— Heather Havrilesky, From “How To Be A Person In The World”

“if no art makes you feel anything, make your own art and feel something” is too raw of a line to have come from a jenna marbles video of her painting a rainbow/polka dot seahorse saying “it’s seahorse time” on a denim jacket

I am free and that is why I am lost - Franz Kafka

Funny Face (1957)

I struggle with being socially anxious, shy and somewhat awkward and i've been told multiple times the first impression people get of me is being cold or mean eventho i'm not a rude person at all. I don't want to give that impression and i've been trying to be more chatty and extroverted. What can I do to come accross more kind and gentle? That's honestly the type of energy I want to have. I envy people with such inviting aura and vibes about them which I don't seem to have.

It’s okay to be reserved, but you should still work on your social skills.

Your facial expressions are important. When people say to smile more often, they don’t mean to stay like 😁😊 but more like 🙂. Think of nice or funny things to keep a sweet expression on your face. Smile from your eyes. “Smile”

Body language is everything. If you cross your arms often for instance, it can be seen as you being closed off and cold. Have open body language. Avoid being a wall flower and hiding in corners.

How are you with small talk? Brush up on social scripts, that’s all it is really is. Say hi to strangers when you pass by (use discernment)

Use eye contact and good posture. Don’t hang your head.

Try to get rid of your paranoia. Being self conscious is what tends to kill charisma.

Stay off of your phone, instead people watch or look at the scenery.

There is just something about Taylor Swift’s ‘Invisible String’ that makes me want to dance in the sunlight with ribbons and I absolutely adore it. 

types of academia pt. 2

art: paint dried at the cuffs of your favorite jacket, ink smudged hands, your notebooks are just sketchbooks for your class doodles with notes crammed in between the drawings, sudden revelations, wanting to create something meaningful with your own two hands, thinking of pygmalion during your sculpting class, reading a book and coming across that one sentence that sparks the inspiration for your next piece, afternoons on a soft green hill sketching, the scent of jasmine on the breeze, the music blaring in your headphones is all you can hear or feel as you work through the night, laying under the starlight

writer: the sound of a pen against parchment, the glow of a computer screen in a dark room, the sound of a clock ticking away the hours, reading with a hunger that will only be satisfied once you can give shape to your own words, empty notebooks, notebooks full of poetry, forgotten ideas that were not written down, your notes app is full of poetry, rainy days full of time spent typing away, living every experience in its rawest fork because you know you can write about it later, “write what you know” so you try to know everything, dreaming through your characters eyes, you and the moon have become good friends after nights spent writing under her light and reading your prose out loud

romantic: sketches of your love in a sketchbook that’s falling apart, singing to the moon at night, reciting sonnets alone in the woods, linen and silk, bathed in golden light, wax seals on love letters, pressed flowers in a journal, wanting to catch the stars and put them in the eyes of the one you love, the sweet scent of roses, ivy crawling up a cobblestone wall, a garden full of statues and plants that flint silver in the moonlight, sweet milk tea, daydreaming in a meadow

sci-fi: stargazing is a personality trait, deteriorating copies of sci-fu novels, coffee stained science magazines, a cork board full of conspiracies, squinting at the sky in search of life, believing there’s something more, tangled headphones, leather-bound dream journal, fog filled nights, psychoanalyzing, sticky note with the names of different theories scribbled on it that you need to research later, scrolling through wikipedia pages under your blanket when you should be sleeping, walkie talkies, a head full of wonder

urban: city lights blazing like stars, briskly walking down streets through the crisp air, drizzle fogging your glasses, hands in the pockets of a frayed coat, the overt dichotomy of light and dark, shadows in alleys and buzzing neon signs, dim bars and lit apartment windows, a small book shop crammed between a starbucks and bank, going to a vintage movie theater at the center of the city, mornings spent at the museum that’s free before noon, nights snuggled up in a blanket in your small, overpriced apartment as you read a book near the window and watch the city breathe

pt. 1

So, if you are too tired to speak, sit next to me for I, too, am fluent in silence.

R. Arnold