Thursday, November 6, 2014

I had a good post started for tonight but I had a little too much wine and I can't finish it properly. So here is this post:

My darling niece is staunchly opposed to David Tennant, the 10th Doctor. I won't challenge her because she is a new Whovian who hasn't yet learned that Whovians are loyal to the doctor, not the actor who portrays him. You love them all because each doctor is special and plays a part in making this character who he is. David Tennant was a Whovian before he played The Doctor for 3 series. We LOVE Tennant as the Doctor for many reasons...because he was passionate about playing him, He was GOOD at playing him, because he loved playing him, and because it was so hard for him to walk away from this character. Though so many people are so loyal to Baker, Davidson, or McGann, I think that our new Doctors are pretty incredible. Eccleston was MY first Doctor. And he will always be MY first Doctor.

At our weekly Sunday dinner at the in-laws, I was put in an awkward position. Basically, everyone voiced their dislike of the entire show, and everyone hates the reboot. They were all very vocal about this despite the fact that I had just spent 3 months working my ass off making Doctor Who costumes for my kids for Halloween, which was 2 days prior and which they had all seen. So...yah, thanks for the support FAMILY. Look, I don't care if you like it or not, but I am not going to shit on your favorite stuff in front of you, so don't do that to me. Ass-hats. Loveable Ass-hats. I do love them, very much. They just don't understand me and my non-game-playing ways....

My in-law family doesn't "get" Doctor Who. But my kids and I really do. I present to you a video that was the master plan of Mr. David Tennant over the course of his 3 series as the Doctor:



and after watching that, I just don't see how anyone could not LOVE David Tennant. Or how anyone could not love the amazing people that keep this show running after 50 years. Yes, I said 50 years. It's a great show. And I could raise you any of the stupid shows that you watch(I'm looking at YOU Walking Dead, Vampire Diaries, True Blood fans).  Yeah, I am a multi-fandom gal who loves Doctor Who, Sherlock, Supernatural, Merlin, Parks and Recreation, and the Office. Let's not talk about Game of Thrones, because I am not emotionally ready to go there right now. I simply don't understand, also, who folks could be just so incredibly ugly about bashing a show that means so much, and has meant to much for so many years, to so many people. I don't slam your nerdy games, I don't poop on your hobbies, why would you do that to me?  It's just rude. That's so not cool. It's a very turd-ish thing to do.

During a casual discussion with the boss, he happened to mention that he thought I was dorky. So what else is new? I like my shows, I like Capaldi(don't you DARE start in on him) I'm a dork, a geek, and weirdo. Excuuu-uuuuuussseeee me.



Tuesday, November 4, 2014

Red Ribbon Week and Darth Vader and Tires

I think I can speak for every mother of school aged children when I say that I pleased that I survived last week. Of course, it was Red Ribbon Week in every public school in the nation last week. Ahh, the week in which we talk to our 4-10 year olds about the perils of drug use by dressing up in silly and weird ways and doing the minimum amount of school work mandated by the state for an entire week. Follow Your Dreams, Not Drugs!(pajama day) Wage a War Against Drugs!(camouflage day) Team Up Against Drugs!(wear something relating to sports) and my personal favorite...Give Drugs the Spooks!(wear your Halloween costume). In short.... Party week, woot-woot!

(sometimes you just need some Ickey Shuffle, sorry, I'm not sorry)

I actually like this week of school. It's so much fun for the kids and they change the theme days almost every year, so it's always fun to see what they are going to do. I was very pleased to see this year that Duck Dynasty Day was removed from the schedule. I never understood what that was about last year, but we participated anyway.  The Redneck hype is SOOO two years ago.

Halloween was crazy. I had been working on my kids costumes for months and really struggled with Simon's Dalek costume. It looked awful, but everyone could plainly see how much work I had put into it so they were so sweet in complimenting me on my hard work. The boss even got into being nice to me. This was quite a compliment, because he is very proud of just how little he posts on facebook.


