it's weird when you write a blog about frivolous, mostly meaningless things and poop, to try and write a post about said frivolity after a tragedy has struck.
i could talk about how shitty it feels to have been complaining about hand cramps from painting when children were buried alive under their school.
because that truly does feel ridiculous and perspective-y.
or about how weird it is that not too long ago a young man walked into a school and murdered 26 children and yesterday mother nature took out 20?
i'm sure someone somewhere is tallying up the randomness of that one.
or how everyone is probably at this point asking...
what fucking next??!!!!!
only the reality of that is probably really fucking terrifying bc no, really...WHAT FUCKING NEXT?!!
i don't read or listen to the news anymore..
how can i?!
it's a horror show out there and the media thrives on it.
plus it's a giant waste of time and energy.
the truth is i'd rather be painting tiny window panes, freehand until my fingers bleed.
there is an area of my yard that i like to call "the deadly snarea" (snare+area).
yes because i will always be a nerd but also bc it's a patch of yard next to my house where nothing safe grows.
there are hornet's nests, endless, creeping ivy, winding, woody vines and thorny, fuzzyprickled (prizzyfuckled?) leaves PLUS SPIDERS FOR DAYS...it's a place you don't want to go near.
all you can do is cut it back and then run in fear.
but every year in the spring...there are blackberries.
wild, blackest purple, sweet, delicious blackberries.
they lay gently on top of all the scary stuff as if to say..i won't give you cancer, i am not a tornado and i don't own a gun...i am sweet and delicious and i will come back every year to remind you of that.
here's to focusing on the blackberries.
