These iHome Headphones were Worth It

I've decided to take this blog in a different direction. Since the April 27th tornadoes and my father's passing, I'm making conscious efforts to focus primarily on the things that bring me much joy; therefore, I'll be posting things that make me happy, inspire me, humor me, entertain me, or even irritate me and give me good material to bash (that can be fun, right?). Many of my posts will come from music I discover. Many will come from photography. Many will come from my obsessive nature regarding StumbleUpon and Pinterest. Many will just come from life experiences. The ultimate goal is not to bring me happiness, yet it is to possibly come across and share something that sparks interest in someone else. Let's begin.

Last night I StumbledUpon this gem: Chell in the Rain. This is a beautiful webpage that couples music with the sounds of a rain shower. Since the tornadoes, I've been left terrified and feeling unusually vulnerable. Despite how cliché it sounds, I lived my life feeling invincible as all naïve teens do. After the storm hit and we nearly lost everything we had (including our lives - praise be to God), I realized that in the scheme of things, we are all equal. We can be taken from this earth with no notice. It's reasonable to me to feel this way.

Growing up I always loved thunderstorms. I lived through hurricanes, close calls by tornadoes, and floods. I'm extremely well-versed in all things natural disaster. Each time these events fell upon my family and me, I always felt such a thrill. It was as if I was playing a game with Mother Nature. Come to find out, this is no game. This is some serious stuff.

Back to Chell in the Rain (no clue why it's ChEll in the Rain), this page with it's peaceful picture and genius coupling of rain with music by The National (which I discuss next) reminded me of the peaceful atmosphere attributed with storms that comforted me as a child. Given I was terrified of booming thunder until I was about eight years old, rain showers always relaxed my mind, body, and soul. Sometimes StumbleUpon is just too good for me to disregard. If anyone is experiencing this weather torment, I invite you to heal with this website. You will not regret it at all.

On to the music. . . I'm pretty sure I have heard of The National before. They may have been one of those bands that somehow slipped right under my radar, but this time they were brought to the forefront of my attention. The best way I can describe them is through my "It's like blank and blank had a baby" system. It's like if Ray LaMontagne and Beirut had a baby - a musical baby that I would gladly babysit on numerous occasions. I'll post an assortment of their videos for the enjoyment of others and to save a bit of time.

Let me strum one more note before I depart. One of my pet peeves is pirating music, SO if you love what you hear (which you will), PURCHASE their music. These people are artists, and this is their career. Don't steal from them or any other artists, musicians, or actors/directors/crew. It'll be worth every penny. Enjoy.

Best wishes,

Richard W. Hébert

Forty Seconds

I hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited.

I love the way things make a resurgence in our lives. I'll take the good with the bad.

It's the strange feeling that you get standing in line at the market when you smell something that reminds you of being a child. It doesn't have to be just being a child, but even a specific memory in your childhood. Something that once brought you happiness now brings you nostalgic sorrow. Most people would want to bottle that smell (Pushing Daisies, anyone?) and huff it until it deadens your nasal glands. For me, I want to whiff eau de Childhood, remember, and forget.

Dad taught me more French than he nor I ever realized. Allons! - Let's go.
Yes, Dad, let's go.

These peculiar memories seem to clamor at the cusp of my consciousness now more than ever. I think I slept my way through 'til now never looking at the past or present.
When your tunnel vision is set on 'future,' you lose sight of everything.

Maybe an old friend - damned clichés - stumbled back into your life. I had one do that. Now, she's my everything. See, it's a good thing.

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Ice fell from the sky today.

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Tomorrow, I promise there will be a decent post. Exhaustion is keeping me from sanity and feeling.


RWH

Regrets and Mistakes - They're Memories Made

Two months have passed. One month has passed.

Last blog post. My father's passing. Respectively.

I'm dreaming with a broken heart.

He'll never see me graduate college.

He'll never see my dreams come true.

He'll never hug me again.

He'll never tell me a dumb joke that I can judge him over.

He'll never leave me another voicemail.

He'll never know how much I loved him.

He'll never forgive me for everything.

He'll never spend another Mardi Gras with me.

He'll never tell me the same story over that he's told me a million times.

He'll never yell at me again.

He'll never brag about me again.

He'll never compliment my photography.

He'll never be on the other end of the phone.

He'll never say he's proud of me again.

He'll never see my final project.

He'll never be there for my mental health days.

He'll never watch a shitty movie with me again.

He'll never see me grow up.

He'll never see my impact on this world.

He'll never let me make things better.

He'll never argue with me again.

I miss you, Dad.

I'll write you letters that you'll never read.

I'll carry you with me. The weight on my heart.

I'll continue to love you.

I'll make you proud.

I'll fix everything. I always have.

I'll do my best to keep up with the world.

I'll take pictures.

I'll be there for Mom.

I'll keep truckin'.

You're gone. Forever.

I won't forget you.

I won't let you down.

