It’s been a few weeks since I posted. I’m back, it’s time. Lately, I’ve had this urge to root back to the feelings I used to get when I used to write, long before pencil marks and letter grades covered the white space on my papers and killed my soul. Okay, a little dramatic maybe, but seriously, it’s time to root back to passion!
Like any makeup artist probably does, I tend to notice colours and textures in life. The way brush strokes look on different types of material, the way certain fonts on a sign look standing next to each other, and the way two of the most alarmingly different colours can together create unexpected beauty. I notice that stuff, I breath it in. I love music, reading, and painting for the same reasons, and often have this insane hunger to push all of the awkward feelings that are bouncing inside of my head out onto a page. Or a screen. Anywhere.
I do word paintings.
Putting feelings into words, and painting the picture so vividly that anyone else can see and feel where you’re at. That’s my ish.
This came to me on the bus the other day.
If you had to choose, would you safely stand still or would you tumble and jump from the tree?
You could dig your feet in the mud, plant as an oak, rooted strong ’till always.You would be sure, so much would be known, and forever could be etched into your bark. But if you stood still like a tree and your roots did not budge, you would never know the green paths. If I had to choose, I’d be a leaf or a pebble and crack and rumble and roll. I would drop and fall and I’d skip and sore and trip forward and let the sun burn me. I would be blind but bold, and rip and soar and I’d hide under trees and boulders. I’d leap and I’d spin, and maybe I’d twirl or maybe I’d get lost in darkness. But I’d see different soils and feel different air, and maybe I’d never come back. I could sink and crack, and crumble and break but at least I’d feel the wind take me.
Oh, but if I had to choose, I’d be a pebble.