How often do we settle on living a life of “eh”? Just getting by. Getting through the day at work. Crossing off items from the to do list, clawing our way toward _________________. (You fill in the blank.)
Sometimes, the days we enter hold promise. A vacation on the horizon. A visit from a friend. A blessed day of dropping both kids off at school and shopping unencumbered, running errands without “the attachments”. (I LOVE my boys, but let’s be real, shopping without young children is typically much more efficient and enjoyable!).
Other days, we wake up with dread, fearing the reality that lies in wait. The looming assignment. The doctor’s appointment. The phone call that’s been postponed. The dust covered surfaces waiting for a shine.
We have been placed on this Earth for more. Placed here to create ART. Not necessarily Picasso-worthy pieces or Monet brushstrokes. But art, nonetheless. And how often I settle for less, not more.
“It would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.” ― C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory, and Other Addresses
Maybe Earth Day can be a call to living fully in the here and now, messy and imperfect as it can be. Seeking out the beauty and the grace that surrounds us. Documenting it. Pointing it out. Taking notice. Preserving it. Seeing the art that has already been laid before us.
It takes effort. It requires overcoming the “eh” that threatens to hold us firmly to the couch. The “eh” that says, “basking in reality tv is better that being out in reality, touching, tasting and experiencing life.” The “eh” that placates, assuring that we have worked too much and deserve disengaging with the life and community that pulses around us.
So push off the “eh”, embrace the ART and get out. Don’t settle for the mud pies in the slum, keep searching for the holiday at the sea.
We have a “problem”. I’ve mentioned it here before…..but I assume many of you can relate. Whether with your own kids, or yourself. The issue of boxes. Of “keepsakes”. Of “treasures”. Of “creations”.
I am a sorter, purger and hope to be (in another life, perhaps??), a minimalist. And so my eldest’s obsession with art, creating and, dare I say it, “HOARDING” these keepsakes/treasures/creations can, at points, drive me batty.
I hoped for children with creativity, imagination and chutzpah. But some days, when the doodles, sculptures and mayhem start crowding me in on all sides, I go a little crazy. It’s like the little boxes are going to overtake me. Maybe one day, I’ll walk into Alex’s or Drew’s room and I won’t be able to find them.
No matter the day. No matter the time. No matter the to do list. If there’s a box in sight, then we are at risk for child #1 finding it and getting to work. Exhibit A:
One IKEA shelving purchase…..one Woodsie home and 2 race tracks….CHECK!
Despite my desire for cleanliness, for only keeping the necessary, I have a child with a wonderful memory who is always wondering where such and such creation disappeared to. I cringe. Bite my bottom lip and think to myself, “Uh, oh. City of Sunnyvale Recycling is enjoying that masterpiece as we speak.” Within reason, though, I’m trying to let go of my need for perfect order and control, and let my boys be boys. Let them get dirty in the mud and dirt out back. Let the boxes take shape into race tracks, drive in movie theater cars, castles, forts and pirate treasure boxes. And let go.
My friend, Sarah, sent me a link to this amazing video. And frankly, if any of us are still feeling the pull of not having so much disorder and creativity around us, for the mess and disorder it makes, then this video should cure us all.
Happy Saturday and Happy Creating!
(sadly for me, I’m spending time organizing receipts and working on budgeting, while Alex is make pirate patches, pirate hats, a hook arm, a treasure chest and accompanying map….ah, to be 4….)
p.s. My students and I had the gift of the talented Elisa Kleven joining us on Friday. She shared her books, her inspiration, stories of her childhood and how imagination and creating saved her. It was the cherry on top for me. The reminder that these messes and “disorder” might actually be birthing a career and love. For Elisa, it became a future of artistry and writing. I loved watching my kids in awe of her talents and accomplishments….one even commented, “You EXPIRE me!” We came to the conclusion that Elisa INSPIRED him. But, man, it was hilarious!!!!!!!!!!!!! Such a funny word transposition. And the best part was stealing her to my house for a few hours with my boys. Alex had a blast drawing with Elisa and chatting. Drew spent the time screaming, crying and throwing things. Patience, though. No doubt, Drew will come around too….and begin his own efforts to EXPIRE—–I mean INSPIRE—-me!