I won't delete your voicemails.

I won't stop thinking about you.

I won't live without the pain of your loss.

I won't be as happy as I was.

I won't be the same person.

I won't forget where I'm from.


At some point we say goodbye. For some, it's easier. For some,  it eats at their hearts.
We'll make do with what we have, but what we have is much less.




Goodbye, Dad.




RWH

I Walk the Line

I grieve quietly. I'll blog quietly.

Never am I one who mourns for an extended length of time. Never am I one who searches for sympathy. I guarantee you that almost no one here knows that a dear, dear friend of mine passed away yesterday morning.

I had a discussion after I broke down in tears yesterday at work with my boss (I was mortified by my public explosion of emotion). He called me into his office to talk to me (or more of me talk to him). He wanted to "check" on me. I appreciate his efforts greatly, but he told me something that I've been told a million times over. "I don't want you to suffer alone. If you need anything, I'm here, we're (referring to my office friends) here."

I CHOOSE to 'suffer alone,' as people call it. This is how I cope. Give me music. Give me a piece of paper so I can make something of it. Give me a couple tears. Give me a phone call with a loved one. Give me stupid humor. Give me a cherished memory of the one who passed away. I'm fine.

I wish when I told people, "I'm fine," that they would believe me. The way I survive in this life is to push pain aside. Like a snow plow, I'll just blow through the sadness and move on with my life. There is no other way I know to manage emotions.

I worry more about the other people than I worry about myself. I worry about his mom, his dad, his brother, his family, our friends. I worry about the people he will never impact the way he impacted so many in his short time here.

Things I love that I will never take for granted in this short time we have...

I love love. I love life. I love my family. I love my friends. I love my school. I love the air. I love the trees. I love my camera. I love smiling. I love laughing. I love music. I love my bestest friend. I love the first day of a new season. I love my pillows. I love my mom. I love my dad. I love my brother. I love letters. I love handwriting. I love color. I love water. I love nature. I love watching what people can do. I love red hair. I love dimples. I love newspapers. I love kaleidoscopes. I love thinking. I love feeling. I love dogs. I love puppies. I love Florence + the Machine.

I love being happy. I choose to be happy. I was born happy. I'm a happy soul. Perhaps my happiness will nudge its way into the beings of others. That'd make me happy.

I want to leave anyone out there who is sad with something that made me happy when I was upset. Enjoy the beauty and splendor of Miss Florence Welch.

Pardon my rambling in this post, but things needed to be said.

No matter who you are, know that someone loves you.

AND... You've Got the Love.

RWH

Somehow I Could Find My Way Back

I have issues when people tell me that they just can't "do" art.

I hear this all of the time: "I'm just not artistic." "I can't draw or anything." "I wish I was artistic."

These statements send needles into my chest. Everyone is artistic. People get this constriction around their thoughts that I don't understand. What is everyone classifying art to be?

As someone who is dedicating (or DEBTicating, as I should say) my life to art, design, and expression, I have my own definition of what art really is. To me, art is any form of expression or transference of emotions, feelings, or thoughts in any medium.

There are the typical mediums people recognize as associated with art.

• Painting
• Sculpting
• Photography
• Drawing
• etc.

Then there are things people overlook or disregard as art.

• Music/Singing
• Architecture
• Landscaping
• Digital Media
• Floral Design (MOM)
• Letters
• Collages
• Doodles
• Fashion/Clothing
• So much more than we could ever imagine.

The only requirement for art is feeling. 

Have you ever been sad when a dog died? 

Have you ever looked at a sunrise/sunset and been taken aback? 

Have you ever seen an infant and smiled? 

Have you ever been touched and felt your heart pulsate an awkward beat? 

Have you ever loved someone so much that they're all you think about? 

Have you ever had a friend who gives your very existence its light? 

Have you ever been hurt? 

Have you been angry and had nothing you could do about it?

Have you ever watched the news and wanted to cry?

Have you ever cried?

Have you ever looked at the night sky and thought, "wow."?

Have you been so upset you could punch a wall?

Have you ever given up?

Have you ever wanted to stop living?

Have you ever heard music and a tear streaked down your face?

Have you ever felt that first day of fall or spring as the breeze blows past your skin?

Have you ever wondered what's up with that one we call 'God'?

Have you ever missed someone?

Have you ever felt? 

If you can answer, "yes," to any those questions, then you are capable of creating art.

Don't know how to make the piece of work that you feel should be made?

Rip up paper and glue it together how your hands tell you.

Make ANYTHING and DESTROY it.

Stare at a blank piece of paper until it tells you what to make (it will, I promise).

Look through a camera lens and let it guide you to its subject.

The most beautiful soul on this earth once told me something that has stayed with me ever since.

"In order to gain control, we must lose all control."

Let go. Let yourself feel. Recognize the beauty in even the smallest of things. Love.

Don't ever tell me you don't know how to "do" art. Everyone can. Everyone should.

RWH