Long Distance Relationships

A topic that had been brought up and lingered in my mind for a while. I have…varying thoughts about it, initially starting with disdain about forging a relationship with someone you’ve never physically met, to being more accepting of a life-changing possibility going along with it.

My household is quite antiquated in their views with dealing with other people. Because they can only understand the fact that everyone that is a stranger would be inherently evil, and instill these beliefs into their children so they are taught to fear rather than attempt to understand. I’m supposing this factored a lot of my inability to mingle with people (aside from the insurmountable language barrier that further isolated me from social contact), though as I grew more comfortable using the internet, my understanding of people and how relationships worked grew as well. As with most people, I didn’t view online ones as legit, taking in at face value the anonymity of the internet, where anyone can so easily fabricate a persona, a face and a story, passing off this façade as real to the unassuming who would take the bait. Most of the time it may not be as extreme as such- sometimes its simply being oneself with all the undesirable parts of themselves dropped or replaced so that their partner on the other side of the world would never know about them until they’ve met them face to face, and are subsequently disappointed for the time and feelings they put into meeting the perfect partner, finding just a perfect stranger instead. Putting it in short, it wasn’t an honest way to start something.

Though sometimes….it works. It does actually work. People can treat one another as they would in an offline relationship, can be as caring and as intimate and as truthful as anything even without ever seeing one another. And the concept is nothing new- before the internet existed, people wrote to one another as penpals through mail, keeping their relationships strong despite the distance. That’s pretty much how my mother and father started out, so I suppose they can attest to its usefulness. The internet simply streamlines the entire process, no longer having to wait for weeks for a response that may or may not come depending on how good the mailing system was back then. And the feelings people forge from them are no less real, sometimes just as powerful or even more so, having only what we are told and having only our imaginations to fill in the blanks left over.

But there’s more to long distance relationships than just bridging a massive gap between two people. It takes a very dedicated kind of person to stay devoted to them. For all the kindness and well-intentioned words and the emotions poured into them, in the end you are mostly limited to staring at a person through a computer screen. Or staring at nothing but words. Things that can’t sufficiently substitute the physical intimacy most people need to feel, or the emotional intimacy that can’t be achieved through text alone. Sometimes its too high a price for exclusivity, and oftentimes the reason why such arrangements fail, for some cannot be content with imagination alone. It’s a hard decision to follow to the end, but certain people have the hope and the willpower to see it through regardless.

Those are the kind of special people I admire. That kind of fortitude isn’t something everyone has. But love can be a pretty strange thing, and makes people do strange things, especially when its love that makes the foundation of the relationship. From someone who pretty much doesn’t feel like they can return those feelings or doesn’t believe they can even be in love…I’m willing to do some pretty crazy stuff. Like wait for a guy I’ve never met who probably won’t be happy with the kind of person I am in real life who I’m still unsure if whether he’s the right guy for me. But its hard not to love someone that’s loving you back so unconditionally.

Maybe that’s the answer then. Maybe it shouldn’t be something to be viewed as such a personal sacrifice, but maybe as a goal both are committed to work towards. An agreement. A pact. A promise. What it yields in the end may or may not be what anyone expects, but where uncertainty attempts to break confidence, faith works to keep the hope and love alive.

~Taddle

P.S: Inasmuch as I dislike people that feel the need to publicly show off their love life at every opportunity (sometimes it gives the impression than having a partner elevates their superiority status above the poor sorry single fucks who are still in violent relationships with their hands), I felt I needed to express the kind of feelings I've had lately. This...sketch couldn't accurately represent it. I don't think I could draw one that could, and attempting to would take more time than I can devote to. But I wanted to do something that showed that I love him more than I can find the right words to tell him so. I didn't want to fall for you but I did. >3>

Personal Pride

I remember how I used to joke with friends over Skype (back when we were still talking, we’ve all moved on to busier parts of our lives) and sometimes like to boast how I tend to make black people jokes, especially to my black friends. Mostly because- if it wasn’t terribly obvious- I happen to be half black myself. No, I don’t feel it’s an attitude to be proud of, so I got to thinking about why I thought that way. I supposed it goes all the way back to me growing up- I was not particularly proud of my linage.

Hailing from Chicago, being half black and having a black father was never an issue for me, as I grew up in a largely black community. Hell, I even have the second grade photo to prove it.:


I’m the middle one in the first row fyi. Behind the sign. Like a friggin’ hero, yeah.

