Six Eighty-Seven

Went downtown to do 20 shots for the final project today. I wanted to go back to Oakland after visiting the first time, but it wasn't as enchanting the second time and there were a lot of people there today. Oakland is a landmark, not just a cemetery, so it made sense that it was pretty full today. I was taking my first few shots, and these people walked past me. I thought it was yet another dog because I heard all of these keychains and I turned to see if it was, in fact, a dog and owner but it was people. One man was all, "She's taking pictures!!" in a gaspshockgasp voice like I was pissing on the graves or something, and another man was like, "Well, they said they can take pictures of the statues blah blah blah," I don't remember the rest because I started re-framing my shot. The Shocked Man was eyeing me for whatever reason, the only reason I could really think is me being a black girl with an afro and this being a group of white people and a certain devisive event happening in two days tearing people apart. He looked as if he'd never seen a Black person before. I was a bit amused, but kinda wary of shooting for the rest of the day if people were going to be that conscious about it. One of the great things about being in a graveyard is silence, yeah?

11/2/2008: Oakland and Centennial OP

Did Chapter Two of the ACT workbook today, and it was the chapter on different anxiety disorders. It stressed that a diagnosis isn't necessarily a eureka sort of thing, where you'll magically be cured once you find the cause. It's a tool that can be helpful in focusing the point of your problem. It reminds me of something my therapist at FamiliesFirst told me in February, before she got sick and I couldn't make another appointment with her afterwards. I liked her, but I couldn't get back in touch with her.

Anyway, I think I understand why diagnoses don't work for me personally. I was told even in crisis that the psych there wasn't going to waste time giving me a diagnosis because it "doesn't work" for me. Basically, when looking at any sort of disorder, whether anxiety or mood based, I don't stay within confines. It's very hard for me to get one or even several diagnoses because it seems like every sort of mental illness a person can have, I have...minus psychosis which I've only had while severely sick or dehydrated. I think for a diagnosis to even be a tool, you have to be able to isolate somewhat.

The book proposed thinking about what triggers anxiety for the reader instead of worrying about trying to fit a diagnosis, and that was easy for me. I have an intense fear of being tainted, a fear of being weak or vulnerable or being seen as weak or vulnerable. I keep myself out of emotionally intense situations with other people because of how I lose control. I keep myself [or use to keep, before I decide I do need school] out of situations where a weakness can be revealed, or where I'll be attacked for a weakness. Even with psychotherapy, I hate when I read diagnoses and seem to fit almost every label because I fear the stigma that comes with mental illness more than I fear death. Suicidal thoughts and actual attempts are triggered in part by a feeling of weakness that I can't control and can't hide. Self-injury, the intentional starvation, every problem I have is from a fear of being seen and perceived as weak and small and vulnerable.

Most of my life experience has involved being targeted or physically put into situations where I couldn't defend myself. The sexual assault being the biggest one, but other molestations, being bullied from the time I entered school until I reached high school in the 9th [and I was so use to bullying that it was very hard for me to accept that people wanted to be friends with me, I was relatively well-liked in high school but couldn't attach to it]. My mom treated me like a cancer when I started having emotional problems, targeting me for seeking therapy, telling me that any thought I had that wasn't optimism or confidence was 'crazy', being emotionally abusive in those early years of dealing with it, being physically aggressive and triggering old anger and putting me in situations where I felt I couldn't fight her back. Knowing that if I did, my entire family would blame it on me.

...I guess without needing a diagnosis, I'm still good because the source is still so obvious. From what I allowed myself to see in me this past year, naturally I'm a very confident and strong personality but I'm also naturally humble enough to be conscious of imposing that personality on others. It can be used against me if I'm put in a situation where the ability to stay comfortable in my own skin is denied and never find any outside source who will strongly encourage me that I CAN stay comfortable in my own skin. My working guess of why my life went the way it did centers on this: the extreme loss of confidence and guilt with what my father did to me, and repeatedly being made to feel by outside agents that being in my own skin was a sort of crime to either be ridiculed or despised.