We had a good Halloween. The stress level was at an all-time low, and that was pretty amazing considering we had two of the most high maintenance and complicated costumes that we've ever attempted, a weeping angel and a dalek. Everyone was so cooperative and cool. Cate was even pretty great though she was covered in itching body paint and two cans of gray hair paint, in addition to a dress that basically felt like concrete after all of the textured spray paint was applied to it. We took pictures, did some trick or treating, and meet-up with our family in Rome at my brother-in-law and sister-in-law's place. We came home early enough to relax and unwind, and I was up bright and early for Fall Festival downtown.



This week, while it's less hectic, really sucks in comparison to last week. I had a bad night on Sunday night, just did not sleep at all. I took Liam and my bad mood to the grocery store after we spent $50 to have my tires rotated and discovered that I need to replace my front right tire. I didn't have that done there because the tire was still under warranty from a tire shop in Cedartown(I had them rotated in Rome). Here is what my bad mood bought at the grocery store


I found a freaking Darth Vader coffee mug at Wal-Mart. At least there is one good thing that is coming from Disney buying out Star Wars...new Merch! Yippie!

(I thought it fit good here, too. Sorry)

And my mug has a storm trooper on the other side



This morning, I drove the van to Cedartown. I was informed that like every other time, they would not be honoring their warranty because of something. It's always something. "Well, you had to have the tires balanced, so obviously it was out of alignment. That'll be $99.99." Saying $99 dollars doesn't make you any less of a douche, just call it $100 and be done with it. I don't even care if it WAS our fault this time(it wasn't, btw), after doing business with someone for 12 years, you'd think they would just give you the benefit of a doubt. Or at least honor ONE, just ONE warranty. Never. They never do. I am only annoyed by this because we have been dealing with them for so long. They know our names. They know our professions. And yet in 12 years they have never honored a warranty. They have always weaseled out of it and usually find one or two other thing in "dire" need of fixing that they can charge us an extra $100-$200 for. Done. I am 100% done with that place. Friendly atmosphere gets an A+, really, I cannot stress how nice these people are, but everything else...F. F- is there is such a thing. I just made it, if there wasn't already...F- to that place. They don't even have free wifi. If you're going to weasel out of your "1-year guaranteed warranty" at least give people free wifi. I don't have a smart phone because I have to pay a million dollars a year for car repair. Give me wifi...and a channel on your TV in the waiting room that isn't talking about women's vagina's and the important of an annual pap-smear. Thanks!

I did get to schedule a wedding consultation for tomorrow so that's awesome news! The wedding is THIS month! That is even better, because I just had to spend $100...oh wait...$99 on a new tire and could really use the extra money this month! I guess a third posting of Ickey Shuffle would be too much, so I will just let that music and visual dance in your imaginations.

Happy Tuesday!






Wednesday, October 22, 2014

woman on a mission

Next week is Halloween-week. It's a week during which I usually spend my time scrambling to finish costumes, making a halloween night plan, coming up with cool things for the my kids to do to accommodate red ribbon week at school, with it's many activities and special dress-up days, carving out time to carve some jack-o-lanterns, and doing even more work on the damn costumes. Am I the driving force behind the kids' elaborate and difficult costumes every October? Yes, I am. Does that make me qualified to create a Dalek from scrap material found around my home? No. No, it does not. I am considering, very strongly, doing a "Peanuts" themed halloween next year just to make my October a little easier. My creativity levels are at a record low these days and to be perfectly honest, I regret the decision to do one of the most elaborate and complicated costume themes that we've ever attempted. Why do I do this stuff? Because people expect it, and because I am supposed to be creative. It's one of the only qualities I possess that make me cool. No one is going to be impressed that I can watch 5 seasons of a show on Netflix in 3 weeks. Creativity is about all that I have got.

