Poeaxtry's Poetry Prism

Spell. Stone. & Sparks that Ignite Change

Category: daily writing prompts

  • 30 Things That Make Me Happy especially if I’m Fried

    30 Things That Make Me Happy especially if I’m Fried

    List 30 things that make you happy.

    I don’t wake up every day smiling. Life’s not that kind. But even on my worst day. The one where the burn-out threatens to walk away. The overstimulated days, when even thoughts are too much. The “why the hell am I even doing this” days. I know joy still lives in me. It’s not always some big outrageous show. Often it is quiet and small. Unhinged. Chaotic. Soft. Real.

    The following is my attempt at giving at least some of them names(no particular order).

    1. My partner Kelso, and the life we built together It isn’t perfect, and we never wanted perfect anyway. What we’ve got is real. It’s soft, it’s loud, it’s safe, it’s feral, it’s growing. They see me in ways that no one else does, and they stay. That alone makes this entire messy ride feel like something worth holding onto. I’d build this weird-ass little world again with them every time.

    2. My mom and everything she stood for, taught me, and lived by. She wasn’t the kind of person you forget. She loved out loud, stood her ground, held her people up and never backed down from what she stood on. What she believed, she lived, and what she lived, she passed to me whether she meant to or not. Some days I hear her in the way I talk to people. Other days I see her in the mirror. She’s gone, but her backbone is stitched into mine.

    3. My sisters, even if they will grey me early. They’re twins and always have been chaos. A just shy of a decade younger and somehow one acts older half the time. They have always known every button to push, and they push them with glee. But underneath all that noise, there’s a kind of loyalty and bond that’s built into the marrow. They were annoying and loud and infuriating but so very irreplaceable.

    4. My friends, past and present I’m not one of those “cut off forever” people. Even if we fell out, even if we haven’t talked in years, even if the love had to turn silent. It was and is still love. Some folks just can’t sit at my table anymore or ever again. Doesn’t mean I don’t wish them well from way over here.

    5. My dog Luna and the kitty men. There’s no part of my life untouched by my animals. Luna’s nose on my hand when I’m crying. The cats headbutting me for attention Luna pulling me through dirt paths lined with tree after I’ve worked three doubles. They remind me to eat. To stop. To breathe. To laugh. That kind of love is pure.

    6. When different minorities come together despite our differences. Watching Black, brown, Indigenous, disabled, neurodivergent, queer, trans folks stand beside each other is freeing, instead of fighting for scraps. This is by far one of the most healing things I’ve witnessed. There’s something sacred about that kind of alliance. It doesn’t erase pain, but it makes space for all of us.

    7. Pop punk, especially Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco, and all those dope-ass covers from Punk Goes pop/Country/rock/etc. That shit raised me. I was a hoodie-and-headphones kid, screaming lyrics into the void like they were gospel. I still blast it driving through Ohio backroads,and it feels as if the ghosts of my teenage self is riding shotgun. The first album I remember asking for was definitely “From Under the Cork Tree.”

    8. Poetry, literature, journaling… language in all its forms. I don’t always know how to say things out loud, but I always find a way to write it. Words don’t always make sense when I speak them. When I write they land. They hold space. Take your breath and then they finally breathe.

    9. Hiking, rockhounding, exploring new places or old, it doesn’t matter. Sometimes I just need to wander. Whether it’s a trail I’ve walked a dozen times or a new spot I found on a whim, there’s peace in the motion. In the quiet. In the discovery. Especially when I’m out rockhounding in Ohio and stumble across a fossil or pocket of quartz.

    10. When I am turning rock finds into something beautiful There’s something powerful in taking something raw and jagged from the ground and shaping it into a polished, glimmering little thing. Tumbling, slicing, sanding it’s not just a hobby. It’s transformation. I’ve pulled creekside stones from Wheeling, West Virginia and turned them into altar pieces.

    11. Spirituality, witchcraft, and nature None of its performative. It’s grounding. It’s ritual. It’s the hum I hear when I’m still enough to listen. My practice isn’t about aesthetics, it’s about stitching the world back together in a way that makes sense to me.

    12. My residents, past present and future. They’ve seen more than I ever will. Even when they forget my name. Even when they’re mean. Even when I’m stretched too thin and they’re dying in front of me. They’re still people worth knowing. And I’m honored every damn time I get to know them.

    13. Some of the nurses and aides I’ve worked with over the years. Not all, not most, but my few homies. The ones who get it? They become your lifeline. They joke with you, cry with you, hold the line with you. They’re the ones keeping it all afloat when the higher-ups are just checking boxes. And if you’re lucky enough you’re able to extend a lot of that beyond work.

