On Being Achingly Lonely

I hate feeling empty. Like everyone can feel the weight of the gravity holding you down like a black hole in the room. It’s like being full of joy and full of sadness all at the same time. Full of the joy because you’re so fiercely independent, yet full of sadness because the joy is yours to carry alone. As is the sadness. Some days, this is how I feel. Other days it doesn’t matter, but everyday this is what I live. 

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On What I Want for Others

I watched The Black Panther Party: Vanguard of the Revolution last night at the Nashville Film Festival. Those stories and images resonated with me and got stuck in my head, keeping me from sleeping soundly as a result. It affected me that profoundly. I searched my brain for ways that I can contribute positively to the world around me. I want to make art that causes people to actively seek ways to change the world around them, just because something I created moved them that deeply. 

On Being Human

One of the more beautiful things I’ve discovered about sitting somewhere for a long time is that I begin to observe and deconstruct my surroundings. I often see, when I’ve been somewhere long enough, people who see old friends and the way they’re greeted when they see someone they haven’t seen for a long while. It’s a human quality; recognition, and a gift in my opinion. We see people, meet them, get to know them, have an impression or memory of them, then separate. When we reunite with them, the beauty of all that we remember returns and we greet them. I love when I see the happy reunions the most. 

On What I Wish For…

A constant stream of funny stories. A film projector and a giant white sheet that I keep in my garden, prepped for an instant outdoor cinema. Daily trips to Target. Hiking with him. Unending joy that makes me smile until my face hurts. Brunch for every meal. A steady stream of the peace that I feel every night I go to sleep. A lifetime supply of coffee just the way the local homeless guy likes it (for him of course!). Childlike wonder at every new experience. A giant St. Bernard that knows me better than myself. A worn out bible I could never bear to part with. A daughter just like me. A daughter nothing like me. Photo ops at every turn. ✌🏾️ on earth and love to all. 

On Sundays

When I was young my mother never let us sleep in when there were holidays or during summer vacation. As a result, I became the kind of person that does everything in the early part of the day so that I could relax the rest of the day. I never learned to relax. I still work hard all day long. Every. Single. Day. Of the week. Sundays have always been lonely days to me because I have never really kept grown up hours. I’ve always had more free time than my friends so when Sunday rolled around, everyone just wanted to chill when I was revved up. So, today I woke up early as usual, and didn’t do anything. I underestimated you Sunday, lazy day that you are. Cheers. Here’s to lazing around in the slowness of the essence of an unencumbered day fraught with absolutely nothing at all.