I came upon this disturbing scene the other night. It was one of those times that you draw in your breath in fear and horror, but are also laughing underneath it all. Drew had found the gas lighter and was attempting to light all the candles and then give “zerberts” to blow them out. Read the rest of this entry »
Be still my heart. Came out to find this scene earlier today. Alex had set up “CRAFTS” so that he and his playdate buddy, could have “CRAFT” time. I love it. In case you can’t tell, he adores the word “CRAFTS”. Love that he was thinking ahead. The teacher in me was beyond proud. My heart melted a bit.
And then this keeps happening….
Lots of “exploring”. Fiddling. Getting into. Adventuring. Yesterday, I caught him eating a crayon. Day before, opening a cabinet that has no handle. Tuesday, he fell out of his high chair. I left him for 30 seconds, heard a thud. And that was that. So thankful he waited for the ONE minute I was gone. Clever. It’s high alert time in these parts. Almost 11 months, so….watch out world, Drew’s on the M.O.V.E.
(And yes, Mom/Moms-in-Law/Pseudo Grandmas—-he will be tightly strapped in from here on out. Guilt. Guilt. Guilt.)
Last week I watched the Miss USA pageant. In an attempt to redeem this atrocity, I’ll defend my decision with the fact that I’d seen a special on 20/20 on Miss Colorado, Blair Griffith. After being crowned Miss Colorado, she and her mother were evicted from their home and found themselves homeless. It’s one of those compelling 20/20 stories that I had to watch. And then that story was so intense, I had to tune into the Miss USA broadcast. Would the underdog win and save her family from living under a bridge?
Not to ruin the surprise, but no, she didn’t win. The disturbing moment came for me, though, during the interview portion of the finals. I started realizing throughout the commentary, that they were referring to the contestants as “California”, “Texas”, “Tennessee” and “Alabama”. Here’s an example, “California, please join the other contestants.” Or, “Alabama, you are an elementary education major….how do you hope to inspire youth?”
Here’s a clip….
And it just got to me listening to this go on and on. Names are so important. Teaching VBS last week, as with each first day of teaching 4th grade, or meeting summer staff, I felt it a requirement to know their names by the second day, no questions asked. Just this week, a friend asked on Facebook , “Working on Sunday’s sermon. Help a sister out and tell her what makes you feel welcome?” Immediately I knew my answer. Someone knowing my name and asking about me.
So to watch the painstaking interview process proceed without a single mention of the contestant’s names made the hair stand up on my neck. They addressed other portions of their identity, their areas of study or career choices, issues connected with their state of origin and hard-hitting questions of morality. All this, however, without one declaration of name.
Names are intimate. Names are personal. They are part of our identity which probably is why they give so much angst to parents when kids are in utero. For reals, will “Alexander Zachary Gough!!!!!!!!” sound firm enough when he’s in trouble? Will “Andrew” or “Drew” fit his personality better down the road?
And with all this mulling around in my mind last week, I had a moment of epiphany on Saturday. {collective cheers….yes, this sleep deprived, fighting a cold mom actually put two and two together and had a deeper thought!} The day started off on the best note possible….breakfast out with a dear, long term friend. One whom I’ve traveled with across country on a road trip and then again through Europe. A friend who even introduced my husband and I. Over swing dancing. The irony of that alone….well, no words really express that.
We had amazing breakfast and conversation at Cafe Brazil in Santa Cruz. I could write and entire post about that. It ranked as one of the top 10 breakfasts for me of all time. And yet, even better? The conversation. I love the gift of long term friends whom you can jump into “real life” without skipping a beat.
After breakfast, I was headed up to the UC Santa Cruz campus for a class on floral photography through Aperture Academy. After they set us out at the arboretum, this little guy caught my eye.
I’m still trying to learn the terms and “bells and whistles” on my camera, so this picture doesn’t do the flower justice. But seriously….look at this him?!? Talk about intricacy, detail, creativity. I love the gift of a macro lens. The eye it allows you to have of something seemingly insignificant. The instructor let me borrow and play with her lens and I have a lot to learn, but still, found myself amazed that most of my favorite shots were of the simplest, everyday things….pine needles, dandelions and the like.
In the past I might have just passed by this cute, little one….
….but the macro lens led me to see the possibility in the small, seemingly insignificant specimens.
