A Tiny Change of Pace

So, I’ve been without internet for awhile now.  You’d think I would have gone crazy and given my mental state when it all began, I probably would have.  Things were dark and black; my only thought was of running home and chasing my problems away with the false comfort of familiarity and family.  Unfortunately, those are shallow escapes, quickly washed away by the realization of why you left in the first place.  Things have changed, not completely, but enough.

My father-in-law took the job two hours away and they are moving.  We don’t know when, only that they are.  We’re moving, too.  In October.  We looked at apartments, we have furniture picked out and ready to purchase, everything is moving forward.  I still need to get my name changed–I’m hoping to do so before we leave.  It’ll make it easier since we only have one car.

I always feel awkward typing out my emotions and issues here.  They’re misunderstood and misinterpreted.  If I say I want to run home, everyone assumes that the husband and I are on the rocks, we made a mistake, or we’ll never work.  No one considers any other factors.  One very important one is that I have no one to talk to when he makes me angry, upsets me, or anything of the sort.  He’s my only friend and the only person I talk to outside of family.  So, it definitely adds to the strain.  Not to mention that you’re put under a microscope when you live with parents, especially ones whose ideals of “married life” are a bit, um, ‘special’.

I would say that even his own parents don’t get it, but they barely even know their own son.  Which is seriously messed up.  How can you live with someone and not know them?  My mum is an alcoholic, that’s her excuse, but my dad knows me well enough to not do some of the stupid shit I catch his parents doing.  I’ve confronted my mother-in-law about it only to be met with severe confusion.  The things she says or observes with him are so off-base it’s like she’s looking at an alien lifeform through a faraway telescope.

My thoughts are everywhere as I contemplate what this move means.  It isn’t simply moving, it’s a step.  A long climb up a huge, towering cliff riddled with falling rocks and debri.  An extraction from a familiar life, finding yourself instead in some sort of strange place with seemingly endless possibilities.  I’m excited and a little frightened.  I want my own place so bad and I have these moments where I’m sitting and thinking, “soon, this will be my couch I’m sitting on, not someone else’s.  The things I have will be mine.”  It’s a strange feeling.

There’s still a long way to go, but at least we’re going somewhere instead of idling.  I get antsy when progress  stops and we remain at a standstill.  I’m progressive, I want to constantly move forward, evolve, change it up.  I can’t stand just… existing.  What’s the point?

Dare to Dream

I’ve always been fascinated with photography.  It is one of my passions, right up there with writing.  When it comes to a career, I would prefer it over almost anything else.  The freedom to traverse the globe and snap photos would appeal to anyone, I’m sure, but for me… I’m just obsessed with history, with culture, and with nature in general.  To capture it in a way where the photo tells its own story, without the addition to words?  That’s mastery.  I’d love to be a part of something like that, to be able to create words with pictures, to spur emotions, to bring back a time and memories long forgotten.

Needless to say, the first thing on my “unnecessarily expensive things to buy when able” is a DSLR camera.  I favor the canon line over Nikon, it’s just personal preference, both are very amazing companies that put out some amazing DSLR cameras.

Key West brings out the photographer within.  I love just wandering the keys and taking pictures.  If I had a better camera, I’d be a bit more risky with my shots.  I got some amazing ones last year, with my grandfather’s Canon Rebel EOS.  I’m one of those people who will stop a stranger on the street and ask if I can take a photo of them.

Taken from a moving tour train; a whitewashed stone church.

It’s become a combined joy for my husband and I.  We love running around and just taking pictures.  We take the camera with us everywhere now.  It has several scratches from being carried around in my purse or his pocket.  Key West is what really brought it all to a steady boil.  We spent as much time enjoying the island as we did taking pictures of it!

The skyline in Key West is amazing.  This was taken from the car.

On the way home, I started challenging myself with more difficult pictures.  Husband would point out things, like airplanes landing in Miami or taking off.  Distant, faint dots on the horizon, but with our camera?  They took shape and form.  I managed to not only zoom in enough to read the side of the airplane, but also got it stabilized enough for it to not be blurry.  Go me!

Unfortunately, there seems to be a dead pixel in the camera already, sigh.

Sunset at the docks in front of our condos as viewed by two people on the docks.

