One of those days...

Ever have one of those days? The days where everything dumps on top of you and you feel a little crushed by it all? Aka, Life. Yeah, today is one of those days.

I can't do anything I'm normally good at, I have a hard time communicating, there are lots of misunderstandings, my head hurts, my clothes don't fit, I'm hungry and nothing will satisfy.
Anyway--it's Sunday which means Napday. Perhaps that will help. That and some chocolate. Yes.

The surgery saga

It is the year 2007. Science can create the world's first bionic woman. She will be made of flesh, bones and lasers. We have the technology. This is her story:
Consultation day:

I was assulted with dilating drops, antibiotic drops and inundated with flashy lights and lasers. This was the effect: crazy eyes and greasy hair. Naomi refered to me as a cartoon. I agreed.

Surgery day:

Dilating drops, valium, and a friend who acted like she was on valium is the culprit here. If you look closely you can see where the nurse marked the whites of my eyes with a marker. That wasn't as fun as it sounds. ***Note the red-eye. My pupils were so dilated that I can't photoshop them out.***

Surgery afternoon:

Again, valium, percocets, gravol and McDonald's is the perpetrator of this heinous photograph. Catherine had the privilage of picking me up from the clinic after my surgery, taking me to McDonalds (valium does straaaaaaange things), tape protective visors over my eyes and tuck me in at 430 in the afternoon.

Post-operative life:

Lots of drops. Drops drops drops all the time because it feels like there are little demons in under my eyelid that are gnawing away at the lens of my eyeballs if I don't lube up.


Cleaning myself is even more of a treat now that I have to wear goggles to do so. Yup. Goggles. The man at the sports store rang the goggles through and asked "So how often are you in the water?". "Um...almost everyday." I said.

I want to be loved

A pretty piece of poetry from a bluegrass band I happed upon.
Once you've been in love or close to it, sometimes it's hard to let go. Sometimes nothing else will do. Isn't it so true?

I want to be kissed but only by your lips, dear
For you’re the only one who’ll ever do
I want someone to hug and call me honey
I want to be loved, but only by you

I want someone to help me in my sorrow
And someone whose heart is always true
Somebody who will stay with me forever
I want to be loved, but only by you

I'm in a glass box of emooooootion

Sigh. I'm so full. Full of chips, and salad, and dreams. Dreams? Yes. Dreams.

I just went to Annie's blog (I'm a bad friend..."You have a blog, Annie?") and she said on her aforementioned blog that photographers aren't a novelty anymore. Everyone's a photographer.
It's so true.

And everyone else who isn't a photographer is either a sushi eating, home-flipping, fashion designer or...is still in school for one of those. It's true--sushi-eating is a course offered at many local colleges. Check it out.
Oh...I almost wrote cottages instead of colleges and it made me want to drive to the cottage RIGHT NOW.
Anywho--I've been really, and I mean really truly struggling with what my whole dang purpose is these days. I feel pretty much useless. I don't work, I don't volunteer, I rarely give money to homeless people because I don't want to encourage their bad habits. I suppose I consume a lot--which is in a way, supporting the economy.
Whatever. I just feel so restless and uesless and any other word ending in 'less'. Mindless. Gutless. Hairless. I WISH.

No way man! No way!

I AM a photographer! And I'm a painter too! And I'm a gardener, and a cook, and a seamstress (and your mother) and a stylist, and a personal shopper, and a welder, and an events coordinator, and an art curator, and a friend, and a dancer! and a person who wished they were a musician, and a poet, and a story-teller, and a collector of fine thingies, and a philanthropist, and a student, and a midwife, and a dreamer!

I'm all these things. And that's ok.

On that note--here's my latest piece. It's along the same lines as my scandelous vignettes.


And you know--while I'm at it....here's another piece that's really close to my heart.
I cry. I do. Do you cry? I don't know why we're all so afraid of it. Everyone cries. I wish we all cried more. I wish crying was demystified and decensitized and when someone needed to cry a little or a lot, it would be ok.
So here's an...honest picture. I like it because it's real, and raw and everyone knows what this feels like. Don't deny it.


Thanks for the encouragement to keep blogging Annie. This one is dedicated to you.

The Ocean

My heart is churning.
Loud and frothy.

Never-ending.

All-consuming.



Crashing down on reason.
Crashing down on reason.
Crashing down on reason.

Smashing reason into litle bits of drama that stick to my toes.

My heart is churning.

Rescue me. Help my heart. HMH.


Unknown, 1983

Florida: Flagler Beach

Hey everyone--
Since I arrived in Florida, I haven't been doing anything I had really planned on doing except eating, watching movies and shopping....oh Lord I have fulfilled those three. Anyway--I popped out to the beach right before a big storm hit--here are a few picts. And I'd just like to say--I'm a little embarassed/pleased with the self-portrait I took on the beach...and I'm including it because I'm pleased with it...but at the same time feel the need to disclaim, that, yes, I realize it's a little...vain? Um...drama-queenish? But it's a cool shot. I'm a slave to cool shots.
................
oooooooooooook for some reason I can't download pictures. So go to my facebook and see the pictures there. Otherwise, hang tight.
See ya!

The crew from Thursday night:

This is me, Jim the welder, and Dave Witt after our triumphant night of welding until 3am.

There were minor lacerations, moderate burns, a few failed jabbing attempts, and one electrocution. I'm proud to say it was I who got electrocuted!