Shavings

It is nice when you discover that you really don't have unlimited photo space on this whole blogger deal. Google's a smart cookie in that regard.

I don't have a list of people I hate. I have a list of people who hate me.

I finally have a real blog header. If you hate it, I'll probably add you to the list of people who hate me.

Sometimes the Grooveshark playlist I listen to gets old, but it's the only thing my ears are comfortable with right then.

This song is a nice reflection of life, to put it vaguely. It has three stages within the song, and I enjoy each one.

I have infinite tasks to do in the photography area of things.

Happy Candy-Begging Day; Welcome, winter months.

I'm Out

California is up next on my hypothetical To Do list.

I'm moving.

I've been practically stationary for the past twenty years, ten months. Not including the nine months of time my mother was pregnant with me.

That's basically the equality of ninety-seven years of stationary living.

There's way too much to explore and experience to stay in the same place for my entire life.


See you.

Nearly Falling

It feels like fall has melted into place this year. Rather than winter biting into summer, causing me to be ornery and bitter toward the current axis of the earth.

Some years I feel like fall never really exists. And then I dread winter, I hate winter, and I wish winter away.

This year, I've come to terms with the shifting seasons and tilting planet.

I am not promising a permanent complacency, but only declaring my lack of hatred toward the diminishing hours of sunlight each day. 

However, I am hoping my content attitude regarding the chilled air lasts for a few minutes longer.

Facebook Diet

Motivation is like the 24-hour flu.
It only lasts for a short time.

And then you're on Facebook again.

BRB

As my family is well aware,

I have recently grown a mild distaste for the television. Psych. The Mentalist. I've watched those, recently. Other than that, it's all kind of a waste of time to me.

I think it was my Courtship & Marriage professor last semester who pointed out that we watch the tele when we are bored. Then the show is over and we're still bored.


Tonight I checked facebook. Then I checked who updated their blogs. I checked to see if anyone commented on my blog. I checked facebook again. Checked my email. Facebook. Then I thought, "What else is there to do on this screen??"

And then I realized. That there really wasn't much else to do while staring at a screen.

And I realized something else.

I'm tired of facebook being a daily ritual. Fourteen times a day. Same with blogger. [Don't hate.]

So I'm here to tell you that after my social networking/blogging binge,

I'm taking a break.

Basically, within the next little bit, I'm going to limit my computer time to editing pictures and satisfying my music addiction, and then I'll be reading A Series of Unfortunate Events, writing in my journal, and recording my thoughts onto a tangible piece of paper.

I just thought I would let you know.

Thank you for your support.

Over and out.

Love, Laugh, Live, And Then Some

I like to write worn-outs on my hands, take pictures of them, and post them on my blog.

Speaker On Ear

To whom it may not concern,

If you are anything like me, you see someone post a video or song and you disregard the idea of ever playing it. Here is another opportunity to do so.

And here. If you want to ignore a whole playlist I just made. Collected from Pandora bookmarks/a couple other songs that I wanted in the new playlist. [Forewarning for the first ten seconds of Imogen Heap's appearance in the playlist, if you have sensitive ears like me. Other than that, I think we're good.]

P.S. My room still reflects a certain air of pink.

P.P.S. The postal service keeps me on my toes.

P.P.P.S. It's making my toes ache, a little.

P.P.P.P.S., etc: 

I miss ballet.

I miss poetry.

Decision-making's not my cup of tea. My cup of milk, if you will. 

There are 77 posts in my draft bucket.

I'm sometimes glad clouds aren't made out of cotton candy, or else it would be a waste; I wouldn't be tall enough to reach up and eat them.

Eardrum art could be my diet.

I actually do hope you take a taste of that playlist up there. It's playing to my brain and pink room right this moment.

As expected,

Bethany

Dust Collection

Updates in the areas of:

*My hibernating photography blog

*The Artichoke Box. Chapter fourteen tapped the dust from it.

Now somebody finish all my photo edits, catch up in my journal, make my noggin pretend like it's not aching, and get ready for bed for me.

Then I'll be on top of things.

Benjamin Franklin On A Clear Day

Today was tragic.

The electricity went out. At first, crazed mobs swarmed the street begging the sky to release electrics into the outlets in their homes. Then, all was quiet and still. Because people realized that their televisions weren't working. That their refrigerators could only be used sparingly so as not to let out all of the cool air. They found that in order to shower, they would have to shower in the dark. And that washing their hair before work was out of the picture; How would their hair dry on time and straighten itself? The blogosphere was still. Facebook was unoccupied. The stove had to be lit with a lighter.

The world became unlaughably archaic. People began to foam at the mouth.

Nobody foamed at the mouth.

But they wanted to. Because the world was suddenly dark. Cold. Alone. Virtual-free. And dark. And cold. And alone.

And virtual-free.


I can't tell you how many times I tried to flip the light switch on. Even when I was holding a flashlight. Even when I was mentally complaining about the lack of electricity. My hand would automatically reach for the switch.

With no avail.

So I ran outside and rampaged the streets for a while.

Sunflowers

They're in love. 

Disclosure

Confession: I didn't take a shower today.

Fact: My eyes hurt from photo-editing.

Fact: If my phone ever does anything related to erasing the wrong texts ever again, 

I'll introduce it to the blender.

Fact: This week has done anything but add years to my lifespan.

Confession: I'm mildly looking forward to winter. First time for everything.

Clarification: My heart is already craving summer.

Fact: I took engagements today.

Baby

It took me about thirteen days to come up with the title for this post. Obviously creativity always wins.

blaŋ·kət

About a month ago: 

"Mother, after all the blankets we use at the cabin are laundered, may I keep the afghan blanket which you bought in Mexico many years ago?"

A little later:

"Bethany, I left that blanket on your bed. I'm going to the cabin now, and I am bringing along the other freshly laundered blankets with me. Farewell."

A little later, later:

"Oh dear, Mother left the wrong blanket on my bed. She left this odd, old quilty thing that will clash with everything in my bedroom rather than the Mexican blanket which I thought would be pleasant to have spread upon my bed. Now what."

But then a remarkable thing occurred. Although Bethany originally found the blanket to be rather unusual, against her expected preference, and more squatty than a normal bed covering...

...She soon came to find the intricately knotted yarn to be rather charming, comforting, uniquely cheerful, and quite fitting to her taste. 

To this very day, it canopies the young girl as she counts sheep every night.