    14.. Geek Bars… the banana taffy is the one. Yes, it’s nicotine. Yes, it’s artificial. No, I don’t care. Banana taffy is joy in vapor form.

    15. Weeds, flowers, carts, edibles, all of it Indica or hybrid, please and thank you. My brain’s already an overclocked mess; I’m not trying to blast off with a sativa. I just want to calm down and breathe again.

    16. The mountains and their views, the air, the cold streams in North Carolina. Even when I am driving through the southeastern Ohio hills or heading down past Yellow Springs, the landscape changes your chest. The air is sharper. Cleaner. The water’s so cold it feels holy. I feel more me up there. Well honestly anywhere in nature.

    17. Video games, especially Far Cry and Fortnite. I want story, chaos, bright colors, explosions, and weird-ass side missions. Far Cry’s my jam, and Fortnite’s my candy. And I love to use emotes to be extra sassy!

    18. Long drives with good music. Whether I’m chasing sunsets through Ohio or driving toward nowhere just to move, those drives are my church. Sometimes it’s just me and Luna. Other times, it’s the right people. The destination isn’t always the point. The feeling is.

    19. Yellow. Just the color yellow. It’s been my favorite forever. It feels like a mood lifeline. As if I can’t quite sink if I can still see yellow.

    20.. Kayaking, Whether I’m out on the lakes or on the river trails back home in Wheeling, WV, there’s something about floating. Something about being held by the water, that quiets me. That realigns me.

    21.. My partner’s family. They didn’t just tolerate me, they welcomed me. My sisters-in-law, my niece, my nephew… they feel like people I was supposed to know all along.

    22. Reptiles, amphibians, snakes I’ll die on the hill that snakes have personalities. The texture of a lizard’s skin, the slow blink of a gecko, the vibe of a chill ball python all beautiful. And something’s that bring me joy. That’s connection.

    23. Studying religion and history. Not to argue or prove anything. Just to know. Just to understand what’s shaped the world, and why.

    24.. My Honda Civic. It was my mom’s favorite car make, but to me? That thing is freedom. Reliable, efficient, mine. Honda gang for life.

    25.. Early morning hours before the world wakes. That weird liminal time between 4 a.m. and sunrise, when everything is quiet and painted in slow pinks and oranges? That’s my peace. That’s when the noise quiets.

    26. Hoodie and shorts weather Hot legs, cold arms. Chill breeze, sunny sky. Perfection. Classic ADHD comfort combo.

    27. A good bookbag Give me one with secret pockets and big compartments and the ability to carry rocks and snacks and my journal. I’ll never stop hunting for the perfect one.

    28. Etnies, PacSun, Hot Topic, Spencer’s all the early 2000s alt mall-core. Yea I am still a poser, still proud. That was my era. And every time I wear some chunky skater shoes or a black hoodie with chains? I’m home.

    29. Yellow Springs, Ohio The energy in that town is unmatched. It’s weird, welcoming, radical, artistic, it feels like a pocket of the world where I can just be.

    30. Scary books and horror movies, especially splatterpunk and realistic gore Give me the anatomy right. Give me blood that makes sense. I don’t want shiny CGI. I want words that paint images so vivid they feel like memory. Horror is how I process.

    Joy doesn’t have to be big. It doesn’t have to be pretty. It doesn’t even have to make sense to anyone but me.It is simply holding a smooth piece of quartz I found in an Ohio stream. And it’s yelling emo lyrics into the wind on a backroad. Sometimes it’s Luna licking my face when I can’t get out of bed.

    All of that is real. All of that is joy. And all of that is enough.

    Links ko-fi

  • The Habit That Makes Me Happiest: Adventuring

    The Habit That Makes Me Happiest: Adventuring

    Describe one habit that brings you joy.

    There’s no better way to clean off the week like dirt under your nails and sunburn on your shoulders. Fresh freckles on my cheeks and nose, but that’s nothing new. No version of peace that beats the kind you find halfway down a trail, ready to see the car, as much as you were the view. A fossil in one hand and your dog always remaining leashed by your side.

    I don’t vacation for typical relaxation. I adventure. I explore. I curate memories, things at one point were but a dream.

    I don’t check into resorts. I throw a sleeping bag into the backseat and head for whichever trail, lake, ridge, or overlook is calling loudest. I don’t go places to unwind like you’d expect. I go places to become more alive. The woods are not a break from life. They are life. The oceans, seas, deserts, mountains, plains, rivers, and lakes all offer beauty. You have to be willing to go deeper.

    Adventuring is the one habit that makes me happiest because it folds everything I love into one experience: gathering, building, creating, feeling, moving, being. It’s my relationship with the world, my self-care, my work, my worship, my art, and my rest. Yes, all at once. And sometimes separately.

