shame
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The half growl/half crow of Eddie Vedder has long been a part of my own, personal war cry. It both fed and poured out my teenage angst—my frustration with the things that were senseless, wrong, and unjust in the world, and my desire to be free from all of the pain and confusion and devastation
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Yesterday was too much. In fact, the too much started the day before, and I didn’t do a good job of mitigating it at the outset. But who is great at mitigating, really? On Thursday, when I took the bus to the doctor, there was so much chaos. There was a woman who insisted her
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Once in a while I sit and reflect. Just be. In the silence, alone, waiting, and living inside my own head. It is a different feeling, this reflection, because usually I am always thinking, in the most deliberate of ways, but without conscious effort. My mind just doesn’t stop. I’m constantly assessing—for threats, I assume,
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I can’t seem to stop listening to Rachmaninoff. I’m just in that mood. Or so I thought when I first turned my Spotify account in his direction a day or two ago. But the more I listen, the more I wonder: What mood is that exactly? Because one thing I am noticing about his music
Learning To Be Whole 