Cry

Jon introduced me to this song one summer years ago. We used to share songs and musicians we liked. I don’t remember how this one came up but we both must have needed it. I remember it simply as the song he told me to play when I needed to cry.

There was a bombing tonight in the UK, after a concert. So far 20 young teens have been killed and many more are missing. I imagine what those parents must be feeling, those siblings, those friends. And it breaks my heart. I feel like I’ve grown up in an era where every few months or at least every year there is a major event like this where people gathered for a beautiful reason are terrorized, and no similar event thereafter ever feels peaceful again. …A concert, a movie, a church service, a class, work, the list goes on and on. No one is spared. Nothing feels safe. Nothing feels wholesome, pure, beautiful.

I just finished reading Harry Potter’s 6th book where Dumbledore dies. You read a story like that and you think this is just a book, an extremely well-written one, but a fictional story about fictional terror, nonetheless. There is no Lord Voldemort in real life, no Death Eaters, no kids losing their lives to fight Evil. Apparently I was mistaken.

Let it out. Only through acceptance of our feelings can we begin to heal…

“Song For You”
Alexi Murdoch

So today I wrote a song for you
Cause a day can get so long
And I know it’s hard to make it through
When you say there’s something wrong

So I’m trying to put it right
Cause I want to love you with my heart
All this trying has made me tired
And I don’t know even where to start

Maybe that’s a start

For you know it’s a simple game
That you play filling up your head with rain
And you know you’ve been hiding from your pain
In the way, in the way you say your name

And I see you
Hiding your face in your hands
Flying so you won’t land
You think no one understands
No one understands

So you hunch your shoulders and you shake your head
And your throat is aching but you swear
No one hurts you, nothing could be sad
Anyway you’re not here enough to care

And you’re so tired you don’t sleep at night
As your heart is trying to mend
You keep it quiet but you think you might
Disappear before the end

And it’s strange how you cannot find
Any strength to even try
To find a voice to speak your mind
When you do, all you wanna do is cry

Well maybe you should cry

And I see you hiding your face in your hands
Talking ’bout far-away lands
You think no one understands
Listen to my hands

And all of this life
Moves around you
For all that you claim
You’re standing still
You are moving too
You are moving too
You are moving too
I will move with you

Breaking the Seal…

I have no clue what to write about today. All I know is that I’ve been wanting to write for a long time now. Judging from my last post, you’ll notice that it’s been a long fucking while. Lately, I’d say maybe the last few months, I’ve really been feeling the urge to want to write and clear my head. Because the impetus is to “clear my head”, you can see why I haven’t written. When you’re counting on writing to help you clear the thoughts in your head, it’s hard to know where to begin, what “thought” you have to even write about. My mind feels foggy, I can’t see through it. So it’s easier to simply say “I don’t know where to start and don’t feel like dealing with it today. I’ll write tomorrow.” And tomorrow, the cycle continues.

I’ll just start sharing random shit and see where it lands.

It was fun to read a few of the old posts. I didn’t read all but wow, I realized a few things:

