If We Were Having Coffee // Summer is Finally Here and I Have a Sinus Infection

Hello, dear readers. Thank you for stopping by for a bit of coffee and catching up. I’m not sure if I should have skipped it. I have a bit of a ear/throat/sinus thing, and I really should be resting, but I’ve been resting since yesterday and—I never thought I’d say this but—I’m tired of sleeping, and I miss you all. So I’m here. I took my medicine, and I’m sipping a cup of strong cold brew.

“’I should drink more water’, I remind myself, halfway through my fifth coffee.”

seansavestheworld

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If we were having coffee, I would tell you that this past week was the last week of school for the district I work for, which doesn’t mean much for my schedule but makes a huge difference in attitude.

I’ll still be working. The route I do runs out of a year-round school, plus since I am a trainer, I will be doing testing and training as well as odd jobs like cleaning equipment and filing. The difference is, everything will be so much more laid back and relaxed. That’s one of the things I like about working for a school district, I get to hold on to that

That’s one of the things I like about working for a school district, I get to hold on to that childhood anticipation and appreciation for the summer months. We try to make the most of our break from our monotonous schedule during the year. It’s like a stay-cation, but for work. You still go but you do things differently, treat each other differently, smile more, get outside more, and lighten up on the rules and expectations.

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If we were having coffee, I would tell you that this week was another slow writing week. I wrote a post about believing you deserve happiness and one on Douglas Adams and finding ideas. I meant to put out a newsletter this week, but this head cold made it impossible to think clearly and give the subject the proper attention.

I meant to say something about the Manchester bombing, about the victims and their families, and about our collective trauma and anger and anxiety that are not being addressed properly. I wanted to say something about how we are spending too much time and energy blaming people and making violence and cruelty our solutions instead of seeing that ideas are the problem and compassion and caring are the solution.

I want people to be bigger, be better, and do what is right despite their fear. The enemy is always recruiting. Telling people that they aren’t wanted where they live and that the only way to feel better, to feel accepted and a part of something bigger is to inflict pain. They are winning because they promise acceptance. We are losing because we do nothing but tear each other apart and prove their point time and time again.

I wanted to say that and more, but better, and I still might once I feel up to it.

***

If we were having coffee, I would tell you that the highlight of my week was finding out that the Alamo Drafthouse is hosting WOMEN ONLY screenings of Wonder Woman—with the option to donate to Planned Parenthood and the ACLU—and I got tickets just before they sold out!

Apologies, gentlemen, but we’re embracing our girl power and saying “No Guys Allowed” for one special night. And when we say “People Who Identify As Women Only,” we mean it. Everyone working at this screening — venue staff, projectionist, and culinary team — will be female.

A lot of men are whining about this but I don’t care for a second if they think this is sexist, or divisive, and I really don’t care if they feel excluded. It’s one show, days after the opening date, and it’s not like women haven’t been made to feel excluded from the nerd/geek/comic book culture every single day since superheroes were invented. Get over yourselves guys.

Let us women have this one night to celebrate a character we’ve looked up to and waited forever to see star in her own major film. Let us have one night to celebrate this feminist icon without manspreading and mansplaining, please!

I’ll have plenty more to say about this too when I’m feeling better.

***

If we were having coffee, I’m sure one of us would ask the other about Memorial Day plans. I know most of America will be barbecuing with family, but I’ve never been big on celebrating the unofficial first day of summer that way. I take the true meaning of the day seriously and prefer quiet reflection.

I will be getting out of the house for a bit to scope out a lumber place with lots of used/reclaimed doors and windows. We’ve been wanting to go for while and with me being sick going yesterday or today just wasn’t an option. We may end up not going tomorrow either if I don’t start showing some improvement soon.

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If we were having coffee, I would tell you that as much as I love chatting with you, I have to cut our visit shorter than usual. The sinus pressure is building, and my girlfriend is insisting I take more medicine and get back to resting. She says it’s the only way I will get better and I desperately want that so I am off to bed again.

I hope you had a wonderful week and a relaxing weekend. I hope you enjoy your Memorial Day, no matter how you celebrate it. Take a sec to drop by the comments and let me know what you’ve been up to, or direct me to your own chatty post if you’ve written one too. I’ll check them out when I’m awake again.

Until next time :)

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If you like this post check out my weekly-ish newsletter for some existential musings on life, love, and inevitable human suffering + some interesting reads from others. Or help support what I do by sharing a cup of coffee.

