I feel bad for artists.

Any artist.
Designers, painters, musicians, you name it.

Not a lot of people get their work.
Not a lot of people appreciate all of the hours put into that project plus all the hours of practice needed to get that technique; all of that detail they managed to create, all of the things they had to do to get final result.

I mean, don’t get me wrong, there are people out there who are great enthusiasts of art. But art, even in its most minimalistic form, is sometimes not stopped and admired.
And that really sucks.

Support local artists. Attend museum exhibits. Encourage these wonderful creators.

the first night after my first play

I just discovered these pictures in my google drive.

(He shared them with me.)

It was after the opening night of the first play I’ve ever been on.

He went both days to support me.

I really, really, really do like this guy.

And I think he likes me.

(Even with all of my makeup, haha)

I have the best boyfriend.

Pictures date March 28, 2015.

she just knew.

If you read the post I wrote about being in a hospital, you might remember that I was there accompanying my grandfather.

I wrote that entry on May 29; he passed away June 11.

We were sad. We cried – so much. We still do sometimes, secretly, in moments.

We knew it had to happen, like it does with everyone else in life.

Grandpa – an amazingly strong man – and I were two hours away from our hometown. When the doctors told us it was time to come say our goodbyes, everyone gathered.

I know this might sound strange, but a couple of days before this happened, our Chihuahua, Angie, did not leave my grandmother’s side, not even for a second, not even when my sister called her. She didn’t even leave the room where my grandpa lived for a while in.

It was as if she knew we were sad and that something was about to happen.

I took this photography of her with my grandmother. And seeing it makes me think of those times again.

diana mini 2 26

I treasure it.

It shows that even these little creatures know more than we know. She really did feel my grandmother’s sadness. And ours.