It turns out when you're planning for something, and a huge storm comes in to turn your kitchen into a waterfall, you don't get anything done at all!

Last week a lot were slated to be released. But by the divine providence of the storm everything got flooded. There were a few leaks in my room but the kitchen turned into the hip indoor waterfall everyone wants in their house. Safe to say, other than studying, I couldn't get anything done :(

Not to worry though. At the start of this week, THEN the work begins again. It takes a lot of discipline to keep yourself in check. But we can't play all the time. Though I'd like to share a few things about the zine.

The idea came right after my friend passed away. I sat in the car while it was going to the hospital (for an entirely different, yet equally tense issue) and wrote the whole idea. Reserving the words as it is, its about saying what you wanted to say. Then started the writing. Its the first time I thought of the prompts and ideas instead of taking it from a song. Maybe these were song lyrics all along. But these go without a tune... yet.

I'm excited to share more soon! First, I gotta mop the floors though.

A little sappy essay here, if you want the commission announcement and the patreon announcement click here.

“A day certain is understood to be that which must necessarily come, although it may not be known when.”

For the past few weeks, my keyboard has been bruised. It’s been used from sunrise to sunset from constant typing. As the high of graduation fizzles out, I’ve been left with thoughts.

The ending chapter is a tough one to write, especially when you aren’t prepared for it. The easiest way to go about it is to write the reflection of your past.

When we face struggles, we try to ascertain meaning to it -- as if darkness comes through, and we try our best to put color to it. Four years being beset by sacrifices and disasters outside my control tested my ability to color the storm. It compounded what has been the turbulent journey of my academic life.

Without fetishizing my sadness, I had two breakups, friends who’ve come and gone, extreme bouts of loneliness, errors that barred me from any award (much to my post-graduation regret), and deaths that shouldn’t have come. The reaper came too early. There wasn’t any paint that I could use to color the storm clouds.

Maybe there were reasons. Maybe it could be explained by the recently-maligned burnt toast theory. But overcooked bread isn’t the band-aid for a deep cut. The only colors I felt that could splash are the bright flashes of yellow. It comes from the streaks we see during the sunset. The day is ending, but in a beautiful sight. And hope is what I try to cover grief with. Forgive my fatalistic views. Grief is the only way love ends. And the more we love, the harsher grief will be. And splashing colors on a monument to grief won't hide its shape.

But maybe we can build off of it, incorporate it in ways we never thought of. Love, grief, whatever you call it: It stays.

I can’t help but wonder how all the experiences, all the friendships we made, whether we liked it or not, make us who we are.

And when my day certain - graduation - had come, I still have no idea how I survived it. But walking on that stage, with nothing to my name, there was weight to the steps.

It was for the countless hours studying, for the grief of losing my friend, my uncle, and the loneliness from breakups; romantic or from a friend.

It was for the people who made me who I am for the past eight years, from my college years to my law school gauntlet. For my old pals who I couldn’t carry over for eight years, for my friend who was the bright flash in the dark, my uncle and my grandfather who passed. We are the sum of our experiences.

It was for my friends who poured time they couldn’t get back to understand me -- something I can’t give myself easily.

And with this I end with my gratitude:

For BURN, my guild, I don’t know how I belong. But thank you for the constant company especially when I’d sit down on my desk to read. For a bunch of pals who I have never seen in real life, you were one of the closest social circles I’ve been in. You guys were the only ones to make this shy kid talk; He’ll stay for the long run.

For my close group of friends -- I have no name for you yet -- thank you for holding my hand through college. If it weren’t for you, I’d be the same mopey cloud since 2017. It baffles me to see how many stayed and how that’s worth more than the number of people who know me. (Not to the latter’s prejudice).

For my followers, supporters: Thank you. I never knew I’d amass such a crowd. Despite being many, all of you had one constant value: Understanding. The art I make or the posts I write do not have popularity in mind. These were more shouts into a mountain range to see if anyone other than my echo would talk back. I’m glad that in some form somewhat, I am not alone in this hectic experience called growing up. And the same goes for each and every one of you. You aren’t alone.

I’m sorry that for the past few days I’ve gone a little cold turkey. Big changes are hard to process. I promise I’ll get back to my usual schedule!

And a few news for you guys, for reading it this far. (If you clicked on the link then hi i guess?)

I’m going to resurrect my patreon within the week, and I’m going to open commissions tomorrow.

It’s been two years since I last opened commissions. They’ve been closed indefinitely since my friend passed, as he was also one of my most ardent supporters and commissioners. Figured he wouldn’t want to be the reason why I stopped forever. (And I'm unemployed!)

For my patreon, the tiers are currently being planned. I’d like to shoot for early posting, exclusive WIPs, timelapses, and maybe commission discounts/priority. These are perks currently being debated and I’d like to know your inputs on this.

And: I’m working on a new zine. With my schedule being study-heavy recently, I can’t give a date of release yet. But I’ve been writing a lot, enough for a whole zine.

Back to the letter.

For my uncle.
For raiizn.
For my grandfather.

Each step on the stage is for you.

Blaze Redmond G. Silverwolf
Juris Doctor