Jul 4, 2014
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Everything is brighter when you look up. It’s both a psychological and literal truth and it’s the first time I’m fully aware of it.
It’s so obvious to me now. Expressions like ‘chin up’ and ‘down in the dumps’ actually describe physical characteristics of human emotion and they directly correlate to whether or not you are ‘seeing the light.’ The logic that fueled ideas like heaven and hell suddenly make more sense to me.
I’m not at all religious, but I am spiritual. I believe that we are constantly exchanging energy with the universe. Every thought that crosses your mind is a spark. Every ray of sunshine is a comforting touch.
Feeling down? Take a lesson from flowers: they look up, lean towards the light, and grow. Look up and, at the very least, you’ll instantly brighten your world.
What are these numbered posts all about? Read the introduction to my Photo & 100 Words project and find out!
Jun 27, 2014
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You’ve heard the story: an artist wakes up suddenly, they’re inspired, they’re ready to go, they run to create… I’d love to tell you a dream inspired this image, but it’d be a straight up lie.
It’s actually this photo that inspires a memory of a dream I once had. I was in a classroom and the entire scene was lit in this same eerie blue. I ran across desks, bounced off of students’ heads, and grabbed blue balloons as retro video game sound effects marked my every move.
What can I say? Dreams can be withdrawing-crackhead-crazy sometimes!
It was the blue glow in this photo that brought me back to the memory of my blue dream. Then that led to another memory of the time I dreamt in black and white.
So I was wondering: do you dream in color? Tell me in the comments below.
What are these numbered posts all about? Read the introduction to my Photo & 100 Words project and find out!
Jun 20, 2014
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My quest for magic began shortly after the realization that santa, the toothfairy, and the easter bunny were frauds. I didn’t stop believing in magic, I just hadn’t found it yet.
Ghosts, fairies, witches, leprecauns, werewolves, and vampires danced in my head. I made decisions based on the shake of a magic eight-ball, the roll of the dice, and by flipping cards and consulting Quiji boards. I made wishes on stars, clocks, and candles. I blew eyelashes off of my pinky and dandelion seeds off of the stem.
Since I’ve lost Quiji board and the eight-ball I find it harder to make decisions. I still make wishes everyday, though, and I think I always will. There are no unfulfilled wishes in my life, just wishes in progress. (Click to Tweet this!)
Can you think back to your childhood and remember some fantasy you had? Any magic or beliefs you’ve since left behind? Tell me all about ’em below!
What are these numbered posts all about? Read the introduction to my Photo & 100 Words project and find out!
Jun 13, 2014
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Creeping up behind my neighbor’s Fiat, I was balancing between stalker and antisocial weirdo. The car wasn’t there at 6:00 am, when I was examining the bushes for close up photo ops as Gracie sniffed out the perfect poop spot.
When I returned it was noon and, on the other side of the car, my neighbors were having a tag sale – which explained (without alleviating my frustration) why the damn thing was parked right in front of the pretty flowers.
Weekend traffic and the tag sale led to a high frequency of slow, gawking drivers. One guy stopped next to me and called out the window, “Why are you crying?” I think he was a little embarrassed when I turned around with a big, fake smile and a camera in my hand.
I wonder how many other passers-by assumed I was a weirdo crying in the bushes.
What are these numbered posts all about? Read the introduction to my Photo & 100 Words project and find out!
Jun 6, 2014
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This is the last photo I’m going to share from my 6-week trip to Guatemala. It’s sad – like I’m leaving all over again.
A flower bud bursting into life in a sea of rotting petals. That’s what this trip was to me, a breath of fresh air (if you don’t count the chicken bus exhaust I probably inhaled haha) in a life of boring monotony.
Coming home to obligations after having so much freedom was painful the way I hear withdrawal is. No more waking up to infinite possibilities. Back to spending the best hours of the day running out all of my energy until I’m a sleepy pile of mush.
Sorry to get all dark and dreary on you, but it’s how I felt. I’m ok now, but I’m still not accepting my life for what it is. Now I’m working even harder to get back to that place… permanently. I crave freedom and there’s no 12-steppin’ program that’ll get rid of my addiction.
P.S. You may think I’m being over dramatic… but I call that having passion. What are you passionate about? Leave a comment and let me know below.
What are these numbered posts all about? Read the introduction to my Photo & 100 Words project and find out!
May 30, 2014
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Enveloped in a sleeping bag I could easily imagine I was floating on a cloud. Then I would move, or breathe, or sigh, and the springs would shriek in my ear – dragging me back to reality. I was just in the backyard, on the trampoline, contemplating the unknown in the dark, inky sky.
Stars have always intrigued me, since the first wishes the nursery rhymes coaxed out of me, through the nights of UFO seeking, to the day I discovered that the light from most stars has traveled billions of years to reach our eyes. The night sky is, in fact, a window to billions of years in the past and that realization still amazes me.
