Make people understand why I’m doing what I’m doing
Make it ok for people to disagree and debate
It is important to talk about controversial issues because controversial issues are controversial because they are important issues. I have strong opinions and will say exactly what I mean and be very direct. I am not an expert on everything. I can be wrong and you can disagree with me. I might also change my mind, this is just what I believe right now.
Outro goal:
Get them thinking deeper
Get engagement
What came up for you during this video? What is your hot take? Add to the conversation in the comments sections below. I read everything.
And gave us the assignment to create a sculpture of ourselves
But my sculpture
Wasn’t like Gilmour’s at all
It was all messy cardboard
Hot glued together
It didn’t look like me
But it felt like me
When I looked into the eyes
I remembered the way I felt
My mind was all stars and night and imagination
Some part of me
Is afraid to let it go
It’s a familiar sad feeling
Like what I felt when I let go of the girl I loved
Only
This time
The person I’m letting go of
Is the person
Who made the sculpture
Years ago
When I look at this sculpture that I made in wood and mixed media class, I remember what I felt in college. So young and full of promise. That I could be anything, do anything. That I didn’t have to think about the rest of my life. Part of me always wants to go back. And it is hard to admit that that part of my life is over.
I think about this when I wait for nighttime. It is nighttime when I will see how things are going to unfold. I hope she will show me her vulnerable side, her emotional side again. The parts of her that I knew I needed in my life when I first met her. But I know, I cannot force her to be that person for me. That there is a possibility, that she won’t. That she will be closed and I’m so sad that I may have to say goodbye to the person I was when I was in love with her.
I ran with the ideas last night, of dance and music and I can say I feel extremely sad. Something about how much I miss this part of me. I feel sad about the weight I’ve been carrying around for so long. I feel sad because sadness acknowledges the pain in the world without shying away from it.
I watched this video last night:
I remember in art there is no right or wrong way to go about something. Just like in life. I feel we forget that a lot.
For some reason, I feel the desire to write stories. Here is a space for some freewriting:
A shark was washed onto the shore. That was the day when I asked my next door neighbor Amy to marry me. We were both 12 at the time. Amy was a quiet sort of girl, not shy, just took a while to think about things before she talked. When she did, she didn’t say much.
She looked at me up and down as if she was trying to size me up.
“So what do you say Amy?”
I wonder if this is how the shark felt. He was already dead when he was on shore, but his eyes seemed to look at you as if to say…well? What’s up?
“I don’t know,” Amy finally responded. Her fingers figeting.
“You don’t know?”
“Yea.”
“That’s ok!” I said. I was 12 and I felt invincible…
I feel sad because of how much of this I repressed within my self.
In terms of work, I feel I’ve done the experiment and I can officially say to myself, working on too many things at the same time does not work towards my strengths. I think I need to focus on one focus every day. If I get to a second one, then that’s good. Also, I can have many low effort progress toward every goal, but it can’t be the main focus.
In doing one main thing, I might be able to go to bed much sooner which is something of great concern to me.
She used to message me and beg me to get on to play I thought she needed me then Loved spending time together We would joke And talk about life Little things These days she plays Without me It’s me who asks And she reluctantly accepts In the game, she’s all anger and frustration She hates the game She hates the teammates She hates me And she hates herself She denied that she ever had fun with me today Says she can’t remember the last time we played That I annoy her That we need to win if we play That we just don’t work together “I like small talk,” she says about her new friends “We are too busy asking about favorite colors” “For me to be mad” I remember a time we asked each other our favorite colors I wonder if it was less special than I thought Or if her new friends are more special than me Its doubt that destroys love Not hate or anger Doubt eating away at a foundation so strong It promised forever Today I worry If I left Would she even notice Over the laughter Of her new friends
This poem is about feeling like what you thought you both cherished, only you actually cherished. That there wasn’t a connection at the level that I originally thought.
If that is actually true, I don’t feel heartbroken. Only depressed. So incredibly disappointed that everything was not as special as I thought it was. It takes me back to my dark places, wondering if anyone could truly love me.
Part of me knows it’s more complicated than that. That there is still hope for us. Still hope for me.