Say Something Nice Day

Tomorrow is apparently "Say Something Nice On The Internet Day"... (it's also a friend's birthday, at one point it was joked that she was the same age as her then-1st-grader). If you're around long enough, you know this:

• No matter what, someone will have an issue with it. If you're thin, no matter that you find yourself freaked out when bones poke through, or if there's illness, genetics and nutritional issues. You have to be throwing up or not eating. 
• If you're heavy, you're a fat bitch
• There's no such thing as subtext.
• A nice person wants something
• Remember kids! It's a new world out there and no one has empathy anymore, it's outdated. (I believe this is the Marquis De Sade School of Thought, but could be wrong) either way, I'm not giving mine up.
• Every six months or so, someone will pull the overgrown 6th grader route.
• No one understands this particular concept: not everyone has lived normally. Or had the same experiences as you. Thus, the brave new world some fight for brings new experiences.
• Apparently casual sex runs amok and people are shocked if you don't have it. But no matter what, you're a whore. Because, you know, you're not only of a particular build, but you crossed them. 
• There are times when you end up simplifying simply because you want to save the worst for those who you're close to.
• If men pay you a lot of attention, you're in trouble
• No matter if flirting visibly scare you, you're a whore
• Don't let anyone do anything nice for you, and if they do it without you knowing, God help you
• Oh, that's right, we're all supposed to be atheists now. 
• As for simplifying, while Occam's Razor is a lovely tool, it isn't 100%. For this reason, I kept that the last thing I remembered was going through an ebook format of something I'd used to write an essay, and that a severe migraine and stress from grief had knocked me out. In the interim, a lot of stuff happened, wires got crossed, no one could reach me, as I allowed my phone, a worthless 3" brick die, and I was the last to know, and quite scared when I finally realized what had happened.
• Well, I suppose, life is what it is. While I will not ever willingly ask for something, I will thank people who are kind. I also will do what I need to do. 
• I will not ever use sex, false promises, or manipulation to get my way. I've seen examples, and I didn't like what I saw
• How is it like to be facing my 40th? I have no idea, ask me in about 11 years. I missed bell bottoms, I thought everyone was built like a linebacker, and the hairstyles made poodles blush. 
• How's this for different? I was brought up by older parents, one of whom was literally cloistered at one point, and tended to know my doctors by their first names. While I'm very good at remembering things (even those that I tend to think of as a blurry Polaroid) I had to learn communication in all aspects after having many routes closed off. I'm not going to talk or write like anyone else. (I still recall an "apple-asshole" conversation with horror... I couldn't pronounce the fruit for the life of me, and my speech therapist wanted me to be speech only. P's were very difficult.) 
• I'm still facing down situations that helped me to be scared of my own shadow, and to apologize unnecessarily. I will work on that...FOR ME. I think the first was a large 10 year old when I was 5, who tried to get me to steal money for her from her mother's purse. When I refused, I was beaten. I was found later, walking aimlessly. The last, I still fear. It's still in the shadows. People being put into my bed when I said no to willingly swinging, having to make blueprints to move and leaving them with people I knew I could trust, people being reintroduced, hopefully to control me and my mind, being hit so hard I broke a molar, which I now have to undergo a root canal for? And being told "Learn to lie... no one is faithful anymore, everyone uses people..." no. Same place I lost a rib in. I'm still trying to bring back a lot, still having to pay off his bullshit, and still wondering, "where can I go?" I learned to try to placate so I could calm things down, then work on my escapes in secret. Not being able to talk to certain people, or go to the doctor without being stood over or dealing with a huge fight when doctors wanted me alone? (Because I made him look like an asshole)? Those, I talk to my doctors about, to work on the whole mind, whole body thing. And making for damn sure I'm fully cleansed of that. Time will heal, and so will I. I have work to do.

But, being as Say Something Nice Day is coming up: Those who lent their hands when I needed, those I've kept, even those I lost.. all are important for a number of reasons. Thank you. God bless. 

Cuttlefish, Beauty From Mistakes, And... Surprise!

the sepia filter made it misty. I then used Picnick for the star overlay. Use it before it closes in April!

"cinnamon" on color. Yes, that's a smile. :)

I've been playing with sepias lately... I still want to try a hand with a manual camera (Lomo LCA 100... mostly because I love how a camera meant to mimic an expensive brand in an impoverished Soviet regime ended up with unintended results. Now, with a little cross processing...using chemicals not intended for that type of film, can create...something like this: Pics by Maco Sky-Walker)

But sepia, a really cool design... and with some filters, you can still let in natural color. I want a somewhat Wizard of Oz-ish look (anything from where Dorothy is home in Kansas)---David O. Selznic used a pantyhose over a light, to magnificent effect. I think over a lens, I can work it. (Also considering the fishnet stocking bit for shadow.) I like a "cinnamon" effect that tints without destroying undertones.
Sepia's history is kind of cool. Cuttlefish emit an ink that was used on photo positives to tint them that golden-orange-pink-peach-brown color. Thank a lovely squirting fish! But modern filters are just too damn orange!

But, using the party dress I bought for an event (Good price too, from a lovely shop called the Clothes Horse near me!) I decided to, as I promised a sweet neighbor kid, "Show my princess dress".) So, with my favorite accessory, and good luck charm, made from 100% authentic Himalayan wool, I worked out a few shots. It fit when I bought it. Now it's hanging, too long, needs a tailor. But hope to use it again.