Written for the weekly Weekend Coffee Share link up hosted by Nerd in the Brain

Featured image via Matthew Kang

Douglas Adams on Where Ideas Come From

Writing, like any art or discipline, takes daily practice and dedication to learning about the craft from those who have come before you. In learning, I like to teach, so each week I will take a piece of advice from the greats, both living and dead, famous and not, and apply their lessons to my own work and share my thoughts and progress with you.

This week I have chosen a quote from Douglas Adams.

4Douglas Noël Adams, born March 11th 1952 was an author, scriptwriter, essayist, humorist, satirist and dramatist best known for his book The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, which originated in 1978 as a BBC radio comedy before developing into a “trilogy” of five books that sold more than 15 million copies in his lifetime and generated a television series, several stage plays, a comic book series, a computer game, and in 2005 a feature film that was completed after Adams’ death.

Adams’s contribution to UK radio is commemorated in The Radio Academy’s Hall of Fame.

Adams also wrote Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency and The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul, and co-wrote The Meaning of Liff, The Deeper Meaning of Liff, Last Chance to See, and three stories for the television series Doctor Who; he also served as script editor for the show’s seventeenth season in 1979. A posthumous collection of his works, including an unfinished novel, was published as The Salmon of Doubt in 2002.

In the early 1980s, Adams had an affair with novelist Sally Emerson, who was separated from her husband at that time. Adams later dedicated his book Life, the Universe and Everything to Emerson. In 1981 Emerson returned to her husband, Peter Stothard, a contemporary of Adams’s at Brentwood School, and later editor of The Times.

Adams was soon introduced by friends to Jane Belson, with whom he later became romantically involved. The two lived in Los Angeles together during 1983 while Adams worked on an early screenplay adaptation of Hitchhiker’s. When the deal fell through, they moved back to London, and after several separations and an aborted engagement, they married on November 25th, 1991.

Adams and Belson had one daughter together, Polly Jane Rocket Adams, born on June 22nd, 1994.

Adams died of a heart attack on May 11th, 2001, at the age 49.

 

Toward the end of his life, he was a sought-after lecturer on topics including technology and the environment. He was known as an advocate for environmentalism and conservation, as a lover of fast cars, cameras, technological innovation and the Apple Macintosh, and as a “devout atheist.”

“The fact is, I don’t know where my ideas come from. Nor does any writer. The only real answer is to drink way too much coffee and buy yourself a desk that doesn’t collapse when you beat your head against it.”

— Douglas Adams

I’m suffering from a real writing crisis here. I am a writer with no ideas! I love to put pen to paper, to type away all day the thoughts that pop into my head, thoughts that don’t mean much and in the end don’t leave me feeling very fulfilled, accomplished, and are not at all as lucrative as I’d like.

To say I have no ideas isn’t exactly the truth. I have ideas, they are just bad ideas, and I don’t know how to find good ones.

I want to be a good writer, and that means that I can’t write stupid or pointless things, but I’m not a good writer, yet. The catch is I can’t become a good writer without writing all the stupid and pointless things first. It seems simple enough, just write, and you will get better, so write already! But the embarrassment hurts! It’s paralyzing to be such a noob! The shame of being bad at what you love and sharing it with the world freezes you at your keyboard.

But summer is coming, and I have to use the time to move forward. I’ve been stuck lately. I had found something, a community and publication to be a part of but just as I was really getting into it, they decided to move in another direction. I’m sad, but I’m trying to think of it in a positive light. This was never something that I thought I could do as a job, it was always a stepping stone, a place for feedback and practice. I’ll miss that, but maybe now I can finally make something of my own. But what?

I want to be a freelance writer, but I’m afraid without school or a ton of connections that dream feels too far away.

I want to write a book, but I’m not sure I have enough passion or talent for fiction.

I want to be an artist too but my confidence is low, and I have no idea where to begin.

Nothing feels small enough to start with. I don’t have experience, I don’t have mentors or peers to learn from and work with. I only have idols who are light-years ahead of me and the internet which seems severely lacking in information about how to go from knowing nothing about writing to knowing something about it.

Oh, sure there is plenty of information on the rules of writing and the best practices of publishing. Even if everything contradicts everything else you at least have an idea of where to start, but what do you do if you have a desire to be a writer or an artist, but you have no idea what it is you are trying to say or how to even say it?! What do you do when you feel like a stupid noob and you can’t muster courage enough to start?

