Finally

Finally just got internet. I am living in a barn with my beau in the Texas Hillcountry. I'm doing well. I feel positive most of the time and have found myself encouraging others.

We went to Home Depot the other day and were looking at the tile when an employee asked if we were doing ok or needed anything. I replied, "No thanks, we're just walking around and dreaming. This is what we do for fun in our off time... go to Home Depot and dream." It's true. We dream about what our home will look like, how we'll design the farm, what kinds of things we'll grow there, how we'll collect power. It's satisfactory time-passing until we can afford it, and then it'll be so exciting!


I haven't spent time with my camera in a while... and it's definitely something that I need to do. I miss it! However, I might be taking photos of our landlady's grandchildren for rent. It'll be good practice. I haven't photographed children often -only a child I've watched and my own younger brothers and sister.

Today is a day of laundry, idea nourishing, dishes, and cooking. I'm going to make chocolate pudding from scratch. Austin loves that, and he had a rough morning.

I'm off!

The What If Romance

A short story based off a dream I had last night.


--


I was working –artistically. I was in my print shop and just kind of messing around I guess. And he caught me looking. You know, that little sneak-a-peek glance sideways just to drink in a handsome face. And he caught me. I blushed rose red, as only a strawberry honey-blond can, and went back to paying attention to what I was doing. I daringly peeked again, only just past my peripheral, so I wouldn’t have to move my head too much. And he had a grin playing at the corner of his mouth; he caught me again! Oh well. I like a good blush every now and again. I felt his glance and looked up. Eye contact. Hold. He was openly smiling at me, appreciation etched in his rugged features. And it was stunning. I caught my breath sharply –blushing a bit again, looked back down and couldn’t help but smile to myself. I could have sworn I heard a small chuckle, but I wasn’t too sure. I looked up again and grinned sheepishly, then went back to what I was doing.

After that he came regularly to the shop, would wade through the photos and prints, always stopping to admire one here or there; always my favorites too. If there’s one thing I’ve learned as an artist: no one appreciates my favorites like I do. Except him. He definitely appreciated them. Over the weeks I definitely grew quite a crush on him. He’d ask me questions about the photos upon which he’d stop to look. Eventually we conversed about life in general, the things we each cared for or didn’t particularly enjoy, like vivid color and a simplistic nature versus watching a movie late at night alone and chaos. We became friends, though I never saw him outside the shop.

I learned of his death a few months later. He had died a hero, taken by the sea. The child he’d rescued was saved by the life-vest she was made to put on, while my friend just could not tread any longer. I had last seen him the Friday before that fateful Saturday, and I hadn’t been back in the shop since. Closed for mourning. I mourned what never was, what couldn’t be, what wasn’t allowed to occur.

The following Friday I opened up and went straight to my personal work-room. I gasped at the transformation. There were photos on the walls, beautiful photos. The kind I appreciated. And all had strings tied to a peg underneath to another photo… each with words underneath. I went to the photo with the 1 by it and began a short journey, unraveling the mystery of how a man like he asks a woman on a date.

I went out to the main room, a tear trail on my cheek, but I had no desire to wipe it away. Let them see.



--

Voiced

A thought just over came me, a feeling, a fear. What if I finish school, and nothing changes? No better job opportunity arises, even if by search, and my dreams are never realized. I think that scares me a lot, but I've not voiced it before. I'm not looking for consolation, or a "there, there -it'll all turn out ok". Not anything really... just.. speaking it out loud I suppose.

Meaning & Purpose

There are so many different ways people strive to make their lives meaningful. Some people volunteer to work in an AIDs orphanage in Uganda. Some put in to go to Afghanistan. Some make their lives about their children. Others make it about themselves. Is there an answer? I don't really know. For the most thoughtful, feeling of us, I think it's a constant wondering question. I know it tends to haunt me more than most other questions. The why, why, Why??

Beats the hell outta me.



And, it seems, nobody knows the answer. Sure, lots of people say they know.. but they're the same ones who, in momentary lapses of judgment, volunteer for Afghanistan when there's children at home. Go figure.

The mind will never be at ease.

Angst

I'm less angsty today. Tired as hell though. And next week I'm scheduled full time. Working HARD for that money, honey.

I had an idea for a new photo series.. It's called "Life Upside Down". I take everything upside down. So far it's just been me hanging off the end of my bed, taking on a new perspective. Sometimes all it takes is a new perspective, to gain new inspiration. I've come up with a few so far, that I'm rather fond of, and thought I'd share them. :) Hope you enjoy them as much as I enjoyed taking them. They're ordered from my least favorite to favorite.

Update

I hate when "grown ups" question what I'm going to do with my degree. Or what I'm doing with my life. Or the choices I'm making or whatever.

Do I have no idea what I'm going to do with my degree? Yes. None whatsoever. I'm pretty damned honest about the fact that I'm only in to keep from disappointing my mother. And is there shame in that? Do I realize that when I'm not at work I spend the majority of my time at home, alone, either taking pictures or editing them, or on the computer? Yes, I do. I'm sorry, would you like me to stalk people at the grocery store to make friends? Bar hop? Not my thing. And why the heck do you care if I spend time on the computer? I read books, I learn things, I get acquainted with new music. I become inspired artistically. And it's not like I wasn't productive today.