So, naturally, when I find a star in a flower just opening up to the world it’s something I just have to grab and keep forever.
What are these numbered posts all about? Read the introduction to my Photo & 100 Words project and find out!
May 23, 2014
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I imagine walking into this photo would be like entering the set of Alice and Wonderland as tiny Alice. The underside of these teeny, tiny flowers seem so foreign – it’s not a view you come across without looking for it.
Typically, we tower over flowers and look down on them like some kind of superior being, but it’s so much more exciting to become a bug for a minute. Isn’t it?
Sometimes I feel small when I discover something so beautiful. If the flower doesn’t do it for you just look at the stars one night and you’ll totally get how I feel.
What are these numbered posts all about? Read the introduction to my Photo & 100 Words project and find out!
May 16, 2014
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Shallow is
a smile at a stranger.
Shallow is
my “good, fine, and you?”
Shallow is
just inches of water – you can see right through.
The less I say, the more it’ll mean.
The more you see, the less you’ll dream.
No darting eyes allowed in this scene.
Shallow is
a face painted flawless.
Shallow is
a high-heeled shoe.
Shallow is
this photograph – you’ll see what I want you to.
P.S. What does this have to do with my photo? I have many photos of this particular bud, but this is the only one with such shallow depth of field (how much of the photo is in focus). Having too much depth of field can make a photo busy and take away from the subject. Of course, it’s all subjective – but I find myself shooting shallow most days.
What are these numbered posts all about? Read the introduction to my Photo & 100 Words project and find out!
May 9, 2014 |
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I felt like Snow White. Every. single. day. was so open to possibilities during my escape to Antigua.
Well… it was like being Snow White if the forest was replaced with a beautiful city with cobblestone streets and volcanoes in the distance. I walked to the market, got lost in its endless pathways, and emerged with a bundle of fresh flowers and fruits.
It wasn’t until I wandered home that I realized this little stowaway had come with me. He lived on, and ate, all my flowers but it was nice to have him around.
P.S. I sat down to write this post and went crazy. I was WAY over the 100 mark, and I realized this, but I just couldn’t stop writing. When I finally checked the word count I was at 500 and I hadn’t even mentioned the photo yet! So the result got its own blog post and you can read it here if you want to. Here’s a teaser:
“I can’t mow the lawn,” screamed 16-year-old me, “do you know how many bugs I will kill?!”
I was serious, I mean, it wasn’t just an attempt to avoid a new chore, I really never killed bugs. That is… until this week… Read the rest of my story
May 9, 2014
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“I can’t mow the lawn,” screamed 16-year-old me, “do you know how many bugs I will kill?!”
I was serious, I mean, it wasn’t just an attempt to avoid a new chore, I really never killed bugs. That is… until this week.
So what happens when I see a bug? Well I guess that depends on the situation. I’ve been known to jump into flash seizures, eeking out loud as I shake and spin myself into a nearby wall. Usually though, those frantic episodes are caused by a piece of my own hair grazing my skin and followed by a laughing fit at my irrational fear.
When I really discover a bug in my house I tend to just ignore it and let it do its thing. If it’s a spider bigger than my thumbnail though, it’s time to call in boyfriend backup for trap and release tactics.
Then there are my outdoor bug finds. An interesting bug, even a ::gulp:: spider, always gets my attention and if my camera is nearby you can expect to see me shimmying through the grass on my stomach for at least the next few hours.
Maybe I just watched Honey I Shrunk the Kids a few too many times, or maybe I had a valid moral obligation to let the little critters live, nevertheless, my save-the-yard-buggies protest was a failure and I had to mow the lawn that day. So yeah, I must have killed a few bugs, but I didn’t do it by choice and I didn’t actually see it happen, so it doesn’t count… right?
Earlier this week these little black bugs decided to take over my kitchen and shed their wings all over the floor. The boyfriend and I took turns sweeping the little bastards up and throwing them outside. It wasn’t long before things started to get out of hand and we turned to a harsher method of removal.
Now, as I stare at the tiny, black carcasses, I imagine what it was like for them. What would it be like to wade across a stream unaware of any danger. Halfway through I might pass a pale, bloated hand bobbing in the current. A foot here, an elbow there, a knee, and then there are bodies everywhere. Suddenly it’s harder to breathe and my insides are burning as the poison spreads.
I feel guilty – but it’s a guilty… pleasure. I really hate to admit it but it’s sickly satisfying to suck up their lifeless bodies into my vacuum, lay down another river of Raid, and wait.
Suddenly the girl who once claimed that mowing the lawn is immoral has become some sort of Hitler, capable of exterminating anyone that bothers her. As a sufferer of the human condition, I fully confess to being insane and hypocritical. Tell me you’re not.