So, these things are swirling around in my head today. Names, being known, intricate details. I truly believe we are called to know and be known. And that is sticky and hard and not always too polished. When things are difficult, I often get overwhelmed and tired and find it easier to turn on mindless tv and check out.
Saturday, however? Saturday reminded me that the angst I’d felt over the lack of intimacy, lack of addressing people by their names, is something to be mindful of. Am I looking through my lens for the details, the unique make-up of those I encounter? Am I seeking to learn others’ stories and encourage them to live into their unique narrative? Am I helping my kids figure out who they are, guiding them towards risk, adventure and unknowns, knowing they’ll sink or swim, and that either way, one finds growth through the “fight”?
All too often I’m truly afraid, ashamed or embarrassed to call things in life by their name. I forget names. I mix people up, forgetting conversations and clarifications that already happened. Or worse yet, I don’t want people to see the REAL me or the reality of my parenting struggles or kids’ natural tendencies (yes, that was my three year old son, crawling and screaming down the aisle at my husband’s installation service back in January….trust me, the moment was glorious and really “memorable”).
So the journey continues. The struggle unfolds. Names. Identity. Details below the surface. What has God hidden in the everyday, the things that are right in front of us, waiting to be seen in the truest sense? And more importantly, will we look? Call those in our midst by their names and enter in?
I had the immense gift of time spent in Portland last week at the Storyline Conference hosted by Donald Miller. Oh, my patooties. It was so rich and wonderful and thought-provoking and challenging and…….. _________________. {insert almost any adjective on that line, please}
I love the concept of story and narrative. After attending a writing class taught by Anne Diskin years ago, I found myself loving teaching writing to 4th graders. And that says a lot….thirty 4th graders in one small space can truly run a phenomenal gamete of writing abilities and styles. {aka….buy a BIG bottle of Advil at Costco, because you’re gonna need it} But Anne’s techniques, combined with a wonderful approach stolen gifted from my dear friend and former roommate, Kim, made my heart flutter and butterflies took over each day when 11am rolled around during narrative writing season. We made countless lists of people, events, moments in time. Then we attempted to incorporate all the golden nuggets “good writing” should have. It was almost a mathematical approach. Creativity in the midst of formulaic thinking. Holy MOSES, did those kids come alive and write and create and express and impress and share their hearts. It was rather amazing to hear their lives and memorable moments scribbled out on paper.
Writing is like that. It can be formal and tight and hidden. Or it can be the door to authenticity, connection and gut wrenching honesty. Don’t get me STARTED on the poetry writing that came out of those bunnies. Tears seriously come to my eyes when I remember those sessions. Holy ground in Room 18. That’s all due to the influence of the amazing Alison Seevak.
So, despite the fact that it’s summer and I have an almost mobile 8 month old and a very busy 4 year old, I am going to try and carve out time to think through the idea of story. As Donald Miller says in his book, A Million Miles, “A story is based on what people think is important, so when we live a story, we are telling the people around us what we think is important.”
Thus the questions must be asked:
“What kind of story am I telling with my life?”
As the “main character” in my story, “What message is my life sending to those in the story with and around me?”
“What do I and what do we, as a family, want??”
{and by want, I’m talking about the bigger picture wants…although things get so sticky when owning a home, having our kids attend a “good” school, and being able to buy groceries at Whole Paycheck Foods creep in}
“Am I willing to enter into conflict?”
(because let’s face it, pushing toward a bigger goal is going to include facing conflict and frankly God’s made it pretty clear that he’s ok with us sitting in conflict…)
I loved this visual image Don painted for us at the conference. He talked about “good stories”. Stories that have made for amazing movies. Clearly a story whose chief end was a guy getting a Volvo, and whose entire career and every move was solely for the purpose of attaining this Volvo….this “plot” would be awful. And boring.
So, I challenge you to ask yourself, do you just want a Volvo out of life (not that Volvos are bad!!!)? What is your inciting incident? The incident that disrups your comfort? The moment where something enters your story and forces you to jump into the discomfort and the fear?
I was reading A Million Miles back in September/October 2010 right before and after Drew’s birth. Here’s some quotes that I copied from my library copy of the book into my journal. Enjoy, be challenged, and most of all, don’t go brain dead.
“The world collapses in on itself when people do not allow God to show up through them.”
