Blemished Pink Flowers // Pretty Hurts

Are the flowers sick? Is this an affliction? The effect is visually striking.

You can be sick and still pretty. You can be sick and very pretty. You can be sick in such a way that "pretty" is what keeps you standing up.



"Ain't got no doctor or pill that can take the pain away. The pain's inside and nobody frees you from your body." Quote from "Pretty Hurts" by Beyonce. (Also here's the music video.)

I don't know why this resonates with me so much right now. I'm in a decent place with my self-image, as well as with my mood. I think I look good, generally speaking, and I feel good. Yes, generally speaking.

I was at X's place on Friday and he mentioned offhand that I wasn't wearing makeup. His comment didn't sound critical, but I felt disconcerted nonetheless. "Best I Ever Had" was playing. When Drake sang the line, "Sweatpants, hair tie, chillin' with no makeup on," X nodded at me and said something. I don't remember the exact words. Obviously I was wearing sweatpants and no makeup. Chillin'--we were both working on our laptops.

Most of the time I pretend to myself that X doesn't notice whether I'm wearing makeup. Of course, he does: he looks at my face and naturally it's easy to tell. I'm too chicken to ask him if he still thinks I'm cute without makeup. I know he'd say yes, but I also know that he'd be honest. I wouldn't put it past him to say, "Yes, but..." X is the definition of honest to a fault.

I guess I do know why this resonates with me.

Dog Dog Dog

This is Button, my neighbor's dog who I've been walking. I imagine that her inner monologue goes, "Dog. Dog dog dog. Dogdogdogdogdog." She loves to get tummy scritches, but she also won't turn her nose up at under-the-chin scritches. Er, wait, I mean...



Button's silly grin truly conveys canine enthusiasm, the quality that makes dogs so easy to adore. They are wholehearted in every moment. A dog's hyper-positive attitude is funny*, but it's also inspirational. Dogs (at least the well-treated ones) show me how I want to relate to the world: with eagerness and delight. Sure, my life is more complex than what a dog deals with, simply because I am a more complex creature. But still, pets provide a perspective that promotes optimism. Maybe there's food in my bowl right now!

*Original "pet diary" idea by Dan Piraro, author of the Bizarro comics. Feel free to buy his books.

Garden Shots & Torporous Education

I don't think I will ever get tired of taking flower photos. It surely has not happened yet. I end up deleting most of them eventually, but for now...



I got very frustrated in class today, because I was so bored. It was an amorphous, targetless kind of frustration. The teacher was just doing his job, going over the content methodically and explaining concepts with examples. I did the assigned reading, and I get things quickly, so I already knew all of the stuff he was talking about. Sitting there for three hours felt like such a waste of time.

Anxious Mania

I had bad dreams--a remix of Bones with melted colors; serves me right for watching TV late at night--and woke up itchy with sweat. I silenced four alarms intended to prevent me from sleeping in long enough to feel crummy. 8am. 8:05am. 8:10am. 8:15am. Always my own worst enemy, like anybody is. I wasn't sure if I had missed my dose yesterday but I must have 'cause the jitters and heat encased my brain. This morning I bolted bitter tea and handfuls of baby carrots. Mixed coffee into my "Super Irish Breakfast" to mellow it; drank too many weak-but-potent mugs.

To kill the caffeine, I ran with the neighbor's dog, or at least made an attempt. She's more interested in nosing at plants, but will lope along next to me for a few stretches. The weather was misty but muggy so I dripped obscenely with sweat. When I showered I turned up the volume and let 70s hits pound the curtain (thanks, Pandora) and headbanged while brushing my teeth with the hope of forgetting myself. It was almost comical.

Here's what I say to myself now: Deal with the present. Check off the tasks on your list. Pretend there is no future to worry about it. Technically it's true--according to my understanding of time, the future doesn't exist yet. Just read your textbook and take your outfit photos and pretend that you feel like a person. Fake it till you make it, baby.

Bet Your Bottom Dollar That Tomorrow

I'm not sure if this lady on the car ornament is an actual Playboy affiliate or just in the same vein. I'm lightweight offended by the whole thing, since I'm willing to bet that the person who drives this car is a man. But only lightweight offended because honestly I'd rather not bother about it.

