Two mentors have forced me, thankfully, to reconsider what the fuck I’m doing (or, really, not doing enough of).
We are what we create rings true, and thus discounts whether it actually is.
He sent you a gif of Shia LaBoeuf crying and told you he’s going through a lot right now.
It’s insane to act like the civil war that is my hormones is worthy of forgiveness, as if it’s a crime I’ve forced everyone else to take part in.
I’ve returned to a few old haunts in the last 48 hours and they’ve reminded me that the past (despite its bad rap) can pull you forward if you give it more than a sliver of chance.
I can deal with my father’s death, even if it’s tragic and awful and makes me want to puke—I have seen this now, that I can survive a worst-case-scenario, that surviving it is no longer an idyllic, future happening, but a reality that I’ve been thrust into.
I’m the type of person who can only survive the day-to-day when there are things up ahead to look forward to. Vague, lofty ideals like a potential white wedding or children who will grow to resent me do not count.
“You can’t force creativity. It will hit you when you’re ready for it. Walking away is important.” Talking to the lovely DIY-guru Erica Domesek about what she learned in her twenties and what inspires her creativity.
Q: What were you doing at midnight last night?
A: GETTING INTO BED LIKE THE DIRTY GIRL I AM.
Because I have writer’s block and surveys are fun!