~pg. 118
“The story made us different characters than we would have been if we had skipped the story and showed up at the ending an easier way.”
~pg. 143
“People seek for something better, yet fear change. Often afraid to choose better story–the current situation is bad, but FAMILIAR.”
~pg. 100-101
“…most of our greatest fears are relational. It’s all that stuff about forgiveness and risking rejection and learning to love.”
and finally…
“Life is staggering and we’re just used to it.”
Woe.
Click here to catch a visual of the conference in picture and art and words artistically rendered by Mike Rohde.
Things are hopping around here! Drew’s hopping, yes.
But lots of other things are going a million miles a minute too. Sometimes I feel rather insulated from the “real world” out there. Don’t worry, I caught about 8 hours of Royal Wedding coverage thanks to our DVR. Alex kept saying, “Is that princess STILL getting married?!?!?” And randomly, I turned on the news to catch the Bin Laden drama. But finding time and energy to do much more than be present with the daily needs of the boys and making sure we all have food, water and sleep, is beyond me.
Trying to “force” a little creativity here and there. By force, it means requiring Alex to get started on things on his own and then seeing where he goes. It’s always WAY more intricate than I’d ever come up with and in the end, I think it’s more satisfying for him.
Case in point, last night he got his bug net, bug cage, camera, a tube to use as a telescope and Drew’s bottle…he declared he was going hiking.
Later he added the glasses to make himself invisible and search for a hiding spot. I told him hiding wasn’t necessary if he was invisible….but that was lost on him. OH, well.
Or earlier, pretending he was a king with these scarves. Seriously….these scarves have been EVERYTHING!! Super great, versatile fun.
Trying to offer some organized fun to give him tools to create and craft new things…
And yes, I am that mom. The one that bribes her kid. Today is the Mother’s Tea at the preschool. So many times I wonder how I got here. Not here as in Sunnyvale. But here as in….A MOM. I remember labor and delivery well enough. But I still look at their faces and think, “WHAT?! Who left us in charge, thinking we could raise and handle them??” (Luckily, I’m currently enrolled in a “Love & Logic” parenting class at church. No need to fear. There’s a lot of, “That’s so sad” comments flying around these parts lately.)
Anyhow, I bribed Alex to wear shorts today. He only likes cozy pants, but it’s supposed to be in the 80′s today and geez, Louise….dress up a bit once in awhile. So he put this on:
And then he went and looked in the full length mirror in our bedroom and declared, “What in the whole wide world?! I look really great!!“
I’m so grateful that our life circumstances allow me to be present for many more of these moments lately, and yet, the hopping back and forth in my mind continues. The delicate balance of me time, vs. focused time for them. Getting up at 5:30am to go and work out compared with sleeping an hour and a half longer. The tension between laying down the boundaries with empathy and consistency (yes, I was listening in the class on Sunday!) vs. wanting to lose it and yell. The crafting ideas I want to do for myself, and the to do list items that need to be attended to….
(I squeezed in one on Monday night!)
There are way too many things that no doubt go through ALL our heads, as parents, as citizens of the world during this tumultuous time, as friends to others, as believers, called to love others as we love ourselves. Right now, though, I’m trying to practice what I preached to the summer staff and volunteer counselors at Westminster Woods. The need to focus on your sphere of influence. If they were at campfire, for example, and two junior high kids were sitting a little **too** close and were distracting others with their “purpling” (serious term, folks….when boys–blue–and girls–pink/red–get too close and comfy….it becomes PURPLE. USE IT. It’s such a freeing, fun term. Ha ha.) then they should quietly, use their own body language and influence to get them back on track.
So now, as a mom, I’m coming to terms that my sphere needs to shrink a bit. I’m just not going to be able to keep in touch with as many people, commit to as many opportunities, volunteer in the same way or even find a job with the same reckless abandon I might have 10 years ago.
My dear friend wrote this to me in an email this week, and it totally sums up my own thoughts as I hop from thing to thing….
“Still, I have moments of feeling…lost…not feeling myself…lost in babies and their feeding schedule, lost without my support network nearby from my former church community, lost in my lack of independence and vocation. When will I feel like a mom…and feel like it’s right…and really me?”
