A Letter To Water Bottle

Dear Water Bottle,

I choke upon the digital representations of the emotional reverberations that uphold the truth that I failed to capture the look in your red lid the moment you finally realized that I would disappoint you in accomplishing a position of permanence in our relationship.  Your pretty, liquid holding, rubber stopper ring dropped open slightly the day you left, for no longer could you manifest a form of matter that mimicked that of its containments.  No longer would you stand for a lover who collapsed under the pressure to reciprocate the mutual beneficence that you so desperately craved.  You didn't need to mutter a word, darling, because I saw it all in your lid – disillusionment, aversion, nausea.  In that instance, I silently pleaded to caress your plastic, blue skin, yet instead I simply stared back at your lid as you turned away and began your journey in solitude.  However now, as I type this letter with the voice of the blessed and deceased Whitney echoing in my lonely state of desertion, I cognize the gravity of what my self-loathing, remorseful actions have done.  And as I go to sip some liquid, I quiver and shake at the sight of my reflection in the surging, unforgiving waters of Water Fountain.  Water Bottle, I cannot live like this.  It is not the same with Water Fountain.

I cannot produce a solid excuse or reason for as to why I allowed myself to know Water Fountain.  And saying "I'm sorry" scarcely seems adequate to regain your trust, love, and presence. But if you could find it within your empty shell, and I mean that in the best way, to forgive me, I promise you, I declare to you, that this will never occur again. Whatever selfish indulgence I thought I'd soak my mouth in by my imprudent deed has dissipated. All that now churns in my hollow shell, and I mean that in the worst way, reeks of guilt and a sounder resolve to be not only the drinker you wish for me to be, but to be the drinker that I myself desire to become.

I understand that I cannot comprehend how arduous it must be for you, Water Bottle, to believe in me right now, but I honestly do love you and have never loved another moist liquid provider to the same degree. In the week before my regretful sippage of Water Fountain, we became so cognizant of each other’s needs.  When I felt parched, you were there to quench my thirst – and when you felt desolate, I was there to delicately place my somewhat chapped lips on your paled hole.  It would simply be a pathetic shame for us to give up on this relationship, for we have both devoted so much of ourselves into it, that the times of joy and pleasure simply outweigh those of watery distrust.  And Water Bottle, I will defend this relationship, even if it means me receiving a cut in a class for having to preach my inner truth of my pure devotion to you in Supreme Quart.  So, sweetheart I now ask for you to return home - Water Inside My Blue Plastic Red Topped Bottle, please return to Jakey.

Eternally yours,

J. A. Kind

Frannerd - The Illustrator With a Passion for Illustrations

Frannerd is a self-described “Chilean Illustrator living in Berlin. Coffee lover, cat hugger and pencil hunter.  Vegan, saves the world from evil and bake cookies from time to time.”  I found out about Frannerd through a long exciting process.  Over spring break, I fell in love with a lovely group of British Vloggers (video bloggers.)  One major aspect of a successful Vlog is the background image the Vlogger has on their main page.  One amazing Vlogger, @essiebuttonvlog, had one of the most creative background images.  I tried to get this image, but it is protected from copying.  Anyways, the illustrator who created that background was Frannerd.  I think that is another reason why I simply love Frannerd’s simple creativity – I really had to search to find her work.  It is so different when I find an artist versus when I know about an artist from Art History or even pop culture.  I feel like I have a special, personal connection with the artist, even though with Frannerd, she literally lives on the other side of the world.  What I also really appreciate about Frannerd’s work is how simplistic and almost child-like it is; yet, her work is also so intuitive, pertaining to human form (even when that human form has an animals head.)  Additionally,

Frannerd - February 2015

Frannerd adorns her work with such light, pastel-like coloring (created from watered down watercolor,) outlined in thinned, yet bold dark lines to really characterize her creations and evoke feelings of realistic and simplistic joy.  

        - J. A. Kind

A New Addition to Thought Catalog's Catalog

Another article of mine has been published on the site.  It's about the Frenemies Complex.  And no, I do not suffer from it.  The page will appear if you magically click here.