  1. There were so many things I never would have remembered! And some were pretty damn serious, like my grandma being sick and my dad urgently flying to visit her. I had totally forgotten this memory, and it happened just last year and felt so serious at the time. Update: she made it through that episode thank God. Sidenote: I recently had an epiphany about how memories work. I’ll explain it here quickly but it could easily warrant its own post… Memories are triggered! Stop for a second and consider that. We don’t remember them unless they’re triggered. WOW. If you don’t come across something to trigger them, then you’ll never know they happened. I realized computers work the same way. Maybe because they were designed by humans and thereby limited by how our brain works. [Or maybe we’re robots and limited by the computers that created us? Try to disprove that one. Have you seen the lines of code in our genetic makeup?!] Back to memories. Imagine this, your computer is full of AMAZING files (and some not so amazing ones but really meaningful ones nonetheless). You want to open some of them. Or forget that, you want to just know what fucking files you have in the first place. Imagine if the only way to know what you have is to remember every single file title and search for it. Well you have billions upon billions of files. How are you going to remember all the titles?! And there my friend lies the ultimate limitation of our memories. We won’t know something happened unless we know to search for it. Notice anything off there? Yes, it’s circular. Chicken and egg. Catch 22. Whatever you wanna call it. It’s fucked up. What inspired all this? I was out with N after a weekend of coming out to my cousins on a visit home. I was telling her that my family is judgmental and much of it is cultural (in some countries, people are constantly feeling watched and people love to gossip). This is why I was acting so stressed during our visit. She says I don’t see your mom as being too critical, did she ever ask you to straighten up? Stop slouching? I’m 33 years old and not once in my life did I realize that I grew up with a mom who used to tell me constantly to stop slouching! I had never recalled that memory. It had never been triggered as it had just gotten triggered now. I’d watched movies, shows, heard stories of little kids with moms constantly telling them to sit up straight but they hadn’t meant anything to me. For some reason, we got the file name right in this instance and pulled up the dossier from my past. And that’s when I wondered, what the fuck else is inside my brain, in my history, in my life, that I don’t know exists?!! Scary to think that there are good and bad experiences in there that I can’t “recall” until they’re triggered. PS. Mom, I love you.
  2. My writing isn’t half bad. I enjoyed reading the posts. I let myself go. It was nice to see that I let sides of myself come out that rarely surface.
  3. The format of most recent to oldest posts is hard to follow. This blog is better read chronologically.
  4. My latest post about my wedding and what I’m mourning… What can I say, I remember the tears through which I wrote it. I remember them like it was yesterday. The pain, the agony, the sadness. And all I can say/do is give my old self a big hug and say “Your wedding ended up being beautiful. I’m so happy for you.” It really was. It was magical. Every single person brought it. My dad did a reading, a beautiful poem that means the world to me, more than he’ll ever realize. Maybe someday I’ll tell you more about it. “Your kids are not your own.” My mom gave a speech to welcome guests and vowed that we will always have her unconditional love. That’s deep. A woman born in Egypt in a pre-dominantly muslim country, a rebel at heart, a mother above else. My older sister AND younger sister gave speeches. I expected to ask one of them for tradition’s sake, but both offered? That was unexpected. My brother officiated, and might I add, BEAUTIFULLY. Our little one was literally breathe-taking in a dress my mom had scoured the stores to find. My dad carried her down the aisle and she glowed. My brother-in-law got us a belly dancer. Our nephews did a dance for us on stage. My uncle, I repeat, my dad’s super conservative brother, flew in from Florida with his wife to support us, not just tolerate us but celebrate us. My mother-in-law was all smiles and helped us perform an ancient Indian tradition (I’m not Indian but my partner is). Her and my mom sat and sang songs together in Hindi (never did I know my mom knew these songs, apparently she was a Bollywood addict years ago; watching them sing together was beautiful). My cousin and his wife from a conservative village showed up with their kids (I invited them two weeks earlier over a text message, yes SMS, and they simply replied that they’d be happy to attend.) Friends flew in from around the country. I mean, the list literally goes ON and ON and ON….. I could mention every guest by name, one by one; they all deserve it. Because that’s how much everyone BROUGHT IT. Even my deceased grandma (on my mom’s side) showed up. I literally felt her presence with me right before I walked down the aisle, in that instant there was not a single doubt in my heart that she was there.  N looked gorgeous and holding her hand walking down the aisle is a feeling I hope to never forget. I gave an impromptu speech that summed up all our emotions well but we don’t have it recorded so it lives in all our memories and everyone was touched by it. The wedding was truly MAGICAL. And I feel so grateful. It was almost exactly one year to the day between when we got married (March 11) and when I wrote that post (March 6). A lot happened during that year leading up to the big day. A lot of really hard work, a lot of torn moments, a lot of soul-searching, a lot of heartache, a lot of difficult conversations, and it all culminated in a beautiful day that I will never forget. I thought you’d enjoy that happy update after that sad post… 🙂 THANK YOU LIFE, for being by our side.

I don’t have much else in me at the moment so I’ll leave it at this for my first post back. Other things that have happened over the past year that I could perhaps cover another time, or simply mention here so you’re on the same page:

  • We nearly lost our company (again). It was painful. This time, I came to terms with it and really accepted it was happening. It was going to be permanent, not temporary. I had to take anti-depressants, that’s how bad I was. To my surprise, they helped and I now understand why some people need them. Do I still think it’s sad that we sometimes need them? Yes. Do I still think they can fuck with your head? Yes. My brain physically hurt for days when I started them and when I stopped, so they are clearly powerful. Do I think there are times in life when your tank is running on empty and you can’t keep trying to fill it up one drop at a time? Yes. I’m glad I took care of myself. It was a rough time. We had to let go the team (again). I learned a lot during that time and I hope I can pick up from here in my next post so I can solidify the lessons. I’ll start the next one and leave it blank to push myself to do this.
  • My dad has cancer. You may be wondering why I didn’t start with this one. Why start by telling you we nearly lost our company? At first, I thought it meant I was so obsessed with our company that I was choosing to lead with it. But the second I made the decision between which one to lead with, I realized it was because I don’t want to admit this is happening. This is yet another example of me ignoring that my dad is sick. It’s fucking heart-breaking to think that my dad is sick. And now I’m crying. And I get it. This is why my head needs clearing… This is why I’ve been so unable to write. Ok. I get it now. I’m fucking hurting deep down and ignoring it. God I pray he’ll be okay.

Song playing now: Stay here with me. Don’t go.

Dad, please stay here with me. Don’t go.

xx

 

The Things I Am Mourning

Not having my wedding in a church

Not having my entire family at the wedding

Not being able to have my entire family at the wedding because almost every single one of them doesn’t know the real me and doesn’t even know I’m getting married

Not being able to have the wedding in Lebanon

Not being with someone who understands my native tongue

No bridesmaids, no maid of honor/best man, no dance with dad, no traditions

Not being able to publicly announce our engagement

Knowing my parents, the people who are supposed to love you most, aren’t happy about my wedding

Not being married when we have our first baby

Having the stress of caring for a baby at our wedding

Having a baby in life that is not even OF me

My head hurts. You get the idea. Even if you never grew up imagining or dreaming about the perfect wedding, you had SOME vision and SOME truths about your life. When you go and suddenly take away even the most fundamental of those things, there is nothing left to hold onto. It’s normal to want to hold onto SOMEthing. You can only endure so much change and unexpectedness in one lifetime. Nevermind that the change all happens in just a few years of that lifetime. It’s a lot to absorb. Is there any joy left behind? Is there any excitement left? Is there anything left that reminds you of who you are? who you were? You don’t even know what’s you anymore.

And then you wonder why you sometimes feel overwhelmed…

And then you wonder why you sometimes fight or have limited capacity for small changes…

The mourning phase continues.

Will it ever end?

Today

More like last night. I don’t really want to write this one. I don’t really know how to think through it. But I’ll try.

Last night, we had a halloween party. I happen to love halloween. as a kid, we used to meet up with friends who lived in neighborhoods with houses and we’d go trick or treating til it got dark and we had a huge trash bag full of candy. or at least it felt that big to me as a kid. we lived in a small apartment in the city so it was foreign to go to people’s “houses”. when id get bk home, id dump the bag upside down on my bed and look at the mound of candy. oh how high it looked. for the next few months, id eat out of the bag. halloween was fun.

as i got older, i lost sight of it. halloween goes through an akward stage in the tween/teen years. it wasn’t until college that i rediscovered it, thanks to my roommate and bff K. In college, halloween is reborn. parties. costumes. drunkeness. an excuse to be someone else. an excuse to get sexy. an excuse to have a long night of fun. after college, the tradition only got bigger. i made money. i cld afford real shit, not just homemade costumes. my roommate L and I was on the same page. one year, we dressed up as roxie hart and velma from chicago. we ordered $300 flapper dresses from california. $60 wigs. $100 shoes. shit was real. and boy did we look good.

N doesn’t really care for halloween. last year we had a party at our place. it was the first time i got to bring friends together and really celebrate the night. in the past, we get dressed up and have no where to go. halloween is one of those weird “holidays” where you have to meet up with friends. you cant just go out. Friends are the only ones who can appreciate your costume, how different you look, your labor of love. One year in college we got dressed up and sat on the side of the street waving people down. beceause we had no where to go. but we still got dressed up. so now that we live in a house, i loved that we cld have a party again. L was going to come down from NY to keep the tradition of taking halloween seriously.

anyway, ive really digressed. because this post was supposed to be about how I dont defend N enough. at least thats what she tells me. a week ago, after asking for weeks if we wld have a party and n giving me a hard time about it, we finally decided to do a small “pre-game” get-together so people wld leave at a certain time. it was sort of my compromise to N. of course by the time we came up with this and told people, there weren’t that many who cld make it. so already i felt like my halloween was doomed.

