Weekly Winners

A random assortment of shots this week. I am having to really get creative and search for the shots that have sun. 

Random Tuesday Thoughts: No Waxing Eloquent

I am jealous of writers who can wax eloquent on a topic for pages. I don't really "wax", eloquent or not.

At my current rate of reading, three weeks from the library is not nearly enough time.

I would make a really bad politician because whenever I am outmaneuvered I just glare.

I never know what to say when I answer the phone and the person on the other end asks for me. Sometimes I'm tempted to tell them to hang on while "I go get her" and then come back and answer as me. But then I'd spend the rest of the phone call wondering if they knew I was the same person.

After four days, I'm ready to watch Inception again.

My school used to play music during passing periods on Fridays. Now it's sad and song-less, just like the rest of the week.

Guarded

Ever since him, I dole out my smiles very carefully to doctors.

I had been so thrilled to have a doctor, any old doctor, to see me, let alone a (supposed) specialist, that I smiled.

I greeted him with a smile.

I laughed at every funny and non-funny joke indiscriminately.

I smiled and nodded along, understanding little.

I didn't know enough to ask questions. I wasn't jaded or careful enough to realize what he was insinuating. How was I to know he would take my fake-happy face as a bad thing?

Now my guard is up. He is in large part responsible. For telling us we are a disfunctional family. For blaming me and my parents for my illness.

My walls are up. Solid and firm. They take a while to come down. I sit and absorb, making observations, with a neutral face.

I am jaded and wary. This has served me well on occasion, but this is not who I want to be.

I don't want to be constantly afriad of being hurt. Not only by doctors, but by the non-medical world.

I want to see the good in people and give them the benefit of the doubt. I want to be able to sit quietly and observe, but not because I am afraid.

I want to smile when something is funny and not hold back because of how I may be perceived.

He taught me to tread carefully, to not give too much away, to not get my hopes up.

I am in no way grateful.

Weekly Winners: Sick But Bearing Pictures

I was feeling a little out-of-sorts (read: sick and grumpy) this morning as I went through the week's pictures. I will probably look at what I did tomorrow and want to go back and re-edit everything. But, here I am, and this is what I've got.

I'm not sure what I think of this one. It was taken through my window (the seal is broken) at the patio chair, which the sun was hiding behind.

Inception

It took me long enough, but I've finally watched Inception.

It captivated me.

It transported me away from the applesauce cooking on the stove, to a world of dreams. A world filled with regret, subconscious projections, layers upon layers. A world where what you see before you isn't always reality, although it is very real. Where the only way you knew you aren't dreaming is if a little metal top topples.

Was it going to topple?

That's the question. But then the other question is: does it matter?

Whether he was dreaming or not, if that place was reality or not. He was happy and at peace. He had forgiven himself and let go of his past. He got to see his children's faces.

Dream or not, did it matter?

It's All In Your Perception

Perceptions are everything.

Some people come off opposite to their true nature, making it hard to really judge a person and their actions.

In third grade, I was convinced that my teacher hated me because she never called on me. Granted, I was a bit Hermione-like; my hand was permanently raised and waving.

To my third grade mind, there was only one explanation. As it turned out, she was just trying to give the other kids a chance to answer. I guess I was a bit of a know-it-all.

I like to tell myself I'm not as one-sided as I used to be. In some ways it's true; I can at least acknowledge other people's opinions, even if I don't agree with them. But once I think someone hates me, it takes a lot to change my mind.

It's one thing if someone doesn't like me, but it's a whole new deal if I think they're blaming for something I can't control.

Did that doctor really mean that or does he think it's my fault I'm sick? What was he really thinking? What was he implying?

It's a sore subject, to be sure.

I've spent enough time going to doubtful doctors that I have my walls up.

I can sort of see where they're coming from: teenager with vague complaints, not in school, I don't know what it is, why not blame it on her?

But then again--how dare they!

I know this is not my fault. I did not cause this. But I've spent enough time having to defend myself that a small seed of doubt has worked its way in.

It has no business being in me. Being wrong and making me doubt myself, springing to life whenever I interpret so much as an insinuation that I am somehow responsible.

It all comes back to my perception. I don't know what the doctors really think. But when it comes across as my fault, that seed starts to grow.

It's a battle. Against the illness and occasionally the doctors, but mostly to convince myself, completely, so that when someone else doubts me, there is nothing to start growing.

Weekly Winners

Wood for the fire

Warmth

Butter sandwich

Pokey

Deck o cards

Hair in the sun

Slightly pink and slightly green

Permanently attached to me

Coffee treat

 New glasses

Stretched

I'm feeling a little stretched.

I came up with a whole metaphor about juggling. How I've never been very good at it, and how more balls were being added, and I hoped that if I dropped one, it wasn't the crystal vase.

But it's really very simple.