I have found myself in a creative slump lately, which usually doesn't happen around this time of year. I am trying to photograph something every day. Honestly, there are days that pass when I think "I don't even want to look at my camera, or photoshop". It's not depression, definitely not. I think I just want a challenge. I have lived in this house for 5 years next month and I have photographed every nook and cranny. Although, I have never been able to find out precisely what a cranny is, so it is very possible that I have missed one or more of those. My children are reaching an age in which they don't change every day expect in the way that they are growing increasingly tired of being photographed so often. Who reading this remembers my photo projects from back in 2008/2009? Even 2010? I miss that April sometimes. I miss that part of me that wanted to document every little tiny stupid thing and loved the attention that I got from it, and the part of me that wanted to top it every day. I am not sure why I was so attention-hungry back then, but now, not so many years later, I enjoy solitude and privacy so much. Half of the photo's that I take never even make it to flickr. I just have certain little pieces of my life that I want for myself, and I am sure this is much to the relief of Seth who has always said that I over-share on facebook, flickr, and blogger. He's probably right. My constant need for attention can be exhausting to everyone around me, and even to myself and I have found less and less need for attention as the years have gone by though I do try to do it sometimes just to give myself a reason to attempt to be more creative.

In closing for today, I am realizing just how much a person can change in such a short amount of time. As I approach my 30th birthday in January, I am reflecting on my 20's and on all the things that I did wrong, the things I did right, the way I never wish to be again and also the ways that I wish I still were. When I look back on the most difficult, but also the most creative year of my life, 2008-2009, I realize that it was one of my favorite years. So much happened in just one year. I certainly didn't do much growing up that year, but I had fun pretending that I was doing just that. How could I have changed so much in just 6 years? My mission is to rediscover my 24 year old self and bring her back, just without the drama and constant need for attention and praise because when I remember that part of myself from back then, I kind of want to punch that bitch in the throat.

(photo from December 2008)

Wednesday, September 24, 2014

Hush little baby

A few weeks ago, my darling husband surprised me with a new(used) light kit. I was particularly excited about it because I sure could have used one last winter with all the indoor baby sessions that I had to shoot. I made do with natural light and bouncing my flash, but I am stoked that I can act like a "real" photographer this year and not have to resort to more unconventional methods of lighting a room.  It's going to be a great winter, but I have to really draw people in. For years, I have been rebelling against studio photography. I have never had any desire to use a hundred props, capture cheesy, on command smiles, and use artificial light if I can at all help it. However, the older I get, the poorer we get, and the less fire I have inside of me to buck the system. It's a job, and I have to cater to the market.

I recently republished my Facebook photography page. I unpublished it about 2 years ago. I was going through yet another "rebellious" phase and I hated everyone's Facebook business pages because my news feed was constantly cluttered with "specials" and "sales" and online party invites for wax melts and monogrammed lunch totes. It was getting a bit too commercial for a "social" networking. I never deleted my page though because I assumed like everything else I do, it was probably a phase. I was right and I had meant to republish it months ago, but I needed to spiffy it up first. Now it's republished and I haven't shot a session since I put it back up and gained 40+ followers. The pressure is on to really wow my followers. Today I have a two week old baby girl coming over for newbie portraits and I need them to be incredible. My entire winter baby season is riding on it. Most people don't book sessions or weddings in the winter for obvious reasons. But babies can't help when they are born so newborn through 1st birthday portraits are my bread and butter during the winter months. I need today to go well. Yesterday, I decided to do some test shots in some of the props that I had laid out for today's sessions so I could do troubleshooting in advance. Naturally, I don't have a newborn, but I have a 10 year old daughter and she has baby dolls. Unfortunately, the only one I could find was the creepiest damn baby doll ever. It's so creepy that I have threatened to leave it outside for a few months, pop one of the eye balls out and use it as a halloween decoration. Whatever, I just need it to sit there and wear this stupid hat. Three shots in and I said "Oh hell naw, I can't do this anymore."

Here are those three pictures in case you didn't want to sleep tonight.





