the extraordinary ordinary

the mundanity of mornings off. 
when you wake up to a late alarm and don’t even bother to wipe crust from your eyes. it’s raining today, and the sound of drops and smell
of earth is potent in your nose. there’s no rush, yet there’s an impending stress to complete works, start projects, think up projects, make 
grocery lists in your mind —
there is little time for silence when thoughts are filling empty spaces. you sit on your bed with morning coffee, looking out onto a
landscape of wet eucalyptus, while nutty aroma licks your face. yet you fail to notice all of this life, this encapsulated and forever bursting
beauty — was all made for you. the train has departed.

you put down your mug and turn on your computer, lost in the iridescent glow of a craved reality which will never arrive.


perfect, such a thing?

so often i spend my writing time editing, going back, re-reading, "perfecting", in an attempt to reach an end result that is not my real truth. instead of blurting out the words onto pages that form so fluidly in my mind, I go back, slash, cut, and paste, reading over and over and over, I try to rearrange these lines and shapes into forms that sound like poetry, whatever that means. but isn't the real truth in the way my fingers hit these keys the first time? there's so much potency in words, especially unedited. the raw thought, in its simplest form. what if I were to leave it as that, and just that, nothing else? before it would have felt that my world was sure to collapse, though now it leaves behind a sense of peace. an honesty I could never achieve before. so here it is, my words and thoughts as they came into my mind, sprawled onto this page.
it seems a large part of the reason I've committed, lacked consistency, and recommitted to this blog has to do with that obsessive need for perfection. at this point I'm ready to say screw it, and let the words fall as they're supposed to, not as I imagine or desire them to. things turn out much clearer and kinder when I'm not molding them to be an image that's fabricated.



there's not many words I can find to begin this spell of words other than: hello, and wow. my goodness. it has been far too long.
the amount of change and abundance in love I had felt these past few months is exasperating — I've gone through the ringer with my health (all is fine now) which has left me feeling disenchanted with my old ways of thinking. no longer are the small tiffs that consumed my thoughts important, nor worthy of my time. no longer do I want to pass by the stranger sitting on the ground with a turned head. rather I'd like to smile, say hello, show warmth and welcome. I want to express to others how grateful I am to be alive, here, and present in this moment. I want to focus on the big things, not the miniscule. big in the sense of bigger than myself. spreading awareness, compassion, acceptance for all — I can't imagine doing anything better with my time. also big in the sense of letting go of fears, welcoming in creativity, and putting pen to paper, or brush to canvas. 
passion has been ignited in me once again and I am forever grateful to these deep feelings of desire to create. I know not everyone has them. for that I feel I must listen to that feeling and just do it without expecting validation or anything in return. it can take many forms: photographs, paintings, crafts, mixed media, and words. 
words. words are the form I fall back to most often, though I don't often share them with others. it's something I am working towards, though I'll continue with one less-private form, of this blog. I'm moving away from the old blog I had, and thinking of new names for it. there's a shift that has occurred within me, which pulls me towards a different idea and longing. directing the camera at my face is no longer desirable the way it used to be — though there will always be some of that, there's so much more I want to share. I am more than the clothes on my skin and the shoes on my feet. and I would like to release and show that.