this isn’t feeling productive. it isn’t helping me make sense of things. Last night, N wanted to “control” the music. she wanted to make sure L and r didnt play their own music. apparently all these years in the past when they’ve played music for us, she wanted to do it. who the fuk knew?? who the fuk knew that N liked to create playlists and manage music at parties? ive never been one to give a shit who plays the music as long as it sounds decently fine to me. last night she played old school hip hop for over an hour. it was fun but got old. no pun intended. so i asked if she cld switch it to smtg more modern, i.e. less than 15 yrs old. cld i plug in my phone to play L’s playlist? No, for tonight, N had decided she wld control the music. she gave me some spiel about it being our house and how she wanted to “control” it all night. Ok, well can you change it to smtg more modern and upbeat? People look bored and are get swallowed by the couch. Is this what YOU want or want L want huh?? Really?? We’re going to make smtg as silly as music about some beef you have with L not giving you enough attention?

N feels left out by L and r. so every single encounter with them (and there are many because we’re talking about my best friend and my sister & co-founder (read: daily interactions, thankfully)), i spend the time before, during, and after worrying. it sucks. this is another one of those nights where N is going to make things about that. i decide i cant live my life like this. always worrying about my partner. so for this reason, im not sure im cut out to be in relationships. i dont know how to communicate this without seeming  fatalistic or dramatic. truth is i dont want to cave on this pt, i see it as being symbolic of a bigger issue. and she sees me as being selfish for not giving in on smtg as silly as controling music. note: i dont get why people are so crazy about who plays music at a party, cant we all just share??? 15 mins of yours. 15 of mine. and so on. what’s wrong with allowing our guests to plug in for a bit? apparently i’m wrong. it’s her house, all she’s asking for is to play the music.

leaving you hanging today because as i said, i got nothing…

xo

It’s been a rough couple of weeks

I’m laying on my bed. I shouldn’t be typing. It’s bad for my neck. I’m too tired to sit up. Plus it will only be worse for my neck to look down at my lap. Now you know why this site is called what it is. Tired is a theme in my life. One time someone asked N what my hobbies were, and she said I liked laying down. Yup. I do. One time I realized part of the reason why. I have scoliosis and my back hurts sitting up. Maybe that’s an excuse. But I preferred to think of as insight into one of my quirks. Can you imagine how many of our little quirks, nuances, pet peeves, preferences, etc., are explained by our biology? Wouldn’t it be nice if we stopped blaming ourselves and each other for them? “Mom, it’s not that I don’t like green vegetables, it’s that TO ME they taste like shit and my body doesn’t want them! I know it’s supposed to, but it just doesn’t.”

Okay I sat up a little because truth is I have a lot to get done in this one writing session. As you can see I’ve been gone for a while. I have no clue when I last wrote so I can’t really “update” you but I can speak to the last few weeks, and to today. If I get to it. Hoping I do because I cld use the therapy.

Last week:

  • R flies from Cali to Boston for meetings. Night before he travels, he tells me he thinks he might have a blood clot because his leg hurts. We write it off to muscular pain from a workout. Why else would a young active guy like him who barely travels have a blood cot? He gets to Boston, ends up at the hospital, turns out he does have a bloodclot. No news since then. Just that he’s make it bk home to Cali and refuses to follow up with his doctor as instructed to find out the cause of the clot. He’s on rat poison meds. He has a hole in his heart and is at higher risk of stroke. So it’s pretty easy to be worried about him but he doesn’t let you be, which is beyond frustrating.
  • Teta, aka grandma, is sick. Kidney is failing. Dad is going to fly to lebanon to see her. Shit. Shld I go too? Brings a flood of emotions about how my own grandma barely knows me. Doesn’t know about my engagement. Likely never will. The only grandma I’ve really ever known will never really be my grandma. It’s sad. It’s confusing. I don’t know how to process the potential loss. And more importantly, I don’t know how to deal with the present. Should I go and try to see her while I still can? Will I go to the funeral if she passes? Who cares, she’s here now. I could go see her now. Instead I’m wondering about the funeral. The whole thing is beyond confusing and I can’t begin to decipher my feelings, or the ones my dad must be feeling, having kids his mom barely knows. The often non-discussed life of an immigrant.
  • My mom fell in a grocery store a month ago and fractured two of her vertebras. They’re not healing. Doc says she can do a surgery where she injects cement into the fracture. Usually works but occasionally the cement wanders to other parts of your body that it shldn’t to, like your heart. Full anestesia. My mom is in so much pain that I have no choice but to take the risks and support her. We get r (little r, not big R) to jump a 6am flight to go be with her during the surgery. That means double the workload for me on top of the worrying about my mom.
  • I leave my purse on a bus. With everything in it. 5 days later it gets recovered. Miracle. Nothing missing. Things are looking up… Good humans still exist.
  • We find out N is pregnant. HOLY SHIT. I’m excited. Scared too. Miscarriages are still 25% at this early stage so we wait anxiously not knowing if we’re allowed to be happy just yet. Not knowing how the baby will be received by our families. Feeling excited yet confused because I will be a parent but the baby is not OF me.
  • D (related to R and r) finds my 8-yr old nephew doing smtg totally inappropriate. He’s been having nightmares for weeks and can’t sleep. We begin to highly suspect he’s been molested in the past. It conjures up all kinds of emotions for R, who’s been there before and never really dealt with it. We’re freaking out and not sure how to handle the situation. The internet is scary people, a place that can feed children’s curiosity in not the most naturally evolving way. Use PARENTAL CONTROLS. HELLLLO.