*Cue Alfred Hitchcock murder music*

Saturday, September 20, 2014

Yesterday(and today, too)

I get very anxious when plans don't pan out. It makes my stomach hurt and I just want to cry. In short, I feel like a 2 year old when I don't get my way. Hopefully, I don't act that way very often though, regardless of how I feel internally. Yesterday was a pretty terrible day up until about 5:30pm. I felt bad(lady problems). Bloated, achy, crampy, and tired, the entire weekend plan was crumbling down around me. I cancelled the tentative plans that we'd made for the evening because of how I was feeling and because the boss had so much work to do. In hindsight, I am not sure that there actually were plans because I never heard back about that and it had been a super crazy week for the potential party hosts, so I didn't think much about it(hopefully I didn't make anyone mad!). My mind shifted gears to the Beer fest happening the next day. I had been promised a pass from a friend of Seth's. When Seth called yesterday to arrange a time to get the pass, it was discovered that the friends wife had given it to a neighbor and hadn't realized that it was spoken for. Eeek!! Nothing to be angry about, just a minor hiccup. I contacted a friend on the beer fest committee to see if they had any volunteer spots available. Sadly, they did not. So my only option left was to buy my pass($35). Ordinarily, I would just say "meh, I'll volunteer next year and sit this one out" but man…I really wanted to go. I had been looking forward to it all week, almost all of my Roman friends were going to be there, and man, I really wanted to go! The boss wasn't crazy about me buying a ticket and we had a spat about that, that spewed over left us both with hurt feelings. Soon after my mom texted and asked if we could go to the fair that night with her and daddy and my sister-in-law and nephews. Things were just going crazy. The boss and I ended up in a huge argument, I spent the afternoon sobbing, took a quick nap so that I could pull myself together enough to take my kids to the county fair(I really really really did not want to go),  and then our real estate agent called and asked to show the house at 9:30 in the morning. I cried more, we argued more. Then we made up, and I cried again because I was bursting with emotion and happy that he wasn't angry at me anymore and we were good. I left the house practically spotless in preparation for the showing this morning(9:30am), but the real estate agent texted Seth late last night saying that the showing was cancelled. He was relieved, as he was looking forward to sleeping in without the kids home(Cate was at a sleepover and the boys and I stayed at moms with my nephew). Seth sure was surprised when while sleeping in on his couch in the den this morning, in nothing but his boxers, there was a ring of the door bell at 9:25am. The house shoppers and their agent stood at the back door with a clear view of my sleeping hubby on the couch…in his boxers. He was livid. The agents excuse? "Well, I wasn't sure if you had gotten that message last night, and they called this morning and wanted to come after all, so here we are!" OUR agent, once Seth got in touch with him, was furious. I was furious. That agent will never show our house again. So there is that drama. Now…back to ME(cause, you know, I am SO pitiful)

I went to the fair last night and it was fun(my sweet mom paid for everything expect our food so that I could go. If she had not have done that, we'd have been home last night), but I am not going to Beer Fest today. I have no pass, no babysitter, and a very disapproving hubby of my buying a pass. So I am sitting it out and as sad as I was about it yesterday, I realize this morning that pouting is going to do nothing to improve my circumstances. It seemed as though the entire universe was against me going, as everything that I had thought was set in stone began to unravel and fall apart. I resigned myself to staying home, knowing that it's all at least 90% my own fault for not having back-up plans for my back-up plans, and the other 10% was just the way the cards fell, no one's fault. When you have kids, you always need a back-up plan for your back-up plan. That's just how it is. I know that, and I failed to do it, so here I am.

In a funny turn of events, however, I have ended up making my own afternoon plans. I had to get Cate from a sleepover at her best friends house at some point today before 5pm. It just so happens that Cate's best friends' mom is also a very good friend of mine who I have been missing like crazy lately. All attempts to hang out have not been successful. So when I texted her that I wasn't going to beer fest today and said I could come get Cate whenever she was ready, we cooked up a plan to squeeze in some white wine girl time this afternoon. Suddenly, the clouds dissipated, and the sun was shining on me again, and I felt like it had all happened for a reason. All of the stress from yesterday seems very silly to me know, and I am extremely happy that my afternoon is going to be spent having quality time with my friend, rather than the chaotic hustle and bustle of floating around beer fest trying to see all of my other friends that I DO get to see almost every weekend. Which brings me to my closing thought: I literally have so many friends that it is a "problem" trying to make time to spend time with them all. With all of the problems in this world "problem" to have. I am sad that I am not with Seth today, but we'll meet up this evening, along with our beer-festing buddies. For now, I am going to sip this hot tea and piddle with pictures from the fair. My lesson in all of this is that I need to learn to roll with the punches a little more and stop being a little bitch every time things don't go my way. And also, my ovaries and uterus hate me and the sooner I yank them out, the better off I will be.  I have no excuse what so ever for not being happy all of the time.