    When I head out, I’m not just walking. I’m searching ways to make what’s around of use. I search for bones to clean and keep, herbs to dry and use(locally grown or to plant my own), flowers to press into pages. I’m rock hounding, fossil hunting, kneeling down in red dirt, eyes scanning every inch for something ancient to bring home. I don’t just collect. I connect. These aren’t souvenirs. These are materials, memories, tools, altarpieces, offerings. Even turning items into finished store products.

    When I kayak, it’s not a sport, it’s a baptism. Gliding over still water surrounded by trees is a kind of peace hard to match. My phone’s off. The only sound is the paddle and the wind. If you’re lucky sometimes a heron lifting off from the reeds will share his majestic beauty. I’ve found pieces of myself in those silent stretches of lake that I didn’t even know I’d lost.

    When I hike, I’m in conversation, with the land, with myself, and with something older than both. I might be alone. I might be with my dog, who doesn’t just walk with me, she teaches me to stop, and to watch. Or I’m with a friend, the kind who knows how to move in rhythm with the land and say everything without speaking. Even in moments we fill with loudness and goofiness the deeper meaning isn’t lost on us.

    Camping is something I’ve done all my life. It started as a family thing when I was a kid, and it never left me. Now, I want to start camping rustically.Right now I have always paid for a campsite and pitch my tent like it’s home for the time being. Sometimes it’s a hammock strung up on two trees. I have typically always camped with friends (when not family) laughing around a fire, sharing stories under the stars, cooking simple meals that somehow always taste better outside. I love camping in every form it takes. I love the rhythm of it, the setup, the simplicity, the quiet. I plan to do a lot more of it because it’s one of the few places where I feel completely myself, without noise, without pressure, just present.

    When I forage, I do it with reverence. Herbs aren’t just ingredients, they’re living history. I gather with care and intention, never taking more than I should, always thanking the plant and the place. I also always leave behind an offering. Some herbs go into spells, some into bundles, some into zines or handmade kits. I’ve blended wild mint and clover into teas. I’ve used dried mugwort for protection work. Every sprig, every root has a role.

    Bones, too, when and if I find them, are sacred. I don’t take death lightly. When I gather bone, it’s with deep respect. Cleaned properly, they become part of my altar or are used as symbols in ritual or art. Each one carries weight. Each one tells a story I want to honor.

    I press flowers like love notes. I stash them between paper scraps and books, wait weeks, and then pull them out as offerings, to beauty, to memory, to whoever needs that small, delicate piece of magic. Those pressed pieces end up in journals, zines, altars, even product packaging. They’re remnants of a day I lived fully and chose to remember. I started keeping a flower journal on my last trip, and hope to continue that tradition on future trips.

    Everything I find out here becomes something. Nothing goes to waste. I don’t need stores. I need open fields. I don’t need supplies shipped in plastic! I need time in wild places with my hands in the dirt and a bag full of whatever the land is ready to give me.

    My creative work lives because I adventure. My business exists because I go out, gather, and make. Zines, ebooks, wind chimes , raw or tumbled stones, spell pouches, poetic extras, almost all of my items come from what I collect on these trips. Not just objects, but moments.

    This habit doesn’t just make me happy. It is happiness. Which is honestly how it became my business. I want to do what I love, and fill it with love.

    It saves me money. It gives me everything I need. It lets me spend real time with my dog and my friends without distractions, without pressure. It keeps me off screens. It gives me room to think and space to breathe.

    It lets me be a poet in love with the world. And I don’t mean that metaphorically.

    I treat the wilderness the way poet treats a muse: obsessively, gently, worshipfully. I follow it, I wait for it, I let it change me. I bring it offerings and ask for nothing back, but somehow it always gives me more than I came for.

    I know its moods. I listen when it’s quiet. I celebrate when it’s loud. I show up even when it doesn’t feel like showing off.

    Adventuring isn’t my escape from the world. See through my eyes and you see, it’s how I enter it.

    So no I don’t vacation in the typical sense. I go out to plug into the only thing that ever really matters to me: the land, the stories it tells, and the way I get to become part of them.

    If you’ve ever wondered what kind of life you’d build if you let the wilderness guide you, this is mine. Not perfect. Not polished. But full of magic, movement, meaning, and dirt. Always, always dirt.

    Links Coffee a song?

    Hiking? Hocking?

  • How Do You Sleep at Night After your hypocrisy?

    How Do You Sleep at Night After your hypocrisy?

    What are you curious about?

    I’ve worn a lot of faces people projected onto me.

    Straight girl. Dyke. Butch. Femme. Delicate. Dangerous. Confused. Attention-seeking. Pervert. Confused again.

