Photograph Day 2

So there a bit of tragic news the other day. A little boy from my congregation died, tragic doesn't describe... not even close. I decided to go to the park and take some photos instead of thinking on the whole thing. He died Saturday, I went to the park on Sunday. No self harm on Sunday's, its a rule. Photos? A walk? Absolutely! So here we go again...

 Autumn Red. I love autumn, its my favourite season and far too short, but the colours are amaing.

 Gazebo at the top of the hill in the park. Lovely views and good place for a bit of quiet reflection.

 Paths that can lead anywhere and nowhere at all.

 Black and white angle experiment. I'm holding the camera against the tree's trunk and looking up. 

 Sun through the changing leaves.

 Another angle experiment. The camera is about an inch off the ground.

Asters, like mums, bloom late in the summer and into the autumn. The flowers will remain until the first hard frost.

Photograph Day

So lately, I've been getting into photography, borrowing my father's digital camera, because lord knows he never uses it. Last weekend, a group of friends and I went into the mountains and took pictures, went on a walk. I don't do well, I suppose, but I do enjoy it. Seeing things in a slightly different way, seeking for inspiration and beauty in strange places. So here we go...

 Kate, she photographs beautifully in black and white, but then most people do. Its very forgiving as a filter.

 Kate and I, she's on the right. So I'm chubby, oh well.>>

The Yellow Wood.

 The Yellow Wood in black and white.

 Sierra Nevada mountains.

Sierra meadow.

Something I've Always Wanted To Do

I have always wanted to go through my hometown and take photographs of the buildings, the people, the flavour that makes my city interesting and wonderful. Without a camera, though, this has been just a pipe dream. Ah! But my father has become a shutterbug in his old age and has purchased a few cameras over the last couple of years. One of them is a simple Kodak digital. Its not much, its not fancy, but its simple and portable.

Saturday I went to a movie with TG and a bunch of her friends and family. Great film, The Giver. Rather well done for a book to movie, they usually leave me angry, but not this time. I digress. Photographs. I was early because parking in Downtown can be a royal pain in the arse. I brought the camera with me and managed several decent shots, if I do say so.

This man was getting married. His future mother-in-law made the vest for him.

The Arts Counsel Grants building. First floor is a restaurant that I've never tried.  I've always loved the architecture.

This man was selling his wares near the river. He looked so sad and lonely, I couldn't help but take his photo. I may write a story about him one day.

There's an amazing sculpture that looks like a huge butterfly. Seriously, its wonderful. The wings turn in the wind. Something constructed purely of metal can look so elegant fascinates me. I also took a photo standing inside. Nice viewpoint.

Finally, my favourite. This is a young man playing an accordion. Its not a common instrument, but hey... its a hobby. He was just down the way from the older man selling bracelets. I was struck but the young man, busking for change and playing by the river.

There will definitely be more of these. It was fun, creative, relaxing. 

How To Handle a Nightmare

Therapy today wasn't easy. I never expect it to be, really. If it was easy then there must be something wrong.

Anyway... Therapy. Today we went into something I've briefly mentioned then floated right by, my nightmares. I understand the mechanics of dreaming, the brain processing information that the conscious mind can't or won't. Its amazing that its easier to type this then it is to actually say.

Nightmare: Recurring. Some one is demanding information that I either won't give or can't give. The attacker is a well dressed man, well spoken. I'm being tortured for that information. I don't want to go into the methods, suffice to say that its always brutal.

Therapist Interpretation: The man seems trustworthy, kind spoken, good grammar, but he's not. A representation of all the people that I think I should be able to trust? Information that I won't give or can't... protective instinct.

It all makes sense, but I don't have to like it. I also didn't like telling her about the nightmares. It just doesn't feel right to dream like this. Her suggestion was to try lucid dreaming, to think before I go to bed what I want as an outcome. For example, could the bonds turn to things like licorice? What would I want to happen to the attacker? The answer is always the same: I don't know.

She suggested allowing myself to daydream. Really? Daydreaming? All right, my issue is that it feels silly. What's the point? To learn to think outside the box, exercise the imagination I use when I'm writing. She thinks I can manipulate, rewrite my nightmares in the same way that I edit a story.

But what would I have the man do? Melt like wax left out in the sun? Vanish like fog in the morning sun? What of the bonds? Licorice is just not my gig. Butterflies? Silly string?

Damn... it feels hopeless. As though this is going to be my life forever. I can see Doc sitting in her chair, smiling that sad grin she gets just before she says something about the fact she is my cheerleader.

Next week, she wants to help me find ways to feel grounded. Though, I think we'll probably talk more about these nightmares.

How do I feel right this moment? Same as I felt when I left her office, and I told her the truth. Edgy, urgy, shaky. There are going to be many, many more sessions like this before I am normal. That is just the way it works.

But Weight- There's More

I've been noticing patterns of late, especially in my eating habits. I seem almost fixated on not eating sugary things or drinking sodas, though the coffee is ever present. I keep having the same thought run through my mind, "I need to loose a few damned pounds." This has happened before, but not with the intensity of this current bout.

I have a health assessment coming up soon. Later in the year, there's a follow up assessment to see if I have improved with their recommendations. I fear that if I don't pass those assessments then I will loose a $35 credit off my health insurance. I was unaware that I was going to be forced, or better coerced, into changing how I am. I'm not fat, per se, but I could stand to loose a few pounds. My dress size is 20, but I'm 5' 11" tall, so that weight doesn't show like you'd think it would. I'm already in a poor mind set, the last thing I need is a stupid doctor telling me I'm going to die for being fat. I know I'm fat and up till very recently, I didn't care. Now I'm starting to care.

 I have also made a personal discovery of a positive nature (for once). My nightmares have been pretty bad of late, by that I mean they have been terrifying. I made a play list on my iPod that I have titled "Night Melody". I play this almost every night as I sleep. The calming music seems to keep me focused on dreams that aren't so horrific. I get to downgrade from Terror to simply Bad or Disturbing. Neither of the latter two categories are nearly as horrible as the first. I'm not sure what will happen if I stop playing the music. That's a fun tangent to go off on-- "What happens when the music stops?" A fun tangent but not one I want to crawl through tonight.

Be well and sleep pretty all...

Which Is Worse?

I'm not sure which is worse, sleeping or waking, the night or the morning? At night, I don't want to sleep, despite how tired I am. In the morning, all I want to do is sleep. The night means I will sleep eventually and in so doing dream those nightmares that are haunting me. The dawn means the nightmares are finally over, but then I have to work. You can see the dilemma.

My nightmares of late are resembling something from a thriller movie. For instance, one of my latest dreams found me strung up in a warehouse, dangling from my wrists. Two men emerge from the shadows, one clearly in charge, the other a stooge. The leader is demanding me to answer his questions. In the dreams, I either cannot or will not answer, all depends on what he is asking. No matter which, he is always dissatisfied with my responses and orders the other man to do something. That "something" varies, but it always graphic and painful. I have been electrocuted, beaten, burned with cigarettes, branded with hot irons, and whipped. Never all in the same dream, but often paired together in some way. I wake in a cold sweat, thankful that it was all just a dream, though that word seems too soft for what has been going on in my head.

I cannot tell you what is making me think these things before I sleep. I've tried everything from watching cheerful cartoons to not reading or watching anything remotely graphic in nature to no avail. I am wondering what the flying hell is wrong with me. Does everyone dream like this? Or is it just me?