please, accept the mystery

My hands have been creating all the things my brain has been desiring and that is really all I can ask for.  Three year olds drive me crazy but these people are the only people I want to be working with day in and day out.  Moms deserve lovin' and a sweet patch or two to add to there L.L Bean jackets, too.  

first week of school

Lutherans know how to get down, and pretty damn low at that.  Last night I went to my jobs (Trinity Lutheran School) Valentines Day party and got totally shit faced with all my superiors.  You really learn quite a bit about people after 3 or 4 cups of hunch punch and a punishing amount of beer from too many games lost in beer pong.  The director of my school threw us all for a spin with her cart wheels and smack talk in the schools gym.  She also knew how to get her twirl on when the hired cover band encouraged the teachers to get rowdy with throwbacks like Jimmy Buffet covers, Tom Petty and a nice dose of "Sweet Home Alabama".  

It's funny how quickly I saw all of my friends turn into our parents with a little bit of hard liquor, who am I kidding A LOT bit of hard liqour, and a cheesy ass cover band.  We all participated in singing our hearts out with exaggerated passion and shakin' our booties like we haven't had a night out without the kids in years.  Eric quickly took to socializing with all of the fellow teachers and and lost so hard in beer pong against the toddler class teacher, Mary.  The pastor of the school was fearful of our "colorful" table, we became the group with the "drawings on our arms" and were unapproachable to the pastor.  

Towards the end of the night I lost control of my stomach and finished throwing up right as the head teacher of my classroom walked in on me.  She was mostly sympathetic but jesus christ, it was only my first week!  I'm interested to see how monday plays out, maybe we'll make hunch punch gatherings a more frequent occurrence. All i can say is; We brought that party.  

arms wrapped without a body

happiness is fleeting.  i can't escape sadness.  every time i look in the mirror and i remember who i am and reasons to be sad.  three year olds laughter and kisses along with my sketch pad make me forget i was ever sad.  i just remember unhappiness far too often.  what's normal?

tofuttme

Getting mad at missing mugs becomes the only way to truly get mad without feeling guilty. 

You really shouldn't be spared but sometimes we're cowards.

My head bone is connected to my....toe?

It’s bizarre how, after a whole year of experimenting with new ways to better love a body that is all mine I’ve become so confused and detached with the being I’ve been trying to connect to.  As I was riding my bicycle today I looked down at my legs and couldn’t remember their familiarity but instead became repulsed with what I saw: a strangers calves straining under the push and pull of my bike, thighs that barely looked like something I would call my own and ankles jutting out from a pair of already imprinted shoes.  

Years ago I spent all my time devoted to understanding the inner workings of my body to help create an appealing aesthetic for myself and others to marvel at.  I would do leg presses and squats too many times a day while guzzling down muscle milk for breakfast and diet pills for dinner trying to achieve an outcome that would hopefully inspire oneness from the inside out.  This ended up being a failure and equated to me never being satisfied with the results my body was able to give.  This disease that infected me, a “need” for beauty and acceptance based on my appearance began to wear at me. I’ve spent this year trying to love my body for all the beautiful things it cant help but do.  I havent dieted , I havent shaved the hair that so eagerly sprouts out of my pours and I havent tried as hard as some to hide the odors it emits.  

This has lead me to, still, an extreme disconnection with the parts that are my own.  A straight up unfamiliarity that’s disturbing.  I began to consider the possibility of loving my body for its capabilities instead of what is seen from the outside.  My body is capable of writing letters to people I love, propelling forward to arrive at a destination, swining my hips to the beat of the sounds my ears can hear, smelling and tasting and chopping a meal for myself and friends but really and mostly just love.  One day when my senses start to fail and my bones lose all desire to carry or chop one more thing I will have the memory of my bodies once beautiful capability that lives on through myself and others minds, love love love.

Maybe everyday I can remember to love my body for its capabilities and eventually love the flesh that covers my arteries.  

Balance. Moderation. Get Fucked.

On friday I crossed the sands in a dodge neon.  We drifted through a hazy sand storm that left me blind to the world in front of us but opened my eyes to all the corners of my brain that I have successfully  hidden out of cruelty.  Ive been punishing myself, throwing away keys to doors and secret trap ways that once  brought me happiness...freedom.  I had been so fearful to let my body go, let my thoughts go to just go and go and go.  

Anyways, we traveled sunburnt and sand whipped with smiles spread so thick across our faces. We were on a journey without a clear destination, maybe only really a mirage.  The harvest moon came and peeked her orange peel head out of the trees and teased us for miles.  She finally gave in and let us glimpse full on in all her glowing and enticing beauty  There was nothing more sensual to me than that moon that night.  Lusty moons for lust young minds.  

Miriam WOsk is a genius

My nerves are all worn out from everyone rattling them this week. I've got no more fucks to give, not a single.  This is nice.

I've been doodling and writing and making my friends mixes this week and I've been feeling more like myself.  Sharing is one of the greatest joys I think I've experienced.