What I Want to Find


Somewhere, in this stubborn body of mine

I have found the tiniest light

Radiating nostalgic warmth


It is growing,

And growing,

And perhaps, soon enough,

I will find in it the things I have long abandoned

Written on August 15th, 2018 at 7:20 AM


What I’ve Lost

I miss the times when I could write freely

It’s hard to pinpoint exactly what has changed

Is it the fact that I haven’t been reading as much?

Is it the anxiety of growing older eating at my creativity?

I find that last one hard to believe

Look at all the authors who succeed, who produce even into their elderly years

Something is eating at me, but I can’t discover what it is

Something is pulling at the threads of productivity I’d wound up for years in my earlier youth

Perhaps I was creative because I had to be

In school, in Literature lessons, we were given assignments

To read, to write, to repeat the process frequently

I suppose that then, my mind was constantly working

Also, then, I wasn’t so drawn to electronic things

In my free time, I drew, I wrote, I only occasionally watched TV

Nowadays, things like YouTube, Twitter, Tumblr, have taken over my life

Or, perhaps I have lost my creative writing voice

Stifled, beat into basics by the world

Perhaps I’ve written too many academic papers

I think that I used to write much more before college

I think that somewhere along the way, I lost my passion

I get the ideas, but I can’t seem to put them into fruition

Or, rather, I’m not satisfied with the meagerness I produce

I think, and I’ve written this down before, that it’s like

My writing has taken the first step to evolution but my brain can’t keep up with it

I want to change, but I’m bound by the voice of the past

Written on August 15th, 2018 at 7:09 AM


I’ve recently begun to wonder how

It is possible for time to move so quickly and so slowly

All at once

In a dizzying dance

A back and forth game of life, death, renewal

I’ve begun to teeter even more viciously

Between happiness, sadness

Bittersweet melancholy, unrestrained joy

I wonder, is it okay for me to feel this content?

Is it all right if I boast a little?

I’ve recently begun to wonder how

It is possible that I am finally living

Written on September 2nd, 2018 at 10:46 AM


In any case,


If I stop long enough to feel again,

I notice my hands are trembling

Ever so slightly

When did it start?

What is the cause?

I have the vaguest idea

But I seek clarity


In any case,


I must move on

Towards something greater

Can I make it through this week alive?

Written on January 30th, 2018 at 2:03 PM


Big Wolf & Little Wolf

We spend our lives trying to discern where we end and the rest of the world begins. There is a strange and sorrowful loneliness to this, to being a creature that carries its fragile sense of self in a bag of skin on an endless pilgrimage to some promised land of belonging. We are willing to erect many defenses to hedge against that loneliness and fortress our fragility. But every once in a while, we encounter another such creature who reminds us with the sweetness of persistent yet undemanding affection that we need not walk alone.

-Maria Popova

The great Maria Popova over at Brain Pickings (my current ultimate blog recommendation) reviewed the picture book “Big Wolf & Little Wolf” a while back. While I haven’t had the time to read it yet, I have a gut feeling i417qUytsZML._SX403_BO1,204,203,200_t will be spectacular. So, I’m recommending it. 😉

Read her review here.


This year, I quite suddenly decided I would join Inktober for the first time. I haven’t drawn this earnestly in so long… too long…

Anyway, I’m proud of what I’ve made so far. Hopefully I don’t lose steam as the month progresses. The prompts for these days are Poisonous, Tranquil, Roasted, and Spell.