Thursday, September 11, 2014

There are other worlds than these

Liam and I often take walks to the cemetery across the road from our house, walking the outside perimeter. Usually, this is an occasion for tennis shoes, a bottle of water, and usually a small ziplock bag just in case he finds something worthy of being brought home. However this morning, rather than walking, we drove and parked the van out of the way so that we could take our time "exploring". I love cemeteries and this particular one is beautiful. From the highest point, you can see for miles and in the early morning the sun illuminates the fog, dew, and the white washed grave stones giving the entire grounds a very etherial feel. With my camera in one hand and a cup of hot coffee in the other, we pitter pattered around, reading stones and epitaph's and admiring the handiwork put into family plots and the elaborate, more prominent grave markers. Liam wanted to know the age of every person when they died. As I said before, I love cemeteries and could spend hours and hours poking around in them, reading each and every grave stone. I do pay attention to the age of the people at the time of their death, but it's never affected me until this morning.

We were just walking when a name caught my eye a few rows over. It was a name that I had only ever heard of one person having, and that person had passed away about a year ago. He was from Rome and ran in some of the same artsy circles as us. In fact, he had worked on a film with Seth years ago. I thought as I walked toward the grave "I wonder if that's him? The stone looks pretty new…" and upon turning the corner and reading the front of the stone, I realized that it was indeed the grave of this young man. I told Liam that we'd known him, and that he was Papa's age when he died last year of cancer. Almost one year exactly, as I found out. I had no clue he was buried there. I felt sad. How tragic, he was so young. I got a little teary eyed thinking about how scary the prospect is that even healthy young men can succumb to cancer, not just old ladies and young children. I thought about Seth and how they were the same age…it was just heartbreaking. He didn't have a wife, or children. Somehow that makes it seem even more sad. I wiped the tear off my cheek and said a prayer for him, and we went to "visit" Mr. Casey(previous owner of this house, who also died about a year ago).

I'm sure many people find mine and my family's fascination with cemeteries bizarre. I can't say that I blame them. You have to admit though, there is nothing that will remind you of your own mortality more than walking around a couple(or many more) acres of land literally filled with the vessels that once were home to thousands of living people. People who did one great thing that will always be remembered and people who did lots of tiny good things that never made headlines. From the grave stones that stand out above all the others, symbolic of a families accumulation of wealth or social standing to the flat stones that no one would even suspect to be a grave marker if it weren't for the fact that it's in the middle of a cemetery…and there are 4 of them in a row. From the husband and wife, buried side by side after 65 years of marriage to the still born infant who never even had a name, simply called "baby". From the confederate veteran who had undoubtedly seen so much death, violence, anguish and misery in his short life, to the young man, a year shy of 40, who loved film, music, and theater, his epitaph quoting author Stephen King "There are other worlds than these". I hope he found his way to a good one.











Thursday, September 4, 2014

still blowing in the wind

My blog as certainly been living up to it's name lately, hasn't it? Over the past few weeks we've been incredibly busy and very stressed out. It's still all good busy and good stress. I have missed writing and I have missed taking pictures for myself, on a creative level, and I have missed painting. So I am basically combining all three of those loves into one small, short post. Bear with me, I am rusty at writing and have a very cluttered mind right now.

