48 Inspiring Hours


I’m an introvert, and a pretty strong one. I generally dislike people. On the other hand the only thing in this world that holds my interest with any regularity is people. The last two days though have reminded me why I love humanity, even on those days I don’t, and that ain’t today. Today is glowing with love.

First wonderful person. Liala Kuchma, she is one of ten Chicago artists in Chicago’s Artists Month Celebration. Okay, neat. It was when she was talking about her weaving at the loom, how she does it for 12 hours a day, sometimes more, because she loves it, when she talked about the choice and which would make her happier, weaving or going out for dinner with friends, and how most of the time more weaving would make her happier, it was when she talked about what she did and you could feel the passion, I could feel the passion, the love, that I just felt…good. It’s one of those, “there is someone else out there who feels it too,” moments. I don’t get many of those.

Many people love something, whatever it is, and that is wonderful, but it is tempered, and wisely so, I’d argue. I’m not wise. I am passionate. Not about many things, but I am about a few, and those areas of my life, I love them. I can feel it, sometimes I can feel it want to rush out. I love it, and I wouldn’t stop it. I’m also well aware that it can be very harmful to me in other areas of my life. C’est la vie. (I love that phrase.)

It’s rare I get to meet a person so devoted to their art. I like those people. Maybe they just make me feel less alone, in a way that being with people can never make me feel not alone.

The second cool person was Ryan. Ryan I don’t think knows quite how cool he is yet. That’s fine, a little sad, but we all have to learn. Ryan was just a joy to talk to. He was discovering the joy of passion, of creating, of, of I don’t know what. But he was discovering. He had that sound, that look of young love. I love young love, that falling in love. Mature, caring, healthy love has it’s place in the world (though whether I can make this argument from experience is an interesting question these days) but young love, whether youthful in years, or new to us today, is wonderful, powerful. When the grass is greener, the sky is bluer, and you just don’t know any better, but it’s wonderful. I don’t know if he’ll get through the hard stuff. He’s already gone through quite a bit personally, and has more to face, and he has my admiration and respect for it, but there is more ahead, and I wish him the best in it. I don’t know how he’ll do, but I love that he is in love, and I hope he can enjoy that. And through his love of love, he’s reminded me of how much I love it too. And for that, I owe him a thanks, and I only hope I was able to give him a tenth as much as he gave me.

It didn’t hurt that he and his friends all thought I was cool, had a cool job and reminded how lucky I am in life. Sometimes it just feels really good to remember, to be grateful, for all you’ve had the luck to be given in life.

As a side note, I meet Ryan at Guess Hookah. Cool place. Bummer I’m apparently about a decade older than their average client√®le, I’d think about hanging there every now and again. Nice laid back atmospheres, a nice change of pace for me. Sometimes I wish I didn’t find stress and chaos so damn fun. It actually made me kinda want to try a hookah, alas, my brain won, and I didn’t. Apparently 85% of people who go there and use the hookahs don’t smoke cigarettes, who would’ve thunk it? Not to mention, if you’re twenty, reading this and male or lesbian, beautiful women galore, I mean….wow. Okay, that was unprofessional of me.

And just to add to the surreality of today. Other than hookah cafes I was covering a gentleman, nice guy, Darrin Hallowell, who does sculpture incorporating his own blood. Pretty interesting stuff, interesting ideas, and enjoyable to talk to.

I wish more Tuesdays could just be artists doing something odd and hookahs. That really is what Tuesday is supposed to be.

As a side note, I don’t know why it seems everything I’ve shot is moving left, but….oops, my poor graphic designers.

And on a final pointless note, white teas, can’t get into them. Just can’t. I’m about the Oolongs.

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