a handshake vs. a hug ❤️

I have always loved and learned from @wendymac’s work. In the very early days of the pandemic, she was one of the first artists to offer free virtual daily drawing practice to everyone — especially kids — sheltered in place. Posting her drawing practice as a small act of seeing. It’s been a horrific week plus. As a generous host, to practice protection as well as connection, I’m turning the comments off for a period. Social media is creating even more separation. One antidote to horror is connection. Sending love. Thank you, @wendymac for reminding us to see each other. Not what we expect to see. But the stranger in front of us. Via @nytopinion

I was single for all of my 20s and half of my 30s, so Valentine’s Day will always make me think of my friends. (Just please don’t make me say ’Galentine’s Day.’) | Tag a bestie, duh. — Text reads: Be       st Fri     ends I send you a rambling voice note about how maybe I should try a different shade of brow tint this time / a little lighter / not so harsh / what do you think? / You know the passcode to my phone / and the name of that one guy I met on Bumble who cried about the movie Groundhog’s Day / and how much it hurt to leave Chicago / We’ve lost hours plotting paint colors / text replies / outfits / trips / what will happen on the next Insecure / what to do with our lives / “why are men?!” / who to trust / when to let go / You’re a soft place to land / a hard, wheezing laugh / the closest I’ll come to another sister / I used to think all of this in-between stuff was the intermission / the rest stops along the way / the amuse-bouche / the filler flowers / but lately I’ve come to realize that all of this small stuff is the stuff / this is it / the main event / the blue plate special / a million little drops of love that fill the whole cup

Mention someone and the thing that reminds you of them 🤍— kateordie // tumblr

Good morning 🌞 Image ID: On Waking Up I am wondering when newer became better. When we forsook the familiar for ideas of the future, mistook the mundane for less than extraordinary, wrote it off like a story. I am wondering when less stopped being more. When we began to believe that everything could be found in a store, that satisfaction will never be enough for you or for me. I am wondering when we fell for the lie. When we accepted that we’re here to work til we die, that our days are measured not in meaning but minutes and maximum efficiency. I am wondering when we can say we’ve made it. When we will look back and claim that the searching for fame and the making a name was worth what was lost, becoming somebody. I am wondering when the world will wake up. When we will open our eyes and realize that in staying asleep to keep chasing the dream, we forgot all we have: just this, to be.