I have been working constantly on my New Portfolio for potential clients & employers for the past two days. I have to say, I’m pretty happy with how it’s turning out so far. Check it out if you feel so inclined!
NEW PORTFOLIO
graphic design, jessica johnston, portfolio, web design
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I am lovesick with this much sorrow.
Teach me to speak this new mother tongue.
Show me how to memorize
who I can never forget
what they gave and what is gone,
and what we were owed
by a world robbed of their presence.
Hold me by the edges
for I am coming apart.
— Kate Bowler, The Lives We Actually Have
There is a time in life when you expect the world to be always full of new things. And then comes a day when you realise that is not how it will be at all. You see that life will become a thing made of holes. Absences. Losses. Things that were there and are no longer. And you realise, too, that you have to grow around and between the gaps...
— Helen Macdonald, H is for Hawk
The reality is that you will grieve forever. You will not ‘get over’ the loss of a loved one; you will learn to live with it. You will heal, and you will rebuild yourself around the loss you have suffered. You will be whole again, but you will never be the same. Nor should you be the same, nor would you want to.
— Elisabeth Kubler-Ross
And once again, packed like frozen food and battery hens
Think of all the starving millions
Don't talk politics and don't throw stones
Your royal highnesses
Well of course I'd like to sit around and chat
Well of course I'd like to stay and chew the fat
Well of course I'd like to sit around and chat
But someone's listening in
We are
Born like this
Into this
Into these carefully mad wars
Into the sight of broken factory windows of emptiness
Into bars where people no longer speak to each other
Into fist fights that end as shootings and knifings
Born into this
Into hospitals which are so expensive that it’s cheaper to die
Into lawyers who charge so much it’s cheaper to plead guilty
Into a country where the jails are full and the madhouses closed
Into a place where the masses elevate fools into rich heroes
The longer she lived in San Viejo, the more she appreciated the kind of things that went with living. Like having a window open when you slept, and grass, and tortillas. Being happy when people came to visit, and being happy when they left. The way certain things felt wonderful when you held them in your hands: a book, an ax, a baby, a beer, a big-ass pile of M&M’s.
Do not stand
At my grave and weep
I am not there,
I do not sleep.
I am a thousand
Winds that blow,
I am the diamond
Glints on snow.
I am the sunlight
On the ripened grain.
I am the gentle
Autumn’s rain.
When you awaken
In the morning hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet bird in
Circled flight.
I am the soft stars
That shine at night.
Do not stand
At my grave and cry.
I am not there.
I did not die.
— Hopi Prayer, Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep
This grief is too much to bear.
If there was a tight order to the world that you made, it’s come unspooled and no one will wind it up again.
God, I feel it coming, that ache for the stories that will never be told. And an anger rising when i remember what never should have been.
— Kate Bowler, The Lives We Actually Have