It was only after I moved to the Philippines that I started feeling enormously self-conscious. I was already a shy child, and it didn’t help that I was being criticized by my peers for the way I talked or the way my hair looked (they liked to call it ‘dead hair’ or ‘pubic hair’), that I had an obviously black girl’s name or that my dad was a large black man and that everyone would tend to stare at him because he was so different. I remember one of my history teachers touching upon a subject about the different native races and referred to the black ones as ‘niggers’, nonchalantly turning to me a moment to say ‘No offense’ before lecturing on. I remember trying not to be offended, but I think I felt slapped in the face, being reminded how different I was from everyone else. I had never even considered it, but mom would nag at me for never picking up an interest in speaking tagalog, saying that the reason I avoided people was because I had thought they were saying bad things about me and I couldn’t understand them, which only made me even more reclusive. I remember I’d cry a lot on some days because hated this alienation so much, wanting so badly to go back to Chicago and the people I was familiar with.

This ‘inferiority complex’, as mom would so nicely put it (and by ‘nicely’ I mean rub it in my face and told me to get over it) lasted until sometime into college, where, after a good long time of avoiding mirrors, finally took a moment to look into one and thought “Hmm…I’m not that bad-looking at all.” I was still apprehensive about my appearance, but over time I learned to be more accepting of ‘being unique’. It wasn’t through any thoughtful advice from someone or reading an inspiring article about accepting who you were- I just realized it was a huge hassle, worrying about things that would become irrelevant in the long run. People came and went, would most likely have forgotten who you were, and would have done so much with their lives that this moment of discomfort would mean nothing.

I started looking up to my father, who I had been ashamed of for most of my life, and started to appreciate him more. He was a smart man, who did more for people in his life than most people in this country would care to do. He cared about his family and worked hard to make sure we had everything we need. Even stricken and on his deathbed, he refused to bog down the family’s income for his sake, which we refused of course, and did everything we could for him until the end. He struggled to live longer than anyone expected him to (the doctor had initially given him eleven months; he went on for five years) just to see me graduate college. Despite all his failings, which I had never known about until much later, he loved us and never cheated on my mom, which is more than I can say for a lot of men as far as I know. I wished I had a better relationship with him and in the short time I had after realizing this, tried to be closer to him. Maybe a little too late, however…a few days prior to my brother waking me up that morning to tell me that he had died, I was trying to find a way to tell him what he meant to me. But I was too ashamed of myself to tell it to his face, so I had written it in a card. But mom would have likely made me read it to him anyway, so I just had a card sitting on my shelf until that day. I don’t know what happened to it, I think I hid it away somewhere, or threw it out. Sometimes I feel it should be one of my biggest regrets, but I know that my dad knew I was proud of him, and that I had made him proud with my graduation, if it was the only accomplishment he would acknowledge. But it probably would have been nicer still to have told him.

Nowadays, I’m not ashamed of telling people my name is Tatiana instead of just making them call me Tad or Taddle like I had been doing for most of my life. I willingly tell people I am half black and that I did have a black father, but not for the sake of being allowed to tell black jokes without discrimination. I have pride in having that blood in my veins, and that blood creating what I always felt was some weird hodgepodge of a body of black and Filipino traits (okay, I can honestly do without my kinky hair. It’s more trouble than its worth.). I’m far from perfect or ideal, but I am what I am, and to those that feel I don't fit in...I'm not going away. So deal with it. I have for 23 years. I'm sure you can, too.

~Taddle

So Dawg, I Heard You Like Trees…

(Have decided to, instead of posting update blogs, to just re-edit this one post with updates, as its a lot more easier to keep them all compiled in one place.)

I recently bought Minecraft. I shouldn’t be allowed games that feed on my OCD…

Anyway, after another unfortunate run-in with lava as I was trying to find my way out one of the largest cave systems I have encountered yet (was carrying diamond along with two stacks of very-hard-to-mine Obsidian…), I decided to start afresh in a new game and just go spelunking for a bit. Its really interesting not just going down mining, but finding these immense cave systems that just seem to go on forever. After some time, I realized I needed to establish a base where I can put all my loot in, so I went walking around until I found this cave into a mountain with a tree covering the opening like a sort of roof. After a little feng shui, had meself a cozy little pad so went out the other end of the cave to see what I can do there. Right outside the front was a cliff that had a great tree perched on its edge.

And that moment, I was thinking- “…That would look pretty epic if it was bigger and more majestic.” And remembering some epic trees people have made in the past. Like these babies right here:





So I decided to make one, so I rebuilt the tree to be bigger. And better. And then decided it wasn’t big enough. So I made it even bigger. And better. And then realized it was getting way too close to my house so I pushed it a little further out, and the sheer side began eating the very hill it was perched on. And eventually became this gargantuan monster:







Sup dawg. I heard you like trees. So we put a tree on your tree so you can grow trees while you grow trees. :3

I’m STILL not done with it. I’m planning awesome things with this baby, the priority of which being to construct some kind of city inside the branches. The tree would be sitting in a lake, with waterfalls falling from the branches. Still thinking about the center part, but I want it to somehow reach someplace underneath the tree where it would contain a cavern and possibly a Nether portal. And maybe have an island be somewhere on top of the tree.

