today started in a way that almost pissed me off with how normal it looked.
i woke up from a night terror, heart still racing, brain already doing eviction math before i even checked my phone. the easy move would’ve been to stay in bed, scroll bullshit, and pretend the day hadn’t technically started yet. instead, i dragged myself into the shower. real shower. hot water, shampoo, the whole “reset the meat suit” routine.
and it helped, which annoyed me and comforted me at the same time. i hate how much a basic shower can change the way my brain reads the world. suddenly the room looked less like a disaster zone and more like something i could maybe work in. so i leaned into it. i vacuumed the floor. i wiped off the standing desk. i cleared just enough space so this body with this brain and this anxiety could actually sit down and face a screen without feeling like it was drowning in clutter.
none of this solves the big shit. it doesn’t erase the eviction notice. it doesn’t magically pay the bills. it doesn’t teleport my mom back to the philippines for the first time since 1973, but it does something to the air. it makes the room feel a little more like a studio and a little less like an emergency. and right now, that difference matters.
after the cleaning came the walks.
the walks have become a weird little ritual lately: me, the sidewalk, and my rocket ball bouncing techniques. i toss the ball, catch it, bounce it off the ground, keep it moving like i’m trying not to let gravity or anxiety win for more than half a second at a time. there’s something about the repetitive motion that keeps me from fully spiraling. my body moves. my brain narrates. my heart freaks out. and somehow the combination is less terrible than staying still.
of course, because it’s me, there’s also the part where i’ve been smoking joints on these walks. i’m not dressing that up as “plant medicine” or some instagram wellness arc. it’s messy. sometimes it helps. sometimes it just makes the edges softer so i can keep walking without feeling like my skin is on backwards. it’s part of the story whether i like it or not, and i’d rather say it out loud than pretend i’m running some pure monk routine when i’m very much not.
underneath all of this movement and cleaning and mild chaos, there’s the stream.
guerz is still the heartbeat of this whole thing: a 24/7 genre-fluid adhdj study-and-chill stream built on the idea that you can sit in a low-key room with music on, watch someone grind through web dev or admin or life shit, and feless alone while you do your own. it’s not a gaming stream. it’s not high production. it’s more like “live study hall with a soundtrack and a guy who swears a lot and occasionally forgets where he put his notes.”
but here’s the twist: this stream isn’t just vibes. it’s strapped directly to a fundraiser and a gofundme, with an eviction notice ticking down like a shitty boss fight timer in the background. i’m not streaming for fun in a vacuum. i’m streaming because i’m trying to keep the roof over our heads, keep my study roadmap alive, and slowly build toward getting my mom home to the philippines after decades away.
so every time i sit down at the desk now, it’s not just “let’s learn typography.” it’s “let’s learn typography while we’re low-key begging the universe (and the internet) not to let everything collapse.” it’s a weird headspace. it’s not the inspirational youtube arc. it’s something more raw and less photogenic: being scared, still showing up, and inviting people to witness and support that instead of the polished version.
today’s “one real thing” is still typography. that’s the focus block i keep tying myself to so the rest of the chaos doesn’t swallow me whole. typography is one of those topics that’s both beautiful and fussy. it’s how letters breathe on a page, how words take up space, how the stuff we read either calms us down or pisses us off just by how it’s arranged. it’s design logic with feelings attached.
my plan — not as a list, but as a human intention — looks something like this:
i want to sit down with fcc- typography- theory and actually let it walk me through how type behaves, how hierarchy works, how line height, spacing, and weight all conspire to either invite a reader in or push them away. i don’t want to just skim the lesson and say “i did it.” i want at least one real pass where i’m mentally present, not half-dissociated, not secretly doing eviction math in the margin.
after that, i want to loop back through fcc- typography- review, because i know myself and i know that if i don’t revisit the concepts, they’ll evaporate like steam as soon as i close the tab. the review block is my way of telling my future self, “hey, we cared enough about this to look twice.”
somewhere in the mix, there’s the fcc- typography- quiz, which is basically freeCodeCamp asking, “were you actually here or did you just stare blankly at the screen while your brain played a movie about rent and doom?” the quiz is a reality check. i need that. i need something outside my own anxious narration to tell me whether the information landed.
wrapped around and between those, i’ve stitched in three passes of coddy and three passes of mimo. not huge marathons, just small repeated sessions. coddy gets three rounds where i try to solve little coding challenges and prove that my fingers and brain can still talk to each other. mimo gets three rounds where i tap through guided exercises, letting the app hold my hand through tiny bits of progress.
the idea is simple: theory, review, quiz, and then these small app loops, all orbiting the same gravitational center. i’m trying to create a day where typography isn’t just something i read about; it’s something my hands touch, my eyes test, my brain rehearses. the study block isn’t just boxes. it’s a story: “today i turned these jittery hours into actual learning, even while everything else tried to rip my attention away.”
and, hovering over all of this, there’s the fundraiser.
the gofundme and whatever other links are floating around right now are not abstract “support my content” buttons. they’re literal “please help us not get evicted” buttons. when i talk about the stream, i’m not just advertising my channel. i’m trying to give people enough context that their empathy has somewhere to land. yes, there’s music. yes, there’s study. yes, there’s chat. but there’s also a real family, real rent, real fear, and real hope attached.
i keep looping back to my mom’s timeline. leaving the philippines in the 70s, building a life in the u.s., surviving a bunch of things i probably don’t even fully know, and now sitting here with me while we try to figure out if we’re about to lose our place. my dream is still to get her home, to the motherland, the mother-archipelago, the place she hasn’t seen in decades. but you can’t build that kind of long-term plan if the present keeps catching fire. the fundraiser, the stream, the gofundme — they’re all my attempt to stabilize the now so the future can be something more than a fantasy.
and yeah, i’m doing all this with severe adhd, which makes the whole thing more absurd and more fragile at the same time. my brain does not naturally cooperate with “long-term, stable execution.” it loves to turn everything urgent into everything impossible. that’s why i cling so hard to these weird little structures: shower, clean, walk, stream, study, write. if i give my day no shape, it dissolves. if i give it too much shape, i rebel and ignore it. what i’m trying to do now is find the middle: enough structure to hold me, enough softness to let me be human.
lesson plans are not the heroic part of this narrative.
they’re the stubborn, boring part that quietly says, “i still believe tomorrow is worth planning for.”
fundraiser posts are not a performance.
they’re me admitting i can’t carry this alone, and that i’m willing to let you see how messy that looks.
the 24/7 stream — this genre-fluid adhdj study-and-chill room — is where all of this converges. when you drop in, you’re not just watching someone type. you’re watching someone juggle fear and focus, hope and exhaustion, big dreams and petty tasks, all at the same time. you’re seeing the behind-the-scenes of a life that’s trying to upgrade itself without pretending the starting point was clean.
if you’re reading this on blogguerz, that means you’ve already made it past the first layer of noise. you clicked the thing. you’re here. so here’s the real ask, stripped of bullshit:
if you can share the stream, do it. if you can sit in chat and be a presence, do it. if you can throw a dono, some bits, or anything at the fundraiser, do it. if you can’t, but you can amplify the story, do that. every tiny action shifts this situation a little. every lurk helps. every retweet, every bluesky repost, every techhub mention, every djs.social share becomes part of this weird scaffold that’s keeping me from dropping straight through the floor.
i’m not aiming for some influencer empire. i’m aiming for survival, stability, and eventually a version of life where bringing my mom home isn’t a fantasy but a ticket we can actually buy.
if lesson plans are my quiet little “i still believe in future me,” then your support is the loud “you don’t have to get there alone.”
- guerz 🤔 is feeling contemplative