in celebration of 2009 (such a good year),
- (mowgli)
as it teeters on the edge of december,
- (dimples)
and then escapes into 2010.
- (kiki)
. . . the end.
- (shortcake)
Archive for December, 2009
The End
December 29, 2009Be Merry
December 22, 2009
. . . and I’ll see you next year.
Do you remember saying that as a kid, before winter break? I’ll see you next year. Get it? Because it will be next yeeeear? I remember marvelling at the fact that the year would soon be 1985. Hadn’t it always been 1984?
And now I’m feeling childish. So let’s play a game, for the rest of the entire year! Let’s write a story in the comments. One sentence per comment, but write as often as you’d like, anonymously or not.
If you comment before January 1st, and email me (terri @ terrifischer .com) or facebook/twitter me with your address, I’ll send you something!
Once upon a time . . .
heart and soul
December 18, 2009from a photo shoot today:
from a friend today:
“There is almost a sensual longing for communion with others who have a large vision. The immense fulfillment of the friendship between those engaged in furthering the evolution of consciousness has a quality impossible to describe.”
Pierre Teilhard de Chardin.
and randomly:
in which i confess my ugly feet
December 17, 2009
see? blue cast. photoshop fail.
Today I received a mini lecture about a homework folder. I’m sure it was as simple as “Mowgli didn’t bring his folder to school today,” but I only heard: “You are a failure as a mother, and your children are destined to become even more terrible failures than you, thanks to your parenting ineptitude.”
When I got home, there was mascara all over my face.
Now, granted, it is a new moon today, plus, nature is just about as dark as she gets right now. And however skeptical you might be about nature’s effects on the soul, the new moon does at least have physical implications for me. (read: P. M. fucking. S.)
Anyway. I came home—drippy mascara, hungry kids, and all; and went online to place another photo order. While the order was uploading, I (surprise!) went on to facebook, where a friend admitted to having a bad day. It was a simple, honest sentence, but was more comforting to me, in that ridiculously depressive moment, than any other words or actions could have been. Beyond support, advice, or sympathy, it sometimes is just nice to know that you’re not alone.
I know. I know how obnoxiously weepy and sappy and whiny that sounds if your life is perfect and you are never sad. (Seriously? Your life is perfect, and you are never sad? Wow. Bitch.) But for those of us humans, we actually find great comfort and connection in one another’s imperfections. It’s true, isn’t it? Don’t you feel closer to a person once you’ve seen their soft underbelly, their endearing (and not so endearing) flaws, their mistakes and secrets? Or worse, their mundane?
So why in the world do we try so desperately to hide those things? We flaunt what ”should” be flaunted, and hide what “should” be hidden (including our sadness). And then we, wearing mascara and perfection, disconnect.
I had a similar conversation with a friend the other day, and she remarked on what a vicious cycle it is: the attempt to connect by appropriately flaunting and hiding and fitting into stereotypes, which, in turn, only causes more loneliness. Counterproductive.
I was feeling all smug and non-people-pleasy then, like, psssh. glad i’m not like that. pssssh.
Until I thought about what it would be like to meet, in person, some friends I know only through this here electronic device. And it made me feel socially anxious–a feeling I am not at all familiar with. I realized that this is totally different than the normal way of getting to know someone. You people know me at my most manic depressive. I flash my soul here, in words and pictures and drawings like I would never do over a casual cuppa, yet you would not even recognize me in passing.
Someone directed me to this post by Jen Lee that says it perfectly. “Being new friends is sometimes about breaking the bad news to each other.” My confession, my soft underbelly (no pun intended), is more about how normal and relatively boring I actually am. And so, without further ado, I’m breaking the bad news, a few of my horrifyingly mundane attributes:
(these will not be making it to the christmas cards.)
~ I have ugly feet. I mean, who doesn’t have ugly feet? But apparently, mine are even that much uglier.
~ My dreadlocks really have nothing at all to do with a spiritual journey. It’s just another hairstyle.
~ I have really short, stubby fingers. Bad for arpeggios, good for trills.
~ In a matter of minutes, I can be all three of these things: extremely happy, painfully sad, and completely apathetic. Quite frequently, actually, this is the case. (Did you know that already?)
~ Currently, my comfortable jeans are a size 12. And I have neither ambition nor desire to change that fact. I’m fine with it, but if exercise and dietary discipline are virtues, then fat is a fault.
~ I’m not terribly good at photoshop (obviously?). AND I use (prepare yourselves, photographers!!!) Photoshop Elements.
~ I don’t wear sunscreen because I like how I look with a tan.
