r/bald and Letting Go

I’ve had a Reddit account for over 6 years (I had one prior to that that I never used) which I used to read recaps of trash T.V. like MAFS and The Valley or series like The Wheel of Time, beauty reviews, medical advice (lol) and like, handyman things around the house. I only ever started being more active on it recently due to a snark sub that got banned (RIP r/okuntakintesnark, I miss you everyday), but every so often I would get “posts you might like” and somehow, my algorithm kept showing me posts from r/bald.

r/bald is like a support group for people with receding hairlines. It’s mostly men who’ve grown their hair long to compensate for the hair loss up top. Some of the hair is luscious, a lot of it is wispy, but most of the posts that get served to me are of before and afters. In these posts, the people are visibly so, so much happier once they shed all of the weight of their hair along with the burden of holding on to something so dear to them that ultimately was blocking them from reaching their full potential.

I personally love it; it’s often so wholesome. I already love displays of genuine, warm male friendships, but it’s so great to see people — strangers, really — respond to these acts of freedom with such encouragement. It resonated with me, because I feel like I’ve been carrying a lot of things that have made me feel stuck. In one of my last letters, I talked about the recognition of bad things people think about me that plague my mind, too. It’s almost as if other people thinking it make them truer. And, it’s honestly been such a struggle coming to terms with living a life that doesn’t quite align with how I pictured it to be, even though there are aspects of it that are truly wonderful.

Recently, the shortlist for the Ateneo Art Awards was released. It’s a recognition of particular solo exhibitions for early- and mid-career artists that’s given by Ateneo Art Gallery, which is an institution affiliated with my alma mater, Ateneo de Manila University. Even before my first solo show in 2011, it held such a prestige in my head. I remember seeing Yasmin Sison’s show that was nominated in 2007 and Bembol dela Cruz’s paintings at one of the showcases the year that he won, and I remember wishing I could be an artist that good. Every edition of it since then, I’ve enjoyed seeing different artists get acknowledged for the good (or bad, lol) work that they do. It’s a good way to revisit these exhibits as well, as the shortlisted artists recreate these nominated exhibitions for a period of time, before the winners are announced.

Anyway, this year was my last chance to get nominated, and I wasn’t. Unlike the UK’s Turner Prize, which did away with age limits in 2017, the AAA has a strangely specific cut-off age of 36 years old. Truthfully, it wasn’t an expectation on my end. I suppose it really only dawned on me that I missed the boat when they announced the shortlist and my brain went, “Oh my gosh, I’m too old now.”

And then a short mourning period happened. And then I thought about my mortality. And then I thought about another award in the Philippines that I was about to get aged out of. And then I thought about my imminent death again.

And of course I was sad. You can’t help but feel like you’ve been doing something wrong.

In case you didn’t know, the other members of my immediate family are also artists, and whenever we do interviews, the question of comparison always comes up. Sometimes it gets brought up in casual conversation or even when I’m just standing at an exhibit opening. I don’t blame anyone; it’s a fair question to ask. I’ve really never felt in competition with any of them, and I’m always happy and proud when they do well. It’s just inevitable to question where I place on this hierarchy. Is that healthy? No. But it is normal.

Biases aside, I do find my family very talented. However, when they achieve something significant, I think about what other people must be thinking about me. “Well, what is Carina doing? Why can’t she make it like the rest of her family?” And like, here I am, yapping on a Substack, watching a dumb show in the background, and putting off chores so I can psych myself up to go to the studio today, because, well, I have to.

It’s hard. Comparison is the thief of joy and all that. It’s not really something I can stop doing, either. Not easily, anyway.

My horoscope readings lately have been talking about “blocks”. I’ve been getting these readings pretty consistently. On Saturday, I was told that thoughts and ideas left unchecked “can turn into prisons.” “What looks like a roadblock might be an invitation to learn something new.” For this week, I was told to not focus too much on expectations and try to recognise possibilities in front of me. Allegedly, the general theme of my life right now is to free myself from past restrictions and, again, allegedly, this time is a transformative one for me.

I read about three readings (two everyday, and another one for a third opinion) and these are the most frequent findings for the placements of the stars in relation to my life. Sometimes it’s a little hard to think about how these could apply to me, especially if I’m in denial or have my own blind spots, but I’ve also been trying to meditate and I’m still doing my morning pages as per Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way. Most days I have nothing to say, but sometimes I uncover an answer when I least expect it.

