HOLY SHIT, IT WAS THE ORIGINAL ONE
MAKE A WISH
the first post ever on tumblr
this was why they put the reblog button on the bottom of posts
I THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO SEE LINDSAY LOHAN OR SOME SHIT WOW
Always reblog because perfection.
I was waiting for the stupid patrick thing but yay the real post. love it.
This is sacred
OHMYZOD IT’S BACK
I REMEMBER WHEN THIS HAD 10000 NOTES AND I HAD TO TAKE THE TIME AND SCROLL ALL THE WAY BACK UP TO REBLOG
This is a special moment
TIME TO TAKE ON THE ELITE 4
SHIT FUCK ABORT ABORT
The San Francisco skyline. This is a series of 7 photos I stitched together and had to un-stitch due to the posting quality. It is my first attempt at doing anything like this. I hope you enjoy it! I will be doing this to every single city I travel to from now on. It will only get better with more practice =) -M
Follow me for more original travel photography- mbphotograph
my grandma once told me this story of when I was little and I accidentally told someone *she* was my mother instead of my grandmother. my mom had me when she was 21, so my grandma did have a heavy hand in raising me. she’s old-school Filipina: very shrewd, very resourceful, very religious, very protective. definitely a matriarch (my grandfather was, by contrast, very mild-mannered and was usually in the background writing his stories).
to her food is love: if you come over she’ll offer you something to eat or drink as soon as you get in the door. she’s most pleased when she sees our family eating well. when I was little she taught me to eat every single grain of rice on my plate, because she’s survived famines back in the Philippines - food shortages from the 30s to post-WWII that made her hate yams but love tinned meats. she showed me how to turn off the faucet under the sink so as to keep the water bill low; she’d rather see her sons in church than have them buy her a gift for her birthday.
I got to grow up with that; my siblings didn’t. we moved to Oregon when I was six and we stopped taking our annual trips down to visit when I was probably 13. I’d kept in contact with my grandma the most out of everyone, but by the time I was 18, 19 I was definitely a wild child and ready to let loose and explore the world.
after the partying, ‘live fast die young’ era (during which I don’t remember talking to my grandma much…?) came the activist era; now that I was thoughtful enough to care about something other than myself I started talking to my grandma more. this was likely also to assuage her concerns for my safety: when I drove across the country with strangers and got arrested at the White House I received a very weepy voicemail after she’d seen me being handcuffed on Facebook. my uncles helped me Skype with her when I was in Durban, and I stayed with her for a month before heading off to DC and Montana for other activist shit. while I was WWOOFing it in Rochester in 2012 and I described to her all the stuff I was doing (gardening, doing odd jobs around the house/neighborhood etc) she was like “you could be doing that here…” I’d never really considered that, but I also didn’t think she was serious because my grandma’s pretty set in her ways and everything I do is always so radical; I didn’t think it would work out.
she got into a car accident the day I’d landed in Doha for the UN climate talks. she was turning left and had misjudged the speed/distance of the oncoming traffic..? it’s still unclear to me exactly what happened, but all I know is that she was technically at fault, and she was t-boned. she was rushed to the hospital and unable to provide her account to the police. she was without a car for a couple months (until my uncle bought a new one and gave her his old one) so she took the bus around by herself. her hip got a little fucked up but it’s better now (but she had to use a cane for a little while). I think the other person tried to sue her for mental anguish??
anyway. as I’ve shared in my other Doha stories, that year’s negotiations were shit. I spent a lot of time (well, most of my time) on my iPad, either uploading photos or live-tweeting panels or checking my social media outlets trying to escape whatever shitty feelings I was having at that conference. all that time, money, effort - for essentially nothing. I was out trying to save the world when I could’ve been back at home saving someone who meant the world to me.
after a month or so back in Oregon (for the holidays and my bestie’s birthday) I moved in with my grandma. it worked out well for both of us: I get to focus on my personal issues (anxiety/depression, PTSD, etc) and not worry about rent or having to get a job (more on this later; it’s complicated..???), and she has someone who reminds her to take her medications before dinner, who runs downstairs to grab her water when she wakes up with a leg cramp in the middle of the night, and who drives her around so she doesn’t get into car accidents anymore.
but it’s more than that: living with my grandma has given me so many experiences and life insights that I never really knew I needed?? like now I know how to make all these Filipino soups that are supposedly good for when you’re sick. I get to observe and partake in a lot of (religious) cultural things… I get to belong to a warm, generous community that teaches me about this whole ‘nother side of my identity that I have been out of touch with for a long time (or maybe never even really knew??). and as the weather continues to decimate the Philippines, I’m comforted only in knowing that we as a people will never die out - so long as we remember where we come from.
because that’s the only way to move forward, right? how can we know where we’re going if we don’t know where we’ve been? there’s a reason why elders are so revered and respected in other cultures: they’ve been through a lot, and (hopefully) have learned from the past.
but how are they regarded now? old. archaic. irrelevant. ship them off to a retirement home; disregard whatever they’re saying because they’re probably crazy. and while some of them are a little intense (I’ve had to call my grandma out on idk things like Ferguson and other intense issues bc she watches Fox News/is their target demographic) it’s not fair to write them off as a generation entirely (isn’t that what’s being done to us?).
one of the principles in the UN climate talks is intergenerational equity: this idea that essentially means that the older generations need to make up for all the shit they’ve left us, and there. is. a. lot. of. shit. war, diseases, ecological damage… yeah. I’m not going to go into that but yeah.
I think they know that, but they don’t want to admit that they’re wrong. that they fucked it up so badly it may be well beyond repair. but that’s not to say things couldn’t change. I’ve taught my grandma about rape culture and all types of environmental shit; it took a while but she gets it now. and whenever the typhoons hit the Philippines she is quick to call it climate change and decry world leaders for not doing more to aid her home country.
John Daniels once wrote two essays: one in favor of rootlessness, and the other of rootedness. the first argued that someone - say a nomadic, wanderlust-filled person - is valuable in that they see the world with fresh eyes, finding things others have failed to in their … jadedness. but the others, those who are grounded in one place and know it like the back of their hands, will know the land with such intimacy that … yeah. they will just know it in their hearts and grow with it.
I think the world taught me to always be thirsty, to never settle for what was immediately around me, but it was my grandma (and other people I love) who reminded me that eventually we’ll find someone/something that’s worth saving, and when the time comes we need to know how to do so… and in saving others, we might just save ourselves.