Everything is just lovely. Just lovely.
That is the only word I have to describe it. I am sitting on this little flowery couch surrounded by a massive garden, looking at all of the vivid colors that are painting up this street.
It has been a wonderful day. If only I had a friend to share it with.
I have really come to appreciate the sound of silence.
I think that I might write more about it.
Dead silence, is.. well dead.
I find that to be one of the most appropriate names for silence that is unmeaningful. Unwanted. Lost. Misplaced. …
It’s been a few days stuck in this house during the quarantine.
I, a rebel, like to go outside and enjoy the fresh air and think about all of the ways that the virus can get me.
Before all of this mess happened, I was just your average post-college, post-stress, post-anxiety workaholic. Now that everything has been stripped away, I find myself creeping back into something more than seasonal depression. The best thing about all of this is that the sun is still shining, the weather is warm and humid, and there isn’t a virus on earth that can jump onto me in those types of conditions. …
Imagine being a Jewish person during the Holocaust. Imagine having a chance to speak up in front of a crowd of Nazi soldiers and even Hitler himself. Imagine speaking to the injustice that is done to your people — your friends, cousins, siblings, parents, neighbors, enemies…
Imagine speaking up during a protest march in Germany or Poland or France or wherever — and imagine telling them all that Jewish Lives Matter. Because Jewish Lives do Matter.
Now, imagine looking into the eyes of someone who is not your immediate oppressor, but who still supports the strength and power of the Nazi regime. …
The greying eyelashes fluttered open as the touch of the golden sun inspired the leviathan to take her thoughts for a walk around the cranium. My scrawny feet squished the soft pillows on her swampy bed as I tried to delicately step around her barely waking expression. But time was sprinting — Should I cross here?
I knocked on the pavement and asked if I could enter her domain. She smiled and didn’t shake me from her black asphalt cheek. I don’t think she even noticed the sound of my clobbering feet against her morning facial routine. Rubber exfoliation and the smell of gasoline cleansing her pores. She blinked three times and opened her makeup box. Each white line she painted on her face like war paint — geometric and precise. …
For the times of Quarantine
Happy. No English. Good dog. Some English. Happy.
Happy. Girl smiles. Wag tail. Girl smiles. Jump up. Girl frowns. Tail Down. Head down. Girl pets. Happy
Happy. Girl sad. Wag tail. Girl sad. Lick face. Girl pushes. Tail Down. Head down. Girl sorry. Happy.
Happy. Girl cries. Not happy. Make better. Get present. Walk out. Find toy. Brings toy. Girl toss. Happy.
Happy. Girl cries. Make better. Brings toy. Girl stands. Girl shouts. Tail Down. Head down. Walk out. Sad.
Sad. Girl comes. Girl sits. Girl sorry. Girl pets. Girl speaks. Bark, Bark. Girl smiles. Girl knows. Love girl. …
Everyone worries about invasive plants
Because Invasive Plants don’t belong
They can starve out the healthy ecosystem and take
over the natural way of things
But what people worry about
Doesn’t really make as much sense
They worry about invasive species like a red hibiscus
in a temperate forest
But they don’t realize that an oak tree should not grow in Haiti either
They’ll probably tell you
About a migratory plant sitting on the sidewalk on a frozen afternoon
But it’s invasive in the same way
To think that a photo of a child living in poverty
With some vanilla bean stalk next to it smiling
Is somehow okay
I know I’m still young to anyone who is older than me and getting old to anyone who is younger than me. I know I am inexperienced to anyone wiser and wise to anyone more inexperienced.
I know, that when I wake up in the morning, I like myself. I know that when I spend time with friends or go out to coffee alone that I enjoy my own company. I know I have never been in love, and I wonder often if that really matters to me at all.
I believe in multiple soulmates. I believe that there isn’t just one person for you out there in the grand world, but there are many. Many kindred souls, many passionate souls, many friendly souls. Many souls who are just in the right place at the right time. …
Surely I will not
But could I ever forget?
The comrades that I bought
Up there where they set
Crystal brown eyes
Of wisdom and lesson and
A huggable size
A permanent expression
Billions and Trillions
I could take home for myself
Millions and Millions
There up on the shelf
The acquaintances to my past,
The friends of my memory
We play all day and laugh
Our future forever free
But now I look and now I see
Living in my own foolish way
Maturity had indeed convinced me
“Children should grow up, and no longer play”
My friends speak their own inspirational…
I spent over 30 minutes this morning scrutinizing each sentence of this article that is all the buzz. It was a piece written about “errand paralysis” with the millennial generation and how the term “adulting” actually isn’t so far off from the types of ‘responsibilities’ that millennial find themselves constantly avoiding.
However, what I liked about the article wasn’t so much how it dealt with the errand paralysis as much as it dealt with the need for success and why mundane tasks may become paralyzing for students who need to worry about things like “getting THE job” right out of college and raising the family that would make all other young moms jealous. …
Welcome to the age of the Influencer. Welcome to the era of the infamous, the celebrated, the faux. Welcome to the time in which reality is more possible and photos are more precise — and yet — photography is manipulated and mutilated to such exacting specifications, that people will break their own bones and tear up their own faces just to match a man-made, filtered ideal.
People are now dolls. In an effort to create a more beautiful human our bodies are instead falsified.
I have heard many times in the past that the trick to understand someone’s greatest insecurity is to see what they post on social media. …