    Now: trans man, neurodivergent, loud, too political, somehow “too much” and “not enough” at the same time. And still confused.

    I’ve seen all sides of this thing. I’ve watched people turn their heads when it wasn’t their kind of pain.

    I’ve been told I’m part of the family until I say one true thing too loud, and then suddenly I’m disposable. I’ve lived through poverty so deep it rewires your brain. Go check out some of wheeling and tell me I didn’t. I’ve held my breath through trauma stacked on top of survival stacked on top of systems that were never built for me.

    And somehow… even after all of that,

    I still can’t understand how any marginalized person can weaponize power the minute they get a little of it. I’m really asking here. How do you explain away your bigotry when you are still locked out? You do get that don’t you?

    What mental gymnastics do you have to perform to make it okay when you’re doing it? Do you think you’re “just being realistic”? Do you call it “nuance”? Is it a kind of safety? Self-protection? Power-lust? Do you feel it when you do it? When you side with the abuser? Do you understand the excuses you used are the same ones used against you?

    When you push down someone even further beneath you in the pecking order you swore you didn’t believe in?Do you sleep easier with that boot on your foot instead of on your throat?

    Because me…

    I still flinch when I hear certain words come out of certain mouths. Even if the words are none of my concern. I still scan rooms for exits. I still don’t fully know what it’s like to feel safe in public as just myself.

    I still shake when someone tries to take my humanity and dress it up like a political debate. I will always live in intersectionality whether I want to or not. I can’t peel off my gender’s history or identity. I can’t unlive being poor. I can’t “grow out of” neurodivergence. I didn’t choose to be a minority from multiple directions. Though, there is no problem with existing as you are.

    But I also never chose to become like the ones who tried to erase me. So again, I’m asking:

    What does that feel like, when you know better and still choose worse? When you say you care about justice but it stops at your reflection? When your version of progress leaves entire groups behind? When you build your acceptance off someone else’s erasure?

    Do you look in the mirror and think:

    “This is what survival made me”?

    Or are you still calling it pride?

    Because here’s the truth:

    I know what it feels like to be left out of even the most “inclusive” movements. I know what it feels like to be used as proof of diversity while being erased in every real decision. I know what it feels like to be expected to understand everyone else’s pain while mine is mocked or ignored! And I’ve never once, not once, thought that meant I should make anyone else feel the same.

    So again. Color me curious. Genuinely. What do you tell yourself to make it okay when you silence others, shame others, turn your back on people you once stood beside?How do you justify it? What stories do you spin to soothe your guilt? If you even feel it!

    Because me? I still carry the names of those I watched suffocate. I still carry the weight of what was done to me. But I also carry the weight of what I refuse to do to anyone else. And I wonder if you ever think about that, when your feet are wearing the boots now.

    And I’m losing my breath underneath it.

    Links Portfolio uhhh discord?

    Let’s hike? Read a poem?

    Feeling emotional?

  • Still Growing: How I’d Describe Myself, Honestly

    Still Growing: How I’d Describe Myself, Honestly

    How would you describe yourself to someone?

    Describing yourself to someone else isn’t always easy and especially when you’re made of a million pieces. Some are polished like my tumbled stones and some still lost in stage’s in-between. Some of my pieces sit quietly. Though, most are able to be heard well before being seen. If you really want to know me, here’s what I’d say:

    I’m a transgender man, a poet and a brother. I am someone who’s lived more lives than years and still chooses love every time. I’m a little wild around the edges but hold a huge interests is things bigger than myself. I’m the kind of person who sees beauty in broken things and meaning in the mundane. A rockhound, literally and metaphorically speaking. I find clarity in chaos and treasures in the dirt. I’ve always found peace in nature’s small wonders, whether it’s a strange fossil in a ohio, a waterfall along the road in North Carolina, a field of wildflowers, or the hush of a quiet morning with no one around.

    I’m a pet dad and an animal lover through and through. My heart stays full because of the furry ones that trust me to protect and care for them. I’m a fiancé, a son, a momma’s boy in every way that matters, and someone who’s learned how to carry a big heart inside even bigger walls. They exist not to keep people out forever, but to make sure what comes in is real and worthy.

    I work as an STNA in Ohio. It’s an honest job that reminds me daily of the fragility and strength of being human. I’m queer and neurodivergent, which means I see the world differently in many ways. Sometimes my thoughts drift, sometimes I hyperfocus, sometimes I forget where I was going mid-sentence. I call it my squirrel, but I always circle back to what matters. I’m easily amused, deeply emotional, and hard to knock down for good.

