Apr 25, 2016


life is messy.  it's beautiful and spontaneous and sometimes organized. but organized/routine gets boring and i rebel against myself and slowly get to where that is a drudge and come on back.  
i open the top right drawer of the desk to rest my arm on while i type, i roll up the cuffs of my jeans and don’t wash them for weeks.  i stare out the window as i type,  gaze at the green trees and let my mind and fingers do the work as the little woman across the street pushes her lawn mower back and forth.
there's so many started documents/manuscripts.  i used to try and keep them down to a handful that would be easier to focus on, but there's such a freeing feeling when starting a new one. there's something so very beautiful in the midst of an okay chaos, in the middle of imperfection-ism.
because look-
my camera may be broken. but in turn i may be forced to document this weekend in new and creative ways that i've never explored, forcing my mind open and stretching my creative muscles. and film grain is okay.  shaky video is okay. acne spots and slightly missed notes and forgotten verses and mistakes are okay.
in a way, it's beautiful. it brings us down to earth. like sleep.  it’s a reminder that God is God, no one is perfect, we are human.  
(and at least my arm is comfortable while i type and i thrive more with a messy desk. and maybe i like lots of fragmented documents, full of future possibility. and maybe my eye finds peeling wallpaper, overgrown trailer houses and and abandoned places more meaningful while she doesn't. and maybe that's beautiful too).
[images from jan/feb 2016]

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