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Things I used to know…

I used to know a gal who worked as a collection agent and she was about the nicest, friendliest person you could ever talk to. She told me that her favorite thing to do at her job was to get somebody to cry. She said it sounded like money in the bank. I used to


I recently painted this portrait of my daughter. As a 20 year old, my daughter is figuring things out. She is a natural artist; infinitely talented and incredibly perceptive. The world is a difficult place for sensitive, creative people. I’ve watched as my daughter has struggled, painfully at times, to find her place in that

Message To The Outliers Lost On A Lonely Planet

Have you ever had the feeling you weren’t built for this world? For most of my life, I walked around feeling like an alien. Spaceship crashed, no way home, make the best of it. Put on your hologram suit and try to pass. Attempt to maintain your core while navigating the local customs. It wasn’t

The In Between

I hate the in between times. When I feel like I’m taking step after step after step but not getting anywhere. These are the times where nothing seems to work. I paint garbage and write nonsense and have an itch I can’t pinpoint and have absolutely no idea how to scratch. It’s like I’ve climbed

“I Am An Artist.”

Despite painting virtually every night for over a year, I never referred to myself as an artist. Rather, I phrased it as “I’ve been doing some painting.” Then I met a stranger, someone who knew nothing about me. The first thing they said, before they even asked my name, was “Are you an artist?” Without

Today Is My First Birthday.

Exactly one year ago today, I picked up a brush for the first time and started to paint. Prior to that moment, I had been existing in a twilight state; present but not fully engaged. It might not seem rational, but by taking that seemingly small step, the permafrost that had encased my soul and

Why am I here?

A good question. A person can spend incalculable hours marinating in it, searching for meaning, trying to divine an answer. But as compelling as that question may be, it eventually becomes apparent that the better one is: What now? When I decided to stop asking myself the first question and focus on the second, my

This Painting Transformed My Life

I painted it. It may not look like much, but it is the most important thing I have ever done. The past quarter of my time on this planet was spent in a state of existential crisis. On the surface, I had no discernable reason to be unhappy. I loved and was loved. I made