Naturally, my course in life may have been to learn just simply not to impose myself so much on others and stop making others feel so small. It's complicated when I still have to learn this lesson while simultaneously learning not to be made small by others as well. Because self-confidence is essential to my ability to live, but not being forceful about it essential to allowing those around me to live as well. It's harder to do than it looks, and I think anyone knows this but not everyone has to learn this lesson to survive. I don't survive if others feel threatened by me, but I also don't survive if I feel threatened by myself. And I have been able to conclusively prove that whether I want it to happen or not, people can't help but respond either strongly against me or strongly for me and that can make anyone uncomfortable if they're put in that sort of situation but aren't confident in who they are.

I didn't approach the study with much intent or focus, as I've stated, but it is relieving to see that a focus is taking shape. I didn't approach it because every therapy I've known centered on being diagnosed and working from there. This is a nice change.

First day of the bleeding. Migraines last night, followed by intense depression and anxiety. Cramping is moderate, flow is moderate. Noting this for my own benefit, but I also firmly believe that my period plays a large role in why I traverse diagnosed lines as well. As I might've already stated in here, 4 out of the 5 times I was forced to seek psychiatric treatment, I was either pre-menstrual or had just started bleeding. I attempted suicide, nearly died, and started my period 3 days later for example. When I first started having emotional problems in 2002, they were treated as PMDD [probably correctly] until I was forced into psychiatric treatment by a half-assed suicide attempt [that was pre-menstrual, I started soon after]. I always had anxiety as a child, perhaps aggravated by starting the puberty process relatively early [I was 8 when I started growing body hair] but depression didn't hit until I started my period at 11. From a physical standpoint, sexual maturity in general is a trigger.

11/2/2008: The Four of Wands card suggests that my power today lies in bonding. I celebrate our common connection, success, or attraction and recognize the equal status, protection, or reputation that results in the formation of this union is merely the beginning or negotiation of something new. I am empowered by positive results within the partnership and I transform through teamwork or marriage.

I'm participating in this study to see if this new type of mindfulness therapy is helpful for anxiety. The principles of the study are outlined in a workbook, which is being sent for free to anyone who decides to participate in the study. Every so often, the study participant has to log on to answer questionnaires, I guess to check the progress of the study and it's usefulness as progress occurs. I signed up for the study...not really to try a new sort of therapy. I've pretty much given up hope that therapy and meds and trying to make this into something it's not will be helpful, but something about this study felt right. I got the workbook in the mail yesterday, and after reading through the intro and the first chapter, I'm confirmed in why I felt right about this study.

ACT therapy is based on the principle that attempting to avoid or minimize pain is essentially useless in dealing with it, and that really being able to live involves accepting that anxiety and even pain a are part of the human experience. It's exactly the type of thinking I've begun to feel in my life over the past year, but felt I couldn't acknowledge because I felt I was the only one that would...that I was the only one who felt that bulldozing over pain or pretending it isn't there isn't helpful. So gravitating to this study and, subsequently, to this therapy is like a godsend. I wrote a few entries back about how when I calm down enough and just allow what I need to come to me, I always get what I need. This is just another notch in what is becoming a sort of confidence for my ability to live. I still believe that I should try and do what I can, I'm not saying I believe I need to just stop and sit on my ass and wait for opportunities and good things to arrive...I only get these things when I make some sort of effort, but make it knowing it's the best that I can do, and then realizing that when I can do no further I need help. Finding this study was that sort of thing...before I'd even heard of it, I was saying I would try just living with all of this stuff but had no clue HOW I could do this and then I found this. I'm so excited about doing this.

