I โfixedโ a set-in olive oil stain on my pants the other day. I think I like them better than before, even ๐ฑ I got the stain eating humus from my favorite Lebanese restaurantโso the inner part of the fern curls around the stain. Idk, I just didnโt want to cover it entirely. Itโs a good memory.
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I feel like I can be a bit more vulnerable on this platformโnobody knows who I am and thatโs so refreshing. Iโm in the midst of hoping that no one I told to follow me over here from IG actually does. Iโm very tired of trying not to make an idiot out of myself anywhere that my partnerโs parents might see. Or old college friends.
Iโve spent about a week not making any art or writing. For context, Iโm an American. Iโve grown up having a lot of political anxiety but nothing has compared to the stress, fear, shame, and embarrassment Iโve felt over the last few days. For myself and my family, my communities, all the people that didnโt want this to happen, and all the people whoโve been working hard for it not to.
But I have to remember that this type of chaos isnโt unprecedentedโitโs just here now (in lots of ways itโs been here all along). And itโs our turn to figure it out. In that way, this may have been inevitable. To root out and destroy complacency and the evil of compliance. In ourselves and in our systems.
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Iโm very happy I embraced the stain, and very grateful for fabric paint ๐ฑ
