My house guest came across this article- and so our plans changed from the southeast coast, to up through the midlands (so pretty but SO far from the ocean).
Sunday, March 29, 2015
Tuesday, March 24, 2015
I haven't been in a confessional mode.
Not that I have anything to confess. Well, I suppose I might always have a little something in the 'you are only as sick as your secrets' sort of way.
But most people I come across wouldn't recognize that statement, therefore, I'll keep it squashed a bit longer.
Confessional in a more general- time alone- letting random thoughts out onto (is it 'onto' if one is changing thought into digital modes? I mean that isn't the same as 'onto' the page is it?) or into a space considered larger than my head.
I get like this when I feel I have spent too much time only expressing a certain part of my personality. I feel this when, acquaintances start to offer me sentiments that are very far from who I am- because then I realize that what I am projecting is not what I mean to project.
Sometimes I fear I do not know how to be myself and be polite at the same time.
Do you know what I mean? When you are polite about something - let's say something you yourself do not want to do, or to have, or to be a part of, but to be polite you make conversation, you show an interest and the next thing you know you are stuck doing, having, and being a part of some thing you have no real interest in?
I remember working at the door of a club once- I am surely remembering the exchange incorrectly, but as I remember it, some person - some date? some one who by some means had seen me 'undone'- commented on the wide gap between the two- the 'me' without make-up on, without a planned outfit.
He went in-depth, my hair is dyed, my shoes were high, my lips over-drawn, freckles blotted out, a mole enhanced, I could go on...
I remember thinking 'What? You question my only creation? How dare you!'.
I think about this because when I see photos of myself now- (mostly) or a reflection because honestly I avoid both, I don't recognize myself. I feel as if I have been washed in sepia-tones.
Yet, this is incongruent with how I feel- as in emotionally- emotionally I feel healthy, happy- and often at peace. But also those feelings I think should somehow beam out of me- showing well, I don't know what- that is the tangle.
Then I came across the photo I have posted and that is how I think of myself- looking- flawless light skin- strong features, instrinsically sad (not in a surface way, you know naturally yet rising above thereby inspiring admiration and hope).
Friday, March 20, 2015
On this trip, we were not at the beach, but up into the hills-
I thought that the bark falling from the gum trees looked like an Australian version of Spanish Moss covering trees near swamp lands in North America.
I did not get a photo, but I finally saw a pink robin!
Here is it's more common flame cousin - captured by yes, my phone, they are not so shy.
Cute animal photos to follow-
I thought I couldn't top my blonde pretty wombat, but I think baby wombat is pretty good. Right before this a Tasmanian Devil galloped by. An hour before twilight even!
I seem to see wallabies on their own, while the portoroos seem to go around in mobs, but they are so small (rabbit sized) and quick I never get their photo.
I did have a bandicoot come up really close while I was near the camp fire, which means people had food, in pictures they look like large rats- kind of, but in person that doesn't come across, I think because they move differently.
We worked most of the day, but without much access to power, evenings are much longer-so I still got to swim, hike, stargaze and spot animals.
Once again I found myself climbing what I would call more a convenient 'rock slide' than a trail. Although I suppose the arrows did zigzag in a way to be safer than trying to just sprint straight up. The figure in the distance was the woman whose idea it was to walk...I had a person behind me about the same distance away- she was visiting from France, and she was very quiet until the times we came across other people who spoke french. I really thought a lot about what her actual experience was like...