No make up, hair in flat pins and loose braid and left to dangle. I use John Freida anti frizz serum and a detangling brush, and clarifying shampoo and conditioners, with a deep condition weekly. Curls by: Genetics and a simple wash, condition and dry. It's in defining them that I'd do the most work. Nice of them to behave! :)

Not WHAT Are You, WHO are You? Can You Ever Know?

There's a time where I go into extremely internal, introspective moods. Well, that time has come. Welcome to the Annual Where Am I? Moment. Enjoy! Refreshments after.

The What _______ Thinks I Do meme is a bit played out. So I'm of course, doing it again.

What My Friends Think I Do:

1)Capitalize on being a freak of nature--- in so many ways

2) Run about like some weird little princess tree hugger.

What my mother thinks I am:

Apparently, her baby.

3) What Society thinks I am: Playing banjo duets?

4) What I Think I Am: I'll borrow from the Flinstone Vitamin commercials. 10 million strong...and growing.

5) What I Really Am: Constantly growing, evolving, learning. Sorting me out. To life, to health, to love.  Skål!


In the end, I'll simply work on me and what I need to do... focus on what's important.
And let go of what I don't need.

The result of playing with sepias and thresholds, etc. Yes, I am very white.

The Ash Wednesday Fire

Sometimes, fear is a lifesaver.
Now, I don't usually argue intelligent design---look at some of the people I've met! But... if a well coordinated Swiss quartz has a master clockmaker, then so too must the universe have someone in control.

In fear, the pupils dilate, the legs suddenly work, there's an analgesic effect, the senses can be heightened. At times this is a bad, bad thing.

I haven't necessarily been hungry lately... headaches and needing a root canal keep me either appetite-less or looking for soft food. But I had a sudden burst of hunger (Sometimes, your body tells you when it needs strength, and I have to fight)... being tired, I did all the prep, and flicked on the burner... unfortunately, it was the wrong one, and a cooking utensil was in the way... a small fire was put out nearly immediately. But fear because I didn't hear alarms going (everyone else did though.. oh dear, I live among a lot of older people, I'm sure after the incident 10 years ago, when a sweet man (who, bless him, was never very present.) left a candle burning while he was at work and lost his kitchen (Our building is 41 years old... but my neighbor above me has a 10 year old kitchen.)

Aside from plastic utensils, my pride, and some burns with blisters, one which I've cleaned as well as I can but can't quite get some charring out of, and the pain of having panicked (I'm now feeling the effect of panic... gotta be careful with pain meds, believe me!) and from having been out in the cold with a pre-existing illness with fever, I'm ok. I mostly scared myself.

And, really, what is more appropriate than a fire on Ash Wednesday?

I also thank the friend who took panicky, recovering me out. Not only was the grilled chicken lovely, but so was the marvelous, short, simple conversation. And the crazy snow is in melt stage now. I should soon be free of any evidence of this.

The Whiteboard Blog

I have conductive loss starting at 18 months. It will worsen with age, hoping to slow it down. It all started with a reaction to an MMR vaccine, and a high fever.

Evernote and Skitch come in handy... loud places, letting go of frustration, etc... highly recommended in the hearing loss community. (Don't know what to call it, I'm not up to date on the gang signs of late.)

Yes, I draw like a 3rd grader on speed. And this makes my handwriting look odd, stylus or not. But so be it.

I try to be patient. But I have succumbed to temptation. 

Ragtime and Jazz

When I was 11, I got my first bra...from Mom and Grandma on a shopping trip, while waiting for Dad to have yet another round of tests and surgeries. One of those little cotton balconets... my cousin, always on the bigger side, had had to start wearing a bra at about 4 or so. I was built like a slim 8 year old at the time... short, slim, bony... and still they were trying everything they could think of for nutrition, etc... it fit quite nicely, like a loose, cropped t-shirt.

My father, perhaps realizing time was running short, sat me down for the "father daughter talk"...he was as blunt as a whack to the head with a baseball bat, so seeing him a little embarrassed kind of shocked me.
"Soon, you're going to be a young lady"... he flushed. I reddened watching him. I think the seminary training had not prepared him for blushing 11 year old girl. "And with that, you'll grow." I sat, watching him while tucked into the recliner on his lap. "Well, baby, a woman's life is like this..." attempting not to be crude, he fished, looking for a way to say it without beating around the bush as well. "It's 1 week of ragtime, 3 weeks of jazz."

About 4 years later, working as a counselor for the youngest girls, I felt a tap on my shoulder, saw a sweatshirt being held out to me. I was wearing khakis...and well. Quick change done, a whisper from a cruder person... "So, how's your aunt Flo?" I don't have an Aunt Florence, so suffice it to say, I was flustered. Not being able to control the volume of my voice--- I don't hear myself talk... I actually squeaked "I don't have an Aunt Flo!" a bit more loudly than I should have.

That said, I quickly realized that 6 weeks of ragtime was an average for me... and I couldn't have gotten up to dance if I'd wanted to. What was this 28 day thing? Turns out I had ovarian cysts and endometriosis...so, it was massive appointments added onto my schedule. At 20, surgery was necessitated there. Now, with what options open to me, having had seizures and kidney issues, among others, I can't take birth control pills. Until I'm ready, a Mirena works. But... I go to Catholic Health for my needs...it's great, I finally have pretty much universal care, and no separate driving to a clinic for blood tests. But they don't give out birth control. So I had to peddle my butt into Planned Parenthood. Imagine my surprise... the one in the city is a bit dark and grimy, with bullet-proof glass, etc... and a sign on the door that said "Protesters have used cell phone cameras to take photos of procedures." So, in order to help myself, universally, I kind of have to take in dirt and grime, and all of that. It's cheery, oh so cheery and doesn't help my confidence in the least.