When you give yourself time to ruminate on things, it’s easier to figure stuff out, too. When you spend time sitting with uncomfortable feelings, you make space for better responses or ways of thinking. There’s peace there, as well, in the acceptance of the things you can’t change. Letting go of the burden of winning awards was sort of really pivotal in me being happy in the work that I make.

I’ve been doing a bit of Cognitive Behaviour Therapy through Headspace too, and it’s helped me a lot in terms of locating my real feelings and healthier ways of responding to “bad” news. I don’t know. On one hand, my personal growth has been going positively, I feel. I eat healthier, spend some time exercising (not a lot, because I am who I am), and I feel like I’m actively trying to be someone who is more understanding and less angry.

As a previously very angry teenager and young adult, I’ve come to the realisation that anger is a feeling that’s difficult to hold onto, especially when it’s misplaced or unhelpful. There is a rage that I think can be productive as a motivation and driver for change (which is why I stand in solidarity with my fellow Filipinos who have been showing up again and again to fight for the rampant corruption and theft in the country), but I think, in terms of making and working, it’s not a good emotion for me to carry around.

I’m still working on it. I’m fuelled by the possibility of feeling a freedom from letting stuff go. I really would like to become the type of person who is able to keep her head down and let my work speak for itself. (The toxic part of my brain just said, “Okay, but what is it trying to say?” Begone, intrusive thought!)

I think I’ll keep my hair, though.

Share The Second Structure of Feeling

Incidentally, I’ve also written two things recently: a Q&A with one of my favourite artists right now, Corinne de San Jose, for Rolling Stone Philippines, and exhibition notes for a new show at Ateneo Art Gallery for my grandfather, Mauro Malang Santos. My dad selected a collection of drawings from when he started his career in the 60s to near his passing in 2017. The show opens on the 28th of September, and I really wish I could be there.

In an attempt to break out of my The Wheel of Time rewatch loop, I tried watching new shows, including a full rewatch of Lost (which is literally still so good) and some X-Files here and there. Other shows I’ve watched are:

1. Pop Star Academy: Katseye — I didn’t watch this when it came out but I kept getting YouTube recommendations for their videos and they were so cute. I don’t know if I like the format of the show — though I must have, as we sped through it — but the talking head of Mitra, the president of Hybe x Geffen, was so revealing of how execs think, particularly with reality T.V. and manufacturing drama. “It’s our most-watched video, so who cares about all the young women we traumatised?” I mean, deep down, I knew this was the case anyway, but pitting kids against each other is just another level of icky.

2. The Girlfriend — Okay, so this was kind of bad, but it was a great companion for doing housework around the flat. The kicker for me was Hunza G figuring as a massive clue when they were figuring out if the main character flew first class or not, lol.

3. The Summer I Turned Pretty — I read these books after I enjoyed To All the Boys I Loved Before and I absolutely hated them. Which is why it took me so long to watch the series. WHICH, TO NO ONE’S SURPRISE, IS ALSO SO BAD. As someone who was shaped by young adult fiction, I thought I would like this more than other people who didn’t care for YA. However, it was just as bad as I remembered it being. Maybe slightly better; I was less mad than when I had been when I read it. I do think it’s tonally quite strange, but it’s also really telling that I found the parents’ stories way more compelling and wish there was more of that. AKA, I’m too old for this.

4. Coldwater — This was also not that great, but I thought I should mention it as I did watch all of it. I think I have very little patience for snivelling protagonists and, honestly, there was very little reason to root for anyone. For me, it was just a story to watch unfold, though I was not shy about expressing my frustration and disgust at each turn, because my goodness, was the main guy spineless.

5. The Traitors Ireland — Look, this is so funny. I know people don’t seem to like the US version of this, but I love how they actually play, whereas I find that personal relationships often get in the way of gameplay in the UK version. (To be fair, they are also playing for the money, and so I can see why everyone is so despy.) The Traitors Ireland is similar to the first season of Australia, but with a whole lot more cussing. It also didn’t feel like people took things too personally. WHICH I APPRECIATE SO MUCH. No one has cried at the roundtable yet, which was refreshing.

6. Survivor Australia: Australia vs. The World — Greatest Survivor season in recent memory. Highly, highly recommend.