snow day & slops of writing

How do you feel about yourself? Everyday I attempt to break away and return to the mundane. People shovel snow outside. I take joy in the days we are forced to stay at home. Try to move the car through the driveway. Re-shovel the snow. Scrape it off the windows. Watch your neighbor struggle.

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I want to be able to give back to people. I would say that I wished I could draw, improv on the guitar, do some sort of artistic feat because there were endless possibilities to grow, but maybe I’m just dismissing the whole point of them. The long hours, the hard-work, and intentionality. It doesn’t just all the time come naturally or just happen. You do it. I do it. And with writing, it’s something difficult too. But I can at least try to encompass things and feelings and people. The places are the people and those moments that move me too. So this is the reason why college was so great for me. Because I could get out of my head and experience–these are now new things to write about. It’s not just shit I create from my head. I actually do and feel it. I feel it. Fuck it. I feel everything. 

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I wonder if we’re all feeling somewhat of the same things but can’t say anything //

I really like this line from Hua Hsu's Stay True: "We kept saying good night, more of a joke than anything, and then raising one more point."