Anyway it’s been a rough week. But I’d like to explore today next…

Maybe it’s worth adding some context…

The reason the trivial things really bother me is because I feel so under water by the shit that actually matters. Like the fact that we’re about to run out of money and I’m gonna have to lay off a team of 10 people who rely on this job for their livelihoods. I can’t even imagine what that weekly team meeting will sound like. “Hi everyone, today, instead of us sharing what everyone is working on, I have some bigger news to share. We’re shutting down. We’ll try to help you find a new job. It’s been a pleasure. Have a good life.” And nevermind the advisers and investors who believed in me and shared their time and money. And the thousands of customers, young and old, who love and use our product. (<- you read that and think we shouldn’t be running out of money. I agree. But the world is a much more complicated place than you’d think. More on fundraising and VC’s another time.)

Everyone’s on Drugs…

R and I have decided that everyone is on drugs. That may sound like an overstatement, but as founders of a start-up, we’ve literally seen it all. We’ve brought on people who seem like they can do the job only to find out they say crazy shit or do crazy shit. How is this happening??

The event that triggered this thought today is really very trivial. But when you’re managing a multi-million dollar company, you need the little/tiny/trivial things to go smoothly. Please at least let those things go smoothly. So you can focus on the real things that matter. And I don’t even mean the much bigger “BIG” picture things like strategy, your product, or god forbid your long-term vision. That would be amazing. I mean just the slightly bigger things like what changes can we make to the site to create a better experience.

Yes, bk to today’s trivial event. I feel silly sharing it with you. Partly because there’s no one reading this. And partly because it’s so silly! Here it is: Our PR agent asks to speak with our photographer for a private viewing party we have coming up. She would like to coordinate with him. We’ve never met this photographer; he’s affordable, seems decent, so we booked him. (We’re going bk on national TV for 15 minutes of primetime; I’m sure there will be more on that later.) Great, we connect her. Next email: She emails him, copies us, and says. “Thanks for your interest in [insert our company name]. How can I help you?” …..This is when we realized everyone is on drugs.

I really shouldn’t have to be monitoring something as silly as an interaction between our PR agent and photographer. This should go smoothly without my oversight.

Then I get a notification email from Google. Thanks Google, you rock. There’s a new press article up about our company. Great, fun, what is it? Some reporter decided to share our personal invite to the “private” viewing party for the whole public to see. She included all the details: place, time, etc. And listed the cost as free. Did I miss something? Since when do you publicly share a personal invite to a private event? Now we have to actually check people in and make sure we don’t end up with a clusterfuk at the event. Again, my real day hasn’t yet started. And there are these really silly, stupid things that need to be dealt with. Is the reporter on drugs too?

Okay I realize all this truly, and I mean truly, sounds like first world problems. They are. You’re absolutely right. If the first world would get off drugs, maybe the rest of the world would be better off…

Back to the grind.

xoxo

PS. It’s a few days later and I’d like to add to the list of people who may be on drugs: R’s counter lawyer, a reporter we just got off the phone with (she missed our interview appt and when we called to check on her, she didn’t know what we were talking about and said “I can’t hear you; maybe it’s because the Pope mobile is driving by” Then proceeded to give us a list of reasons why she’s been busy that included having a dinner party for John Walsh last night). I’ll keep adding others.

