Monotonous routines, turned through a tiresome system until the element of surprise has become a foreign concept. Space, a much needed respite from the mediocrity of everyday life.
Still, time away transforms into startled cries of realization and unsupported why’s. Learning through lonesome now, an unexpected feat, lack of preparation unsteadies planted feet.
Damned to discover inalienable truths that redefine one’s self description. Threatened by the looming nature of perdurable idiosyncratic distinctions.
A self-diagnosed sesquipedalian, amongst other things. She uses extensive words to describe the breadth between her mind and the emotions she fails to think.
Distance is the revelation of sweet peculiarities that right you when you’ve slipped, returning you to a place of sentimental doting. On the brink of one, easily slipping to another. Am I she? Am I her? And who is me?
No matter what language you speak, or culture you participate in, you have heard some version of the phrase: everything happens for a reason. This may be the case, but when your final reward is ten degrees distanced from today’s disappointment, it’s difficult to see this way.
A few weeks ago, I had the idea of creating a magazine. MESSY, an independent mag solely focused on spreading the truth. Much alike this blog, I had planned to discuss mental health, to write fun articles that were more a magazine style than anything else I had featured previously here; peeks into the different worlds that exist in the caverns of my mind.
Whereas I had felt that I had lost my voice writing for this blog, I had rediscovered it in the pages of that digital mag. Here’s the sitch: all of my work was inextricably erased, wiped, hours reduced to nothing.
I know, I should have backed up my writing. I should have taken a screenshot of each page, but I didn’t, and I have to live the consequences of that. It is impossible to prepare for every potential outcome. You’re always going to face a challenge for which you were not prepared. Losing that magazine was the first time I had ever given up on something so swiftly and with such a finality that hardly anything could persuade me to bring it back.
For now, I’ll continue to blog here. I have fixed a few kinks that were screwing up the layout and general aesthetic. Previously unable to determine the cause, I admit I was a bit rash in my decision to take a break from the blog. Nevertheless, this time away has been great. I have many more stories to share, so if you fancy hearing more about my pothole of a life, continue reading.
And if you’re new here, then welcome to MESSY. Thank you for joining me as I share the most intimate fragments of my mind.
I can’t believe I created an entire playlist geared towards folk music, without including Ezra Bell. Not sure I was okay in that moment, but to make up for it, I’ve made an incredibly long mix of new folky tunes for you guys.
Second try’s the charm, right? This playlist is filled with folk songs that are more personal to me, whether they’re songs I listen to pretty often or bands that make me feel.
Police brutality is neither a new, nor an isolated affair. It will not be abated without a united effort for it to be renounced. Who could have known that an unfit president would result in such widespread social unrest? I’ll tell you who knew - every threatened minority.
The word threatened is subjective in a sense, because I do know minorities who claimed to vote for Trump. It all comes down to a person’s sense of security and their regard, or lack thereof, for others. Contempt is selfish, and ignorance is an excuse. You are no different, as long as you look the same.
Folk songs are the cure to a forsaken soul. How do you get over any inconvenience? Tune the world out, and tune in to a bone chilling list of folky numbers. Here’s a list of beauty, real and true. I highly recommend giving Shakey Graves & Ed Masuga a listen.
I keep getting almost hit by cars. I feel like I should lead with that.
In the past, I had a sort of anxiety about crossing the street (which I once wrote a fair amount about, but failed to publish). However, a few weeks ago, I almost got hit by a car and since then that fear has sort of dissolved.
How does fear materialize? Does it ever “de”materialize?
The word of the week is plethora, meaning an excessive amount or number. When I first learned this word, I used it ALL the time. Any chance I could get in an academic paper, I took. That was almost a decade ago, and now I’m here to share the very same word that started my obsession with particularizing locution.
Thursday Thoughts: Working full time really wipes you out. It’s a wonder college students can juggle school, internships, jobs, and extracurricular activities. There’s something about doing the same task for hours on end, that is thoroughly exhausting.
This month, I’m starting a new series that I am very excited about beginning. Life can be a real pain, and though there are struggles, there are also little moments that remind us life can be worth living. I want to start a collection of sorts - a monthly journal of moments, people, and things that made life worth living for me.
June was a hard month for me, for whatever reason, and I can definitely say that these small pieces of time made a world of difference.
I've been listening to some pretty chill music this month. To take a break from curating topic-based playlists, today I'm simply sharing what I've been listening to in June. I hope this also diversifies the music I share with you, so you can get a better idea of new songs that deserve a listen.
Inspired by a few selections from the Sarai Reader, The Cities of Everyday Life, I began to identify overarching themes regarding not only physical, but also digital, economical, and informational cityscapes.