I know how to write a blog post, I know how to fill a page of my journal, I don’t know how to make something someone might pay for. I don’t know how to put together a project that is unique and valuable. I don’t know what I don’t know, and I have no idea where to begin to get an idea.

But maybe I am going about it all wrong. No, not maybe, I am certain I am. I am waiting for the ideas and the inspiration, to come to me before I get started and if there is one piece of advice I have read over and over again from author after author it has been that you just have to do something until you stumble upon something worth pursuing and sharing.

So, I’ve been rethinking everything.

I’m pushing my big dreams back to work on something small, something tangible, something that feels like a place to start. I’m working with what I know and love. I love non-fiction. I love essays. I love creative non-fiction and stories about real people and what we feel and know. I love I am putting that together with simple art, doodles, and collage, and I’m spinning these ingredients around in my mind for a little bit every day and seeing what I can come up with.

I am taking the summer to make something, and I’m doing it before I have the inspiration and the ideas all squared away. I am just going to drink coffee and bang my head until something interesting happens.

And you know what? I have a feeling that is what everyone else is doing too. It isn’t magic, or maybe it is, just not the kind of magic we are used to wishing for. We want to walk through fields of flowers, or fall in love and let the words just come to us, but that’s just not how it works. Instead, maybe we just have to brainstorm like hell, write something, post something, draw something, and decide what we think afterward. Then wake up tomorrow and do it again, only a little bit better, and a little bit better, and a little bit better, again and again. You gotta bang your head like hell and drink liquid energy, or liquid courage, whichever you need, until one day someone declares that you are finally a “good writer.”

That is the fucking magic. That is where the ideas come from, and that is the only way to get the work done. The miracle is doing the work, and I plan to work until magic and miracles happen for me too.

adams_ideas_sq

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If you like this post check out my weekly-ish newsletter for some existential musings on life, love, and inevitable human suffering + some interesting reads from others. Or help support what I do by sharing a cup of coffee.

Biographical information via Wikipedia and Goodreads

Featured image via Unsplash

You Have to Believe It

Hello, and happy Monday friends! Yeah, I know, I know, Mondays aren’t exactly happy. Mondays are for being tired, and grouchy, and remembering all the things you don’t like about your life. Mondays are for wanting to crawl back into bed. I know.

But, let’s try something different. Let’s think of Mondays as a chance at a fresh start, a reset of sorts, every single week. Let’s take this opportunity to do it differently. Let’s make the changes we want to see in ourselves and the world, okay?

“What makes you think you deserve to be happy?”

Thigh High

I read this some weeks ago, and my immediate thoughts were not positive ones. What does make me think I deserve to be happy? Who told me that and why do I believe it? Maybe none of us really deserve it. What does it matter in the grand scheme of the cosmos whether or not any of us is happy, or suffering miserably until death? It doesn’t.

So, why do I think that just because I was born, and I am here, I should get something out of it?

A feature of the human condition is endless frustration between ourselves and the universe over what we feel we deserve but are not getting out of life. We’ve all heard that life is unfair. We don’t want to believe it when we are young, but we learn it as we grow older. We learn that you don’t always get what you want and that good doesn’t always win. We learn that our hard work and sacrifice will more often than not go unnoticed and that the universe doesn’t owe us a damn thing.

We come to understand this, but we draw the wrong conclusions.

We grow bitter over time and sometimes, having nowhere to direct our pain and feeling a desire for understanding and control we turn the bitterness inward and believe that we don’t deserve happiness. It must be something within us that makes the world hate us so. There must be a reason that the scales are so tipped against us. There must be a reason that other people get ahead and we are stuck where we have always been, doing what we always have, and feeling shitty as ever.

But the real truth is, sometimes it is that shitty feeling that keeps us from moving forward.

Sometimes we hold on to these toxic worldviews, worldviews that, often, other people have put into us. People who didn’t believe they deserved better or happier either. People who were frustrated with the indifference and unfairness of it all. Those people drew the wrong conclusions too. They thought that because they didn’t deserve something, that you don’t either, but they are wrong.

The sad part is we all deserve better, but that doesn’t mean we’ll get it. The good news is, just knowing that can give you a better perspective and change things. Just knowing that you have the right to reach out and pull all the good things that come your way into your life and that no one has the right to take any of it away, can make your world a very different place.

