Effects of Thinspo

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Stay beautiful, stay healthy.

‘Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.’

– Max Ehrmann’s “Desiderata”

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10 Days

I’m tired.

I am tired.

I’m tired.
I feel a pile of things I need to do always just sort of lingering by me at all times.
Most of it is things I’ve set myself up for. I don’t think I’m complaining. It doesn’t feel like I’m complaining.
The move feels very, terrifyingly close. But so far away.
I don’t know what I’m going to wear when I leave.
I don’t know what more to do right now.
I should go to bed.
I’m afraid. I’m scared.
I feel very alone.
I feel sad.
Hopeful and sad.
Excited and sad.
It’s the right move. I want this.
At least, I want this the most.
More than other things.
Why am I a procrastinator all of a sudden?
It’s like nothing orders itself in my mind anymore. Nothing plans itself out. There are no check boxes.
It’s like fuzzy chaos.
It’s like I’m staring straight ahead at a tsunami of a crowd, of pandemonium, but I can’t focus on anything.
Everywhere is my periphery.
I think I had a super power before.
I think it’s the stress getting to me.
The guilt and sadness and stress.
The loneliness.
Tense, I feel tense. I feel like piano wire. I feel like violin strings. No, one violin string. The thinnest.
I keep making a lot of tiny mistakes.
I keep saying things and I wonder why I can’t just stay quiet.
I’m good at observing, I should just observe more.
I shouldn’t stay quiet, that’s an odd thing to think. No one should.
I think maybe I should just not speak unless I have a real question or fully understand the subject being discussed.
I’m so afraid all the time of looking dumb, and yet I seem to set myself up for it.
It’s a silly thing to be afraid of.
I shouldn’t be afraid of that.
I’ll forget to be afraid of it, anyway.
I want to be unafraid of asking stupid questions.
Why is it so hard for me to get back to people now?
I’m intimidated by responses, I’m afraid of sounding like I don’t care.
I ramble so much.
I tell unnecessary stories.
Maybe they do like them, but I shouldn’t really be taking that risk that they get bored with them.
I wonder how often I’m someone who is simply tolerated.
They can tell I’m too young,
too naive
too inexperienced.
Too green, too empty-headed.
It feels like I make a lot of people feel inferior, at least a few.
When I’m not known very well folks get the impression that I’m brighter than I am.
That I’m more capable than I am.
And I’m torn between wanting to keep their perception strong and make myself think a little that they’re right. And being so freakishly sincere that they feel a bit higher than me.
Everything is silly to worry about.
Some tiny thing in the grand scheme.
I’m okay, and everything will be okay.
I’m going to throw wide the door, and do things I love. And I will make things.
I’m fine.
Just a bit tired.

Art Hop and Other Jazz

ImageArt Hop Day 😀

 

ImageMy wall ^_^ImageImageImageTried out a blue hair streak. I’m in the process of making a documentary for my brother’s church, and before heading out for an interview with the pastor I followed an impulse. Blue hair and blue eyeshadow.

I think I’m embracing creative impulses more often. 

And I’m less terrified of taking pictures of myself and posting them online. I used to think that it would make me seem full of myself.
Now it feels like posting something I made. 

I remember when I hadn’t seen a picture of my profile in a while, perhaps 4 years. I have no idea how I managed this. But when I was 14 and saw a reflection of my profile I felt devastated. It looked totally different than what I had remembered. I didn’t recognize myself. My nose had lost it’s ‘ski slope’ quality and to me it looked huuuuuge. I thought I looked hideous.

Bagh…I feel weird typing about myself in between two pictures of myself…I wonder if I’ll read this in a few months and dislike it very much. But I’ll just go on and say what I was going to.

I think I’ve come to a place where I accept myself fully. And my appearance was the last thing I had to look at and say that I approved of. 

Besides the random blue periods (ha, blue…it’s kinda funny now because of the hair pictures…) I feel hopeful and happy, and I feel capable and proud of myself. This is the healthiest physically and mentally I’ve ever been.

I’m reminded of a piece of an essay I read once by F. Scott Fitzgerald: 

“And lastly from that period I remember riding in a taxi one afternoon between very tall buildings under a mauve and rosy sky; I began to bawl because I had everything I wanted and knew I would never be so happy again.”

I don’t feel I’m at that place, at least not yet. But I thought it was a feels-gripping bit, so I wanted to share it with you.

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I couldn’t afford a softbox for my documentary interviews, so I made one from cardboard, tissue paper, some foil, paint and cheap supplies from Home Depot.

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I felt like including this for no particular reason…this is a piece by Honore Daumier. And it makes me laugh. It’s called “Le Defenseur” and that facial expression on this woman…c’mon. Look at dat sly little face and tell me it’s not hilarious. 

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This is Kitty Outdoors indoors looking adorable.
Alright.
Carry on.