    I call it like I see it. And I know I am one hundred percent not for everyone. I don’t lie about who I am. I’ve survived abuse, addiction, mental illness, and more than my fair share of days that almost ended me. And yet I’m still here still as ever curious, still kicking, and still kayaking down rivers like they owe me answers. I’ve always loved a little danger, a little chaos, and a lot of loudness. Pop-punk is home for me: shouty lyrics, raw feelings, and the unapologetic right to feel everything too much.

    I’m an activist, not because it’s trendy, but because silence has never saved anybody. I believe in showing up for all people, for justice, for love, especially if it’s hard. I support human rights because mine have been denied, delayed, and debated too many times not to.

    And above all else, I’m a human being. I am not a checklist of identities or a walking experience for others to analyze. Just a person doing his best with what life’s handed him. I laugh, I mess up, I start over, I love hard, and sometimes I fall apart. The best part? I keep showing up. And I hope that counts for something. I will always.

    So, how would I describe myself? I’m someone still in motion. I am actively making space in a world that wasn’t built for people like me, but damn sure isn’t ready for what I bring to the table either. I’m full of contradictions, full of love, and full of fight. And if you don’t get it… well, keep it cute, or put it on mute.

    Links. Discord. A song

    Another prompt

  • If I Won 2 Free Plane Tickets: Straight to Sydney, Baby

    If I Won 2 Free Plane Tickets: Straight to Sydney, Baby

    If you won two free plane tickets, where would you go?

    Sydney, Australia.

    Because I wanna see the Great Barrier Reef in person before it’s just a footnote in history.

    Exploring the outback.

    Exploring the outback, where the ground looks like Mars and the sky’s a painting.

    Adventures through the outback, where every rock hides a fossil, a geode, or a mildly venomous surprise.

    In the outback, where I can spot emus, cassowaries, and kangaroos. Though, they might square up like it’s Fight Club: Marsupial Edition.

    Wondering the outback, because I want to walk where Aboriginal stories were carved into stone thousands of years ago.

    Exploring the outback offers unique experiences. I might see a bush fire glow in the distance. A koala chilling in eucalyptus. I would probably come across a meteor crater I wasn’t expecting.

    Oh to explore the outback. Discovering the lush Daintree Rainforest. Just think to visit the Twelve Apostles along the Great Ocean Road. Don’t miss the Blue Mountains near Sydney.

    Exploring beaches, ones that are wild and empty and perfect for screaming existential thoughts into the surf.

    Exploring tide pools is fascinating. So is exploring reef flats. at least I imagine so. Those gnarly rock formations look like they were made by a fantasy game designer.

    We are exploring the coastline. We hope to see a reef shark or a sea turtle. Maybe we will spot a saltwater crocodile (from a safe-ass distance, obviously).

    Did I mention exploring yet? And beaches? And reptiles?

    Oh yeah and “the dingo ate my baby” (too soon? Come on I was not even alive when that happened).

    links. portfolio. coffee. discord

    Prompt? Journal? Hike? Poem?

  • Future Travel Plans: Permit Hikes, Rockhounding, and Yearly Return to WNC

    Future Travel Plans: Permit Hikes, Rockhounding, and Yearly Return to WNC

    What are your future travel plans?

    Every year, without fail, I make a point to return to western North Carolina, usually in January (before this year). To see my sister It was a personal promise, to my mom. Now it is a form of spiritual maintenance, and something I know will never change unless my sister moves. The Blue Ridge Mountains are already calling me back, and I’ve been home less than a week. Yet I already know I will answer. Still, before WNC see’s me, I have several other trips locked in that I’m really excited about.

    Trip one:

    On August 7th, 2025, I’ll be exploring permit only hikes in and around Hocking Hills, Ohio. This will consist of us completing three out of four of the permit-only areas. I’ve been approved already, and the sign-up is free on the Ohio DNR website. My buddy and her little kiddo will be joining me. We’ll be exploring Boch Hollow specifically Laurel Falls, Little Rocky Hollow, and the Saltpetre Cave State Nature Preserve. These aren’t your typical walk-in hikes. They’re protected, limited-access preserves that need permits to guarantee the safety of the biodiverse natural areas. I’m incredibly grateful to understand and respect the importance of maintaining the natural ecosystem’s integrity. Permits in Ohio are mainly for monitoring foot traffic. They help preserve these specific biodiversity areas and preserves.

    Trip Two

    Just a few days later, on August 12th, I’ll be heading up to Cuyahoga Valley National Park (CVNP) in Cleveland. I’m meeting up with a friend to explore for the day. The Ledges Trail is already on the itinerary. We plan to fill the day with more stops inside CVNP. Then we’ll explore along Lake Erie afterward. There’s potential to do rock hounding. I’m hoping to discover some lake-worn treasures. I even find fossils during the visit. As well as definitely chasing some waterfalls and Ohio ledges.

