I “fixed” a set-in olive oil stain on my pants the other day. I think I like them better than before, even 🌱 I got the stain eating humus from my favorite Lebanese restaurant—so the inner part of the fern curls around the stain. Idk, I just didn’t want to cover it entirely. It’s a good memory.
***
I feel like I can be a bit more vulnerable on this platform—nobody knows who I am and that’s so refreshing. I’m in the midst of hoping that no one I told to follow me over here from IG actually does. I’m very tired of trying not to make an idiot out of myself anywhere that my partner’s parents might see. Or old college friends.
I’ve spent about a week not making any art or writing. For context, I’m an American. I’ve grown up having a lot of political anxiety but nothing has compared to the stress, fear, shame, and embarrassment I’ve felt over the last few days. For myself and my family, my communities, all the people that didn’t want this to happen, and all the people who’ve been working hard for it not to.
But I have to remember that this type of chaos isn’t unprecedented—it’s just here now (in lots of ways it’s been here all along). And it’s our turn to figure it out. In that way, this may have been inevitable. To root out and destroy complacency and the evil of compliance. In ourselves and in our systems.
***
I’m very happy I embraced the stain, and very grateful for fabric paint 🌱
