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I have recently rekindled my love for stationery. Perusing the shelves at DC Museum shops last week probably is to blame (I am looking at you, National Gallery).
Lost on the Midway postcard collection, The Black Apple (etsy)
Prairie Summer boxed note set, One Canoe Two (etsy)
hello letterpress notecards, Honizukle Press (etsy)
Here’s to more letter writing in 2014 (because seriously, I need all of these)!
I am having a difficult time putting my thoughts into words. Difficult is, perhaps, an understatement. That untapped energy is probably better used for painting, at least until I can untangle the threads, so that is what I am doing. I am feeling a bit overwhelmed. Sometimes simply existing feels like a grand achievement. These are the words and images of others.
These are words of truth I choose to remember, words from fellow human beings far more beautiful than myself.
I have recently started using my phone to jot down thoughts while on my breaks at work. It’s part journal, part to do list, part something else entirely. It’s amazingly calming. Some of today’s notes were prompted by snippets of conversation overheard on the sales floor.
You are in no way obligated to start liking or being kind to hateful, harmful people just because they’ve been diagnosed with cancer or some other illness. In fact, a sudden change in your behavior towards this person (a coworker, perhaps, or a former partner you haven’t spoken to in five years) could be considered insulting. If you had no desire to interact with this person before the onset of illness, why do you feel the need to do so? If nothing positive is coming from engaging with this person, stop.
I don’t believe that illness or injury should alter any relationship, but I think it’s especially true in a hostile one.
Illness or disability doesn’t necessarily make someone deserving of your time and kindness. Of course I believe that everyone deserves kindness, but maybe some people don’t need your kindness or your friendship. We should act kindly and respectfully towards everyone, but we certainly don’t have to like everyone. This is not “two-faced;” politeness doesn’t need to be a lie, and we are allowed to be ambivalent.
A customer called one of my coworkers a retard. This word was used as an insult in a Goodwill store, and in front of a handicapped child. The child also happened to be this customer’s daughter.
How does this happen? How did we get to the point where this is even remotely acceptable?
BEST CASE SCENARIO
* look up Phantom Tollbooth on silence[s]
- buy bread
- penny jar
- yoga for neck pain?
- exp. film disposable, alter
- on making Art History accessible to children
I can paint a ghost story, but I have a hard time writing one.
I would like to try this while it is still so fresh in my mind (a mere hour), but I am not a skilled storyteller.
Closing time is 7 o’ clock. At the end of the night, I take a quick loop through the store, checking for straggling customers. There’s usually one or two, despite the fact that we make numerous closing announcements. My supervisor had just finished locking the doors as I made my way to the front of the store. I was standing between our book section and the area where we accept donations, when I looked up to see someone walk from the corner of our children’s clothing section toward the front wall. It appeared to be a man, his head level with the top book shelf, but he was moving fairly quickly and was obscured by the set of bookshelves in front of me. I assumed he must have come from the fitting rooms and I somehow missed him in passing. I took a few steps in that direction, but when I turned the corner, there was no one there. As I walked past the books on the wall, totally baffled, I felt any icy chill through my whole body.
I think it’s important to note here that our air conditioning unit has been broken for two weeks, and was finally repaired this afternoon. The sales floor is no longer sweltering, but at the time it was not yet up to standards. What I felt was like ice. It was …startling.
I mentioned the odd experience to my supervisor a few moments later, and she told me that she’s had similar experiences at the back of our store. Neither of us were (or are) particularly disturbed by the experience. I suppose it’s a little unsettling, but stranger things happen. We receive items belonging to the once-living every single day, it wouldn’t surprise me if there was energy attached to the objects we sell in our store. Maybe it comes with the territory?
I’ve had spooky things happen before, typical noises in the night and strange events I can’t quite readily explain, but I’ve never straight up seen or felt anything before. This was all brand new. At the same time, I am only maybe 70% convinced that I actually saw anything. It definitely looked like a man in that moment, but I can’t be certain.
When I say I believe in ghosts, I really mean that I believe in residual energy. I don’t readily believe in free-willed spirits actively haunting the living world, and I certainly don’t believe in demon possession, or anything of that nature. I think the latter tends to require a belief in religion, which I do not have. I think that some people simply have strong enough energy that it can be left behind, attached to places or objects, on something of a feedback loop. It’s perhaps a little out there. In most instances, I am a skeptic; I feel like most ghostly experiences can be explained, but there will always be some that are a mystery.
How about you? Do you have a ghost story?
Thanks for stopping by. My name is Naomi, and this space is made of girldust. This blog is a picture of my comfortably scattered life on the coast of Maine. I'm trying to be a slightly better version of myself every day. I like old houses, reading, the ocean, ghost stories, and museums. You can learn a little bit more about me here.