We Are Art

We’re the creators. The artists of the world, if you will. In the midst of life on its ceaseless rampage, nothing is more satisfying to us than creating beauty out of this chaos. The most trivial snapshot can proove to be just the right haven, whether it’s through soaring melodies, eloquent words on a page, intricate dancing, or warm brushstrokes. Expressing ourselves is an outlet. A necessary outlet.

The world needs more beauty in it, or rather, people need to be able to escape momentarily from the world that becomes more and more chaotic each day and truly breathe in the gorgeous moments that scatter out before us like the sun breaking over the glassy ocean waves. We all share these chances to be inspired and choose to use them in the manner best fitted to our own liking.

Creativity–that amazing feeling of inspiration and the realization that you’ve had an idea that carries on its wings true potential–takes work. It really does. In order for me to create, I have to NOTICE things. Read things. Take note of what people do and say and act like. Or else it doesn’t come. In order to create meaningful art, I have to be relatable.

I like to keep numerous journals and diaries filled with different subjects–ideal quotes, love, thoughts. I know, most people (especially those who are more right brained) just engrave inspiring moments on their soul’s slate without even trying, at least it seems that way to me. But I have to write on paper in order to recall. Is it just me, everybody? Oh well.

I often feel that bragging rights come from being able to create something. I guess it’s kin to that feeling of accomplishment that arrives when something is complete. The first instinct and desire is to share it with people and glean their opinions and critiques.

For those of us who are the creators, life remains a meaningful chance to make what we love doing. We should capture each moment wisely.


tattoos: the craze

First off, freedom of speech. We have it. Remember. Second, I’m aware that I will probably be offending about 1/2 of people out there by expressing a very unpopular opinion. Third, I realize that I’m the only one I know of who has these opinions about this subject matter who is not someone’s mom or grandma. My intention is not to offend or preach. It is simply to express my thoughts and search for others.

Tattoos are very much accepted in our world today. They are normal and are seen in every possible genre of people. If you don’t have one yourself, your best friend probably does. Your teachers and coworkers probably do, too. I’m gonna take an approach here that is purely logical to try to understand why in the world the majority of people my age are so infatuated with getting inked.

Years ago, when people first began getting them, they were a status, and though I know they still are a status, the reason for getting them has changed. Good girls get them. All types of guys get them. Old people get them. I want to understand why. My own opinion about tattoos will in all liklihood stay the same, but I want to know why my generation is as a whole so marked by them.

As simplistic as this point may be, I don’t understand why you want to look at the same designs on your body for you WHOLE LIFE. I’m incredibly puzzled by this. Once you get a tattoo, not only does it becomes part of your identity, it also looks up at you forever. It’s who you are. Folks who get them at once become forever anxious to talk about their new tattoos with anyone they can–friends, people in the store, coworkers. Their eager to give and receive compliments about them. I know. I’m around it every day and so are you. Tattoos make families, united by their common interest in ink. Is this because they feel a tad guilty for actually going out and doing it? Or is it because they’re so happy with their new artwork that they can’t contain the elation? I really don’t know. If it were a personal reason for getting one, you wouldn’t feel the urge to share the news with everyone you can, right?

For everyone who hasn’t already blown their lids, my next point will get you going. You probably guessed already. To me, they don’t look flattering on anybody. Not one little one. Not a half sleeve. Not any kind. It’s just me. Maybe it’s the ideology behind all of it that leaves a subconcious distaste for them in my mouth. Half of my friends have tattoos, and most of the other half are obsessed (literally obsessed: I don’t understand) with getting one. I love my friends with tattoos just as much as anyone else. It doesn’t make a difference to me.

But I have another question. Why is getting tattoos so addicting? Why is the job never done? People are always talking about what their “next tattoo” will be. Or getting theirs finished. I think the very point that the majority of people can’t stop with one is pretty curious. Why is this the case? Please tell me. Maybe they’re really so beautiful to people that they just want to continue becoming more attractive. To me, there are just so many OTHER ways to express yourself outwardly that don’t require permanently marking yourself. Maybe that’s the point–a lasting symbol of a certain point in your life.

The one kind of tattoo I slightly understand are those regarding marriage. When two people seek to remain united forever, why not symbolize this permanent decission with a permanent reminder? I mean, if you like that sort of thing. . .

Yes, some kinds of tattoos are attractive and pretty and expressive and unique, at least in the moment you decide that you love it enough to put it on your body. They’re cool. They’re you. They’re hipster. I get it, I guess. I love art in all its forms, but this kind I fail to comprehend. I still don’t understand why so very many people of all varieties and types are so eager to accept it.

I apologize to the many of you who hold opinions much different than my own in regards to this topic. Please don’t take offense. I’m not a big fan myself of being so different in my views from the majority of people my age. I seek to better understand your mindset while expressing my own opinions about this relevant topic.





Rough Beginnings

Her life had been crammed with passion. Persuing her dreams. Constantly striving to discover a better version of her. No year had been uniform with the previous one, and whenever she began to fall into that ever-dreaded rut, she sprinted out as quickly as she slid in. Her life had been a full one–happiness had never seemed far away. But it was never quite close enough to relish in.

Now, at nearly seventy years old, an abrupt halt had shaken her awake. What more was there to discover? Had all those endless years already expired? Furthermore, what was there left to come? Somehow, after all that she had completed, despite her most passionate endeavors, she still felt . . . empty. Old age had come upon her like a robed figure that had somehow always been in sight, just around the next corner, without her actually seeing it.

Foreign lands endured in her mind as places where the warmest of memories dwell. The world, in all its glorious capacities, was near to her. Her rich voice, and her sweet music, had been heard across the world. Life had treated her well, and she knew it.