As a self proclaimed "artist" I like to think that I find beauty in almost everything. The things we see, feel, hear, and do on a daily basis are absolutely beautiful. The words we speak to those we love, and on occasion, a perfect stranger can be as beautiful or as unattractive as we wish them to be. That in itself is a beautiful thing to me. The mere fact that we have the power to choose what we, and others, see when we open our mouths, or even when we shoot a quick text is beautiful, and amazing when you think about it. What I find so absolutely unfathomable is that, often times, we make the decision to not show beauty when we speak to one another. Or even to ourselves. As a woman, I am guilty of being unfair and mean to myself. That's alright because I am a very forgiving person, even to myself. I hope that my words never show the ugliness that I am capable of to those that I love. I am sure I fall short of that goal more often than I would like to fool myself into believing. It's not out of malice, but rather my own stupidity or even ignorance. I would never purposefully hurt someone that I love…then again, sometimes, when someone hurts me, I find myself wondering how they would feel, how they would react, if I were to inflict that same pain on them? Would they simply shrug it off for the time being, bury the hurt deep down, and then blog about on their private blog a week later? And after airing their dirty laundry for a select few to read, would they then forgive me and forget about it? I am not at all trying to say that my method of dealing with hurt feelings is healthy. I know it's far from healthy, or productive. It accomplishes very little, in fact. Maybe they would take a different route. Maybe they would simply look me in the eye upon seeing my ugliness and ask me "Why would say that to me? Why would you say something hurtful?" Leaving me to stumble over my words as I do my best to muster up a proper apology and some kind of excuse for my ugliness? Or would they act like my 10 year old daughter and get mad, give me the silent treatment and go tell their "real" friends how ugly I really am? This is also a point where we can find beauty, in how we deal with uncomfortable situations such as someone saying something unkind. It's unavoidable. No human being is void of feelings, even if they can only manage to care about their own. From time to time, we are all faced with this. It wasn't the first time we've experienced it, and it most certainly will not be the last. We learn from how we deal with things. We learn how to respond more productively, how to process in a more healthy manner, and most importantly in my opinion, how to avoid as much as possible being on the giving end of ugly words. I confided to a group of old friends recently when I told them about something that a friend of mine had said to me. I wasn't going to talk to anyone about it. I was resolved to forgive and forget. Apparently that is not a way that I am able to deal with things like this. It was a very important night for me and my husband. A night when we were sitting on top of the world, elated, happy, and feeling very beautiful, in many ways about ourselves, one another, and more importantly, about us as one. With one comment and a lot of wine, someone tore me down. It was never about the comment. It was made by someone that I love, and who I know loves me, who was simply being belligerent and attempting, very awkwardly, to join in on a honest girl conversation that started out about sex and ended with my hair being ugly because I had cut it. Now, I don't care what people think about my hair. If I did care, I would never have cut it. I cut it because I wanted to and that is really all that anyone needs to know. I wasn't hurt by the fact that my friend did not like my new cut. I was hurt because she told me, and more so because she decided to tell me on that particular night. That night, I was supposed to go to bed feeling nothing other than love and support. I went to bed worried that my hair had been ugly and I would look like an idiot in all of the pictures.  I was angry with my friend for having so much to drink and angry that she'd let ugly words fly out of her mouth so carelessly and slam me against a wall on such a night. It was all very silly, after all, as I said before I don't care what others think about my hair. I don't want it to look like I combed it with a lit firecracker, naturally, but if I feel good about it(and that night, I had felt great about it), that is all that should have mattered. Oops. There I went. There I went not handling something beautifully. Damn. Better luck next time. That's the back story. Oh, sorry, I should have mentioned that I was being sarcastic when I said this was going to be short.

I am learning to embrace things about myself that are beautiful, right down to my hair. More importantly though, the type of person that I am. This messy, crazy, weird little person that you know as April. I leave clothes in the washing machine and forget about them for 2 days, so I have to rewash them but I always make sure that Seth has plenty of clean work pants and boxers. I'm prissy and girly but I will catch a green garden snake for my son because I want him to have it, even if I scream like a little girl the entire time. I obsesses over TV shows like Doctor Who, Sherlock, and Supernatural and cry the last 30 minutes of every season finale. I like Loki better than Thor, and not just because Tom Hiddleston is infinitely hotter than Chris Hemsworth. I spend the first half of my day in a tank top and panties and nothing else. I forget things all the time…doctors appointments, to pay the water bill, where my phone is, I forgot my birthday once. Technically, I didn't forget my birthday, I forgot what the date was. The date was January 4th, not the 3rd, so I thought my birthday was the next day until people started blowing up my phone and Facebook. Apparently, I also forget what I am writing about…Oh, my quirkiness…I paint while lying on the floor because I have to look directly down at my paintings rather than just leaning over them like a normal human. I just realized how weird this is today and took a picture. Yes, I'm in my panties.