I hate feeling like I have to explain my actions. I just worked way more than I am used to working and it's my day off now, and I'm freaking tired. Is it awful that I don't want to do much? I also woke up with a cold and a headache. So I'm sorry that I don't feel like wasting my gas money to go "hang out" at the mall -where I work.

I'm in debate with myself. I am glad I moved here because of my promotion to management. Its something that wouldn't have happened where I was. But at the same time, I regret putting myself at the mercy of "grown ups" again, at the advice of people who are biased about my life and how I live it. I miss my friends. I miss the familiar, surprisingly. Not really the city though. I am not so low that I'll say that and mean it. And I'm mad at myself for letting my parents influence me so much.

Anyway. That's a lot. Too much perhaps. I once said, and the feeling follows me

"I often feel that I am too much, and not enough, all at the same time."

The Grind

So I began my day with talking to my school loan provider and then talking with financial aid. I'm trying so hard to get back in. There was a mishap with paperwork a year ago, and my financial aid was taken away, and due to the large amount I owe for that semester, I haven't been able to get back to school since. It's at the point I start regretting ever starting school to begin with. Sure there will be those who say it's necessary, a wise choice, etc. But in this era for our country, even people with a simple bachelor's degree aren't guaranteed job security in any way. And that's not very comforting.

And so the day began. Now I'm kind of just wondering what to do with the rest of my day off. The idea of going out just seems torturous. Wondering around town by yourself kind of makes you feel lame. But staying is just as lonesome, I suppose.

So perhaps I'll just practice a bit on my guitar, maybe find a book to read online. Otherwise I'm just here -no work to keep me busy, no one to talk to really. But that's ok. These times come and go, right?

I've not much else to say. And those are really the only thoughts in my head. I am still keeping the worry at bay.

The Dark

The tones settle me
Like a smooth single malt
At the end of a hard day
For a working man

But there's no relief in a drink
Just a downward spiral
And I never take a smoke
So the silent music of the dark
Keeps me.

Change & Travel

I moved here for change. To save myself from the death I felt would occur if I continued on in the place overcome by the mundane. Some of my friends have made me feel as though I am selfish for moving. Here I am literally wasting away weight wise, so stressed out, not sleeping, my mind and soul in turmoil, my heart breaking daily, and I'm selfish for getting out. Am I truly? Now that my mind feels free, logic tells me perhaps not.

So here I am. In a new place, with no one to understand me or know me. And sometimes it makes me sad. But sometimes it's nice. To have loved ones around you and still feel alone is the worst kind of loneliness I think. But I could be wrong. I've been wrong before. Twice to be exact.. but once I only thought I was wrong. ;)

Haha, just keeping it light. It's a joke my father used to tell.

I miss travel. I have friends coming back to the States from Suriname, because of a pregnancy, and I wish I were taking their place. (Though I'm no teacher.) I miss my Ugandan children, and feel guilty for how our group let them down by not returning. Did I break a heart? Sometimes I remember the day we left.. and my desire to stay. Was it wrong to return? Then again, perhaps it was easier to stay. I mean sure, 3rd world conditions aren't exactly easy.. but the life's simplicity... Maybe it is more awkward and difficult to live in such a supposedly advanced culture, because of the complexity it brings with all the ways we require communication, the social standards.

My highschool sweetheart used to say that he often debated wanting to be a plain ol' carpenter when he "grew up". The life -a simple one. He could see himself peacefully at it his whole life. And I understand what he meant.

Do I have a place in this world? Is there somewhere I'm supposed to be, that I'm not? If so, why is it oh so hard to discern. If not, then why am I selfish for seeking the things out that put me at peace? Why can't everyone be pleased -all our loved ones? So many conflicts of interest.

Just more biases.

I am just not sure.

These days I live in introspection. I've decided that perhaps I should try to write more, because sometimes I write myself into an understanding. I can talk myself into one, also, but then you're either talking to yourself (which, if you feel crazy, only makes you feel more-so) or talking to someone who probably doesn't want to hear. And if you do, then you probably don't understand.

I am questioning so many things these days. Well, I suppose I shouldn't say these days, because I am always questioning things. I miss the days of youth and innocence, when things seem more simplified because less is known. The best words I've heard to describe the sensation? "I'm not young enough to know everything." Thank you Oscar Wilde. For understanding. Even though you're dead now, and even though we probably couldn't have talked even if you were alive.

He asked me last night what it is I'm worrying about, unsure about -what is keeping my mind from ease. The only full and simple answer that came to mind was, "Life, the Universe, and everything." Laugh if you will.

I desperately desire someone to talk to with an unbiased point of view, but that's just not possible, I think. We all have a bias. I don't really trust professionals (what if they lock me up?). I don't trust the church. My friends are biased by the little they know, and what they think is best for me based off their own paradigm. My parents also cannot think past what they think is best for me based off of what they've lived of life so far and the things they know. He can't think past what's best for us, and consequentially, him. And God doesn't listen. Or if he does, he doesn't seem to answer clearly. Or maybe my life and thoughts are so small in the grand scheme of everything and infinity that he just doesn't care.

I am just not sure.