I feel kinda bummed out and lumpish today. I don't know why. I've been reasonably productive: I did pet-care and went to class and fulfilled my daily writing quota. My remaining duties are about an hour of dog-walking, total, and feeding the bunnies and general household stuff. I have a pet-sitting interview at six. I will probably do an outfit post. None of that is arduous, and yet I'm dragging my heels.

My impulse is to try and explain my mood, but I suppose I don't have to. I can sit with it and remember that tomorrow is another day, trite as that is.

Quotes That Caught My Eye

From Mindwise by Nicholas Epley. What he's saying is that if we want to understand each other, we should just ask and listen to the answers. Intuition is powerful, but when it comes to interpersonal relationships, being direct is easier and more accurate than making assumptions. I've been trying to implement this lesson in conversations with X, by sharing my feelings even when I find them confusing or don't think they're "justified".



This passage from Jack London's Call of the Wild is describing dog behavior, but I think it encapsulates the motivation behind most crimes, especially in disadvantaged areas. For instance, many drug-dealers in low-income neighborhoods are people who want to support their families financially, and see no other way to get ahead in life. When legitimate opportunities are withheld, desperate people turn away from the law and pursue illicit possibilities.

Blue & Gold Dusk

I'm amazed at the quality level I can achieve with just my phone and some very basic editing. The photography process is definitely hit-and-miss compared to using the DSLR, but it's still totally possible to make beautiful pictures. Low light precludes nothing.

The sun descended slowly. I was reading Call of the Wild on my Kindle app while walking the dog--multitasking, whattup--but I had to pause and look around me, and then attempt to capture what I was seeing. My eyes perceived much more than the phone's camera lens, but these snapshots are enough to hold the mood of the evening.

I find it viscerally satisfying to document my life. There's a good pang in my gut, like being stuffed after Thanksgiving dinner. I have a powerful impulse to share the sights and reflections that fill my mind. Blogging is almost compulsive. I require this practice.

Flowers & Pride

Today in my endless series, Random Neighborhood Nature Photos:



I don't actually like California poppies, except that they represent the state I love best. I dunno--they're just not especially appealing to me, from a purely aesthetic point of view. But I think the photo above is pretty cool, although the focus could be sharper.



Roses, on the other hand, are among my favorite flowers. I'm sure I've mentioned that before.

I'm proud of myself because I've been writing steadily, producing every day. I'm proud of myself because I went to my sociology class and enjoyed it, and didn't beat myself up too badly for contributing to the discussion contentiously. I'm proud of myself because I have been telling X when I feel vulnerable, sharing my worries about our relationship. I'm proud of myself because I got lost in Sphere and The Racketeer. I'm proud of myself because I'm not shaking with fear that being proud of myself will guarantee a fall.

Stymied Enthusiasm

My neighbor's dog Frida got REALLY excited when I walked by, on my way back from a ramble with a different neighbor's dog. Unfortunately photos can't illustration the drama, but she was yelping ferociously and pushing hard to get through the fence.

I know how it is, little one. Life is full of frustrating fences that you can see through but can't get through. My mom says that the world is essentially tragic, and her observation is true. It hurts when you think about the state of affairs too much. The solution is simple but difficult: cultivate joy where you can, and contribute to the larger picture by working on your local puzzle piece. I try.

Sometimes all I can do is handle myself, if that. But I haven't had a moment of giving up in months. The long haul seems doable.

Crushed Plums

My neighbor's plum tree hangs over his fence and drops half of the crop to spoil on the sidewalk.



A few days ago I accidentally stomped on one of the plums while walking the dog. It's a wonder that I didn't slip and fall. Instead, juice squished out of the fruit, smearing against the pavement and making the bottom of my flip-flop momentarily sticky.



I don't know why small broken things are so significant to me. Perhaps I relate to them--I have a history of being broken and feeling small. It's what I look for in a man: I want to be my tiniest self and feel safe in his arms. Yes, my desires are very cliche, which isn't necessarily a fault, but nevertheless I am ashamed.

I've eaten some of these plums. They're sweet and juicy in a bland way--no candy tartness. Too ripe.

