Reputation3ra - All Our Yesterdays

Get your life together in 8 weeks

Feeling in a slump? In desperate need of refreshment? After exhausting months of studying for exams like me? Well I have this plan to get my life together again and I thought I might share with you!

📚 Week 1: Rest and prep

Spend 3 days resting

No planning and no routines 

Don’t do anything you don’t want to do

Sleep in if you want

Binge that show or play that video game

1 day of cleaning your space

Keep it small and surfice level

Clean the dust and the floors

Change your sheets and towels

Declutter the things around

Let in fresh air

1 day of mental health reset

Focus on yourself and your mind with meditating or journaling

Go through your full routines

Read or be creative

Do your favourite self care activities

1 day of social media detox -no social media allowed

1 day of dopamine detox

You have to get bored

You are allowed to go for a walk or work out (no music tho!)

You can journal and meditate

A little bit of cheating: if you feel to desperate you can read

💖 Week 2: Family, friends and love

Spend this week with others as much as possible

Make small gifts for others

Hang out playing games or just talking

Make sure to tell people what they mean to you

🍓 Week 3: Body detox

Make sure to change up things in this part depending on your goals, health and your body’s needs!

No meat, bread (and other pastry) and sweets

No fried food

Drink water only

Fast for 16 hours a day (imtermittent fasting -a lot of you are concerned but don’t worry about me personally. It is safe for me. If you consider doing this do a proper research!)

Work out daily

Go for walks/jogging and spend as much time outside as possible

Take medications and vitamins properly

🧹 Week 4 and 5: Declutter and organise your space

Declutter and organise your closets and cupboards

Go through your clothes

Deep clean your space

Donate things you don’t want or need

😴 Week 6: More rest

3 days resting completely (like the first 3 days)

4 days of active rest

Follow routines

Be creative

Garden/clean/cook

Work out/go cycling/do yoga

Read or learn something new

🎨 Week 7: Be creative daily

Create something every day

📆 Week 8: Planning and new routines

Plan your future

Find new routines

Get into stable routine that makes you happy

Keep in mind that these are all suitable for me and you can change things up as much as you want! I hope you find some inspiration in this and good luck on your journey!

James Baldwin, If Beale Street Could Talk

Barbarian (2022)

Spencer Finch - 366, Emily Dickinson’s Miraculous Year (2009)

This work is based on Emily Dickinson in 1862, when she wrote 366 poems in 365 days. It is a real-time memorial to that year, which burns for exactly one year. The sculpture is comprised of 366 individual candles arranged in a linear sequence, each of which burns for 24 hours. The colour of each candle matches a colour mentioned in the corresponding poem. For the poems in which no colour is mentioned, the candles are made out of natural paraffin.

If you persevere, in time you will have an entirely different problem – not that life is meaningless, but rather that life has almost too much meaning. As the scales fall from your eyes the world rushes into focus, presenting itself with a kind of vibrational eloquence that can, at first, be almost overwhelming. Everything shimmers, everything clarifies, everything wrestles for your attention. Trees feel super-real, their roots plunged into the earth, their branches stretching to the sky, birds are flesh and blood souls, fragile with life, the sky unfolds and rolls, the ocean crashes, people fascinate, books are beautiful, children are whirling dynamos of chaos, dogs bark and cats meow, flowers shout, your neighbour glows, and God runs like a helix through all things. The world awaits you, humming with meaning. You are alive with potential. You are not dead.

— Nick Cave on getting clean, Red Hand Files #258

“Somebody says draw a map. Populate it with the incidents of your childhood. Mark the spot where the lake receded after a winter of light snow. The stairs on which someone slapped you. The place where the family dog hung itself by jumping over the back fence while still on the dog run, hours later its body like a limp flag on a windless day. Draw a map, someone says. Let yourself remember. In the refugee camp a hundred thousand strong draw the stony outcrop from which you could no longer see the plume of smoke that was your village. Draw a square for the bathroom stall where Grandpa hid each day in order to eat his one egg free from the starving eyes of his classmates, an X for the courthouse where you and he were naturalized, a broken line for the journey. Draw a map, Jon says. Let it be your way into the poem. Here is where that plane filled with babies crashed that I was not on. Here is where I was ashamed. On the second floor at Pranash University the people wait their turn. Have you drawn your map, Jon asks. He has rolled up his sleeves. Forty-five minutes to noon the Prince stands up and says that the monks must be excused. We watch them file out, saffron robes as if their bodies have burst into blossom. Draw a map. Fly halfway around the globe. Here is the room next to the library where you realize how poor your tradition is, the local people with poetic forms still in use that date back to the time of Christ. Tell us about your map. Explain how these wavy lines represent the river, this rectangle the school-turned-prison where only seven escaped with their lives. This is my map. This star the place where I sat in a roomful of people among whom not one was not touched by genocide. Every last map resplendent with death though nobody knows where their loved ones lie buried. How many times can I appropriate a story that is not mine to tell? The woman stands up and says she is not a poet, that she doesn’t have the words. She points to a triangle on a piece of paper. Here is the spot where she found human bones in the well of her childhood home, and how her mother told her don’t be afraid because it was not the work of wild animals.”

— “Loose Strife,” by Quan Barry

The Year of Blue Water, Yanyi.

me, looking back on it all:

I want a named, holy thing to fuck my brains out, to turn my need to be filled up and spread out and hungry into some kind of Grace.

I want to cuss my lover’s name in ecstasy and have it be the prayer I always hoped it was

— Caroline Randall Williams, "Transubstantiate, Redux or, Sublimating Lucy Whilst at Church," Lucy Negro, Redux

Miller's Girl (2024)