Iono. Its something to keep me busy. >w>

EDIT 3/14/11:

Not the most impressive-looking (or natural-looking) tree in the world, but so far pretty much the largest, which is good enough for me. I plan to modify the outside a bit in due time.


Its pitch black beneath the tree. I attempted to make a sort of mystic glow by strategically-placed glowstone under the roots and in the water.


The front entrance. Ain’t nothing fancy. I wanted to keep it looking as natural as possible on the outside.


A skyview from the inside. Just mountains of wood and leaves and a wooden spire with yet another fucking tree on the top.


A small well with (fitting) mossy cobblestone.


And a small park with benches and an opening in the branches to view the outside world.


Stumped with what to first build in the city, I decided to start with the necessities. Food is pretty important, hence the farm. Though I had to modify the surroundings a bit cause animals kept fucking trampling over the crops.


The farm building seamlessly blended into the tree environment and a set of stairs as well as a lamp post.


Dunno what’s next on the agenda. A hotel I guess? I decided it was easier to not think too much about what to set up and just build the first thing that came to mind.

~Taddle

Love?

What is love? Normally I’m not a person who thinks too deeply on the topic. Truth be told, it was not a very influential element of my upbringing, though I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wonder time and time again…why?

Someone talked to me about Valentines one day. Asked me what sort of Valentines message I would give to someone. I was like “Blahblahblahbemyvalentines”, though they asked me to be serious about it. After a bit of thinking, I admitted that I really wouldn’t have had anything to say to them- its not what I do. “Don’t you say I love you to anyone? Show affection to family?” they asked, and I admitted its not the norm for my family.

“Well you should give it a try!
It really helps with relationships and it feels nice.
You don’t want to not ever say it and regret it...
However, I say it to all my loved ones.
You have to trust your friends if not your relatives.
If there is no trust
Then what the heck is there?
You know?”

“I don't.”


I’m actually really jealous of the ones who can say “I love you” to everyone and not blink twice about it. Its not…natural to me, to hand out hugs and ‘I love yous’ as casually as giving away candy. Love has always felt…conditional to me. Something you had to earn. If you couldn’t prove you were worth it, you weren’t worth caring about. People gave me plenty of reasons over the years to make me believe that we lived in a shallow world, that your true worth was measured solely on how much you gave to people, and how well you fit their expectations. Perhaps this is half-true: society and the internet has flawlessly proven to be unforgiving to people they see as less than acceptable. But perhaps there are also people who are not so callous, and are far more accepting than most people are willing to believe, but are so few in number and overshadowed by the demands of perfection of the majority.

I keep looking back at myself, wondering why I can never admit my feelings for others. Why saying three simple words is the hardest thing in the entire world. Or why it scares me so much to say it. Maybe what I’m really afraid of, is that in the long run, the words and the feelings poured into them…they wouldn’t matter. Just as everything else, words and emotions, especially love, are painfully evanescent. Forever is only as long as its convenient, and convenience is as fickle as any man’s thirst for satisfaction. When you struggle to keep them satisfied for the love they promised you, is it really a love worth having?

And for someone that struggles so much for that…I’ve found it easier to be alone.

I don't have a sketch right now. I felt the need to write this out right away before it lost meaning to me again.

~Taddle

SketchDump 02-11-11

I had this on DA a while back, but since it was taken down, I might as well put it back up here since this is more or less a place for sketchdumps.



Also, something more recent. Enjoy!



And something I finished later today. Wanted to practice on a dynamic pose. A character from the story about werepeople I'll prolly never get to finish but have been thinking about lately.



Aaaaannddd...this. I'm still debating whether to give her pupils or not. Technically she would- we could say her eyes glow too bright to see them. The pupil-less look is to convey the fact that she's a emotionless, beastial killing machine, but as I further thought about the werestory, there would be times when she wouldn't be quite so fearsome, though I think she functions well with the look either way.



Also apparently people think she's a guy. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't annoyed, but I understand how easy it is to make that mistake. I simply made no obvious attempt to depict any sign of femininity on her form, which would undermine the purpose of her design to do so seeing as I was aiming for a beastial look to begin with, to which any other aspects (i.e obvious woman tits) would be superfluous and/or just plain weird-looking on her.

Then again, it was obvious in the beginning she was female since she was a tacked-on crutch to Taddle's repertoire of abilities, though she slowly started to become a separate individual altogether, and less ninja-nurse-related.

~Taddle