people collector

i don't know what makes certain thoughts come to me on my balcony. there's nothing out there to look at, really. trees busy with birds and squirrels, a lazy cat on the fence, and the occasional opossum, lizard, and rat. but nothing really thought provoking. maybe that's why i think of things. because i'm not distracted by my surroundings.

what came to me tonight was a train of thought of "firsts." the first time i realized empowerment (stood up to a bully for a kid on the playground in kindergarten). the first time i realized intuition (i won the easter bonnet contest in 2nd grade and had predicted it.) the first time i realized people could be mean to me for no reason (i drew a zebra in kindergarten for an abc book and the girls at my table said, "oh you always think your stuff is better.") the first time i realized i was pretty (i came to the conclusion i was asian and there was nothing i could do about it, ha.) the first time i realized i was pretty all by myself (renounced make-up, razors and everything except personal hygiene items and still felt pretty.) and the first time i realized i was happy.

i've always been a happy person. i am today, a ridiculously happy person. not just content---but really really joyful for life. but it was working at a bookstore in college that i realized the power of that.

actually--i don't know what i realized, exactly. i think that's why i'm writing about it now. because i don't know how to put it into words, and i feel that i should since it was such an important time for me.

i worked at brentano's book store in the park plaza mall in little rock, arkansas. i had responded to an ad in the paper that was looking for "quirky" or something along those lines. i applied, and i think i was hired before i actually filled out the application. i don't remember the interview, if there was one. my future boss, A. was tall, skinny, bright eyed, and pleasant to watch. he was just bright all over and it was fun to be in his presence. he walked me to the backroom because he wanted me to fill out some papers. there was a lovely blue eyed, long black haired young man stacking books on a dolly. he looked up and said hi. in this young man i saw the same sort of brightness. (i later learned there are no papers kept in the backroom, A. just needed an excuse to introduce me to the dolly man.) behind the counter stood a tall, lanky, woman with spectacles. she looked at me from behind the counter, sized me up, and with a wink i was inducted into a strange and beautiful team.

it was these three people, whose lives were so brilliant and full, and not without struggles, but full of so much introspection and understanding and compassion and fearlessness that made me understand the same things existed in myself. they showed me, by example, something i may never be able to put into words. i loved coming to work every day (*cough cough, even though i was late a lot*) because i looked forward to what new insight i would learn about people.

they did not create these characteristics, rather they solidified it for me. they respected me for it. i was so accustomed to people (depressed, drug laden, dream aways) making fun of my optimism that i did not realize that this center of my soul needed that bit of respect before it could recognize and cultivate itself.

and it has. this small group of peoples undying love and support for all that is good in the world was inspiring. it still is. i was there for a while and have several happy and cosmic stories that occurred here, but i won't go into those now. i miss all of them. we've all gone our separate ways. we e-mail one another once in a while.

the tall lanky lady said she was a "people collector" and that she thought i was one too. perhaps. if so, i have collected three of the most priceless people on the planet.

when i was younger i went through people quickly. i met them and soaked up everything i could learn from them and then moved on as fast as i could to the next one. now everyone is moving quickly, and i find myself craving that they stay a little longer. fear of losing people has just barely entered my life. perhaps with the birth of my son. i don't even want to think . . .

i suppose i miss them. i like my balcony a lot and i wish i could have all three sitting there with me with plenty of wine and cigarettes and love.

thank you A., M., and B., for being happy with me.

cybergod vs. me: 3 to 1

last night i passed out at 9 p.m. putting my son to bed. he likes me to lay there with him while he goes to sleep. we sing and talk. it's kind of like a sleep over was when we were young. you talk and talk and try to stay up late. you talk until you have nothing else to say and then you talk some more until your eyes involuntarily close themselves and shut you down for the night.

i awoke at 1 in the a.m. to the sound of satan screams and click-clack ching-chong clatters. ben was watching "hell boy" and playing with his ben wa balls. i got up and i couldn't see---because i didn't want to and because my contacts were still in and because i had stepped from the dark comfy confines of my feather bed into the eye murdering light. i was angry. not just angry, i was pissed. on top of that, my throat felt like both sides had decided to meet in the middle and party with fun-guy uvula. it felt like it was swollen shut.

it was hard not to look at the new big-assed flat screen tv, but i could tell something bad was happening to "hell boy." i can't look at things like that. i don't do gore. especially before i go to bed. i've an easily influenced uncontrollable imagination.

i hate ben wa balls. ben wa balls are those heavy, usually silver, metal balls housed in cheap asian silk covered card board boxes. you are supposed to roll them around in the palm of your hand and try NOT to clink them together so that you DON'T get that ching-chong sound. i've told ben this. i don't think he believes me. he calls it meditation. meditation is supposed to be quiet. contemplative. ben and his ben wa balls are none of this. call it something else, i say.