    Future plans

    Before September, or in early September, my pal and I hope to go backwoods camping in Virginia. Maybe her kiddo will join too. The spot is close to the Devil’s Bathtub area. It will be at minimum 200 units (I can’t recall if it was meters or feet) from the water. The area is known for its beauty. It boasts a waterfall into a clear, freezing swimming hole. If you didn’t know, legend states this is the only water source cold enough to bathe the devil. Sadly, this plan isn’t locked in just yet. Though, it’s something I hope comes together fully.

    Beyond those specific date or places, I’ve been collecting a list of nearby destinations. These places are across Indiana, Kentucky, West Virginia, Pennsylvania, Michigan, and Ohio. They all are less than or equal to 5 hours from home each way. These include hidden waterfalls, scenic overlooks, historical fossil sites, quirky statues, and other neat things. I like to travel spontaneously, so this is probably as “planned” in the future as I get. If you exclude my annual western North Carolina trip to see my sister.

    Port Huron

    I’ve also had Port Huron and Petoskey, Michigan on my mind. The idea of finding real Petoskey stones excites me. I do not want to barter for them, which is enough to almost make me head there now. I find the idea of exploring the Lake Huron shoreline to be incredibly appealing. Between the lake stones, fossils, and the open water, it feels like the perfect mix of grounding and adventure.

    Nature, movement, and discovery are always part of my year. I make space for new trails, new stones, and new memories. Whether it’s a permitted hike in Ohio or a spontaneous camping trip in Virginia, I embrace new adventures. Even if my travel plans shift along the way, my commitment to exploration never fades. I have a deep lust for wonder.

  • Cats vs. Dogs: Can You Really Love Them Both?

    Cats vs. Dogs: Can You Really Love Them Both?

    Dogs or cats?

    I’ve heard this question countless times. It’s practically a meme: “So… are you a cat person or a dog person?”

    My honest answer? Both.

    But not in a half-hearted, middle-of-the-road way. I genuinely love both cats and dogs but, for very different reasons. They both hit very different emotional frequencies.

    Let me explain.

    My dog is my hiking partner. She is always ready to explore, no questions asked. The leash comes out, and the tail starts going. Luna is down for waterfalls, caves, trails, car rides. Whatever, you name it. She is not just an emotional support animal. Luna, an adventure buddy. Loyal, goofy, grounded. It’s true. When it’s cold, there’s comfort in having a warm dog body pressed up against you. When I’m anxious, curling up with her is invaluable. It’s steadying. It feels like a hug from a friend who just knows.

    But my cat?

    The kitty boys are something else entirely.

    Cats are animals of consent. You don’t just get a cat’s love. You have to earn it. They choose you.

    My cats are cuddle boys when they want to be. When they are in the mood, there is nothing more comforting than one of them purring into my ribs. But when they are not into it? That’s valid. They have their space. They come back when they are ready. That choice makes the connection feel more sacred.

    There’s a respect that develops between a person and a cat. You have to show them that you’re cool before they give you affection. And when they do? It’s like a private little trust pact. That they’re not giving out to just anyone.

    Dogs are often ready to love everyone. And I adore that about them.

    Cats… they love on their terms. And I respect the hell out of that.

    So for me, it’s not a contest.

    I love them both.

    I love what my dog brings into my life… joy, movement, loyalty, warmth.

    I love what my cats bring… presence, autonomy, quiet connection, and consent-based affection.

    They’re different souls. Different relationships. Different energies.

    I’m lucky to be loved by all of them.

  • The Things That Make Me Lose Track of Time-in The Best Way!

    The Things That Make Me Lose Track of Time-in The Best Way!

    Which activities make you lose track of time?

    Some things just pull me into a rhythm so deep that I don’t notice the hours passing. I’ll forget to eat. I’ll forget to check my phone. When I finally look up, and it’s dark outside or way later than I thought it was. That timeless focus doesn’t happen with most things, but it happens to me in very specific moments.

    Hiking is one of the first thing I found. There’s something about being on a trail where I don’t know exactly where it ends or what I’ll find. When the sounds of the world disappear, I only hear the crunch of my steps. I also hear the rush of water, wind, or leaves. Then I settle into my body in a way that makes everything else fade out. Whether it’s a steep climb or a gentle creek side path, I lose track of time. I become one with the woods.

    Rock hounding is something I love. I will spend hours hunched over riverbanks, dry creeks, or piles of rock debris. I’m always searching for a glimmer of something hidden. The longer I stay, the more I see, and the more I see, the more I want to keep going. It’s never really about the end result. It’s about the process of looking. Honestly, it really is about the small discoveries. It’s about that quiet rush when I find something beautiful that the earth tucked away for me to notice.

