I know, now you'll have that Elton John song in your head. There are worse things.
I've been diligently posting photos to my photo blog, nearly every day, which of course, entails 1) finding the shot, 2) taking the shot, 3) downloading the shots, and 4) posting one. How do I possibly find the time to do this, you ask? (You don't have to ask, I've been asking myself that lately.)
Well, the truth is, I don't. I do it while I'm holding a nearly 3-month old baby. While I'm convincing my toddler to use the potty to make his whoa (don't ask.) While I'm eating over the counter, paying bills online, inhaling lunch/breakfast/dinner, and collapsing on the couch at night.
And, at the sacrifice, I'm afraid, of this blog.
The funny thing about passion is you don't always know it's a passion until it starts to define you. And I suppose, in a way, the visual representation of life has always defined me. In high school, I wanted to be yearbook photographer (wanting to achieve goals without actually achieving them has also always defined me. If I can't say it on my blog..)
In college, I was a film major. Of all the thousands of things I could have chosen to focus on, I chose the one path in which it was absolutely necessary to move to L.A. upon graduation to pursue. Practical? No.
I have now, finally, after much deliberation, consternation, fascination, and absolution, begun my own photo blog. To further delve into and define my passion.
That is where I begin, and I hope--let's all hope, for the continuity of passion in this good World, that I wind up somewhere completely different.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Monday, January 25, 2010
Move the blanket the wrong way and he wakes up.
Stop dancing him around to my iPod, he wakes up.
Chants of 'keep going' in my head
Toddler indignant yells from his wakeful toddler bed.
I would say I'm losing my mind
But I'm not fully confident that it didn't
Keep me going, keep me running, keep me coming back for more.
My cherubs, my charges, my glorious core.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Lately I've been thinking about perspective. How much it changes with time, how much it changes us. It's impossible not to have any, yet very difficult to summon. Especially when trying to live at the current moment; of which, not doing so, of course, is impossible.
As an interesting side note, I started this post on 1/12/10.
I think I lost it for a while there, Perspective. Just before I had my 2nd son in November... my whole life was Life As Mom. I never had a great surprise party for turning 30, no collegial late 20s--that glorious Purgatory before a serious mortgage but after the impressionable early 20s. I was never in college, in teenage angst, and certainly not listening to Pink Floyd as a precocious pre-teen. My entire Being was always centered around shuttling someone around and being at a little person's beck and call.
Wait, that's not right, is it? Have I always had someone else in the #1 spot? Of course not. But it seems that way sometimes, the reversal of life's focus so complete. So complete that not one square inch of my car interior doesn't show some effect of a toddler being captive inside much of the time. So complete that phone conversations with friends invariably involve the mysteries of the toddler mind, and denigrate to poop. Lack of sleep means I hang up without ever saying the reason I called.
Even my brain is unrecognizable. I used to remember stuff. I used to think about subjects like economics, and statistics. And going out at night. And .. I wrote more regularly! (Though, ironically, in an actual diary.)
A good way to bring my Perspective, that elusive and eloquent elf, back in the foreground, is music. A song from a particular point in my life can bring me right back to the exact moment in which I had the luxury of time to enjoy it. Listening to Pink Floyd in my bathroom growing up. To Live in my first-year college dorm room. To something poppy, like Puff Daddy, in my early 20s. Dave Matthews can bring me back to many various late-20/early-30 situations, like dancing around my living room with wild abandon and flying arms and legs. Small, unknown alternative bands like Carbon Leaf can take me back to Charlottesville in 2005.
Most importantly, Van Morrison and Into the Mystic can transport me, emotional and pregnant for the first time into sitting at my desk, working from home in Fall 2006, and to two weeks ago. When I held my toddler tightly in my arms and danced him wildly around the kitchen, to squeals of laughter.
It's just that I hadn't had the chorus of laughter until now.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
I have a new project. Not my newborn, though he is very much a project. Not myself. Though.....
Please, please come visit my new photoblog, Fingers&Paws365. I'm not begging, but I will promise you that for every comment, I'll exchange one quality visit and comment on your blog in return. And $500. Just kidding.
I do thrive on feedback, so please... help a sister out. And subject ideas welcome!
Friday, January 8, 2010
Or, am I? Just a quick poem about the week from hell.
With open arms
Ne'er grow shall the green grass
How many times:
This too shall pass?
Unholy melancholy melts
The aftershock of leftover snow
Biting tongue at toddler crass
How many times,
This too shall pass.
Wake up and begin anew
Reminders of forgotten hues
Congratulating temper-less feuds
Too many times,
This too shall pass.
Bright sun gleams, reflects
Mirror-like on blinding snow
Easing pains relinquish teeth that gnash
It is true.
This too, shall pass.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
A lightning quick post, just to get the "2010" added to my archive list.
Another resolution. To be true to my original intention in starting a blog, and actually write, regardless of what is going on in life that might prevent that. Twice weekly, as a minimum. I know blogland will hold me accountable; even if I cannot be accountable to myself.
And - news flash to my Facebook friends; though posts are automatically imported into Facebook, this is actually a real blog. Check it out!