If you think all you have is all you are ever going to get, you stop looking for more. When you think that this is what you get you think of your life as a punishment you accept and even seek out pain as a punishment. When you think that you don’t deserve to have the same as everyone else you set yourself apart as less than anyone else and inflict the greatest cruelty on yourself. If you do this and expect that some sign or someone will come along, tell you differently, and magically change things, you will be disappointed, because even if they do, it won’t make any difference.

You have to be the one to say it. You have to be the one who tells yourself that you have earned every breath, every joy, every hope, and opportunity. You have to be the one to tell yourself that you deserve more and better, and you have to believe it because no one else can make it so.

No one has the authority to tell you what is for you and what isn’t. No one is judging you or weighing what you have given against what you get. There is only you up against a very harsh and hard world. You may not be able to have it all, the world may not open for you and suddenly show you the way, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve it. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do what you can and get what you can, while you can.

This week, walk like you deserve to be here, work like you deserve more, and talk like you deserve to be heard. Love and accept love like you have earned the right to. Imagine a life where you are happy in all the ways you aren’t now and simply tell yourself that is what you deserve. You deserve more money, more consideration, and more respect. You deserve not to have to hurt so much, worry so much, stress so much. You deserve to feel good about who you are and what you look like. You deserve to be confident and to be accepted.

I’m not asking you to do anything different, I just want you to know, you are deserving of better and more. I want you to tell yourself that until you believe it, and when you hear your mind ask back, why? I want you to have an answer.

Maybe the universe doesn’t care, and maybe it doesn’t really matter either way in the long run, but I care, and you care, or you should, because you only get one chance at this, one chance! If there is no other reason why it is that. You get one chance, and no one has the right to limit you or give you less than what you’ve earned.

You, like everyone else, was born, has lived, and suffered. You were given a beautiful but limited gift and whether or not it was only down to chance doesn’t matter, because we all have the right to make the most of our miracle.

But you have to believe it to make it so.

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If you like this post heck out my weekly-ish newsletter for some existential musings on life, love, and inevitable human suffering + some interesting reads from others. Or help support what I do by sharing a cup of coffee.

Featured image via Unsplash

 

If We Were Having Coffee // My Littlest Sister and Me

Hello, dear readers! Thank you for stopping by for a bit of coffee and catching up. I’m in a slow mood today. I have been all week, to be honest. I’m using today to get back on track, but I’m having a hell of a time finding motivation. I feel scattered and lazy, apathetic and kind of down.

There is little voice somewhere below all of that squeaking out “Come on Lisa, come on! Get up, get going! Get writing and learning and doing while you have the time!” but my body won’t listen. I’ve opened the blinds to let the sun in, and I am praying the coffee and conversation helps.

“I love coffee. I sometimes get excited at night thinking of the coffee I’ll get to drink in the morning. Coffee is reason to wake up. There are other reasons, of course. But coffee is the incentive, at the very least.”

— Annie Clark

 

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If we were having coffee, I would tell you that I have missed you all and I am very sorry that I missed our chat last week. I missed you all, but I had big plans with my mother. Also, I am terrible at writing anything in advance.

My girlfriend and I planned a brunch for both our mothers at one of our favorite places, her father, brother, and my littlest sister came along too. The food was delicious, I had monkey bread french toast. There were drinks and gifts and laughs. Afterward, we walked over to a cute little ice cream place, I had goat cheese and black pepper, and then we did a little shopping nearby. Of course, no amount of food or gifts can pay a mother back, but I hope our’s at least had a good time.

I hope all my readers who are mothers did too. I hope your kids did their best, and that you had at least a little time to be the center of attention, to be catered to, and to be appreciated. I hope you know you deserve it all and so much more. I hope my mother knows it too.

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If we were having coffee, I would tell you that the highlight of my week was my littlest sister’s high school awards ceremony. My mother, my brother and his little family, and my girlfriend and I all showed up for her, and I am so glad we did. Whenever my family gets together, we act like damn fools. We talk too loud, laugh too loud, we eat too much, we’re entirely inappropriate, and we make everyone around us a little uncomfortable, but we don’t care. We have a good time wherever we go, and while my sister may have been a little embarrassed, she laughed right along with us too, and she knows her family supports her.

