87. Magic shop
82. Psion City
Look ma, my first pixel art!
The Akran Monks devote their lives to translating ancient texts in order to preserve the world’s collective knowledge. Among such scrolls I found an old journal that belonged to a hunter, who was in pursuit of a magnificent beast, the Jahuara. The entry described it as being extremely elusive due to it’s speed and cunning. The creature would often hunt larger game, tear out it’s heart and swallow it whole. Supposedly it would go through hearts like an Emara Lord went through slaves. The Jahuara was also said to have very acute hearing, as well as multiple limbs, but there is hardly any evidence to back this up. The area around a Jahuara sighting would also be slightly scorched, probably due to a release of pressure built up from running so intensely for so long. The Jahuara eventually disappeared from these lands for unknown reasons.
Okay, let’s pause for a second.
For the better part of the past year, I have not been living. I spent hours drawing and painting, working on creating a better future myself without any consideration to my present. And when I finally landed a job, in order to escape the emotional toll of breaking up, I committed myself ten fold to my career, without realizing that the aching was unavoidable all along.
As it is now, my life is so different than anything I’ve become accustomed to, that I feel estranged in my own body. Where did my optimism, my confidence, and my day-to-day experiential ownership go? What did I rot into without my network of close friends and sense of contributing to society? For so long, I’ve felt hallowed out and filled with confusion, stumbling, infantile, lacking in presence. And I realize that because I ignored these lurking emotions, I never bothered to ask for help. I never truly admitted to the profound depression that I’ve been harboring. I never spoke much of my fear and loneliness. In the past few years I’ve cried exactly four times. The first was when I felt like I had truly failed a student, the second was when I discovered that my friend had died of cancer, the third was when someone I loved betrayed me, and the fourth with my grandmother, at my grandfather’s funeral. These spikes of emotions should not take more precedence than the common and frequent sadness in-between. I understand now that things must change.
I’ve been reading Sum by Dave Eagleman, a collection of 40 interpretations of the afterlife. Upon nearly completing the book, I know that it’s not so much that I don’t believe in an afterlife, it’s that I don’t care at all about it. I’ll deal with it when I get there. This is my life and my goal is to live it, to cherish and appreciate it, and to be better at living everyday.
The act of living isn’t something that we automatically learn and for me, it comes at a point of recognition that I have to continuously commit myself to remembering. I have to remind myself to live: to set goals and appreciate the working towards them, to make events if I feel like there are none, to understand that work cannot be my only love, to create my own positivity through constructive action when I feel as if I’m growing bitter, and to embrace everything which could be called new. This is not my plan. This is my action.
I studded this suede bomber awhile back, when I was still in New York.
For the record, big things and little things have been happening.
My personal life has been inexplicably challenging these past few weeks and it’s all very difficult to explain, so I won’t.
But life is bright and beautiful and it is wonderful to be alive.
Adventures in menswear. I think I’ll start documenting these in this blog, because I feel like styling my outfits overflows into my art, both for composition and palette.