. What a great year this will be. I should quit while I’m ahead, save that cheeky reflective writing for the next time I write to you. All this, and more, in my next post. Stay tuned for my year in review. If you missed out on Filipino Fall last year, you won’t wanna miss this one. Until then, thanks for reading this far. Tell your mum I said hi and that I wish her the best. If I see you again, then I will see you then.
you know, i’m actually not complaining about this. i love being busy. my time is a resource i ought to be depleting inversely to my bank account. the aftermath of being irresponsibly busy - that of being so present that it forces me to be absent from other important junctures - is a topic for next post, wherein i’ll actually do a proper year-in-review… probably…
i bought cyberpunk 2077 a few days after my birthday, and as of today have about 84 hours logged in the span of 11 days. normally wouldn’t be such a bedroom gremlin but i also was pretty darn sick - otherwise i’d be hanging out with all my fellas who just landed from europe
leave your baggage at home, don’t tap the glass, et cetera et cetera. i’m anticipating the next post i make (refer to footnote 1) will not be as fun to write so i’m being all sloppy with this one. also one of a few musical references scattered throughout this piece - can you spot the rest?
Michelle if you’re reading this I can treat you so much better than Barack just give me one chance please please please
i can’t upload the photo here because of copyright shenanigans, but there’s one panel in chapter 43 of jojolion - of yasuho and josuke looking back at eachother - that is worth looking at. so beautiful
i don’t have much to hide from the homies but it’ll be a while before i ever properly sit and reflect upon the times it was real bad, let alone write about it… i owe my friends everything i am
i have a very big head filled with packing peanuts. the styrofoam makes sense on occasion
every time i encounter a pre-med that is awful to service workers i’m reminded of my distaste of ignorant, completely detached trust fund babies who are put through the academic pipeline. a part of what used to drive my desire for success was because of how i shared the same classrooms as those who were much more well off than i am. though - spite is exhausting and non-productive, not very good for the soul, not something my dad would want me to think about so… i try not to do that anymore
take a shot for every time i double back and clarify
i wanna do remiel bingo on the substack
This guy stinks