Still, it’s shaped up to be a pretty good camera.  Not comparative to a DSLR, but unfortunately, that isn’t in the books.  Soon, though.  Very soon, I’m hoping.  It will be a one-time purchase, as they tend to last a good while.  My grandfather’s is several years old and still amazing.  I bought him a separate flash for it as a Christmas present, which he loved!

Hemmingway house gardens.

How awesome would it be if we could all persue our dream jobs?  I could be traveling the world right now, taking pictures and getting paid for it.  Instead of being the sheltered person I am now, I could be worldly, outgoing, and happy.  Unfortunately, its not to be.  Still, it’s fun to dream, isn’t it?

Shit on a Shingle

I hate whining about my health issues, I seriously do.  There are people out there dying, bed-ridden, or otherwise so ill that their daily lives are truly quite sucky.  My little issues are nothing more than tiny pains in the ass.  Unfortunately, they affect my not-so-stable mental capacity, so it becomes an overblown issue that just leaks out all over the place, spreading chaos and mayhem.  For instance?  I am a huge, cranky bitch right now.  For real.  I will cut a bitch.  I’m five seconds from ripping my husband’s head off and eating it, praying mantis style.  He won’t even see it coming.

Not sure if I mentioned it here, but my husband thinks I was raised by crazy barbarians.  He doesn’t understand how we backwoods folk work.  With his family, if someone so much as sneezes, they run to the doctor.  My family?  You better be dying or already dead before you need a doctor.  I’ve fallen out a tree, through our deck, jumped out of a moving car, hell, I’ve fallen several feet and smacked my head off a manhole cover and tried to use my swing set at a gymnast bar only to end up landing on both my head and arm.  All of those times, do you think I went to the ER?  Hell no.  It took a few weeks before my parents buckled down and took me to the hospital for my wrist, where I got a cast, because I hadn’t broken it, but damn near.  Even when I gutted my wrist on a slate rock an hour or more away from the hospital, I bled through several kitchen towels and then got some butterfly band aids.  Stitches?  Pshaw, those are for pussies.  For those of you who haven’t seen the inside of your wrist, it’s pretty meaty, and the veins are nasty looking.  On the cool side, I did manage to turn a creek red with my own blood.

So, I’m a hard ass.  I can take it.  Unfortunately, despite my body’s rough exterior, the interior isn’t so beefy.  I have suffered from long-standing issues that go from my head down to my toes.  Lately, things haven’t been good.  I’ve been sickly, weak, and my mental state is in rapid decline.  I noticed, a week or so after we returned from Key West, I magically gained ten pounds in a matter of one or two weeks.  I’ve never had weight that fluctuated noticeably.  Maybe a pound or two between days or morning and evening, but that’s the birth control’s fault.  The birth control I’m on also caused a permanent weight gain of about ten pounds.  I weighed about 118 before all of this, which I’m told is extremely unhealthy for my height, but I looked awesome.  Now I’m tipping the scales at 138-140 lbs.  What.  The.  Fuck?  I can’t notice any actual fat anywhere.  I look the same.  But there’s that weight, it’s there, nagging me.  Where is it?  Where did it come from?  I’ve done everything conceivable to rid of it–everything that’s worked before, over a period of time, and nothing has worked.  Nothing.  I could starve myself into a coma and there it would remain, taunting me.

I am usually the calm and composed type, but this?  I’m about to go nuts.  My mind is formulating all kinds of worst-case scenarios.  I have some ridiculously huge tumor or I’m dying or something equally as dramatic and unconceivable.  Either way, I’m losing my damned mind and my health?  Is not getting any better, it’s getting worse.  Some days I can’t even eat, other days I can’t sleep because I have the overwhelming urge to vomit continuously. It could be my birth control, it’s been giving me problems for awhile now, but I can’t be certain.

Either way, this blows.  And if it doesn’t get better, I may need to step back from the internet and asses the situation.  My husband thinks it’s just “vacation” weight.  No, if it were, it would be gone.  My eating habits are not the kind that encourage weight gain in anyway.  I barely eat, for Christ’s sake.  My metabolism did also not magically change overnight.  The weight is not the only symptom.  I know my body, we’ve had to become friends over the years and learn to understand one another.  Something is up, I just don’t know what.  Argh.