In the Last 24 Hours….

I was so excited I took me nearly 5 tries to clock out of work. Feel stupid as I walked out fumbling with my keys I wished everyone a good day, and ran to my car.

I had to get ready. We hadn’t seen each other in 8 months and I wasn’t going to be seen in my work clothes and without makeup on. I showered. I shaved. I put on my makeup. I got a cute outfit on. Then I watched Bones to make the time go by faster.

We arrived at the airport about 4pm. He walked out the gate 15 min later. We went out to Burger King, and laughed our butts off with my mom, talking about the good old days of college and crazy. When we got home, we snuggled on the couch and exchanged gifts.

My boyfriend was finally near me. It was wonderful.


The Problem with Selfies II

So I did it. I deleted my selfies from Instagram. Further more, I will be posting more photos that don’t suck and have a little more thought put into them. I just want to stop having excuses not to go out, have adventures, and take a few sweet photos that have some artistic relevance rather than just wimping out and posting pics of my face.

If I do any “selfies” they will be freaking all out artistic portraits with impeccable composition and subject matter. They will have depth, emotion, and it will look damn fine. None of this grainy half ass lighting anymore.

The Problem with Selfies

You want to know what is upsetting to me about Instagram? My selfies get more likes than some of the tasteful and well composed photography I take does. Why? Because my face somehow has become the primary relevance of who I am, and not my accomplishments. It is as if the person I was born to look like, has become more important than the talent I have.

What will they love me for when I get old. They won’t. Not that it matters much. It’s upsetting how shallow they have become. How shallow I have become in wanting to take selfies. Who am I to share myself with people who don’t care to get to know me?

I’m considering removing all my selfies from my Instagram. I think it would be a real personal eye opener and challenge. It would require me to take more photos of things other than myself. It would also give me an idea as to how much of my Instagram profile consists of selfies versus images of other things. It might be a good exercise for me. I might actually learn something. I might actually do something with my life that way.

Or I might just have way more pictures of my cat than usual. I don’t know.

Cleaning Up

I knelt on top of the stove, since the steps tool was not quite positioned properly. The smell from my paper towel emitting chemical fumes: bleach and lemon. The grease caking the window sill was almost immovable. I looked at her, she looked at me. We smiled awkwardly as we debated on wether or not we should scrape it off. We didn’t even know if grease was really what it was.

She gave me the alleged account of previous owners being crackheads. The place didn’t look too bad, since it had been repainted. It was in good condition. The smell of smoke was present, both from her habit, and the apparent habit of the gentlemen living down stairs, who form the smell of it, also seemed to have a fondness for pot. Thankfully, they were super nice neighbors. Both older. Both in need of companionship considering one was a shut-in and the other wasn’t exactly all there. I had the pleasure of meeting them, and they seemed safe enough.

When cleaning was done we sat and talked. I on the bed to take a brush to her long haired cats matted fur issues, which from the looks of things would be hard to keep up with even with brushing once a day. She spoke of work. Past boyfriends. Current boyfriend. I listened. Glad to have reconnected after so many years, and even more glad to have seen her at church two weeks in a row.

She elaborated on her past drug issues. How terrible her life had been since our ways parted years ago. Her spiritual awakening and what drew her back to church. I was glad for here glad she was willing to start again. Glad she seemed to be doing well enough to afford to live on her own.

Part of me was also envious that she was able to manage things on her own. I struggled just to have a space to call my own living at my ki parents. Desperate to get my life rolling, since it seemed to not really be going much of anywhere right that moment. Just a day prior I had seen another couple from college, who had been dating a little less than a year, get engaged. Both younger than me. Both dating less than I have been with my boyfriend (of two years and nearly three months). Engaged. The discontent within me boiled a bit more, but in a manner that was much more motivating than discouraging.

I want to find a place. Desperately.


Since the passing of my grandmother, my family doesn’t have any real traditions that we do for Christmas. We used to try to get together for family events at Grandmas house and there would be the usual mountains of food. Then we would exchange gifts, and lastly the children would go off to the tv room to watch National Geographic, Disney’s Fantasia, or play N64. Read more