It's written on the premise that the person is just looking for another therapeutic fix -- I think because that's what most people seek out of therapy AND because psychotherapy and psychiatry in general promotes the fix over giving people self-sufficient ways to live [that's how they make so much money, religion can employ the same tactics...and so can politics] -- so I don't know how easily or widely accepted ACT will be as a practice, people usually have to be sick of shit to want to change it to roses and a lot of people, for whatever reason, don't allow themselves to get sick of shit...but I feel that out of many participants, people like me are who they're going after. Anxiety has derailed my entire life and has caused me to try and end it many times, admittedly because I felt guilty that I didn't want to change it. That I wanted to explore it. People told me I was crazy and I had no evidence otherwise until I tried to kill myself last year and realized I didn't want that to happen ever again. I guess...or know...that I got sick of shit, I got sick of being in it, I got sick of feeling it, I got sick of wallowing in it, I got sick of eating it. I'm too devoted to harmony to point fingers, which is why when I move forward I feel guilty for admitting that my mother and her devotion to fear is a big reason why I never dealt with my own, she made me feel horrible for what I couldn't control...I even feel like I need to ignore what my dad did to me and how he obviously pushed it out of sync, I feel guilty because...I don't know, I have crazy respect for my elders and what comes before me but I often find myself looking at things we're suppose to hold in reverence and not only wondering why we do, but wondering how we continue to do it knowing how fucked up authority can be. I'm not the type to cause trouble, but I don't take bullshit either...and I feel guilty because I really have to make both my parents dead to me [my dad is dead, but in the metaphorical sense considering my memories of him are still alive]...I have to make them both dead to me in order to have a meaningful life. I have to devalue them both from positions of authority and see them for what they are, put them on a level instead of up on a plane and...I don't know, I guess I feel shaky when I can't see a viable authority on anything and shakier when I'm trying to see one.

What I hope I can get out of ACT now that I see what direction is going is the ability to accept my own authority, to even accept that I've always had good judgment and to accept that I only felt that I didn't because people were telling me I didn't...but mostly because I didn't want to believe I did. Not trusting my own judgment is how I survived my dad assaulting me when I was four. Telling myself that he wasn't really doing what he was doing is how I got on. It went to shit when puberty started and I wanted more of myself and my identity...but I want to be able to accept that I can't blame myself for the course it took. I want to accept that I am as smart and as sound as I feel that I am, and that this bad turn came from things out of my control. I want to accept that it is still up to me to continue being a victim, that I can still choose to stop being one even though taking control in my part of the victimizing only corrects an inch of the entire problem. I want to be able to accept that if I can do the best I can, the rest will take care of itself. I'm on a timetable of 12 weeks for the study, I end it at the beginning of next year...and I won't make it a goal to accept all of these things by then, but I will make a commitment that I'll start trying, it's all I can really do.

...class at 1. Find more information on the ACT study here.

11/1/2008: The Wheel card affirms that my alter ego is an Observer Participant, whose superpower, uncertain opportunity, acts as huckster in a carnival ride of free will, motive and time by assuming roles of game host and player linked by chains of events, or to hedge bets against a Greater Fool. Anything goes. Everything counts. Fate, Luck or a "Cosmic Santa" of Fortune assigned by relative to preordained or random turns are subject to short-sighted cheats or social brands of justice. But it's my entitlement, input, fear, or anticipation along the chain that "spins" labels into gold or coal! Today is a chance to fix, stir or dip into the Quantum Soup, boiling six degrees of separation from connecting to enough, waiting for the Karmic bill or dessert to close the meal in hindsight. But to self-correct by priority I put it on my list, pay my dues by choice and can see it coming to pass full circle.

Oct. 31, 2008: My Daily Tarot

The Lovers card affirms my alter ego is a port key to a Soul Mate or deal, whose superpower is compatibility in the midst of reconciling dichotomy to interconnect as a whole new entity or 'color.' To be or not to be: at ultimatum or rival tensions mounting, negotiating acceptable trade-offs validates our unique perspectives to reflect what each lacks for a balanced voice of truce. When we're together I'm beside myself, so I concede mutual vested interest, incentive or opportunity to my other half for valued consideration. For only by the power of self-respect in reciprocal vulnerability, need and compassion do 'me and thee consummate we.' The rest is all a dance on the sidelines of Cinderella Pandering or prohibition, or around a Bermuda Triangle of bottom line temptation to cheat by provocation, promiscuity, or shame. But here at the gate of impasse, I still have a choice and my pride.

11/2/2008: This is one of the four cards that represent me personally, based on my numerology numbers. My expression number is 1, my soul number is 6, my inner desire number is 22, and my life path number is 8. This card corresponds to my soul number. When I get a card that is a part of my personality, basically, on a certain day -- and this was the first one pulled where I have -- I interpret it as meaning I am on point with myself for that day, whether it be emotionally or physically, or with goals, or desires. This card in general is an affirmative one, that wherever you're going and what you're doing...whether or not you have reason for it, you are making the right decision about choosing to follow it. Getting it on the day that I did was huge. I won't go into why, but it was huge. Having it be one of my personal representation cards made it a bit more huge, sort of like double re-inforcement. A "Keep going" sort of motivation. And that this is connected to my soul number...getting it was needed, I'll say that much.