      - J. A. Kind

The Most Flawless Couples You Don't Yet Know That You Want Shipped

Thor and Loki [Thor]

They may be brothers, but we all know that Loki is just begging for Thor to swing that hammer.

Cece and Schmidt [New Girl]

The show will never truly achieve greatness until the two are back together.  Also, let’s be honest, we all want Schmidt to be reunited with the oh so lively Harold and shy Kumar.

Ash, Misty, and Brock [Pokémon]

Don’t judge me.  There is no way that those three did not become curious while backpacking across the Kanto region.

Jimmy Fallon and Jimmy Kimmel [Late Nights]

Seth be jelly.

Rihanna and Leonardo DiCaprio [Hollywood]

Rumors are circulating!  I recently saw an article about how the two are reportedly dating.  Think of the babies.  Jesus.

Olivia and Fitz [Scandal]

I feel obligated to ship them solely based off of their emotionally riveting, midnight phone calls.  However, I am totally a Melly guy, so this goes against my inherent morals.

Dexter and Deb [Dexter]

THE SEXUAL TENSION WAS REAL.

Sarah Palin and John McCain [Alaska]

I am laughing.

Sherlock and Watson [Sherlock]

Johnlock.  The wedding almost ruined any hope left in the world, but Sherlock is still going to try to tap that even if Watson “put a ring on it.”  Damn, that song is sexist.

         - J. A. Kind

What To Do When Bored

Make weird gestures with your hands.

This is surprisingly satisfying – almost as satisfying as taking the actual key part of a car key out of the techy car key device.  If you know what I am talking about, that will make perfect sense.     

Write.

Get a pencil and paper, or some keys attached to a writing device, and let it go.

Draw.

Doodling is the best.

Look out the window.

Or look at the actual window itself.  Either way, boredom and pain will dissipate as you peer through the pane. 

Create a written language.

1325 141135 919 101315.  Write the translation in the comments.

Walk around naked.

Admit it, you do this even when you’re not bored, so why not do it while you are bored?

Meditate.

You don’t have to be a trained yogi to mediate.  Just sit comfortably and properly [so you don’t fall asleep] and be. 

Sing.

Why not?

Dance.

Do it.

Look at yourself in the mirror.

When you feel bored, or even a tad bit lousy, look at yourself in the mirror.  Concentrate.  Refuse to focus.  Be wild.  Be still.  Sometimes I do this and transform myself into a statue.  At times, I can feel as though I myself can move and my reflection will retain my previous shape. 

Sit in the dark.

Just chill there.  Let the lack of light comfort you.

Turn off the lights in a room [do this only if the room has yellow tinted lights] and turn on your computer or phone so that that device lights up the room.

The room you have known, walked in, and utilized will now have a completely different atmosphere.  Soak in the unnaturalness and ponder.  This works amazingly in a bathroom.

Wander.

Walk.  Run.  Skip.  Jump.  Climb.  Crawl.  Hover.  Fly.  Simply change your location for no apparent reason or motivation.  Be free.

       - J. A. Kind 

Art Exhibition: 10 - Untitled

Through this piece,

I wanted to 

craft a colorized caricature

of my pinterest board:

occult.

Hide and seek dominated the recreational realm of the childhood her body once experienced.  Darkness and claustrophobia strangled the trachea – she appreciated the tormented grip.  As a celibate, the younger skin of her own craved a fall.  The game, ready or not.  The plummet of the lungs and stomach at the sound of “come” shook her to the core.  Comical, is it not, that the reverberation of the collection of waves resembling the same word caught as a child, excite her to this day?  “Run,” the voices would yelp.  “Ascend one knee after another, as sweat condenses on the forehead, and vestal lips sputter in the wind.”  Let the acrylic splatter the board as the pureblooded amalgamation of live atoms hid in the game – limbs, without fail, crave the demand of application.  Appendages, games – thirst.

           - J. A. Kind

Art Exhibition: 9 - Isabel

A throwback for @isbableel.

- J. A. Kind