creativity. bust it.

My boyfriend was entertained this morning by my hip shaking couch-bounce as I scrolled through previous blog land stories and gabbed about “remember this… wait… that happened?”

Scrolling through four years of life is some iz…

Anyways, I started a story yesterday that I’m looking forward to posting later on, about stepping over bodies in New York City. We do that here, for some reason. It left me thinking of other various Earth locations where this would never occur.

It says a lot about human nature. If someone told me, when I was eight, that one day I would reside in a land where a IMG_4017person passed out sideways on the pavement is a site I could just walk by… I would have never bought it.

Alas, these contrasts are just more reasons I love words. I am baffled every day by what I see. Things hit me and strike my guts in ways that somehow purge from pen into verses and stories and whatever else comes out. Reminders.

It makes me happy that I have reached grown-up hood and stayed true to all of the truths from childhood. Such a narrow window to watch the world through.

And I am infinitely appreciative. It’s tricky enough watching through a small lens, if it was larger – my standard state of overwhelmed might spread further. Not sure I’m ready.

So yeah, like I was saying…

“Creativity. Bust it.”



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