So true. Exactly what goes through my head as I seek to redefine my new identity. She just had her babies in February. I’ve been a mom for almost 4 years, and I’m still asking those questions. I guess it’s hard to know if we ever really feel like a mom, completing accepting our own starts, stops, pitfalls, successes. Instead of planning my days down to the minute, living by the clock as I did while teaching, I’m now having a much simpler list. Today’s included working out while reading Real Simple, getting breakfast made (& eaten), making sure Drew gets two naps, showering, going to the tea, having quiet, everyone in their own room, time (seriously, a LIFE SAVER) and hopefully enjoying some outdoor time with the boys this evening while Matt’s at youth group. Yesterday I managed Trader Joes with both boys and a full shopping list. I was ready for someone to hand me a trophy when we’d all gotten home safe and sound, successfully unloaded the bags and food and were settled for naps.
Rather than following Drew’s lead, trying to hop from thing to thing, commitment to commitment and find myself trying to scrape myself off the pavement, I’m just going to be happy and satisfied with slowing things down. Even when I question my identity as a mom and vocationally, I DO know that these are the moments I don’t want to miss.
Gotta love Natalie and how well this song has continued, over the years, to remind me to savor…(go ahead and play it and enjoy some 1999 video “goodness”!).
These are the days These are days you’ll remember. Never before and never since, I promise, will the whole world be warm as this. And as you feel it, you’ll know it’s true that you are blessed and lucky. It’s true that you are touched by something that will grow and bloom in you.
These are days you’ll remember. When May is rushing over you with desire to be part of the miracles you see in every hour. You’ll know it’s true that you are blessed and lucky. It’s true that you are touched by something that will grow and bloom in you.
These are days. These are the days you might fill with laughter until you break. These days you might feel a shaft of light make its way across your face. And when you do you’ll know how it was meant to be. See the signs and know their meaning. It’s true, you’ll know how it was meant to be. Hear the signs and know they’re speaking to you, to you.
A long night in the Garden, knowing what lay ahead, pleading with God to be spared from it all. But, “Not my will, but Your’s….”
A day unlike any other. Like Karin said during the service last night, “It doesn’t feel like a GOOD Friday.” Sacrifice. Obedience. Death. Darkness. Jesus was pushed to the edge, like Abraham. But unlike with Isaac, Jesus’ death wasn’t preempted.
And so we are asked, as the disciples were, to watch, wait & pray.
Knowing that disbelief over the miracle to come is already brewing in our bones….
We wait for Sunday…
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Driving home from church last night, I realized how much I love this season of Easter. Even when it means focusing on the hard aspects of our faith and Christ’s story. Birth, though messy and painful, is filled with great joy and new life as we celebrate on Christmas. And as we approach the celebration of Christ’s resurrection on Easter, even though it is preceded by an evening of sadness, goodbyes, reminders, prayer to the point of sweating blood, grief, anxiety and exhaustion, there is great hope. Easter, like Christmas, is a celebration. Another day of joy and new life. Even amidst doubts, pain, fear and anxiety, we have an invitation. An invitation to cling to a rich, abundant, freely given gift of Grace.
When reality seems far from perfect or what we see in front of us feels contrived and fake, give us strength, Lord, to remember that Your love, Your sacrifice, Your gift, given to all of us who are so undeserving, is just that. A gift.
Our reality is far from perfect (you won’t see Alex’s DVD player and Toy Story playing just inches away from these pictures), but we squeezed in some egg dyeing tonight and will make some resurrection rolls tomorrow. All in an attempt to get a hands on lesson. A reminder of the New Life in Christ and the Spring that’s emerging around us…both incredible gifts from a God that loves us so much.
The beautiful artwork is part of a Lenten journey I found here. I got up four of these pictures with Alex at the beginning of the month. The last chunk went up tonight, after he was in bed! Poor Drew….no egg dyeing for you this year, buddy.
I’m a sucker for the baby hand and footprint impressions. So, thanks to a Christmas gift certificate, we squeezed in a visit to one of my favorite East Bay spots, Brushstrokes, on Saturday. We did Alex’s imprints when he was about 5 months, so I was hoping to squeeze in Drew’s before he turned 6 months. Matt rolls his eyes at my almost insane need to do these imprints, but I know the boys and Matt will be gushing their gratitude in 15 years for my insistence.
