FOlIAGE

There are three billion people in the world,
and when you look at it like that,
everyone starts to look like a robot.
But if you think really hard, you start to imagine
that every one of those three billion has though as hard as you,
maybe harder.
Everyone has a to-do list, or a bucket list, or a hit list.
Every one of those three billion has tiny particles of thought,
little sparks of electrical brain power shooting out in every which way.
Little seedlings of dreams and hopes and plans,
just like you.
They seep out of their brains like vines and wrap around you so tightly.
No matter how urgently you will this creature
to bud and bloom and get it all over with it keeps growing,
just keeps spreading until one day,
one day your little golden spark of thought that decided
"ya know what?" I'm different - I'm strong" leaps out
and lights that growing vine on fire and there you'll be.
More rigorous, more glorious than just the budding of tiny flowers;
there you'll be.
Set ablaze, on fire with indifference and difference and boldness and strength,
refusing to allow yourself to wither.

Synesthesia from Terri Timely on Vimeo.

Original

It's like the world's on fire.

But it doesn't glow the color of the sun.

Just trickles and trumps,

like servants to a sire.

And all you want to do is run.

It's thick there for a moment

when you're flitting on the end

..gusts and gasps...

turbulent; unkempt.

Then drops, it seems...

...obediently, flat.

Up rises the truth,

Reaching, stretching out the vat.

I've been trying to write more, now.

For me, the words have to match in color and texture or else I can't put them together. Which is awful, often.

Focus

It's hard losing someone.
End of statement.
Whether an end of communication or a death or whatever the reason. Loss, of something as significant as another person with an effect on your life, is a hardship. Simple.

But, think about this.
If someone tells you not to itch your nose, what is the first place you feel the next itch?
If you stub your toe, why does it seem you continue to bang it around on things out of nowhere?

Focus. What is on your mind? That person that you've just lost.
Therefore, who are you going to think about? Who will every song remind you of?
It's really not rocket science.

Distractions can come in may different shapes and forms. You don't necessarily need to replace that person in your life. Particularly in my own current exploration of focus and distraction, I've taken to my left brain creative side to distract me. I've started painting again, I've started writing again, I've started admiring the qualities in peoples' faces again. Fluent enough and -you got it - my nose is no longer itching.

Granted there is psychological reasoning behind the feeling of longing, or the remembrance of a person based on, for example, a song or a place. BUT, create a new memory to match. Cover it up. Put a bandage around your stubbed toe and you'll stop banging it.

The art of moving forth.

Having Trouble

Having trouble these last few days.
I dug up some old art workbooks and ran through them, eager and interested and tickled with the past.

They are representative quite literally of the most innate reactions, subconscious doodles, and heart churning words and thoughts --- that this feat was not just a glance at an old photo album.

As I was flipping through the pages, I realized how obvious it was throughout my childhood that I had violent synesthesia. It was written all over the pages. In all it's glory, it's beauty, it's aesthetic perfectioin --- it breaks my heart into fifty million pieces and draws up the nastiest brown/yellow/purple/gray hue which to me is just the same as a small child hiding under a staircase being ignored while his parents scream at eachother in the kitchen.

I was the weirdo. The thinker who's thinking didn't make sense. I was the one scoffed at, alone in the corner of the art room throwing colors and media together, completely entertained by the colors in her head that nobody else could see. That's fine with me. All of that? That's fine with me. What's not fine is that in four years, fourteen doctors and dozens of tests and brain scans, nobody thought I might be synesthesic? I suddenly feel like less of a person. All this time, I had been so eager to share my imagination with someone, and the idea that it is physically and mentally impossible is the loneliest thing.

I remember so distinctly faces cringing at my ideas and thoughts and descriptions which don't make sense to the normal brain. I feel three feet tall. I wish you could see what I see.

White light. White white light.

Mulling; Tis the season after all.

Mulling over a few ideas, over mulled cider. Giggling the whole way through at the irony, and fascination of my own word usage. Did you know that 75% of the English language is derived from Greek/Roman language? I couldn't quite figure out "Mull", and it's root. Giggling more.

So why is it that my best friend of 5 years, asks me how I am, and after a year of silence between the two of us, I say "doing great, thank you", when honestly...I've been up the night before sick, am drowning in homework, am a completely stressed out mess at work, and am trying to juggle a new mortgage?

In the meantime, the young man from Bio asked me how I was doing last night after class....and the whole of it came spewing out as if we were best buds and he was my favorite shoulder to cry on.

Seems to me there are different levels of acquaintance/friendliness/TRUST?/and comfort that you can have with/for a person. But why? Is it just the idea that souls understand certain souls better, and our souls know it, so they'll only open up to those other souls responsive enough?

I stir around the cinnamon in my mulled cider and wonder why I'm such an actress sometimes. How I wish I could tell everyone everything and lay it all out on the table. Wouldn't that put an end to such great assumptions and exaggerations?

I suppose by the bottom of the mug that this must be a natural form of protection. You can't tell just anyone, everything for fear of misunderstanding, rejection, improper advice or simply pure ignorance. I find it sad though. All of those reasons have to do with humans being ill-minded and selfish.

Someone pour me a glass of something a little stronger.