consider.

Paint My Skin

I'm planning on writing more for this :) 

I should start listening to more rock music, lately it's all been like... pretty or sad (mostly both) or idk? pop and jazzy? Occasionally youtube will be like haha remember Pierce the Veil or I don't know Waterparks and like... no, but thanks for reminding me, but then I go and listen to Teddy Hyde or dodie (bless her tbh) 

Anywho. You know the drill by now! Song is unrelated, it's just what I'm listening to right now. 

There's something incredibly magical about Latin. You could say something like, Cogito, ergo sum, and while the meaning sounds equally charming in modern day English, there's something about an old, mystical language that makes it that much sharper.

It's a favorite of mine: cogito ergo sum. I think, therefore I am.

Incepto ne desistam. Enterprise should not be deterred. Simply put, may I not shrink from my purpose.

Famously, carpe diem. Seize the day.

Friends, family, loved ones, dearest darlings: this is the worst possible advice to give someone like me.

My school has a habit of picking up strange staff. An example of this is my favorite teacher: Mr. Willson. A quirky man, always buzzing with an excitable and busy energy. He can be oddly intense, and easily spooks students and staff off. But at least he's never boring, and his classes are always fun. You never know what you're going to get once you walk in.

Like now, as I walk into sixth period art, my last period of the day, I have to dodge the wooden stick hanging low in the doorway. Mr. Willson is holding one end and standing up on an old, creaky ladder.

"Excellent reflexes, Lucile!" he cries, smiling.

"Thank you. I quite like my head where it is. May I ask why you're trying to change that?"

"No reason, no rea-" Mr. Willson cuts himself off, and stares at the wooden stick intensely. For several moments, he's still and quiet. Then, he picks up where he left off like nothing happened. It's a little freaky at first but after a month or so you get used to it. "son. I was thinking of a new piece, and holding this here-" he wiggles the stick and suddenly flings it to the opposite side of the classroom, "was the only way it would come to me. Don't you think?"

I drop my bag to the floor, humming. "If it works for you, man."

I know by the time I respond his mind is already off and racing to the next project. Mr. Willson jumps off the ladder and shoves it further against the wall. Pats the side lightly, and strolls to where he threw the stick.

"You should get a new one." I say. Mr. Willson isn't invincible, and frankly it looks like touching it would knock it apart. Time and time again he steps on to it with no hesitation, and time and time again the class will be swept into silence, and the tension becomes thick enough to cut.

"A new what, dear?" he asks, fiddling with the thumbtacks lined up neatly on his desk. I can't tell you how many times I've nearly jammed one right into my hand.

"A new ladder. One day you're going to step on to it, and it'll fall apart. You could get hurt, you know."

Mr. Willson fixes his gaze on me. Says in an even, clear voice and unbreaking eye contact, "A life lived without risks is hardly a life lived at all. Whether it be janky ladders or prickled skin from the tacks I refuse to move from their rightful place. As I've said before, and will say again, carpe diem. I've never lived a dull day in my life."

And he returns to his tacks. My fifth period had gotten out early, so I got in a few minutes before the bell. It rings shrilly, and students begin to file into the classroom. 

I like Mr. Willson. He's a weirdo and fun to write. I think I'm gonna make Lucile like... some kind of magical? Haven't decided yet! 

Cheers loves, 

Jay :)