Resolved:

I will speak to strangers, and I will ask strangers for permission to photograph them.

It happens to me ALL THE TIME that I want to but manage to procrastinate asking until they're gone.

Today when I was getting coffee with a friend (after all-you-can-eat Indian lunch for $7.95, mm!), a young woman saw me take my Diana out of my bag and started talking to me, because she has one too. As she was getting her coffee, it occurred to me to ask her if she wanted to go on a Diana picture-taking date sometime. But I didn't! How blah! How tragical!

Hesitating just a moment too long in situations like these has caused me no small amount of regret. Conversely, speaking to strangers has been marvelously rewarding at times. Like when it got me road-tripping companions in Iceland!

New rule, Holly: if the thought even flutters across your mind that you would like to say something or take some picture, SPEAK. Don't deliberate. I'm deciding for you right now, it's a rule: you will ask them.

Are you good at this sort of thing? Any helpful hints for hesitation killing?

Hidden

































Small memoir

Today I was
late. Wore my sister's sundress over a funny slip under a big sweater
A middle-aged man with a beer belly told me from his SUV that he loooves me
I thought that was too boring to get angry about.
I was late. I drank tea
that smells smoky as phoenix feathers might
sitting inside my layers and behind my sunglasses, watching the ocean,
watching small children ramble around the ruined baths with their daycare leaders.
Today I spoke to one of my contessorates for more than sixty minutes but fewer than sixty-five
I shipped a used textbook to a military base in Europe, and let-me-tell-you-it-was-not-worth-the-paperwork

I had a revelation. And I'm hungry to make it clear on paper, and I'm working on the project called Space Diary, and I'm listening to music with the headphone jack tugged halfway out, which makes for an appealingly uneven, underwater sort of sound when paired with a piano. Bought a cheap 35mm SLR. And I am very serious and very intent, even though I feel like I laugh at everything. Laughter too is serious. It's all serious. Almost none of it is, none of it is. Stop laughing.

In my bag (the heavy edition)




digital camera (well, it would be in the zippered bag if I weren't using it to take this)
Holga + lenses
Diana + lenses
coin purse with vitamins and calcium tablets in it
pencil
iPod with headphones
wallet
prayer book
instax
water bottle
vending machine toy
hair elastics + bobby pins
sunglasses
cell phone
copper bangles
keys
pressed powder
sidewalk chalk (in film canister)
chapstick
nail file
lipstick (I wear makeup about once a year and Tuesday was that day)
crappy lipstick (for writing on things)
whiteboard marker
soap bubbles

p.s. I'm back from helping my sister and brother-in-law move. missed you.

Needing



Lately I am needing (very badly, if I do not allow myself these I barely get by):

faith in my own narrative, that it will be meaningful. and that it will be meaningful without me knowing how.

to honor my my in-between times, when I am neither well nor sick, neither certain nor lost, containing fear and grief as well as joy and love

patience with myself, my confusion and my stumbling fingers

to close my eyes and breathe like this: i am okay (inhale) this will pass (exhale)

to remember that it is not up to me to please anyone but God.

And you, what do you find yourself needing this season?

Answers

...to the question-box questions.

In homage to the most mind-blowing of all the Formspring-like questions, I find myself compelled to ask...

Who do u lyk? LOL

Sorry. I'll never do that to you again.

xoxo

Oh, you're funny. That gave me such a flashback to middle school! (And no romantic interests at present.)

When and why did you start writing—what sparked your interest?

In school! You know, assigned stories and picture books and stuff. Then we got a poetry teacher for a little while in fifth grade, which I loved. When I started journaling steadily for the first time, when I was thirteen, that was the door opening. Sometimes rather than a regular journal entry, I wanted to write about an experience in a more polished, creative way...I still tend to write mainly from my own experiences.

How old are you? (I'm sorry, isn't that one of those rude and taboo questions? In that case feel free to ignore! I just wondered...)