    Exploring towns pulls me in. Forgotten roadside stops capture my interest. Waterfalls are equally compelling. Just wandering through places with history or color captivates me in the same way. I like stumbling into things I didn’t plan on. Murals, statues, old buildings, chalk art, or just a view I didn’t expect. When I’m on foot in an unfamiliar place, I usually don’t check the time. I only do so if it’s necessary.

    Then there’s the creative side of me that gets lost too. Writing poetry, making zines, laying out pages or trying to pull together themes for a collection. This takes me out of everything. I blink, and four hours have passed. I’ll go back and read something I don’t even remember writing. That space of creating is one of the few places I feel like I can just exist without pressure. It’s just me and the page. Me and the words. And that feels safe.

    When I lose track of time, it typically means I’m doing something I actually care about. Something that connects me to myself or the world in a way that feels grounding or real. I don’t think losing track of time is a bad thing. I think it’s one of the few times I’m fully here.

    And I need that.

    I think we all do.

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  • 10 Things I Know to Be Absolutely Certain (Even If the World Disagrees)

    10 Things I Know to Be Absolutely Certain (Even If the World Disagrees)

    List 10 things you know to be absolutely certain.

    10 Things I Know to Be Absolutely Certain

    The world is full of noise. People act like they’ve got it all figured out. They pretend certainty is something you can buy, Google, or fake your way into. But real certainty doesn’t come easy. It comes from surviving things that should’ve broken you. It comes from loving hard and losing even harder. It comes from walking through the same fire twice and still choosing to fight for something better. These aren’t opinions I’m floating out to debate. These are truths I’ve earned, and they’re not going anywhere.

    1. I’ll miss my mom forever. She was my best friend.

    Grief doesn’t shrink with time. It just learns how to sit quieter in the room. My mom wasn’t just a parent. She was my anchor. My favorite person. My best friend. When the world went sideways, she was the one I called. Now that she’s gone, the silence where her voice used to be is deafening. Missing her is permanent, but so is her impact. She taught me how to be real. She showed me how to love with everything I have in me. My mom always encouraged me to keep going even when I feel like I can’t. That love doesn’t disappear. It just shifts into a new forever one.

    2. All humans are equal, no matter their socioeconomic status.

    I don’t care if someone’s living in a penthouse or sleeping in their car. People are people. Period. Worth isn’t tied to a paycheck, an address, or a resume. It’s wild that we still have to say this. This society is obsessed with pretending some lives matter more because they’re richer. People think cleaner or more “put together” lives are more important. That’s bullshit. Struggle doesn’t make someone less human, and success doesn’t make someone superior. Every person deserves dignity, not because they earned it, but because they exist.

    3. I love the outdoors. Give me a trail and a dog, the all trails app, and I’m set.

    Nature is my peace. The second I step onto a trail, even a short one, something shifts in me. I breathe deeper. I move freer. Add a dog to that and it’s basically therapy. I don’t need fancy plans. Just give me access to All Trails, a pair of beat-up shoes, and a four-legged companion, and I’m good. There’s something healing about watching the world do its thing without us. Trees growing, rivers moving, birds calling out like nothing’s wrong. It reminds me there’s still beauty, still quiet, still reasons to keep going.

    4. The world doesn’t have to be like this. Everyone fighting for a crumb of the crust.

    This system? It’s not broken. It was built like this. Built to pit us against each other while a handful of people hoard the loaf. But that’s not how things have to be. We’ve been tricked into thinking there’s no other options, that this toxic hustle and scarcity mindset is just life. But it’s not. We can build something better. We can share more, care more, unlearn this survival-of-the-cruelest nonsense, and remember how to exist in community, not competition. All people deserve more than scraps.

    5. It’s very possible to not like either side of the U.S. government.

    It’s wild how people act like criticizing both major political parties makes you some form of traitor. I’m not here to support any side that lies. I won’t cheer for those who manipulate. I refuse to back those who sell out the people they’re supposed to serve. Propaganda exists everywhere. It just wears different colors depending on the channel. You can call out bullshit from all sides without being “uninformed” or “indecisive.” Sometimes the most radical thing you can do is refuse to play the rigged game at all.

    6. Dogs are better company than most people.

    Dogs don’t lie. They don’t scheme. They don’t pretend to be your friend while secretly rooting for your downfall. Dogs love honestly and without ego. They care when you’re hurting, even if they don’t know why. They don’t need explanations. They just show up. There’s something about that presence that makes you feel safe in a way most people can’t match. I’ll take a dog’s loyalty over a human’s performative empathy any day.