*you could call it a sex toy. ha-ha! i was looking for a picture of ben wa balls on the net to use as an illustration. well, i definetly learned something new about ben wa balls. note: this is not what we use them for*

the cats added another level of absurdity. we've 8 year old, sexy sady, and 6 month (?) old catfish. first sexy sady wants out. so i get up and let her out. i say, "hey catfish, do you want to go outside too?" he stares at me. i wait. okay. then catfish decides he wants to go outside. so i let him out. then sady wants in. so i let her in. i look at catfish, "hey catfish, wanna come inside?" he stares at me. i wait. okay. then catfish wants to come inside. then they run around and around the house chasing and meowing. it's all too cute, really. but still obnoxious when you're head is about to sever itself and save you the trouble.

so, i sit down at the computer to post something here at thinkspot. i spend roughly 30 minutes ranting. i was funny. it was theraputic. i clicked "publish post." and poof! i get a "cannot display this page" message. i hold my breath and click "refresh." nothing. nada. zilch. zero. i am back at angry, square one.

so, quickly, i write another post explaining my situation. i have obviously learned nothing. poof! "cannot display this page." then suddenly, i am no longer able to connect to the internet. my wireless connection lies. it says my connection is excellent. linksys wireless card or router (whomever is to blame), why are you so cruel?

i eat some edamame and watch "jack ass." i have never seen "jack ass" before and was intrigued.

now here we are, the next day. the cybergods have beaten me 3 to 1 and it is all very discouraging. i'm resting up for another battle. ben has armed me with sudafed. i think it's working. i'll let you know.

diseased chicken murders wit

here i am. a beautiful outlet to write, and nothing. the creative pressure is just too much. i'm sorry. i can't entertain you tonight. anytime i'm supposed to put that witty foot foward, that put-together attitude, that conversating flow that keeps 'em coming back for more, i totally drop the ball.

for example, i met a man at a function i was photographing whose family i was going to photograph at a later date. he was an important man, and a future client of mine. it was important that i exhibit wit and intelligence. (of course, it is always important, but some of you are more forgiving than others)instead, i did this:

(man walks up)
man: hi.
me: hi.
man: so, how are you?
me: i'm good. you?
man: i'm good.
(aproximatley 60 sec. of dead silence)
me: so, i'm looking foward to photographing your family.
man: yeah, me too.
me: (wanting to share some of the ideas i have) i think i'm going to bring a chick. like, a baby chicken kind of chick, not a female person kind of chick.
man: (funny look) okay.
me: i just thought the 2 year old would look cute holding it. i don't know where i'll get it. you know, to make sure it's clean. no diseases or anything.
man: (definetly appaled) no, please, no diseased chickens.
me: (trying to recover) no, i would never, i just meant, uh, i uh. . .
(more dead silence)
(man walks away. i am left mortified and misunderstood.)

***mission failed***

okay. i don't remember exactly what i said about the diseased chicken now. i remember it being more appropriate than above, but just as misunderstood. it was wrong. very wrong. let it be said though, that this was my son's first (and only) stay with a babysitter, i was not happy to be at the function, and the whole deal was throwing me a bit of kilter.

sidenote: anyone know what "kilter" means?

and so here i am, with another diseased chicken story.

unfortunatley, i have a few of these stories. ha. i'm funny.

to keep the theme of my blog, however boring, today in my thinkspot i have thought about ways to learn more about photography and free ways to advertise. i think i am going to approach the local newspapers and magazines about shadowing their current photographers or getting some small assignments. i'm also thinking about going to places like high end hair salons and taking pictures for their promotion. (they would get free pictures and i would get my name everywhere for free) other ideas, anyone?

actually, my thinkspot has conjured up a bit more than that, but i'll save it for a chicken-free day. (maybe that's why i'm vegetarian, tee-hee)

peace, all.

balcony gets too small, thoughts find new home

i have this balcony.

tiny rectangle concrete space above a parking lot. two camping chairs, one blue and one green, rotating plants in a losing-battle attempt to find one that likes the sun---really really likes the sun, because this is texas and somehow summertime pushes us closer to the equator---a big round gold ashtray with white lettering: volksbank, that i stole from a hotel in germany, and a half full bag of miracle grow potting soil with cat shit on it because my feline friend, catfish, accidently spent the night outside and used it for a litter box.

this, is my thinking spot. this is the spot were no one is at. this is the spot my child is not allowed to invade. this is the spot where my pre-mommy smoking life still exists. this is the spot where no one interrupts me. . . .most of the time, anyway. and it makes me happy.

i may have to change the title to "thinking spot." i rather like that.

i have a lot of thoughts that don't belong to conversation, really. they are things i would write down if i were single and cool again. now i've no time to spoil myself with too much artistic freedom. there are people to call and dishes to be scrubbed, floors and tables and clothes to be cleaned, baby to play with and change and feed and take somewhere and think about, put to sleep and take up my entire day. it is something that resembles discipline that pushes me to get the things i love to do done. i love it all. i do. i really really do.

but, i miss writing. it used to be who i was. it used to be something i had to do. i had to do it to breathe, to live, to love .. .now, i am many many things, but i have somewhere lost that desperate need to write. i let it all out, silently, on my balcony and go about my day.

i need a new release. without apologies, here we are. welcome to the new home of my "balcony thoughts."