I have been feeling stretched. Like I've been doing a lot. Whether that is actually the case or not isn't relevant.

I've added a few things to my plate recently, all very good things, but things that have pushed my load from fine to full.

Not overfull or exploding; I am not at that point. I am just very aware that there is a list of tasks that must be accomplished when I wake up each morning.

So I try not to glance at the clock every three and a half minutes. I make time to read and journal at the end of my day. I make time to get out my camera and spend some time looking at the world in a different way, which never fails to calm me down.

I try to make sure I'm still doing things for me, even as my plate fills up with things to do for others.

My Book Theory

I have a theory, about books. It goes something like: for every above-average, teeth-sinking-into-worthy book you read, you will find another seven far below-average books, at least three of which you will read because they are the kind of bad book you need to read so you know what happens, even though you know it's going to be bad.

I'm not sure how this theory applies to good, well-written, but sad books. Because they are sneaky and finagled their way into two categories in my book theory.

I need another book theory.

I also need some good books. Suggestions?

That Time of Year

This song has been on my mind a lot lately:



To me, it's about an event that comes yearly and brings with it a whole host of emotions.

The most obvious event would be the New Year. In that case, I'm eleven days late. But there are lots of different things that happen each year. Different events mean different things to each person.

I got sick in January. Three years ago. Eighth grade. January 2008. I don't know the date. I'm glad I don't remember the date. I don't want to know.

Instead of being the time I missed my first basketball game, it's become the time I got sick.

It became more than a month out of school, or even a semester.

It's my life.

Ongoing.

Getting better, but still lacking a definite end date.

That's my event. It comes yearly, whether I want it to or not. That's the curse and blessing of time.

It just keeps going.

Maybe one year this will be the time of year when I say "Remember when...?", but right now I'm in the thick of it.

It's that time of year again.

Weekly Winners

Last Hurrah

On my last days of freedom...

I went shopping. Socks, boots, and glasses. I should be able to see in 2-2 1/2 weeks.

I do have contacts, but that's not the point.

I watched my parents finish their 1000 piece puzzle.

Fell even more in love with my camera.

Bought some music on iTunes with my Christmas gift card. Switchfoot is on a constant loop on my iPod.

Got halfway through the Spanish book I'm reading.

Goodreads depressed me by telling me I got my first friend. I know it's just a website, but did they really have to put it like that? I'm fine with little white lies.

I watched Knight and Day, which was what I expected it to be (a C-grade comedy/romance/action), except way funnier.

Realized the Superbowl is only a month away!

I was reminded that as much as I love vacation, I love having a routine.

Started reading Twilight again for some strange reason. I like the first half or so, and then usually it finds its way back onto my shelf until I'm bored and book-less again.

Left Out

Sometimes what is there isn't as important as what is not there. The things that go unsaid and the gaps in our thoughts, things left out consciously or not.

All the things I would put in parenthesis. All the commas I would use.

They can be mundane. The small things. I leave out the stupid jokes that only I get and the random observations about life.

The small things can take up so much space that they take away from the whole. By adding details, definition can be lost.

Then there are the big things left out. Without these pieces, the whole isn't always whole.

Left out because of hurt, or need, or because they are only important in hindsight.

These are the ones I am hesitant to ask about. I work with what I am given, what has been volunteered. It may not be the total sum, but the pieces can create a whole of their own.

Too personal to share. Too raw to let others see. Too business-oriented to legally inform others.

Each time I tell a story, I am conscious of those pieces that are written or captured or told, as well as those left out. Neither better nor worse, the two piles of pieces create two intertwined, but separate, stories.

Breaking Shadows

Bright fluorescence breaks the natural stillness

She makes her way, through the unnatural light,

Through the lit maze.

Her gaze rests on familiar objects,

Distorted by the fake light.

She looks out the window,

Hoping to see a white crescent,

But everything is obscured.

Staring into the darkness,

She can’t quite transport herself away.

She knows it must end.

She must find the switch.

Searching.

Searching. 

No longer there. 

She looks around.

The furniture has moved.

Her world is changing around her,

Losing control, she starts to

run. 

Random Tuesday Thoughts

"Smokey, why are you on the counter licking our pizza?"

The only time I have ever watch The Simpsons is right before midnight on New Year's Eve when I'm waiting for the ball to drop.

Okay is spelled either ok or okay, not OK.

A surprising number of people walk on the wrong side of the road.

My dentist is really good at not asking me questions while his hands and ten pointy instruments are in my mouth.

I very rarely give anything one star. Most things get three stars-not bad, but fine. I also don't feel as mean. But I've been reading a lot of one star books lately.

This song kills me. "It's not the end of everything, just the end of everything you know."

Weekly Winners

Furry face

Blue-eyed girl

Reading

The only snowman so far this year

Old and tired

A little reminder

Music

Fresh snow

Wrapping paper

Wheeeeee!

Kisses