    7. The thrill is always worth the risk.

    Chasing a view requires sore legs and scraped hands. Making a life decision scares you half to death. If it makes your heart beat faster, it’s worth taking the risk. It’s probably worth it. That fight to get there. That doubt you have to push through. A quiet moment at the top where it all comes together. That’s what makes it real. The joy doesn’t come easy, but that’s why it matters. I’d rather risk it and live fully than play it safe and feel nothing at all.

    8. College degrees don’t measure intelligence or creativity.

    You can’t teach vision. You can’t grade lived experience. I’ve seen some of the most brilliant people get dismissed because they don’t have letters after their name. Some of the most useless ideas get celebrated because someone paid tuition. Don’t get me wrong, education can be valuable, but it’s not the only way. It’s definitely not the only proof of worth. Some of the smartest people I know are autodidacts, survivors, creators. Degrees don’t define genius. Action does.

    9. Family is everything, but I don’t just mean blood.

    Blood ties you to people, but it doesn’t make them your family. Family is who shows up when shit gets real. They see you at your worst and stick around anyway. They know your trauma, your mess, your contradictions, and still call you theirs. I’ve built my own family through friendship, through chosen connection, through shared history and mutual growth. Those bonds? They’re just as sacred. Maybe more so, because they were made by choice, not chance. I do, however, cherish my given family that I decided to keep around.

    10. Google isn’t how you prove research.

    We’ve gotten lazy with facts. Type anything into Google and you’ll find a dozen articles to back it up, true or not. Real research takes more. It takes curiosity, discernment, and effort. It means asking who wrote it, who funded it, and why. It means reading past the headline. Most people don’t go that deep. They just want something to confirm what they already believe. But truth doesn’t live in echo chambers. It lives in the uncomfortable space between easy answers and actual effort.

    These aren’t just passing thoughts. They’re part of me. They’ve been earned through grief, joy, clarity, and chaos. You don’t need everyone to agree with what you know in your bones. You just need to hold onto it when the world tries to convince you otherwise. So this is me holding firm. These are the things I know to be absolutely certain. And that’s enough.

  • Between the Safe and the Wild: What Are You Chasing?

    Between the Safe and the Wild: What Are You Chasing?

    Are you seeking security or adventure?

    Axton Mitchell, summer 2024, Munising, Michigan Waterfalls
    Axton N.O. Mitchell Summer 2024 Munising, Michigan

    Adventure. Always. I’m not here for the safest route. I’m here for the one that makes me feel something. I live in Ohio, and while I haven’t explored every inch of Hocking Hills, I go there a lot. It’s familiar in a way that still surprises me. The cliffs and trails change every time. Their appearance depends on the season, the weather, or the way I showed up that day.

    A man and his dog sitting on Coopers rock.

    I’ve stood under waterfalls in Michigan, North Carolina, and all across Ohio. I’ve seen a lot in West Virginia too. I’m chasing the sound that drowns everything else out. Just today, I hiked out to a bridge in Saluda, North Carolina? To take a photo. It wasn’t long, extreme, or even all that remote. But it still gave me that feeling I’m always after: the “you had to be there” moment. That’s the shit adventure I crave. The quiet, personal, and absolutely necessary. There were also a lot of gems and crystals around this bridge. Score x2!

    Triple Falls

    I’ve added, North Carolina, to the list just this week. Two days ago, I climbed a fire tower alone. I watched the trees stretch out like they had something to say. There’s clarity I only find on the trail. The best is always on hikes with waterfalls and views, the kind that make you work for it. The kind where your legs burn. Your back aches. But it’s all worth it when the trail opens up. There’s nothing but space in front of you.

    Summer 2022 Axton Mitchell Hocking Hills, Logan, Ohio
    Axton N.O. Mitchell Summer 2022 Hocking Hills, Ohio

    I dream about hiking to the base of Half Dome. I want to see the desert waves in Arizona. I want to be swallowed up in the fog and forests of the Pacific Northwest (around Seattle and Portland.) I want to take the lesser-known routes too. The trail that passes under the New River Gorge Bridge in West Virginia. The guided hike through Black Water Falls with the swinging bridges.

    Security is stillness. Adventure is movement. It doesn’t have to be chaos but, it has to be ahead. Sometimes that means turning off the main road. Sometimes it means stopping just to look. I don’t know exactly where I’m headed, but I do know I want to keep moving. Not for the thrill, but for the truth I only ever find out there.

    Pictured Rocks National Lake Shore, Bridal Veil Falls in the Distance, Clear Blue Sky, Lake Superior appearing unmoving ,