The story of the card is nice, so I'm going to include that here. I got it from Aeclectic Tarot.

Basic Tarot Story

The Fool comes to a cross-road, filled with energy, confidence and purpose, knowing exactly where he wants to go and what he wants to do. But he comes to a dead stop. A flowering tree marks the path he wants to take, the one he's been planning on taking. But standing before a fruit tree marking the other path is a woman. He's met and had relationships with women before, some far more beautiful and alluring. But she is different. Seeing her, he feels as though he's just been shot in the heart with cupid's arrow, so shocking, so painful is his "recognition" of her. As he speaks with her, the feeling intensifies; like finding a missing part of himself, a part he's been searching for his life long. It is clear that she feels the same about him. They finish each others sentences, think the same thoughts. It is as if an Angel above had introduced their souls to each other. Though it was his plan to follow the path of the flowering tree, and though it will cause some trouble for him to bring this woman with him, to go somewhere else entirely, the Fool knows he dare not leave her behind. Like the fruit tree, she will fulfill him. No matter how divergent from his original intent, she is his future. He chooses her, and together they head down a whole new road.

I woke up after a long night of talking to myself in my sleep. I don't quite know what causes this, but basically I'll be in a dreaming mode, but my mind's voice or whatever will be running on autopilot. Sometimes its coherent and revealing stuff but I rarely go long in the day remembering what is actually said. Regardless, I woke up pretty much accepting of the fact that pretending I don't ever feel depression or anxiety isn't the life for me. It's been a disaster trying to pretend I don't have these emotions up to this point and I do want to live...so why not try accepting they're there and living with that. Who knows? Maybe accepting it is how I'll learn to cope with them better.

I went up to the school to print the shots I took Tuesday and to work on my Illustrator project for the Design Applications class. I drummed up the best that I could in Illustrator...though I might still glance over it tomorrow to make sure I can't do better. The past few times I've gone to the photo printing room, I struck up tiny conversations with the people inside. I'm use to going in the afternoons on Saturdays, after the DA class and I'll be there by myself...but I do enjoy it when other people are there. I met a middle age woman who's starting the Photographic Imaging program, and we were talking about the classes and our fears...and some students who've been in the program for awhile came in and eventually joined the conversation. I had half my prints done at that point, and they took a look at them...and I was told that what I printed was actually really good. This was genuinely very...confidence boosting, I guess, hearing my stuff is good from students who've been in the program for awhile and would be able, at their stage, to know what's good and what isn't. I don't think they were lying, people don't get away with lying to me...it made me happy.

I'm not exactly shy about the critiques received in class or by the instructor, I don't expect for the instructors to ever be lenient in criticism. I've had experience with photography classes before I came into this program, I know it's rare to have an instructor say anything GOOD about what you do. I don't mind. I came here to learn and to get better, and unlike a lot of things that involve competition I don't mind the extra motivation to always do better and better. I guess because this is something that I really want for myself. I don't worry about the fairness of the critique or the harshness of it...when I want something, I have a way of becoming impervious to those things. But being told that I look good from the eyes of more advanced students is always a nice security check.

I checked out this book basically covering the history of photography from the school's library. I'm really enjoying it so far. I love history, I love reading about it and learning about it. It inspires me more than anything, though I don't show it explicitly. I'm not the type of person that believes in mimicing bygone eras or necessarily bringing it back to the good ol' days...I'm the type of person that likes to see how the present relates to the past, and to take the best of both worlds and live off of them. Reading this book and getting a sense for what early photographers were looking for out of the medium, why it was invented, all the ways it can be used...I don't know, it validates me in a way I can't explain. Inspires me to make the best that I can out of what I'm doing. Made me feel a part of a legacy. Made me appreciate it more. Stuff like that.

