Look at that.  A nice, peaceful picture for a nice, peaceful, non-pissy post.  Really!

Ah, I am so fickle.  (Fickle is a fun word because it rhymes with pickle.)  I prefer it to “wishy-washy” or “inconsistent.”  Authenticity for me, strangely enough, means being fickle.  My mind, my mood, my direction–they change with the wind.  When I am honest and aware, they just do.  Maybe open, flexible are more flattering terms.  Yeah, that’s it.

I’m thinking about this because of my self-indulgent, whiney previous post.  I was all, woe is me!  Oh, my pitiful life!  In which I am bound!  And woeful!  And unable to create and contribute and express! 

Pathetic. 

Wheras today (and the previous two), I am all, Oh, my joyful life!  In which I am blessed!  And happy!  And have the opportunity to experience life’s beauty and inspiration and awesomeness!

Anyway, I bring up “fickle” in order to help explain my blog move.  There really is so little to explain.  “Whim” pretty much covers it.  And the title came to me in a stroke of genius inspiration (no?), so I just bought it (the url).  I’ve stopped accepting clients for a bit, and so the “Terri Fischer Photography” thing was not only inappropriate, but binding.  I didn’t want to feel like I was speaking to past or potential clients.  I just want to say what I have to say.  The End.

Today, that thing that I have to say is that No, actually, I am not in a rush for these littlies to grow up on me.  On Monday, all I could think about was the day, a few years from now, when I will have the freedom to spend a couple hours in the darkroom (or the coffee shop, or the kayak, or Machu Picchu).  But today, I hold this spoiled little (but heavy) sleeping toddler in my arms, wishing her 4K days a little farther off into the future.  I am nostalgic and almost painfully present, welcoming the interruptions and loving them for their truth.

Which is SO not where I was a few days ago.  Could you tell?

 And to further defend my fickle self, I refer you to Emerson, as I have done before:

A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines. With consistency a great soul has simply nothing to do. He may as well concern himself with his shadow on the wall. Speak what you think now in hard words, and to-morrow speak what to-morrow thinks in hard words again, though it contradict every thing you said to-day. — ‘Ah, so you shall be sure to be misunderstood.’ — Is it so bad, then, to be misunderstood? Pythagoras was misunderstood, and Socrates, and Jesus, and Luther, and Copernicus, and Galileo, and Newton, and every pure and wise spirit that ever took flesh. To be great is to be misunderstood.

Ralph Waldo Emerson