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Finding our medium.




I like to make things. All sorts of things. I make up songs while getting dressed and notice my reflection in the mirror. I sing about my breasts to my reflection and smile when I can make something rhyme with "nipple." In the kitchen, I'll create a dish from scratch with the dregs of the vegetable draw and pantry transformed for new heights. In my living room, I've stiched together something that feels like a cave of me with a hodge-podge of furnishings. In my life, I've found so many mediums to play with. From shifting light to through my lens to stringing words together to make a thought that was trapped in a bit of brain to one that someone else can see, I'm always looking for the right medium.


A friend told me that she lacked desire. This lack has plagued her for her entire life. The trek through her existence was one where she grasped at the happy moments so that the rest of it made sense. In those words, we both knew others felt to their core. That we are all stringing together these series of moments so that the rest of the days aren't so pointless.


Yet, I think there's more. I think there is a lot of this to our lives, but it's also about finding your medium. The paint, the pot, the sauce of you that is how you need to express to the world that you were here. Maybe it doesn't always come as soon as we'd like it to. It may not even come in the form that you're expecting, but you'll find your medium. And, it changes and will continue to change. Sometimes it'll even be the people that we create and paint onto the world.


We are surrounded by a world of extraordinary and can easily feel oridnary as fuck. The scroll through the worlds of others diminishing us with each image that hits our eyes. But, it's all good, because it's for them and not for you. Your medium is comining. Seek it out. Dabble to fuckery and enjoy the process of it all.



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