feedthegoodwolf13 - Tumblr blog

[feedthegoodwolf13]

You’re a pain in the ass with your absolute opinions on everything. You’re mean-bossy when you want to be. You make everything look easy and perfect, which is super-annoying, if you’re the kind of person to be annoyed by things like that. And you want help and refuse it at the same time. Your discernments help to organize everything. You, everything and everyone around you. Your bossiness is necessary ‘cause bitches get stuff done. Your ease and grace are acceptable only because you also have the ability to let people see the crazy that comes with it. And your lack of accepting help makes you rely on yourself (even though you don’t need to).

A love letter from Rose

[feedthegoodwolf13]

Afternoon: October 17, 2017

Something inside of me has broken and I don’t know how to fix it, if it can be fixed.

I am so lonely. I am so tired. Tired of pretending that everything is fine to friends, coworkers, family. Tired of ignoring the voice in the back of my head each time it pipes up telling me that there has to be more to life than this. Tired of feeling my heart drop into my gut and thump against my chest like it’s trying to run away from me. 

I have little family. Both of my parents go on “family vacations” without me. I haven’t seen my mother in years. I love my dad but he has another family now who take priority over me. He got me raised up and married off and now I’m no longer his problem. I understand this and forgive him for it. He doesn’t mean anything by it. It still hurts. 

My friends have their own lives, filled with children’s laughter and the oh-so-hard-to-get-away-from adult responsibilities. We are on a different timeline. They don’t have the time to care or understand. I understand this. I forgive them for it; it’s not their fault and it’s not a bad thing to have a full life. I’m happy that they have found happiness. It still hurts. 

I have a husband. I don’t know if he remembers that he has a wife. 

I haven’t led an easy life. By all accounts, financially, health-wise, safety-wise, I am in the best place I have ever been. This is not the hardest thing I have ever gone through, not by a million, not even close.

But it is the saddest. Because things were supposed to be better by now. I did everything the right way. I keep trying. I keep finding the small moments to be excited about, keep creating as much magic as I can. I don’t think anyone notices. 

I could plan the party of the year. The food, decorations, music, weather, everything could be just right. There could be laughter, games, and dancing, full bellies and glasses, full hearts. And then I could stand in the middle of the room, the person who brought everyone together and provided the landscape for such a magical night, and no one would even see that I was there. 

I just want to be happy. 

[feedthegoodwolf13]

This is positively dreamy.

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[feedthegoodwolf13]

This was the best advice I received in college. To be a good writer, you have to be a good reader. 

Guys, if you want to be a good artist and storyteller you need to absorb other media and influences beyond popular comics and movies and video games. Hell, even beyond visual art. Read novels, science articles, history books. Listen to podcasts, watch documentaries. Dip into different disciplines. Explore stuff outside your everyday. What you create and the pool of ideas you can pull out of is expanded by the knowledge you gain. Don’t do yourself a disservice by limiting your library. You never know when some weird shit you read about mushrooms could end up inspiring you or helping you solve a design/story problem.

[feedthegoodwolf13]

‘twas a dream.

[feedthegoodwolf13]

Morning: July 25, 2017

I had a wonderful dream last night where my husband and friends planned a surprise vow renewal/wedding for the two of us. I was helping the entire time, thinking I was throwing a surprise party for one of our good friends. The joke ended up being on me when my best friend pulled me upstairs to get ready. They picked out a turquoise blue wedding dress for me (which I wish I wore to my wedding instead of white), a floral crown for my hair, everything. 

And when I walked downstairs and outside, it was dusk, and everyone we knew were sitting at picnic tables on a wide, country lawn. There were bistro lights and thousands of flowers and candles, and he was standing there for me at the end of a makeshift aisle. Everyone started clapping, happy at pulling the wool over my eyes, laughing at me/with me. I started crying, overwhelmed with joy.

God, it was so nice. The wedding I definitely dreamed of, and what a happy start. 

We didn’t get many happy starts...for a lot of reasons. Health scares, loved ones being jackasses, financial issues, etc. We struggled to stay together, we fought to build this life.

I really believe in dreams telling us what we can’t admit to ourselves. And I’ve been working lately on this whole perception vs. imagination vs. reality thing. It was nice to know that in my subconscious mind, I chose to do it all over again. I wish we could have had it easier, where it really felt like a choice, a happy choice, and not an ultimatum which it often felt like.

Because even though the setting was a dream, truly beautiful, the wonderful happy feeling I got was because he did something like that for me, knowing how much it meant to me. It showed me something I often take for granted and forget about my husband - how kind his heart is.

I remember when we were broke, just kids, and unable to really give anything to one another. The only thing we had were promises. And we promised a happy future to each other, that we’d never stop fighting for one another.

I forgot. I forgot all of that. 

It was nice to be reminded.

[feedthegoodwolf13]

This photo looks like my childhood...how I wish for those country paths sometimes, bare feet in a sundress, a mason jar with holes in the lid. Innocence. 

Source: http://blog.nwf.org/2009/07/fireflies/

[feedthegoodwolf13]

Everybody has a chapter they don’t read out loud.

Unknown (via laate-night-talks)

[feedthegoodwolf13]

I could just imagine having tea on that porch, surrounded by a pumpkin patch in the fall or fireworks in July, with my family by my side and a dog by my feet.

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[feedthegoodwolf13]

The Colors of Summer

Green. The sharp scent of freshly cut grass, the shine of poison ivy leaves, the rubber of a garden hose, petunia vines climbing the porch railing, and the feeling of youth in your legs.

Yellow. Sunshine, warmth, and the smear of pollen on your nose from sniffing summer blooms. The sweet and sour bite of fresh-squeezed lemonade.

Blue. Cool water, a bright sky where daydreams and hope collide. The best flavor of a frozen treat that numbs your mouth and hurts your teeth.

Red. The juice of ripe berries trickling down your chin, the burn of sun-kissed skin, and the sugary sweetness of an instant Kool-Aid mustache. 

The colors of summer, they make me nostalgic, you see. They make me long for something I no longer understand.

[feedthegoodwolf13]

The Witching Hour, ink.

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[feedthegoodwolf13]

Morning: July 14, 2017

Google is nice and all, but there’s no replacement for calling your dad out of the blue to ask him what the name of an old architectural element is. You know, “the kind that were in Bubbie’s house.”