gorsecabin

I've got lots of ideas for what I want to be. I'd love to be an actor, or a teacher, or an editor. Further than that I want to be a reader, and a student, and an anarchist, and a punk, and a gardener. Deeper still, I want to be kind, and wise, and generous. But I have no clue who I want to be, I just have this collection of labels. Is that all identity is? Just descriptors, just words? Nothing more? Nothing less?

I won't ever be happy all of the time. I won't ever be happy most of the time. I hope to keep being happy some of the time. But in general, I'm aiming for peaceful

a young goldfinch just died in my hands (killed by my windows, I feel awful). Right before it died, it started flapping its wings like it knew it was going somewhere. The world feels a lot smaller now

it makes me really sad when I go to people's houses and they have massive lawns. Not so much if they have kids, cause kids at least will use the lawn for sports, but when the grass is lonely and massive and you know how much the community would benefit from a vegetable patch and some wild flowers... it's just such a sign of pointless decadence