I’m a worrywart. Not anxious so much as just very aware of my surroundings—and I’ve seen too many people spill their drinks. A long time ago, I developed this habit of sneakily handling things. I’ll subtly move objects away from the edge, adjust plugs so that they can’t short out, and quietly circumvent stuff that might cause people to get mad at each other.
As many times ranted, I know my way around chaos, and I know how it seems to work, so, if not me, then who else is going to do subtle acts to keep that chaos from hurting people, from ruining days?
But that doesn’t mean I don’t mess up in other ways. Continue reading
I walk around my neighborhood, yes, and I’ve talked about that—but I don’t think I’ve mentioned how many friends I made doing that. I’m known, now, and people stop to talk to me—they learned my name, they ask how I’m doing. It’s wonderful, and, as an ode to them, and to people all over, let me take a few paragraphs to thank anyone, and everyone, who is kind, who is nice, who stops to properly ask how someone is truly doing. Continue reading
Some may disagree with me doing this. Some may become alienated as my experiences do not match up to theirs close enough. And some might simply be mad at me for some other reasons that if I were to guess, I’d likely be wrong about it anyway.
I’m gonna demystify creativity. Continue reading
Well, that’s a pretentious title. But I mean it this way: the world is beautiful. Interlocking pieces and ideas and complex words and agreements and dreams made real. I am not an optimist, but like everyone that looks up at the sky, I cannot help but wonder how deep the rabbit hole goes.
Take a person and see a massive complex organism of nerves and blood. Then consider the internal dreams of a human being. The social connections. I believe in a spirit, a soul, to a person—and that’s another layer. Continue reading
To those that see a painting in twilight skies.
To those who pour out their heart because they need someone to understand.
To those that push themselves harder—harder—harder, until they find a new way.
To those that don’t sleep, don’t eat, sacrifice their bodies for the sake of something grand.
To those that explain, again and again, rather than fight.
To those that choose others above themselves.
To those that love. Continue reading
I don’t really know the age group that reads my posts. But, in case you are a young person like me—and you feel stressed out and worried and anxious about your future—I have something to tell you.
People have no idea what they are doing.
Your parents. Your teachers. People on the street. They only know what they bothered to learn. People are talented and knowledgeable, sure—but on only certain things.
Something no one has worked out perfectly is how to be a human on earth. Continue reading
Ever since James tried to quit using the patch, he’s been having mood swings. I noticed, everyone notices—but we were too polite to point it out to him, and for that, we are probably not nice people. Despite us doing it to be nice, ostensibly.
But you can tell, you can really tell. He’ll walk into our classrooms, and he’ll look all, you know, happy and stuff—has on his yellow mask. Big cheery face with a smile and wide eyes and a sharp chin. But, then, and oh is it fast, he’ll see something else, some minor thing upsets him, and the red mask whips out of his pouch, my God. Continue reading
Inspired by a conversation I had with a fellow blogger, I have one important thing to say to people:
STOP. SQUASHING. ARTISTS!
Stop beating people down into the ground!
Stop critiquing people into crippling self-doubt!
If someone likes to make art, then let them! Continue reading
The worst kind of monsters are the ones we don’t see.
Because all we can do is…
Fear the child who does not talk. For he’s the only one listening. Continue reading