i never would have thought as a child that i would have to relearn the art of being comfortable in my own skin.

as children humans are free. we wiggle our toes and smile big without care of our wayward teeth. we dance dances that have no names, just movement. we poke out our bellies and dress however we feel that day. we embrace silliness. we own ourselves. we own our happiness.

as we age and become more and more exposed to what is “socially acceptable” we learn fear. we become strangers in our skin. unfamiliar with ourselves. detached from the essence of what makes us who we are. unaware of how to truly be happy, searching for it everywhere else.

some of us remain this way, sadly, right up to the end. and some of us begin to journey back. struggling every day to relearn what it means to be free. to be ourselves. trying to remember why we thought we were so cool when we were young. it’s a taking off that brings us back. a peeling of layers.

i picked up a journal i had when i was eight the other day. i am so happy i thought to keep one at that age. it brought me back to a much simpler time. yes, as adults we have so much more responsibility. yes, we are more aware of the evils and ugliness of the world. yes, we are less ignorant to reality.

but, shouldn’t that make us hug ourselves that much tighter?

approaching 30, i am beginning to remember. i have a fuzzy recollection of why i used to think i was awesome. i remember walking out of the house in a bow tie, one shoe and one sneaker, a t-shirt and some ripped jeans the first day my mom let me dress myself at the age of about 4. i rocked. i was free. and didn’t care what anyone thought. because i was genuinely happy with myself.

today, try not to think about what others think. let them do that. think about what used to make you happiest. whether it be a certain cereal or a cartoon or a silly dance. then think about something about yourself that makes you the coolest person you know.

then wiggle your toes.

you’re awesome. have the best day ever.

been doing some thinking about growth and art. i come from a huge family of opinionated individuals. i’ve been told that i am much like them. it dawned on me recently that i am accustomed to feedback. i am used to commentary, whether requested or not. due to my upbringing i now crave critique, a return of energy, reciprocity. if i don’t receive it, i sometimes let that stop me from creating. i let it stunt progress or productivity. i let it steal away my moments of inspiration. i’m learning over time that even if you don’t hear it, see it, know it, everything we do affects someone, somewhere. we just have to keep giving. keep creating. keep loving. keep shining. keep knowing that what we are doing, if it is done in love, is being well-received and appreciated. so, keep creating in love blindly.

soon you won’t need to see it, you’ll feel it.

“what you don’t have, you don’t need it now. what you don’t know, you can feel it somehow.” — U2, “It’s A Beautiful Day”

i have an addiction. well, i have several. but the main one is strong enough to make me itch around the neck area.

it is also strong enough that my wallet feels its weight.

at the houses where it’s dealt, they know me by name and order. they know that my order depends on the day and mood. they determine said mood by my facial expression.

monday ~ iced chai. dirty.

tuesday ~ iced coffee.

wednesday ~ me: ”hmmm I need to relax. I’ll have a green tea.” them: “so a grande iced coffee w/ milk and sugar, right?” me: “…yes”.

and so on and so forth. it’s real.

thank you gq for showing me how to feed my addiction without makin’ the mermaid chicks pouches fat with my hard-earned dough. their  Suck it Starbucks Tutorial has been printed and will be tested asap.

here’s to caffiends all over the world.

**raises coffee mug**

l’chai…dirty

it’s Ramadan. and while i have been observing this holy month of fasting since the age of 8, i have never mastered preparing for it. don’t get me wrong; it’s not that i am bad at the not-eating aspect. i’ve gone 5 days without eating and been just fine. it’s that i can never prepare myself fully for what Ramadan will unearth. there’s something about not eating and studying and praying and meditating and refraining-from that extracts poison like a mouth to a snakebite wound. physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually there is a cleansing. you begin to notice things about yourself and others that the muddle of our day-to-day tends to camouflage. lets slip by. there is entropy. a falling away and apart of the superficial. a chance to reaffirm your pillars and rewrap your core in what matters. this is day 2. the weeks prior to the beginning of Ramadan found me in an already transitional phase. i am very much in the cocoon. uncomfortable. not where i was. not yet where i will be. it’s ugly in here, guys. so this Ramadan should be quite special indeed. stay tuned.