For me, despite the almost abusive nature of forcing your infant to make an impression in clay, the opportunity to freeze that sweet foot and tiny hand in time is so special. As Drew is hitting the six month mark today, I’m trying my best to savor these milestones. Unlike with the first child, I’m finding it hard to record it all in Drew’s baby book. In fact, there’s NOTHING in the book….YET. It’ll happen. Hopefully before he gets married some day. But, recorded or not, I’m savoring the squeals, shaky legs trying to stand, face-filling smiles, deep interest & “work” in the exersaucer, focus & delight with picture books, first feeble attempts at eating some solid food, and the fact that we’re working towards 10 hours of sleep {without feedings!} during the night.
It’s slipping by so quickly and without stopping, taking note of the milestones, it can go unnoticed. Trying to take the time to remember.
I am disgusted with how often this is the best word to describe me these days.
Apathetic about exercise.
Apathetic about eating well. {notice above photo…no goals set?}
Apathetic about planning fun, creative things to do with Alex.
Apathetic about menu planning and cooking.
Apathetic about my to do list.
Many remind me that I just had a baby six months ago. To be easy on myself. To ease into the transition of this recent move.
But those words just tend to breed more apathy.
I love fun notebooks. Colorful pens. Lesson plan books. Goal sheets. So, on Monday, I tried creating a list for the day. When we moved, I grouped together all of the notebooks we had lying around. And they’re not fancy. Spiral. 1/4 full of paper. Mead variety. But, something about the list making, even in a mundane notebook, with a basic, black roller ball pen was helpful. The list wasn’t exciting:
Change Alex’s Sheets
Change our sheets
Wash Alex’s sheets
Wash our sheets
Pull out size 3 clothes from Alex’s closet
Scan Sunset cookbook from library
Return Sunset cookbook after scanning
Make binder of lent devotional and laminate pictures
Clean out purse {I try to do this nightly so that it’s not such a daunting task}
Do you ever make lists like this? Adding extra things….maybe even things you’ve already done? Just for the LOVE of checking them OFF the list?
Weird thing is, Drew seems to SENSE that a list has been made. That mom has RESOLVED to be productive. And he decides HE should be productive too. And not in the “napping, restoring energy sense”. In the “I’m busy, busy, busy and want to be held and cuddled” sense. So, the to do list just creates stress and frustration. {unless….I just add “hold Drew” and “cuddle Drew” to the to dos! Now THAT is smart, eh?!?}
Fellow mom & friend deemed this “the circle of neglect”. Love it.
I’m wondering if apathy is a natural reaction. Sometimes life just feels too hard. Or the questions and concerns that are looming feel too big. Too many. Too complicated. Too heavy. Sometimes it just feels better to be happily apathetic than try and answer the questions and deal with the foggy unknowns.
Until Mr. Preschooler breaks in and asks, “What is Easter about, Mom?”
“Ummmmmmmm……”
And then asks to make a tomb with a rock and 2 soldiers and Jesus and a crown of thorns.
Don’t tell our landlord that Alex picked all of these….shhh. It was for a good cause.
Do you see Jesus rolled up in the tomb? Hilarious.
Alex made this at MOPS on Tuesday. First time I’ve seen him draw something resembling a person!
It kind of jolts you (well, ME!) to wake up, brush away the fog, take note and be present.
These opportunities are lying around all the time. Am I alert enough to see the opportunities that are in front of me? And not just see them, but take part?
(an opportunity LITERALLY lying around in front of me)
I’m reading Shauna Niequist‘s book Cold Tangerinesand she writes on this topic of apathy in a roundabout way, “I want a life that sizzles and pops and makes me laugh out loud. And I don’t want to get to the end, or to tomorrow, even and realize that my life is a collection of meetings and pop cans and errands and receipts and dirty dishes. I want to eat cold tangerines and sing loud in the car with the windows open and wear pink shoes and stay up all night laughing and paint my walls the exact color of the sky right now. I want to sleep hard on clean white sheets and throw parties and eat ripe tomatoes and read books so good they make me jump up and down, and I want my everyday to make God belly laugh, glad that he gave life to someone who loves the gift.”
Preach it, sister! LOVE it. So, go find a cold tangerine. Or a fun notebook. Or wake up, look around, and take notice. On the road to shaking off apathy….