I got home and showed the prints to my sister, to my mom when she got home. Me and my mom haven't talked much since the last argument two days ago. And I guess it showed...even in this gesture of peace, she kinda took a cheap shot at my choice of venue, "I would've preferred you hadn't gone to a cemetery, but whatever," but instead of getting offended, I just responded in a burst of genuine excitement, "I love shooting in cemeteries. It's very quiet and peaceful..." and she cut me off. I know that she's looking for a fight or a point to drive her points home, but I'm not the type of person to hold grudges. When I move on, I move on. She picked the little angel on the top of the infant's grave as her favorite and I had a thought afterwards to tell her that it WAS the grave of a child she made her favorite...I guess just noticing the irony in her picking the worst shot out of the set as her favorite because she thought it was cute. I don't know, maybe that inbred resentment I have over her way of sugarcoating over tough things...I know now she isn't completely to blame for this, but her determination to make me a happy child helped make it hard for me to be honest about my emotions and the trauma. She would say and do a lot of nasty things to me as if I were the bane of her existence, and it would make me feel bad that I couldn't give her the happy child that she wanted. I tried and managed to sustain a successful act while my brain degenerated on antipsychotics...but the antipsychotics went way adverse, flashbacks were coming in hard, I started losing my sleep...and I was unwilling to admit that I was feeling unhappy, that I felt stifled...and the next thing everyone knows, I'm swallowing pills and losing my pulse.

It's crucial that I remember I can't blame her for being the way she is, it works for her. I just hope and pray that as the days go by things get a bit easier in the independence search. I'm tentatively trusting the phenomenon around me which...sorta implicates that if I think a need, and it's really a need, then the need somehow shows up. So far it hasn't failed, but faith has always been a dicey issue for me.

Anyway, I'm getting a bit more comfortable with my time management, which is a great accomplishment. It feels relieving to not be worrying about finishing a project -- either for Principles of Photography or for DA -- and I hope it continues to get better as time rolls on. I do need to start thinking and shooting for my final project. A 20 image contact sheet is due on Monday and I don't know what I'm going to do. I don't know if it's the lack of knowledge of what's in Atlanta that's the cause...or that combined with me having to rely on MARTA to get around, and with me not having a lot of money to throw around searching out places. It's a combo of things, I guess. I have 3 more days to think about and do this, and I don't want to waste time but I want to make sure I can do something that's feasible. I'm pretty much done with my homework assignments for this week, so I guess I'll spend the rest of the time trying to find what I'm going to do. I wanted to go back to Oakland and do a further study of cemeteries...but shooting towards the end of the day instead of in the middle of the day. I was even thinking about following a simple theme of "Where is god?" and letting my intuition do the walking.

The Queen of Swords card suggests that my power today lies in advocation. I have been there, done that and can be trusted to judge, perceive or tell it like it is. I own my authority and honor my authentic nature and wisdom but use my sharp wit responsibly and accept that not everyone will "warm up to me." I have a sleek, keen but detached sense for quality, classic style and truth and my reputation for communicating or protecting justice, the greater good or serving as a pioneer is well-deserved. I am empowered to endure by obligation to my code and my virtue is order. 

The Tower card suggests that my alter ego today is the Survivor, whose superpower for revolution lies in my epiphany for change, brought on with the aid of a serious reality check. Today I have reached a turning point. It may be all over but the crying -- but I have the strength to move on and create a better situation for myself. You may say that I never saw it coming or learned the hard way, but with profound change comes new opportunity. One door closes -- another opens. So tear down the wall, and rebuild anew.

The panic hit me as I waited for the bus, just pure desperation. "Where will I go?" I had to go back in just to re-collect myself. I told myself that I wouldn't be happy if I didn't go back out, if I avoided shooting today. I don't want to get into old habits. Too much is at stake now. I know the weather can change at any time, and with the amount of time I have left to finish the project I didn't want to take any chances. I honestly didn't feel that I'd be able to move again. I worried that the clouds in the sky would persist when I got downtown. I only had enough fare for one trip downtown. My mother is mad at me -- we had an argument last night, and it was nasty. I hate asking things of her when these happen, and I know there's always a chance she'll feel vindictive and won't give me what I'm asking. I worried about that too, that I'd get downtown and would have to ask her for the fare back and she'd call me on the words I screamed to her last night in anger. I don't like hurting her, but when I get angry I say things and they don't convey what I mean, and she preys on it and I get frustrated and start being more direct with my insults instead of more directly trying to make her understand. I was fully prepared with a backup in case she was feeling vindictive...we were both at fault last night, but I know I kinda deserved any cold shoulder she gives me.

