I’ve been talking about how my faith in humanity is shattered, and how it cripples my own sense of self-worth, which in turn incapacitates my writing. It helps to go through these ideas and thoughts, getting them out of my head and in a place where I can analyze them. It relieves some of the pressure just forming the words.

Writing about it isn’t quite enough. The constant sense of hopelessness weighs on me. I try to stay positive while interacting with my coworkers, putting on a smile when I can. I show up and do the work, and when I’m not working I seek distractions. Under it all, I feel like I’m about to fall down a dark well and never come out.

Last night, I tried to work late but I ran out of focus. I didn’t have enough executive function to form the code, so I tried listening to music. I wound up clicking through some of the videos I favorited last year and I found two that had me crying in my seat.

Here is the first:

Here is the second:

Both Violet Orlandi and Voctave are amazing, and I love their performances for different reasons. But these two songs brought tears to my eyes, especially the last one.

Watch them both until the end.

In both, the performers take a backseat and then it’s just people singing. All of them different, but all of them like you and me, just doing their best and putting something out in the world. Altogether, it’s greater than the sum of its parts, and it’s beautiful. It makes me feel beautiful.

Understand, I rarely cry. I’m sure I’ve talked about it before. I’m don’t refuse to cry because of some outdated idea of masculinity. All people should cry once in a while, but I’m a little bit broken inside, and I rarely cry when I need to. Music can put me back together enough that I am able to shed tears. It tricks my brain into thinking it’s okay to let it out, and I do.

After everything I said about my faith in humanity being shattered by recent events, there were these two videos that shifted my perspective to something more positive. Beauty and empathy. Music and art.

Maybe even stories.

That last one especially touched me as the words repeated “you are not alone.” I’m sure that every one of the performers in the chorus was alone, at least while recording their part, but when the camera pans over them, too many to fit in the frame, we see that none of them are alone. And maybe none of us are, either.

This all feels a bit sentimental and saccharine, but maybe the sweet will balance out the bitter.

In unrelated news, I’ve created my first wholly custom 3D model in a free CAD tool, turned it into a file that my 3D printer can consume, and it’s whirring away behind me. I’m creating a small drawer set for storing loose hardware. It’s not particularly complicated, but it’s a larger print than I’ve done before, and it’s the first thing I’ve done from scratch. Whether this turns out well or not, it’s been a good learning experience.