What is the purpose of posting in social media? Is it the howling of a wolf hoping others will take up the cry? Is it an ask for someone to acknowledge you exist? Are you the tree in the wood that falls? I am a drop that makes an insignificant ripple. Perhaps less than that…which is why I write this here instead of as a fb post or even a …
Bingeing, because that’s how I do. While there is no small amount of manufactured and edited for tv drama, ultimately shows of Rupaul (in all its incarnations), Queer Eye, and A Queen is Born are about self-acceptance, otherness, and what beauty can mean. It’s a happy thing and makes me feel if they can love themselves, I should absolutely be able to.
Playing two different DnD campaigns. Role playing, story telling, ensemble world and story building. All good stuff.
The day is full of stuff. I think that is the correct noun. Stuff it in, flotsam, detritus, junk, anything and everything. So much needful arbitrariness. Then there are the moments of tangible where the emotion is real. It doesn’t have to be big, just has to go beyond the threshold of stuff-you-have-to-do-to-get-through-the-day. Even that takes discipline. Like slowing down enough to enjoy the ritual of opening the canister, smelling …
Took effort this time to say, I must do this before the day is done. So, day six of writing and sketching each day. Here. A doodle. A sketch. One line, begining to end.
It was a good day. Last full course day of the semester for me, and I can see Summer just a bit away. Teaching 4 courses, all of them on Thursdays. (Tuesdays is just three of them). Final critiques, and they did good. They really did. There were several laugh out loud moments, and some really good souls among them. It’s one of those days that I am glad to …
Write first. Title later. It’s like emotional equilibrium is some spinning top, subject to the least bit of external flotsam. The day is cloudy and dull – it slows the turn. The sun peeks out from behind the clouds – a spirited pirouette. A missed meeting, a note calling to speak but with unnamed intent – it wobbles. There are times when my belief in my stability is unshakable. Not …
I used to tell time by the milestones each of the boys hit: first steps, potty training, the deepening of a voice, a driver’s license. He’s a young man. A smart, handsome, kind young man. I feel lucky to be his mom.
Showed Connor my beholder illustration. He suggested I riff off of sayings for the posts and also for the sketches. Brilliant. That being said, I have no idea what this even means. Is it that you are apoplectic? Or just that you don’t know what to say. I wouldn’t put it past a kitty to do such a thing as to steal your tongue and bat it around. But I …
Trying to get into that state of mind where the end is less important than the doing. That eye of the beholder thing. In D and D the beholder is pretty horrifying. It’s just this giant eye that has the ability to mess with your mind. Apt I think.