The weight of school started factoring in too, knowing my home situation and my money situation yet being so determined not to mix school and home troubles. I can't quite explain it...but I'll try. I think I know that I want the school I'm at right now and I want the program I'm in right now, and I know how my emotions can stall me and hole me up and mess up my dreams. I'm not trying to blame the emotions, I've accepted by now that I can't help them being there or how strong they are. But I think when I allow them to ruin my life, I allow what he did to me to win. I don't know. But it's stressful, because I'm determined not to let it out what's going on in my home life. I didn't enjoy having counselors in my business in high school, mostly because all these people can do is pity me. They can't make it better. I don't seek pity and I don't want pity. I want someone to understand and just listen to me, yeah, but if it's gonna come with pity I won't take it. I feel that it minimizes everything in a way, it doesn't soothe. And pitying can't make a teacher give me a break on an assignment...and I really wouldn't have it that way anyway. But it can be stressful if I'm in a mood where it feels like the world hates me.

I got overwhelmed with all of this and ran back up to my room. Just cried and cried and cried for about an hour, hunched over on the floor. I was wishing that I'd just died last year, that I hadn't been brought back at all. I think it's because even though I know I'm pursuing something I want to do, I still feel that it's not enough to live for. It's not enough to promise a full life. It doesn't fill the hole. I hate when I get like that, and find it ironic that less stress caused me to snap and overdose. Just wondering a bit darkly what would've happened if I'd had this size stress that night. Probably would've taken a bit more lithium than I did and wouldn't be typing this right now. I don't know. I searched myself to try and find what it is I'm looking for, this place I'm looking to go. It hit me that I'm searching for god. Something higher and strong and stable, something in this world full of lies that is true. I wrote in my photography notebook about how I did manage to find god -- in surviving the suicide attempt, in love, when I give up all control. But I added that I lose it just as easily as I find it, when I try to hold onto it or when I try and force it into existence, force it to prove it's there. I said that I would be perfectly okay with the god I found if I could function with the knowledge. I can't function on my own unless I can translate the god I found into the physical, and it's nearly impossible to do. I came to the conclusion that if I always maintain my honesty, no matter what, that I could come close to doing it. I decided that I'd try it with my photography, take every shot asking myself "Where is god?" Then I looked at my phone's clock and saw that the bus would show up in a few minutes and I got out of the house as fast as I could to get there.

It was a cold day today and I was bundled up. I never invest in anything long-sleeved, so my attempt at layering looks really bad but it works. As I walked to the bus stop, I saw that the clouds I'd been worrying about were clearing. I took it as a good omen and hoped it would last. I got hit on by a guy who's probably my mom's age at the Five Points station, waiting to transfer. Surprisingly, he was the first who didn't look like a broke hobo, he was put together...I hate these types of encounters, mostly because I always resort to thinking that I need to wait for Jarrod in these situations and because I always wonder if I'm wasting my time. I'm not the assault victim who wants nothing to do with sex, that isn't me. Apparently I'm also not the assault victim who'll just jump in with anyone. I feel so perplexed sometimes, because I know I don't hold out on purity reasons, or because I'm ashamed of sex itself. The only reason that I can give is that I want something better than to have my Real first time with someone I'm not even attracted to. There's been guys [or a guy, specifically] at my school who's attracting me. Really intense eyes but I have to laugh when I dig deeper into why I'm attracted to him. He's 6'8" and he rocks sideburns and I don't even think I would've looked at tall guys with sideburns until Jarrod came along. Honestly. I keep asking...the air, I guess, "If Jarrod isn't feasible right now, give me someone who is," and this guy just stood out. But there's never been a guy I'm attracted to who works out. Either we stare at each other hardcore and never approach each other, or I am compelled to make the first move and the guy gets scared and runs off. Only Oscar deviated from that, but I wasn't myself when we tried. I dumped him because I thought some singer was my soul mate and that I had to wait for him. I think it's why I get so scared when I pull back on account of Jarrod...but one thing I can do with him, obviously, is to really consider being with other guys and why is that significant? Just...I think it makes it more real, shows that I'm not working on delusion when I feel for him. I can't really explain.