I love my husband more than life, but it drives me insane when he's at home for more than 3 days. I like my space. I am addicted to buying nail polish, fragrant wax melts, and paint brushes. I know without a shadow of a doubt that if I were a young unmarried woman in the 60's, I would have done everything in my power to hook up with Bob Dylan, probably in the 70's or 80's, too. I really do love my husband and although certain good looking celebrities make me swoon, there is not a human who has ever lived that I would find more attractive or more wonderful than my sweet Seth. Writing is intoxicating for me. I haven't had anything to drink today aside from coffee and my beloved lemon water, but I feel buzzed right now because I am writing for the first time in weeks. I spend most of my day trying to distract myself from eating food, because I love food that much. I get excited about cancelled plans 90% of the time because I hate leaving my house. I feel safe at home and very vulnerable and I hate that I feel that way. I'm Roman Catholic and live in constant fear of dying and going to hell because I only go to confession about once a year, sometimes less than that. I don't understand my in-laws and don't think I will ever be able to do so, but I still try to make them like me. I still don't know if they like me or not, but I think that they like very little about the world and understand even less than that and this makes me very sad and I wish that I could make them be happy…but I know that I can't. Other mothers intimidate me because they are all better at it than me. I live with constant guilt that I wished and drank away the most precious years of my kids lives because I was too young and stupid to cherish it. I know my art is not very good, but I keep reminding myself that the term "art" is broad and impossible to define, and relative to what one see's as beauty. I saw a ghost when I was 9 in my grandmothers house, a full apparition of a young boy who shouldn't have been there and I still remember how it felt when he was looking at me, and don't believe other people when they say that they believe me. I get angry with my husbands friends for not being as loyal to him as he is to them, and I hold a grudge and keep score. When I was 19, I voted for the first time and accidentally cast a digital ballot for someone that Seth wanted to vote against and he laughed at me and said "Oh man, you can't even vote right" and that comment has haunted me ever since, especially when I screw something up. I just want to be happy and to make other people happy. More often than not, I can't do both at the same time and that is a constant source of frustration for me.  All of this…this is what has spilled out of my brain in the past 5 minutes. I apologize for being scattered, but I am trying to paint a mental picture in your head(hopefully not half naked, lying on my stone floor) of who I really am. The reason that I am doing this is because I need to tell someone that I am a mess, and I need them to believe it. My mind, my life, my spirit…it's all a big mess. I'm like a Jackson Pollock painting that he did while being even more drunk than he usually was. But somehow, if I can make myself believe that it's a beautiful mess, I can sleep at night. If I tell myself every day that for everything weird, quirky, crazy thing about me is countered by something good, something wonderful, or beautiful, I can live with the person that I am today. Beauty…that age old thing, that thing that we all want to be, and want to spread. Can I be a beautiful person? For all of the ugliness and messiness that dwells within me, can I be a beautiful person? I hope that I can never answer that question, because I don't ever want to stop striving for it. So…if I can believe that one little ugly comment toward me, from a beautiful friend, can add to this weird little mixture of beautiful and ugly things, then all I need to do is find something beautiful to add to it. I am thinking that this entire post makes more sense inside my head than on this post, but I will post it anyway. My confidence in doing so is because I know who reads this, and I know y'all will just know that I am having a moment and will be super sweet and nice to me about it. That's why I love my friends. You all know that I am quirky and weird and you like me anyway.

So there you have it. I have exposed myself and am now naked with little left to hide. Not much to leave to the imagination, I suppose. I am not sure why I felt like opening up today, but I sincerely thank you, if you made it this far. Here's Bob singing Blowin' in the Wind, a picture of me painting this morning, and my new favorite picture, taken by my sister-in-law on Sunday, of Seth and I chilling on the trampoline at his parents house. I would have wished that we were alone during this moment, but now I am forever grateful that someone was there to grab my camera and snap this shot.







I think I will blog again, later tonight, on a might lighter note because I have more to say but I will just put this here for now and do my other things. Just right here. Just for now.

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