I'll be 32 in 11 days and while I keep hearing you settle down with age, my restlessness has only continued to intensify. I feel stuck and moody and complacent and irritable and happy and sometimes right. Or wrong. I know I don't make much sense, but this is how it sounds in my own head, so you're getting some unfiltered thoughts. I probably shouldn't write any stream of consciousness stuff. I fear we'd be here a while...and that we'd all be extremely bored.
I'll be getting another tattoo soon. I won't say what it is, but it is going to be far more unique than my first. It will be my husband's birthday present to me. I have, of course, considered how that money could be spent differently. A new lens, perhaps. But I've been dreaming of this particular tattoo since before I even got my first one, so I should probably take advantage of this opportunity and just get it done. It will be a tribute to my son.
Speaking of my son, he'll be 14 in a little over a month and a half, and don't think I have any idea where the time went. One moment he was an adorable, infuriating toddler who cussed better than most adults I know, then he was a...well, I still think he's a cute kid. He's also still infuriating. But he often smells, his voice is deeper, and he's nearly as tall as me.
He still cusses like a champ, though.
This month marks four years since we moved in with my parents. It's been an interesting ride. Charlotte is comfortable in that way your hometown will always be comfortable, but I'd be lying if I said I like it. I don't. Not even slightly. This town just continues to dry up, and it's all I can do to keep from setting something on fire in the middle of main street just to stir up some excitement. It's becoming quite a meth center, too, so there are people with blackened teeth walking around to complement their already stinky bodies and lack of clean and/or adequate clothing. The local "newspaper" is nothing but advertisements for local businesses and is run by a bunch of smarmy, incompetent fuckwipes who wouldn't know decent writing if George Orwell jammed his hands up their asses and used them as puppets. Even our chain stores suck. The city council is populated by a team of old fashioned geriatrics who refuse to do anything to rejuvenate the area. Photography has been my escape these last few years, but I've found myself less inclined to pick up my camera because I feel like if I go out and take one more goddamn picture of Charlotte, my head will explode. It's like living inside a black hole. Is it any surprise, then, that even my parents want out? So they're looking into buying a bigger house in Lansing. The idea has been batted around before, but it's picked up steam recently. I think we have the proposed "city tax" to thank for that. Upon hearing that news, my mom looked like she was going to murder someone. Her exact words were, "If I'm going to pay a city tax, I'm going to live somewhere where I get something for it."
So here's to hoping we ring in the new year in Lansing instead of Charkansas.
I've been fixating again. Years ago, I knew a boy. How many women can say that? How many women can say that that boy was special? I know many of you can relate. I've been trying to find that boy again. For years. I even wrote him a letter back at the end of 2010. There were a lot of things left unsaid, so I tried to cover those things and more in my letter. I have no idea if he got it. I have no idea where he even is. How does someone go this long without an internet presence? It's baffling. I know he's out there. Being left in limbo is making me a bit crazy because I am, if nothing else, a person who must have answers and resolutions. There are no answers to be had on this road, and I fear there will never be a resolution. Instead, I will spend the rest of my life periodically obsessing over it. When I get into this mood, I always picture someone walking aimlessly around a deserted beach, having no idea where they're going or what they're supposed to be doing. That's me, alone and adrift inside my own head, my own ridiculous moods and musings and ponderings causing a discontent that makes me want to scream with how unfair it is that someone could have that much of a hold on me after 15 fucking years. I kind of hate him for it. I just wish he knew that. Doubtless he would find it amusing on some level. The bastard.
I'll leave you with some of my latest shots. They're from the Fourth, and yeah, I know that was nearly a month ago, but cut me some slack. My son killed my computer and it had to be rebuilt. I just got Photoshop and all my plugins installed a couple of nights ago and have been editing ever since. Anyway, I was experimenting with fireworks shots. There's a method now of twisting the focus to create abstract shots. It's really quite cool, but I didn't employ quite the same technique. You're supposed to begin out of focus and then dial the focus in before closing the shutter, but I worked in the opposite direction, opting to throw the entire image out of focus before closing the shutter. I got some shots that, while not revolutionary, I wouldn't mind hanging up for the color.