Anyway, I forgot about the guy who approached me pretty soon after getting to Oakland and in the process of making the exposures. My projects for my class have been less than average, I've been really unhappy with them. A combination of adjusting to BEING in school and of figuring out how to work my camera, since I'm determined to learn it manually...I'm training to be a professional, after all. I decided that for the composition project, I would try and use the skills we were practicing for the first two assignments in this one, to make sure I know what I'm doing. I think it worked. I find my muse in cemeteries. I don't quite know why. I'm never afraid to be there. Hyper aware, in a sense, but not afraid. My father is buried at Oakland, if I'm correct. His grave is still unmarked. I didn't make it to that part of the cemetery, I was too entranced by the older graves. The unfortunate amount of dead children in the cemetery.

As I made my exposures, all the clouds disappeared and if you look at them you probably wouldn't think that just two hours before it was overcast. They came out really good, to the point where I know it's going to be hard to narrow down to just four for printing. I found that I really like shooting and being in cemeteries. I always have, but maybe it's a bit more poignant for me now...having died myself. I kept telling myself to focus on making good compositions, focus on what I was doing right then. Not to focus on my depression, or if I'd have a fight coming home. I think it shows.

I stopped shooting after walking around the cemetery for a bit. My hands were frozen, but I knew I took good shots so I could tolerate it. As I was leaving, there was this couple entering. They saw me, but stopped anyway and had this long kiss right there, in the middle of the cemetery. I had the camera on my neck and I wondered if they'd expected I'd shoot it but I wasn't going to test privacy. The lady looked at me when they finish, I hadn't slowed my walk though I did get a bit quieter with it. I didn't know what to make of it, them deciding to kiss right in front of me, her look...just the thought that I'd love to make out in the middle of a cemetery someday.

I got back to the station and called my mom...we didn't talk long, but she put enough fare on my debit to get me home. I had $3.46 already on there, but I have to save it for my heart bill. I have...an arrangement with them that I can send in as much as I can. I finally talked to all the bill collectors, and when I explained that I don't have a job and have been looking for months...they all of a sudden are really nice people. I kinda wish I'd done it sooner, but I wasn't in a position to give myself a break at the start of the year.  I got to the Chamblee station just as my sister was coming from the high school, which was a nice surprise. We'd never met like that before, so we rode home and she told me about her latest guy [she's on her 3rd potential love interest now] and was just schmoozing about him, abusing her past interests. It was nice not to talk about me, that she didn't bring up the fight last night with mom.

I was in a much better mood coming home than leaving it. I'm proud of what I did today...it's a direct break from habit. When I'm moody, I typically don't move for the rest of the day so going out after all was...and the way it turned out too, it was all incredible. Particularly the surprise in my inbox I got, as I was setting up this account. I was looking for a word to title it with, and went back to my home page [where I keep a word of the day] when I saw his name in my inbox twice and I kinda...I don't know how to describe it, but everytime his name is there or when I see him my mind just empties and I get this elated feeling. It scares me sometimes. I find it strange that when he was making those entries that landed in my inbox, how I found it easy to type a bio, to name my interests. Neither of these things come easy for me, naturally. I kept the poke that he sent. I decided I'll use it when I really need it -- nights like last night where I'm so agitated I'm a viable threat to hurt myself, for example. He's shown that he'll show up if I'm screaming for someone, anyone, in those types of moments.

I'm afraid to let this day end. I always fear this will be the only day that's like this, and that the rest will continue to be depressing and mind-numbing and useless. But one thing that really stuck with me this day, came with the cemetery and the rest I found there. I left really feeling like everything could be alright, that I'd been around people who may have had hectic lives but could rest now. Even people who got to love before they left, since the only thing that keeps me going is the fear I'll die without finding it. "Where is god?"

Here are the best shots out of the day from my visit to Oakland Cemetery this afternoon. Any critique is welcome, since this is for a class assignment [composition] and I need help choosing which shots to print. We have to print four. Any other comments are welcome as well. Click on the link to view all of the photos, and thanks to anyone who responds!

10/28/2008 :: Oakland Cemetery