For her part, my little sister did us proud. She walked away with a couple of plaques and the biggest award of the night, STUDENT OF THE YEAR! My sister has gone from nearly all F’s, hating school and refusing to go to all A’s and B’s and STUDENT OF THE YEAR y’all. I am so damn proud of her.

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If we were having coffee, I would tell you that I am so proud of my sister I decided to treat her to a lunch and a bit of shopping yesterday. She’s been wanting to try sushi, so I took her to a place on the other side of town. I’m not sure raw fish is her thing, but we made sure to stop by a couple of make-up stores and did some thrift shopping for clothing bargains.

Sadly, my sister didn’t find much, but I sure did! I picked up six new books from Goodwill and ARC thrift stores and four new shirts from a new place I found called Uptown Cheapskate. This store is my new favorite place, and I already have plans to return for all my summer fashion needs.

All in all, the day was just about perfect. My little sister and I were born 15 years apart, but we get along so well, which makes me feel good. Maybe I’m not getting so old and boring after all. If you can make a 16-year-old laugh, then you are still young, exciting, and relevant at heart. At least that’s how I feel whenever my little sister laughs at my jokes.

***

 

If we were having coffee, I would refrain from boring you with details of the rest of my week. Te weather was crap, and I was in a foul mood. I will tell you that because of that, it was an exceptionally bad writing week.

I submitted a piece for Femsplain’s last ever prompt. I am afraid it won’t be chosen though. I’ve had since the beginning of May to write it, but instead of taking advantage of that I procrastinated all month and lost track of time. Next thing I knew it was this week and I had only days left to turn my notes into something coherent and interesting. I’m afraid my foul mood prevented me from writing well, and I am sure my crappy piece will be rejected. Femsplain has meant a lot to me, as an online publication and a community and I wish I had tried harder to make this last submission something really worth reading.

Other than that there hasn’t been much. A blog post on doing something even when you can only do a little, a post on believing you have a right to be here, and a newsletter on becoming our mothers, for better and for worse.

I’m hoping this coming week will be better.

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If we were having coffee, I would tell you that the motivation and enthusiasm I was able to pull together has run out, and so has my coffee. Whatever energy is left I have to use for laundry, dishes, and getting ready for tomorrow. Oh, wait! I just remembered I don’t have to work tomorrow! This week is already looking up.

Thank you for stopping by to chat with me. I hope you had a wonderful week and that your weekend was a relaxing one. I hope in the coming week you will take more steps forward than you take backward.

Until next time…

Sophia stays looking grouchy, and she talks a lot of shit too, but I still love her bitchy ass lol

A post shared by Lisa Blair (@zenandpi) on

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If you like this post check out my weekly-ish newsletter for some existential musings on life, love, and inevitable human suffering + some interesting reads from others. Or help support what I do by sharing a cup of coffee.

Written for the weekly Weekend Coffee Share link up hosted by Nerd in the Brain

Featured image via Unsplash

 

 

You Have a Right to Be Here

Hello, and happy Monday friends! Yeah, I know, I know, Mondays aren’t exactly happy. Mondays are for being tired, and grouchy, and remembering all the things you don’t like about your life. Mondays are for wanting to crawl back into bed. I know.

But, let’s try something different. Let’s think of Mondays as a chance at a fresh start, a reset of sorts, every single week. Let’s take this opportunity to do it differently. Let’s make the changes we want to see in ourselves and the world, okay?

“It took many years of vomiting up all the filth I’d been taught about myself, and half-believed, before I was able to walk on the earth as though I had a right to be here.”

― James Baldwin, Collected Essays

I’m working on being honest about all the bad things I think about myself and how damaging those thoughts are. It’s taken a lot of work, but I’ve gone from the bad thoughts occurring to me and me just accepting them as truth, to being able to see them for what they are. They are thoughts that come from somewhere that is not me, somewhere in my mind where I have less control and so, and am less responsible.

Understanding that has made a huge difference. What I hear in my head is an echo of my past that has become a habit, a habit so ingrained that it takes real effort and strength to fight. The more I remember this, the more I fight, the easier it gets, but old habits are hard to break and sometimes, I still believe that I have less right to life than anyone else on this Earth.

When I was young, I was told I was stupid a lot.