No worries, I make free with that piece of information. I turned twenty-one in April.

How closely do you follow onepartgypsy.wordpress.com? (I've seen you comment at least once.)

I subscribe to its feed. :) Gabi sent me a link to one of its post once that I really liked.

Sponsored children in Haiti

No news on our Jeanima yet, but here's what I heard from Compassion (her sponsoring organization) this month:

Of Compassion's 65,000 sponsored children in Haiti, 21,595 lived in the earthquake-affected area.

So far they know of 54 children in their program who have died.

So there's at least a 65%  chance that Jeanima was in a safe area, I guess.

Newsy news

Jenica asked in a comment whether I have a Formspring.

Nope. However, I made an anonymous form submission page of my own last night. Here.

Put whatever you like in it. Like throwing coins in a fountain? I think what I'll do is this: if there's no question mark, I am just listening. To the ones that have question marks, I will respond in a post, probably periodically to several at once.

As per always, you can also just email me (wie.ein.lied at gmail dot com). I like emailing very much.

Cheers.

Things that are making me happy

watching an old Project Runway disc for the bajillionth time.

calling a douche a douche.

the theme song from season one of Skins.

my llama duffel bag.

washing the car on a sunny day.

(soy)milky coffee.

face masks and how my skin feels afterwards.

doing yoga on my backyard deck. even (especially?) when my neighbor gawks and doesn't smile.

watching TV shows in bed on my iPod when I can't sleep.

cashew butter on matzo.

farmers markets. (I just looked that up. no apostrophe, apparently?)

the nice nurses at the blood bank.

"Show Me What I'm Looking For," by Carolina Liar.

superglue. I just used it to stick the rim back on my camera lens, the heel back on my shoe, and a jewel back on my headband. BOSS.

and my sister has not only felt, but SEEN her baby moving!

Lake part three.






























Heartache

I went to the doctor today about a minor concern, just a little inflammation in my heel.

I was sitting next to a tweenish boy and his mother in the waiting room. My ears are a little too sharp, maybe, or too curious.

I heard her say something like, "So you feel like you have to do these exercises?" and thought, Eating disorder. But not very seriously, just my brain skipping around.

But they kept talking and it turned out I was right. These little tidbits: You made yourself throw up. Grandma told me about how you were running around the parking lot and not eating very much. She sent me a picture, I could see your face was different. Push-ups in particular? Were you surprised to find out you'd lost weight? Dr. So-and-So the head of the eating disorders unit. You're thirteen now, what about down the road, if you were giving a concert, you would pass out on stage.

Thirteen. Murmuring, long legs, young face, big feet in Converse. Going to be admitted to an eating disorders unit. When I heard that, a little part of me was running away and sitting down somewhere small and hiding my face and crying hard hard.

I still have to assemble something called "Lake part three" because that's how I am, but today I only want to say, I am sad. Not about my life, but about other things in the world. I know there are glimmers of redemption everywhere, but I am sad that our world has to be so broken. I am sad that a thirteen-year-old person has be in so much pain.

I'm not Catholic, but I'm lighting a St. Jude candle lately when I pray. Patron saint of the helpless and alone, of hopeless cases, of things almost despaired of. Ore por mi, pues estoy solo y sin ayuda...

I light it for who I sometimes am, for the kid in the waiting room, and I light it for you. I do not know who you are, but you know who you are.

Lake part two.


My mama hiding from the wind on the ski boat we rented.




(The lake glitters with fool's gold.)


My big sister Megan.


My bruzzer-in-law FELIPE eating lettuce. (JK his name is Phil and there was other food inside the lettuce.)


Megs running away from the bee.


Essence of beach.


I looove the cloud shadows on the trees.


Married peoples.


Revolutionary in my lap.


Blueaswhat


Beach lunch detritus.

Lake part one.































Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...

  © Blogger templates Brooklyn by Ourblogtemplates.com 2008

Back to TOP