i recently saw a movie where the main character came to the realization that people love spouses, children, family, friends, jobs, and many other things, but that she hadn't realized until now what she actually loved. She had been so concerned with making others happy and showing them love, in the hope that they might show her love back and give her a reason to love them, that she didn't even think about what/who she loved.
being a bit overly reflective, this struck me and echoed in my head. i've been struggling the last few years with being away from my family and tyring to do grad school and so recently i've only gotten through it by thinking 'i am the person that these people love' -- and watchign this film, i realized that i wasn't entirely sure what i loved anymore---i know that when i came here, i loved stories and my friends and soemtimes my family
but now, i don't know
and after thinking and living and just doing regular stuff, i'm starting to remember why i came here agian, but i'm still not sure what my passion is---i like doing so many things, but i don't know if i love them, if they fill me up, if they define me..
just thinking, just sitting here listening to music, maybe about ready to read a book or to sketch a weaving project, that's a good start, maybe...
Bienvenue
The moon shines down upon an open field, while you walk on the bare, crumbling cement of the path. The trees are welcoming but dark, and the night feels no place to wander.
About Me
- Jaro
- My name is Jeremy, and I create, research, and teach comics and graphic narratives (and their overlap with anthropology, ethnography, media, communication, etc.). I am also a textile artists, and I am often up for doing work freelance/by commission -- ask me and see. And now, a poem: watching stars collide, i breathe a sigh of wonder; life so short, yet so long
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