Now, as an adult, I believe that my mind works in some defective way and that the ways it is defective are somehow my fault. If only I would be better, think better, learn to grasp something obvious and easy then I could finally stop being such a burden and a hindrance to everyone around me. I believe that I am the reason that the people around me are frustrated, angry, sad or stressed. I believe that my stupidity it the cause of all the problems around me, even the ones that aren’t mine.

I believe that this, and my many other flaws and deficiencies mean I don’t deserve to be here. I don’t deserve to be loved or to love myself. I don’t deserve to be successful or to feel pride in my accomplishments. I have no right to look another human in the eye or to demand respect, to be heard, to be counted among the beautiful, the intelligent, the “normals”.

These thoughts live in the back of my mind and subtly influence the way I walk through the world, the way I carry myself and speak to people. These thoughts make me small and quiet and cautious. They make me feel sad and serious, and constantly anxious. I worry about overstepping my place or lowering myself further by saying or doing more stupid things every day.

It’s hard to live this way, and it’s wrong.

There is part of me that knows none of this is true. There is a part of my that genuinely knows that I am smart and good and worthy of all the good this world has to offer and so much more. I am strong and talented and capable. I am loved and deserving of that love. I am something special, and I am just as normal as everyone else.

I have the right to live and breathe and make my life into something I can go to my grave satisfied with, same as anyone else. No one else has the right to hinder that, but we often forget the ways we can hinder a life and a pursuit of happiness. We put our shit on other people and forget how our own wounds never closed and how a few words can break a person.

I have been a victim of other people putting their shit on me when I was vulnerable, like many of you.

So many of us carry around false ideas of who we are and what we are and are not worthy of. So many of us were told by someone who’s opinion we held dear that some part of ourselves was “bad”. So many of us have internalized this filth, and we are having the damnedest time letting it go.

We think we are ugly and stupid. We think that we never have and never will get it right. We think that we are broken and beyond repair. We think that we were set apart and built wrong from the beginning. We spend our lives hiding, making ourselves small, putting ourselves lower than anyone else because we think it is our place.

We all have it so wrong. I’ve never met a person who wasn’t fighting a battle, who hadn’t been hurt, who was suffering and struggling same as me. Every person I have ever met, even if we had nothing in common, even if I didn’t like them, even if I thought they were mean, or hateful, or toxic, I have never met a person who I thought didn’t deserve to be on this Earth.

This week, I want you to know that you that you deserve to be here, and I want you to practice saying that to yourself.

Try talking to yourself like someone you love and respect, someone you think the world of, or simply someone who has done you no harm and whom you have no desire to do harm to in return. Remind yourself that no one is perfect, that no one has all the answers that not one of us is inherently better than any other. Each and every one of us is lucky to be here and that lucky accident should never be wasted on believing such filth about ourselves.

This week, I’m asking you to tell yourself that all the bad things you think about yourself are not your own thoughts, they are the result of other people being people and forgetting that their words can hurt too. I’m asking you to remember that every person matters, and that means you too.

It isn’t easy but I’m asking you to believe, a little more every day, that you have the right to every breath, every step, and every bit of happiness and peace you can get your hands on because it is the truth.

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If you like this post heck out my weekly-ish newsletter for some existential musings on life, love, and inevitable human suffering + some interesting reads from others. Or help support what I do by sharing a cup of coffee.

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The Week’s End // A Roundup of Inspiring Reads

Hello and happy weekend friends! If you’re looking for some interesting and inspiring reads to check out while you kick back and relax here are my favorites from across the web:

Help is on the way.

This is populism

Dysphoria for the non-binary

Glenn Beck pivots

Theory of Trump

Burn!

Shadow Syllabus

Want less, waste less

Support all mothers

Goodbye.

Same

Bee Butts!

Have you read, watched, or written an interesting or inspiring thing this week? Has something on the internet made you feel strongly, think deeply, or see the world in a new light? If so, drop a link in the comments, we’d love to check it out!

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This list was originally sent out along with today’s newsletter, Becoming Our Mothers plus some of my own existential musings. Check it out and subscribe, or help or help support what I do by sharing a cup of coffee.

Featured image via Unsplash

Passion and Pale

I paint with shades of
Passion pumping under pale skin
And make a masterpiece of you and me

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Check out my weekly-ish newsletter for existential musings on life, love, and inevitable human suffering + important reads from others, or help support what I do by sharing a cup of coffee.

Written in response to The Daily Post prompt: Pink

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