What I do when I don’t write or work.
So, I’m gna post a few of my thoughts here… And share what I’ve been sketching lately.
Stay inside, and enjoy.
This is a thought I had a few minutes ago.
So we are at day five of this post once a day celebration. And day *insert number here* of social and physical distancing / quarantine. So here is something different you can feast on. Bio below….
Hi people of the internets! I’m thesarcasticbanterist. I’m both moody and bubbly depending on who you ask. I live in the grey with occasional dips in black or white. I love writing. To me it’s like taking a chaotic bunch of wool and knitting an intricate sweater. Check out my blog if you are so inclined.
Every so often I look back at some of my most impactful friendships. In self reflection you can’t help but remember the people who either hurt you and left a dent or people you hurt to the point of pushing them away.
This is a draft of a letter I wrote to a friend once. A depressed friend. I’m not a psychologist. I didn’t know how to separate myself from a situation. I just soaked it all in like a sponge until I couldn’t tell myself apart from her problems. I had to learn to navigate depression from the seat of a friend. Mental health awareness is only in its infancy. Awareness on how to be the friend of a depressed person is only in its conception if being considered at all. Nobody talks about the resentment and guilt. It’s not trendy right now. I’m still learning but I’ve come such a long way. What I’ve learned is that sometimes compassion is a skill. An active process. It’s not always an automatic switch even if you love them.
‘There are few things I truly hate. One of them being words left unsaid between friends. I realise you may have a limited quota of things to care about at the moment. And I may not be in that list. Fair enough. You’ve said you hadn’t truly felt comfortable opening up to me but you did to some extent. I should’ve considered that a privelage. How many people can say we express even a fraction of our truest selves to. I can count on maybe one hand. I didn’t mean to undermine your suffering. But I can see how my actions reflected that. It is now that I realise something I’ve known but never truly appreciated as true, there’s a big difference between caring about someone and showing that you care about someone. I assure you you never stopped being one of my best friends. A person I deeply respected even if I fell short of showing it in recent times. I’ve been the worst example of a friend by allowing something as ugly as frustration and anger to soil something as pure as compassion. Five years is a long time. Or maybe it isn’t. It’s all perspective I guess. In a couple of decades you might not even remember my name. It was hard. Sometimes the person in front of me seemed locked away somewhere unreachable and in trying to get to you with the smallest chisel. Nobody denies your strength but being strong also means being able to admit when you are weak. . In my desperate attempt to change your mindset I set myself up for disappointment. But I want you to know that the world is not out to get you. There are people who do love you and want to see you do well. More importantly I hope you stop looking for love in all the wrong places. ‘
Thank you for your responses and love on this series. You amaze me daily.
Mutheu wa Sumbi
Hey everyone. I hope you are keeping safe and practicing social and phsyical distancing. And quarantined if you are infected.
The Artist I’m featuring today Jon Mwangi. He is a poet, singer and event organiser.
Here is his piece.
I’m guilty from the moment I’m born, i’ve been a white man’s shadow for too long, the lion in me has been tamed, caged but still longing for air.
I’m not allowed to speak, when I’m pulled over the only thing I should do is put my hands on my dash board and make sure that the police is not threatened.
I have lived in fear, my consolation was not the stars, it was music, church and family.
Cause you were guilty not by evidence but by the way you looked.
I’m sorry, I guess my dark complexion is intimidating cause I’m only built for greatness cause I know you scared of me, the way I aim for the stars still pushing Luther’s dream, sad to say
I’m a customed to pain, greatness has been my daily struggle, I have concived it and the only thing I’ll give birth to is only black excellence cause i’ll moon walk myself out off this chains of oppression so call me Django Unchained
Keep being creative. Keep being hopeful.
Mutheu wa Sumbi
I am starting to see life for what it is.
A series of mistakes, that if repeated, lead to destruction of self.
Languishing in it makes misery my home.
I could push past myself and love me ’cause I’m lovable.
I am starting to see love for what it is, not what I want it to be. All the words I hold in my tongue so I don’t offend you and the decisions I make despite your advice. And the frustration you have with my ways.
My frustration with you not being on my side.
You won’t love me to my death bed, I heard you say that.
I don’t want to be the kind of person that constantly surpresses who I am and what I want to fit into a world that couldn’t care less.
I don’t want to run away from things that haven’t happened yet.
I fell into the darkness I thought was myself and couldn’t get up.
I am loving myself. It means looking her in the eye every day and giving her pleasures she’s never had.
And that’s okay.
I put a spell on you, cause you’re mine.
Pull me closer as we slow dance. I dance on your feet and giggle.
Slow dancing in a burning room comes to mind, it’s a moment I can’t forget.
I can’t think of anyone I’d rather dissappear into, Littlebird.
Into your eyes, I fall forever.
I’m still there, stuck on you.
We kiss and the moonlight, the light from my laptop, the lights from our neighbour’s apartment, land on our skin, we glisten.
As we sink into the hardwood floor, together.
Hi fellow readers….
So I’ve been on a break for a while, cause i needed it, and one of the things I’ve been thinking about is why i do the things I do. This blog for example…. is it just an outlet, or is it something more? Why do I write poetry, why do I write at all? Why do I craft?
So now we address the title of this post… Why do I create, what is my WHY? That’s a topic that I saw a lot on my social media earlier this year.
After a lot of introspection, (I’m still working on that btw), I have decided I write because I love to write, and I craft because I love to craft and that right there is enough.
I listened to an audio book last year, Big Magic by Elizabeth Gilbert, and one of the key things she mentioned was that we as artists shouldn’t put pressure on our creative activities to support our financial needs. This is part of the reason I’ve been overwhelmed for the past few months. I wanted to make money off my art.
Which in itself isn’t a bad thing, right? But I was so focused on making money that I started to hate my art and everything around it, so i gave up.
Sigh….such is life.
Now, in the spirit of letting art be what it is. I will be posting some of my creative adventures here.
Please let me know what you think.
Mwiitu wa Mbula