i'll let you know when i get there

Yesterday I brought the cats over to the new place.  Both were traumatized by the car ride.  Holly wailed non-stop the entire time.  Sherman sat down and was silent in the strange way that causes more concern than all the wailing in the world.  When I opened the door to the carrier, Holly bounded out - all confidence and curiosity.  She was purring within the hour.   Sherman, however, did not fare so well.  He pressed himself as far back into the carrier as he could and did not emerge for three hours.  it's a terrible feeling to watch a helpless creature suffer and to have no way to comfort it.  even though he was just laying there, i could see his heart pounding so quickly and his eyes were the saddest saucers i've ever seen.  there's just no way to explain change.  my heart broke and then broke some more.   At one point, Sherman felt brave enough to try to step out. But the feel of th...

The 5 Stages of Loss and Grief By  JULIE AXELROD  1. Denial and Isolation                                                                X  (& several circles back)  The first reaction to learning of terminal illness or death of a cherished loved one is to deny the reality of the situation. It is a normal reaction to rationalize overwhelming emotions. It is a defense mechanism that buffers the immediate shock. We block out the words and hide from the facts. This is a temporary response that carries us through the first wave of pain.  2. Anger                                                                        ...

we are scripted species our little lives circling around the same talking points- maybe altered slightly, depending on the mood. revolutions sans evolution (no one really listens to each other very well.) it does not matter what IS real, reality is created in the repetition and the dramatization of the repeated drama memory is a fickle thing (be careful!  she is not to be trusted!  she can be welcome company, but she tends to overstay her welcome.) the powerful play goes on! and on! and on! for weeks. the center of some drama the spotlight wavering and shadows near the curtains that do not quite exit remain indiscernible for lack of illumination. and once in a generous while- a revelation (but be careful!  they can cripple!  they can turn the world over!)

A little over a year ago (July 20), a few weeks after having purchased and fallen in love my first fancy camera, I posed these questions to my future self.  Here's the verdict- Dear awesome and interesting and stable and overall contented future self: 1.  will i become more adept in focus and flash? yep.  definitely with focus.  still need to dust off the expensive flash i bought and start experimenting, but yes. 2.  will i go semi-pro in the next year?  will i make some dollars to support this love?  $10?  $100?  $1,000?  YES, and hope to further it even more this year.  i tried totaling it in my head the other day and came up with somewhere around $7,500.  A lot of that went toward equipment this year, but still.  i wouldn't have anticipated this for myself last year.  let's do that again... and then some. 3.  if i do move in the direction of for profit, will photography lose it's charm?  NOOOOOOOOOO...

something happened today  so surreal  some sort of attempt at understanding  and something understood i am so sad.

i found myself signed up to do another year with NET ministries. for some reason, i was already in minnesota, and it was the first week of training where we do activities and they put us on teams. on the outside, i was going through the motions, but inside i was so disoriented. what was i doing there? i didn't belong there anymore. i'm an atheist, for christ's sake. how did i find myself here signed up for another year of work for a cause i didn't believe in? there was just this overwhelming feeling like this wasn't a place where i belonged or wanted to be anymore. apparently i had signed up for another year, but i just couldn't feel good about going through with it. i'd outgrown it. everyone around was excited and happy about all the activities, and all i could think was "how do i get back to california? how am i supposed to get back to my life?" i was trying to figure out a way to tell the supervisors that i just didn't belong ...

A flower is a poem about the death of a seed.