Look for the Helpers

“When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, "Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.” - Fred Rogers

I'm seeing the Mr. Rogers quote floating around Facebook and couldn't agree more with the sentiment. Tragedies like this make us feel helpless, especially if we're far away from home. The smallest way to help is to remember the heroes of this event, not the villains.

As we recoil from the initial phase of shock, it's tempting to cope with this anger and grief by going on a witch-hunt. But please (and this extends to the media, too, since they are monitoring us through 3rd-party ads): Do not put a face to the insects behind the explosions. Do not ask why it happened, what drove them to it, whether their parents loved them or what hot-button disorder they may have had. Discussion is the source of their power.

The people whose lives we must follow in detail are the ones who helped in this tragedy. As Fred Rogers would say, "Find the helpers." Especially Carlos Arredondo, who can be seen in another photo circulating on Reddit as he holds a tourniquet for a runner whose legs were removed by the blast. (To avoid stirring up panic, I won't link to any fear-mongering news stories) What a bad-ass.

I ran out of eloquence. Here is a turtle eating mashed potatoes.

For all you jazzers

What started as an inside joke between friends has finally been realized. Here are my lyrics to the jazz tune Freddie Freeloader. I also wrote the words for the first chorus of the piano solo.

Submission to arthuroutofcontext.tumblr.com

Stocking Stuffer

Science

Phantom Time Theory

My friend asked me to draw a comic for her project on the Phantom Time Theory, a fascinating theory you can find more information on here.

Single Flower in the Herb Beds Outside a Wegman's

Labyrinth Mug

A later chapter.

I've developed a habit of leaving or avoiding situations in which I feel worthless. Last night was my friend's housewarming party. Her roommates brought their friends too, but since they were all drunk and my friends weren't, it was hard for me to strike up a conversation. My friends commandeered the couch while the roommates and their friends filled up the staircase and the doorway, until there were too many people in the room and my friends moved to the kitchen. But I had to stay in the living room because there were chips and guacamole in the kitchen and I didn't want to eat in front of my attractive male friends, or they would realize I was fat. The unfamiliar roommates moved to the couch. I sat in the corner between the couch and the wall. I felt better because no one could see me, but then some more of my friends' roommates' friends walked through the door, and the hostess (who was drunk) waved her hand at all the people in the room to introduce everyone, and when she got to me she stopped, because she didn't know my name, and told everyone to drink and get some food in the kitchen. The newcomers looked at me like I was a huge mold spot on the wall, then joined the drunken antics. Then two of my friends came in and waved at everyone, and my friend Michelle said "Emma! What are you doing in the corner?" And I laughed and said "oh, just... sitting." Then everyone sort-of laughed but starting eyeing me, like, who was I and why WAS I sitting in the corner? Then I wondered, Why AM I sitting in the corner? So I got up, slipped into the kitchen, grabbed my wine and headed out the door.
Two of my friends and my friend's roommates were outside smoking a cigarette. "Oh, going home already?" my friend asked. "Yeah, I'm kind of tired," I said. oh my god such a lame excuse. "Aw, well that's okay, you probably have plans tomorrow and it's getting late," she said.
It was 10:30.

Gems from the Teenage Songbooks

I found my "Demo CD" from 10th grade. You can tell it cost nothing to produce because it was recorded onto a blank cassette using a karaoke machine. It stroked my ego to hear myself fingerpick like Captain Hook and try to belt using head voice. I've come a long way. I *was* actually proud of my teenage self for competently composing ditties to match every typical guitar gesture (blues, E major/minor thing, I-V-vi-IV).
But the lyrics... dear God.

I'll take a road trip just to find out if you're still alive
Let me help you out of your bottomless pit and we'll drive,
Drive.

Boy I don't care, I like you just the way you are
No need to see what people look like when they're in the dark.

Then, when I thought the last track ended, there was MORE!
Turns out I'd recorded my 10th grade demo over my 9th grade demo.
In these songs, I lacked one much-needed year of classical training. So. Nasally. *Shudder*
Lyrically, I wasn't even trying to be deep. I didn't even know there was a deep end in the pool. This is raw teenage experience, right here.

Like this song, dedicated to my crush's mother:

Even though he's almost gone,
I hope to say this someday as your daughter in law.
And though after this song he'll think I'm creepy,
and he'll hate me,
Could you pass the message along?

Here's one I penned for my friends after spending the summer at an arts camp:
All of our relationships are sticky love triangles
You can tell by the slug mark on your face
And that's just who we are,
We're Theatre People
And when we get offstage we have a polygonal embrace.

And this one, about a girl who didn't like me:
We both know I haven't liked your cousin since 2004.
Whatever this is couldn't be half as bad if it weren't for
your Mindset For Revenge
Try to avenge for things that don't even matter
Did I take away your spotlight
Did I hide you from sight
And turn you to a Green-Eyed Monster,
Waiting to kill me?