Category Archives: Rant

Why so Quiet, Adrienne?

The ebb and the flow of life has resulted in a period of silence on this here blog. No big deal.

But why so quiet? Well, life.

For one, I’ve been working on something big . . . .  I hope to announce by the end of the month but I want to get it as close to right as I can before I do so. I don’t think it’s too hard to guess what it is if you know.

There have also been events. Weekends where I’ve spent more time on the go than at home. Arts festivals, music festivals, bounce houses. I’ve been living.

Then there’s the bad. Something bad happened in/to my home this past week that has left me very uneasy and between places. I haven’t been able to get into that comfortable place where I can just sit back and type. Although here I am laying in bed watching Roseanne and writing this out so that must mean progress . . .

Enough about me, what about YOU?!

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I have a confession to make: I have not been myself lately.

In fact, sometimes I have even likened myself to a monster.

Over a month with allergy eyes will do that to you. Suddenly, you start to not want to be in pictures and become convinced others don’t want you in theirs thanks to your red eyes. And then you put more thoughts in your head–you’re not desirable, you’re a reject, you’re never going to get better. And on and on.

And for the most part, it stays in your head. But then there comes a point where it reaches the surface and you start acting as ugly as you feel. And there’s nothing more alienating than that.

But I’m not a monster. And I need to tell myself that. And I need to start believing it again.

I’m working on it, I promise.

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The Things We Do Not Capture

In first grade, I spent several weeks in a wheelchair.

But you would never know that, as not a single picture exists of me sitting in that chair. In fact, you’d be pressed to even find a picture of me in the cast I had at that time. Yet I still have the cast itself (hidden in a closet), the only real proof.

There were so many pics of my childhood. Yet there were these little pockets of time completely erased by purposeful avoidance. I asked my mom why and she said she just didn’t want to remember that time. But it happened.

Just like there are no pictures of me with a swollen face after having my wisdom teeth taken out. Or from after my surgery a few years ago; no images of me in a hospital bed hooked up to wires. No pictures of when I accidentally sliced my hand open with a swiss army knife, or from when I rear ended someone in high school.

Sure, due to my sick and twisted mind there do exist now pictures of my broken toes and bruised feet and swollen eyes and bad haircuts (fragments free of context), but for the most part we edit the stories of our lives by omission. We don’t think to pick up our cameras and snap as we and those we love are in pain, and frankly we often do not want to.

But it’s often these things we do not capture, those cracks between the concrete memories we can turn back to, that are the grit in building our character. Try as we can to conceal them, we can’t erase the fact they did happen. At least not yet anyway.

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The Archivist

I have a bit of a problem.

I’m addicted to preserving memories.

Mostly in photo and video form, but with periods of time of heavy written documentation mixed throughout.

Take this blog. And take my live journal, which was kept up for nearly 8 years. And my notebooks filled with sloppy handwritten accounts and tales.

But those pale in comparison to the sheer volume of photographic evidence I have of my past twelve years.

In this corner of my room, I have twenty-six photo albums documenting my life from August 2000 through July 2007. All in chronological order, many with captions, in albums marked with the date range. On the right side there they are stacked two deep. And those are only the prints . . . anything that was digital is all on my laptop and countless back-up copies. The scanner is my friend here, but frankly the weather is too nice to spend scanning for hours a night these days.

Then there are the videos . . .

I went through a pretty serious “videographer” phase where I would always be seen with my camera from December 2000 through December 2003. Unfortunately, these videos can only be viewed from the camera when plugged into my TV and the camera is slowly meeting its death. Therefore, one by one I have been having them converted into DVD. Three down, thirteen to go. I must say I have been very pleased with the conversion services offered by Walgreens. $25 for 50 feet of video and you get them back in about two to three weeks. But I will take suggestions of other vendors for this service.

But my true ridiculousness lies within my digital photo organization . . . by year, by month, by event. It makes it so easy to find just about any photo I’m looking for. And then there is the prettiness that is iPhoto . . . dear God. It allows me to take this obsession to the next level . . . faces, places, events. Holy crap.

I need to travel more.

And this is great and all, it really is. But sometimes I will become so engrossed in the archiving of these past events that I’m not living in the present. And how can I have things to archive in the future if I’m not living in today?! Ahhh the archivist’s dilemma.

There’s hope for me yet, and I’m planning on you doing all the work for me, MacBook. Deal?

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Am I a Control Freak?

I honestly do not know the answer to that question.

I don’t know if I am or not. Recent signs have pointed to “yes,” but other signs still say “no way.”

There’s this duality to my personality. Is it possible to be both laid back and control freak? Because I think I am. I have a messy room yet am crazy organized at work. I can handle delegation to me, yet prefer not to delegate to others when I can get it done myself. I need to have something fun scheduled to do every weekend, yet when I have too much I start to feel overwhelmed and possibly start blowing things off.

Could it just be that I am terribly stubborn about some things? Some things that really matter and others that, in the large scheme of things, are utterly unimportant?

Or am I such a control freak that I control losing control–that is, I set up certain situations so that I have no control and therefore am in control of my not being in control? (WHAT?!)

Whatever it is, I don’t think it’s been a problem in my life and has actually helped me in some aspects (namely work), but I can’t help but think I could be preventing myself from some opportunities by drawing the reigns in a bit too close. And in others I have given myself way too much slack.

For now (famous words by me), I will just let. it. be.

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