The Main Reason People Lie

The main reason for human deceit, as interpreted by Nicholas Epley in his book Mindwise: How We Understand What Others Think, Feel, Believe, and Want. Background photo by Jeff Ruane.

Two Days Motherland

I've started writing in the morning, getting my words down first thing. Okay, it's only been two days so far, but I think this is a good practice to develop. Why not celebrate early? Also, two days running, I have felt nauseous before noon, but I don't think that's related. I hope it is not.

Last night and the previous night, I read Sylvia Plath in bed. I started with journal entries--I am still working through The Unabridged slowly--and then read a few poems out loud. It was hard to find a happy one to end on, which doesn't surprise me given the author. Poetry sounds best when voiced, and I understand it better when I say the words using my own mouth.

I haven't written a poem in a long time. My fingers didn't dry up, but I write to be read and almost no one reads poetry. I just bought A Thousand Heavens by Divya Persaud, so there's that. It was $4.80 which is less than some lattes. I know she offers a new perspective. I am about to reenter the business of learning.



The above is an excerpt--read the rest here.

Seaside Bunny Whirl

This morning I made some digital collages with snapshots of my rabbit Doof. Or I guess they're technically mixed-media pieces, since I added scribbles.



I love how curious he looks. Background: Floral Vortex by Anita Ritenour.



The larger version looks better. Background: Golden Gate Bridge landscape by Tobias.

Rescheduling Anxiety

// Football blues by Paul Stocker //

Today in therapy we talked about the idea of deferring worry. Here's what you do: Consider whether the thing you're obsessing about is necessary to pay attention to right now. If it is, then go ahead and take action to lessen your stress. But if it's not, then tell yourself, "I'll think about this issue later. Right now I'm gonna focus on washing the breakfast dishes," or whatever is the task at hand. Schedule a worry session for later. Say to yourself, "If I still feel like I need to deal with this when 6pm rolls around, then I'll take ten minutes to think about it." Put a note on your calendar, or set your phone to remind you. When more worries pop up, you can add them to the list, and firmly let them know that they'll have to wait for your attention. Hopefully, by allotting a specific time for fretting, you can keep the nervous tension out of the rest of your day.

I'm sure this technique won't work for everyone, because nothing works for everyone. But it provides an attitudinal tweak that really helps me, personally.

Another stress-reducing perspective-shift is the reminder that other people are not your responsibility. (Unless you have kids.) For example, at the moment my mom is trying to configure her new computer, and the process is apparently very frustrating. I feel an urge to go comfort her, or to make her approach the problem in a different way. I dunno. But what I do know is that 1) she doesn't want my help and 2) it's not my role to change how she does things. My job is to take care of myself. I must accept that other people are beyond my control.

I hope that this post doesn't seem sanctimonious or inappropriately instructional--I'm writing to myself as much as I am to any internet wanderer who happens to be reading here.

What Is Growing Up

I frequently resolve to stop picking at my acne, and just as frequently fail to resist temptation when I'm in front of the bathroom mirror. (My mild case of derma has come up before--see this entry and this one, for example.)



For once I'm annoyed at the camera for being overly flattering, because this picture doesn't accurately illustrate my wrecked skin. It's probably for the best anyway--no one wants to see that. Besides, I'm sure I look less raw than I feel. Humans tend to dramatize their experiences, especially teenage humans. Eventually I'll look back on young adulthood the same way I recollect middle school, with rueful embarrassment and condescending empathy for the petty agonies of a former self.

Right now my worries don't seem minor. (Pun intended, although technically I'm "legal".) Currently I'm falling in love with X again and trying to find a professional path that I can tread on daily. The inching progress in both respects is very potent; the muscles in my heart and limbs tear as they stretch. Still my surface preoccupies me as much as ever...

Nature Finds A Way

I like seeing plants grow through cracks in the sidewalk. They remind me that entropy is entropy is entropy: we can try to impose order on the system, but the system will defy a definitive arrangement. (Sort of--I don't understand entropy scientifically.) I try really hard to structure my life in ways that make sense, but those efforts can never be fully successful. I can't function without learning to tolerate a certain amount of randomness and disorganization.