Until a few days ago, I hadn’t seen or talked to you since I was a teenager.
Back then, I think, I needed you. You were what I needed when I needed it, and you were in a position that let you be there to chat whenever I sought you out. I don’t remember you saying much or even offering much in the way of advice, but you must have been a good listener or I wouldn’t have felt so comfortable chatting you up and confiding my junior-high-aged problems. Continue reading “Dear BJ”
I’ve said this before: back in the day, I had a lot to say. In the first five years I kept an online journal, I think I used a writing prompt one time. Everything else was just me, chatting away at the interwebs like it was my dear old dead Aunt Gini–just there to listen silently and wish me nothing but the best. Continue reading “~Anon”
These books are my favorites. They changed who I was or what I thought was beautiful. They gave me insights and things to write on my bathroom mirror. They made me think or ask questions about things I’d never before been curious about. They made me laugh and/or distracted me when I most needed a diversion. Read them if you get the chance. And for the love of god, if you’re judging me on the contents of this list, don’t tell me.
The World According to Garp
A Prayer for Owen Meany
The Cider House Rules
The Great Gatsby
The Secret Life of Bees
We Have Always Lived in the Castle
Eat, Pray, Love
Ready Player One
The Thirteenth Tale
It’s been a “finally fix the fucking software” kind of day over here, but it ain’t done yet. I thought the worst of it was going to be this morning and this afternoon when I was in repeated chats with Adobe trying to get my old version of Photoshop to install on the PC. But alas, no.
As the evening has progressed, it has become clear that software problems are the least of my worries. Evidently, my monitor has finally bit the dust after more than ten years, and now I have no idea how I’m going to get the color right on photo edits. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize that the monitor was beyond help until I’d already spent more than two hours trying to make pictures I’d already edited look like I knew they were supposed to look. I’d like very much to have that time back, but again, no.
My next step will be digging the smaller monitor my brother gave me a year or so ago out of the closet. Maybe–by some miracle–the thing will actually work and I won’t have to spend money I don’t have buying a new one.
I think it to myself sometimes: wouldn’t it be amazing to go back to high school and know what I know now? The mom of the senior I photographed the other day said it out of the blue and I could only smile and agree. Her kid, meanwhile, looked at us like we were both crazy old people who’d forgotten what it was like to actually be in high school. Continue reading “The Drama”
When it snows, I want to be home under one of my fluffy homemade afghans, sipping my vanilla almond tea and enjoying a good book. I do not want to be driving around town, and I most certainly don’t want to be thinking about the necessity of going out yet again later on when the step-daughter finally gets done at work. Nevertheless, that is my life tonight, and I am, admittedly, a tad resentful. Continue reading “One hell of a dream”
It’s been a while since hubby and I had a minute to ourselves. In the first year or so we were together, we were always running off somewhere, even if it was just driving around for three or four hours on some Illinois backroad where we’d never been. Lately, we keep saying “we really need to go do something together,” but money’s been tight and there’s just no time anymore. Continue reading “A small reprieve”
I haven’t stretched my photographer muscles in a little while. In fact, it’s hard to believe, but the last time I did a senior session before this morning was way back in summer of 2014. I remember thinking I’d never shoot anything else ever again, and it surprised me that I felt that way, because seniors are teenagers–who in their right mind likes teenagers? Apparently, I do. Or at least I like them when they’re in front of my camera. Continue reading “A chilly return”
Missing you is the glowing orange tip of metal just removed from the fire. (Maybe if I wasn’t still so pissed, it would be a nice matte black.)
It smells like vanilla perfume or bialys hot from the oven or Indian spices in a warm kitchen on a cold winter day. (I never smell any of those things anymore.) Continue reading “Missing You”
I took these before. Before he went and danced his ass off. Before he had to try to salvage the evening because she was trying to do a number on him. Before he came home early knowing that they weren’t going to make it very much longer.
Continue reading “The Man in Black”