Here’s Why

Tonight I sat down to draw. I decided to hang out with george and write. But then I suddenly had the urge for smtg less “cerebral” than writing. So i craved my charcoal set. Then I remembered my mom had brought me a bunch of stuff from “home” that has since been sitting in our not-done-office for the past few months unpacked. I just KNEW she wld have packed my charcoal set in there. Flashback to childhood… or shall i say teenangehood. Flashback to late nights of me getting my hands dirty with a charcoal stick. Truth: I only did this a few times in my life. But each time it was late at night; I was up alone; and my hands got dirty in charcoal. And they were life-changing moments. Or I was going through life-changing phases. Either way, if life is about quality over quantity, then I’d say I’m allowed to make this sound a little more serious than it is through words so you’d get the point, so you’d understand how important those nights and memories are.

Which brings me bk to my point: Words. They are meaningful. But tonight I wanted to draw. I looked through the “stuff” and mom did indeed pack my charcoal set (thanks to R – a different R – for gifting them to me many years ago). I said hi to george, turned on my music (angus and julia stone station), and started looking through my drawing pads. Of course there were more flashbacks…many smiles…some tears…the mixed feeling of bittersweetness swept over me…but mostly sweetness…and finally after saying to george again, snapping a few photos, sending one to L, smiling some more, reminiscing some more… I turned to a blank sheet and got ready to begin.

I felt tired. I know. No surprise. This site is called ImAlreadyTired for a reason. I believe I already covered that in post one so I will refrain from trying to re-explain it (or even remember it fully… oh I remember why now cleary… anywaaay you already know why). I stared at the blank sheet and literally felt that pressure/emptiness/silence of a blank canvas. I looked around, charcoal stick in hand, searching for anything I could find. Nothing. A lollipop from a trip to the beach. I open it. Secretly hoping it will give me some inspiration. Non-secretly knowing it will make me look cool either way. Bacon flavored. Interesting. Not what I was hoping for. Hmmm, a bit too smoky for me. But it does feel good, look cool, all those good feelings that come with a lollipop. Except one important one. Ummm, the flavor sucked. What happened to strawberry? watermelon? green apple? Ok, fine, I’d even settle for cherry or grape over bacon. Don’t get me wrong, I love me some bacon. But as a pop? Turns out it’s not for me. You live and learn. So it’s all good. But ummm, still no sign of anything to draw? Blank canvas keeps staring at me. Stop staring at me.

Maybe I should write? Maybe I could just write on it how I’m feeling. The thought comes to my mind. In that moment, I felt like writing seemed so much easier. Ironic considering the initial impetuous for wanting to draw was that it would be easier and less “cerebral”. And here I was suddenly craving the comfort of a keyboard against my fingers instead of a stick of charcoal.

That’s when you realize you have to keep going. I’m not a quitter. Challenges scare me. Not in the way they scare most people. I’m not afraid OF them. I’m afraid they exist at all. And here was a challenge: I wasn’t able to draw. So now what? I’ll tell you what. I’m not moving from this bed until I get some drawing done on this paper. That’s what. That’s how I deal with things that are scary. Shit. Is that a problem? Is it a bad thing to run in the direction of challenges instead of away from them?

Damn, I may have just uncovered smtg pretty fking important in my personality. And I did it for free. Saved myself some decent therapy budget. I shld probably think about what this epiphany implies about how I’m going through this journey called life but I’ll leave that for another time. Maybe someday when I re-read this. Will that be tmrw? In a few mins? In a week? Month? Years? Prob mins for typos, then who knows. 🙂 Lezbe real. This bitch still likes to re-read most shit before she hits publish. Shit did I just out that I’m of the female gender? Ah gender… how I hate thee. I don’t hate thee. Just wish you didn’t exist, that’s all.

Oh but do I digress. Eventually I drew. It was ugly first, but then decent, then more and more satisfying. My fingers smudging, blending, creating. It felt good. It was so bad, it sorta made me laugh. So I titled it: Ha Ha.

Then I drew again. This time I wanted to try a new technique. White/Light against a sea of darkness. I used my fingerprints. I used the white stick. I dedicated it to the day. I titled it: 9/11/2015.

After I drew, I suddenly felt my head clear. No desire to write. No desire to use words. Words felt cerebral again. And that’s why…

IMG-20150911-WA0004 (1)