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April 04, 2015

this is love and it's bleeding out

some thoughts are always there and known, but have a way of making you tremble when you actually bother to look them in the eye. for instance, God became human. not just an Infinite & Always breather of stars walking around in a fleshy form, but actual proper 100% human. not just physically, but spiritually. like us. with a mom and a dad and teenage years and bad skin and breakable bones and blisters from working and the devil tempted Him and He had a favourite sleeping position and a laugh as individual as any of our's and He probably had a runny nose sometimes.

and He knew pain, physical and spiritual, just as we do, on top of whatever it is an unfathomable creator of edgeless universes generally feels. 

and fear. you know that blood-rushes-to-your-head-and-your-stomach-drops-to-your-feet urge to run away from something so very stupidly fast? knowing the worst possible sort of death was coming (slowly, which is infinitely worse than quickly) for You, but Your heart is straining under the weight of a thousand suns worth of love for someone and a thousand billion more someones, so You plant Your feet and spread your arms in a living, breathing gesture of Something so far beyond imagining and yet so blindingly close and heavy and there and forever and simultaneously unbelievable and devastatingly real. 

He worked impossible miracles, but one might expect that sort of thing from a god. one living inside skin that's coated in desert dust after a long day of work and sometimes not being able to sleep at night and bleeding from cuts on His hands (hands that designed existence) and every human thing (and all because He shaped you and loved you then and loves you now and He loved you in the future even in the past) and that the culmination of this love is lungs starved for air and a heart that's literally bursting is a whole different sort of mouthful to make some feeble and pathetic attempt at chewing.

March 02, 2015


In the words of Samwise Gamgee: Well, I'm back.

I didn't mean to be. And anyway, if you leave your blog for half a year, what right have you to come back? Actually, you have every right in the world. And besides, I'm attached to it. Like a pet, or a ship, or 1 a.m. snacks (quesadillas are a+ 1 a.m. snacks, by the way). I'm not sure which direction this blog will be taking from now on. Not that it ever took any particular direction before. But I was trying too hard before, and it wore down into not trying at all, so now I'll just try a little bit and hope that it will somehow help me to live more authentically. That's what the priest at camp (a great hulk of a Franciscan friar with a mighty hand shake and the kind of soul you feel you could open up yours to and still be quite alright) last summer told me to do.

Also, at camp, I saved the world from an invasion of Hell Wasps (they're like the hounds but stickier, and they reside beneath a piece of metal right outside one of the cabins) and figured out that 12 to 13-year-old boys are where my conversation skills peak at. Huh. Who knew?

Oh, and I am now a legal adult and I Am Very Scared But Also Highly Amused But Mainly Frightened Because Now I Have To Figure Out What To Do With My Life And I Just Have No Idea Darn Darn Darn Darny Darn It.

So, here it is. Arda Nessimava reborn. Yay.

(by the way, i'm wondering if i should maybe change my url? or would that create pandemonium for anyone who still cares about my thrilling blog?)

February 23, 2015

eleven easy steps to blogging like a true professional

i. Make sure to only post once every six months or so: this will greatly increase your element of suspense & mystery. This is the only sure-fire way to keep your followers interested.

ii. When you do return like the prodigal son, positively shining with the rays of your long-lost glory, make sure to also give them some music & a joke about tea. Your followers will readily welcome you back when presented with such extravagant gifts.

iii. Something about Moses Hebrewing his tea. Haha. Your follower's belly muscles now hurt.

iv. You probably also want to post a picture of your cat wrapped up in a blanket for good measure.

v. Explain that you're sorry (you're probably not really sorry, though—you've been having a smashing time melting your brain cells while scrolling down tumblr, internally figuratively bleeding thanks to Bucky Barnes & talking trees, and somehow accidentally acquiring a love for anime. Sorry is generally more of courtesy term, anyway), and that you've just been so busy (doing what, I'd like to know? Maybe you were attempting to achieve acceptable academic abilities, but you were also disregarding grammar on tumblr & watching Legend of Korra). 

vi. Show off your shnazzy new design. Also, if you drop the elvish alias and blog title your overly-emotional & pre-cynicism 14-year-old self made up and wore like a badge of fantastical glory, you should say as much, or people might get confused. 

vii. Although why you would change everything is beyond me when, knowing yourself so well, you're not entirely sure if you'll blog again. 

viii.  Why are you back? Maybe you just got nostalgic and have this Mr. Incredible-esque desire to relive the glory days. It might also be, due to the feeling that I should attempt to live braver & bigger & more authentically, something to hold me to that. That's uncharacteristically idealistic of me, though. More likely it's because I'm emotionally uncommunicative & just generally uncommunicative in real life. So this is just me trying to say something that isn't shallow & soaked with weary cynicism. 

ix. But to admit that would be admitting to having emotion, which really should be avoided whenever possible. 

x. Also, maybe tumblr is a weird environment (not that it's not great, and you make tons of crazy friends there) and now you are thirsty for meaning. 

xi. Lastly, lament the fact that you used to be funnier than you now appear to be. However did you manage to become such a soggy & festering prune head?

There. Now you are a professional.

October 17, 2014

autumn, more or less

- excessive amounts of folk music
- the welcome freshness of the cool air in my lungs
- the smell of dead leaves
- blueberry tea in the mornings (I'm far too pathetic to attempt to consume hot liquids during the summer)
- rain
- hopefully not freezing rain
- freezing rain is dumb
- a shocking amount of ladybugs everywhere
- finally not having to go through the dreadful inconvenience of wearing summer clothing
- new seasons of tv shows
- you saw that one coming, didn't you?
- I don't think I've ever had a pumpkin pie blizzard from dairy queen
- hoodies & sweatpants & that whole super classy I-don't-give-a-pumpkin-spice-muffin look
- pumpkin chocolate chip cookies are truly amazing
- the desperate, fiery confidence of the colours around the edges of the newly baled fields
- the utter perfection of it all
- probably also vast quantities of hot chocolate snuggled cozily somewhere between large library books and hay seed-covered plaid jackets

“I am made for autumn. Summer and I have a fickle relationship, but everything about autumn is perfect to me. Wooly jumpers, Wellington boot, scarves, thin first, then thick, socks. The low slanting light, the crisp mornings, the chill in my fingers, those last warm sunny days before the rain and the wind. Her moody hues and subdued palate punctuated every now and again by a brilliant orange, scarlet or copper goodbye. She is my true love.”
A recipe for Rowan Jelly by Alys Fowler