~ I am likely the messiest person you’ll ever know. Seriously. (Tell ‘em, real life friends.)
~ I live in the most standard ranch house ever. And I don’t. Have. Anything. Hanging. On. My. Walls. (except something I will tell you about later.)
~ I don’t at all take care of things like DVDs (Hi, Jessica!), TVs, laptops, carpets, . . . oh, anything really. I don’t take care of material things.
~ I was the homecoming queen.
~ I don’t send Christmas cards.
NO LAUGHING AT THE AMATEUR SLEEP DEPRIVED POET
December 16, 2009#1. I am no longer sleep-deprived, but when I wrote this poem(?), I was. So it is now safe to laugh. Or whatever.
#2. It was this post from Pixie that got me feeling all stirry.
#3. The photo below is unrelated, unless you really look at it. Then it is entirely appropriate. You’ll just have to discover that for yourselves.
#4. The photo yesterday was not Shortcake.
#5. Is it poetry if it has stanzas?
tri-x neg scan
the somethings that brew in the darkest night
the stirring
power
the depth
i can feel it, almost
like a shadow
whatever is there only
when i look away
like the demon i thought i’d imagined (when i was young)
then almost wished was real (still)
the darkness without the candle
moonless night
inky soul
i can feel it
i can taste it
like drumming, deep
can you feel it
simmer?
new moon, solstice
silent night, holy, night
gestation.
and then
everyone else
who feels it, too
like the hallelujah chorus unsung,
like a storm ready and electric
you
and then
me
and then
tidings of authenticity and joy
December 15, 2009
neighbor kid #2. digital
I don’t know what I’m doing today. I can’t think straight. Shortcake has a cold and is screaming all night and much of the day, and not realizing that she is two. And heavy. So there isn’t a lot of sleep happening. When I held her on my shoulder for her nap today, I wrote a post and then deleted it. It was about authenticity. It was a load of bullshit.
I feel like a baby, who in one moment throws a temper tantrum about . . . whatever . . . mittens, applesauce, and then, in an instant, is fully immersed in joy.
It’s only appropriate, though, really. It’s all paradox. All of it.
Sometimes it is this, only this (for two days now and counting):
******i tried really hard here (and failed) to embed some audio i recorded today of shortcake screaming and crying. so in its place, just scream and cry for a while. thank you******
<—And sometimes it is this. Pure, authentic joy. *edited to add: this isn’t shortcake!!!!*
whatever.
the point was, really, just to show you this really cute picture.
the monday after
December 13, 2009
this weekend was full of
<—bribery (i was a willing accomplice)
gambling (i put in $20, out came $40! it is a good thing there are no slot machines nearby. if there are, don’t tell me.)
whiskey (i thought cool places like this were only pretend.)
and
quickies (still time for Christmas gifts!)
i am just so
wild
and crazy.
how was your weekend?
and p.s. i was kidding about not telling me. about the slot machines. because you could tell me. if you wanted to. you know.
help me, i am a prisoner, etc.
December 11, 2009My mother had a great deal of trouble with me, but I think she enjoyed it. (Mark Twain)
- in Julie’s kitchen. tri-x film with Mamiya 645af
Here is the whiny pathetic post I told you about, originally entitled “At Home,” to be said all ho-hum and pitiful. Except I edited the worst parts, lest you call the suicide hotline on me (because, you probably would’ve):
“Today was one of those days. And then it wasn’t, and then it was again (to be continued indefinitely). Sometimes, it is just so perfect and fabulous, and usually it is just so . . .
fucking
not!”
And . . . that just about does it, after the editing.
It was, in a nutshell, the old “poor me, i hate it here, stuck at home with rotten kids, dirty dishes, uncooked meals, unlived potentials. i have a college degree and talent and intellect, you know, and so woe is me.”
But then Shortcake went and sang the musical Annie from start to finish, in her just-turned-two-years-old voice, on my lap, in front of the twinkling Christmas tree, and ruined it all. And then there was the magical snow day, in which the kids played like the happiest and luckiest little children ever. And then there was yesterday, in which I wore my pajamas, and painted some door trim, and snuggled with my babies, and developed a roll of film, and watched the Brave Little Toaster. And then there is today, in which I shopped and had coffee with my friends.
I can’t remember: was I whining?
snow day
December 9, 2009i’ve got this one blog sitting in my “drafts” folder.
it is self-indulgent and pathetic and whiny.
it says something like, “what if i don’t want to do this anymore?”
because i kinda don’t right now. wanna do this. anymore.
but actually, that is just nonsense today.
because it’s a SNOW DAY!
and who in the world can be self-indulgent and pathetic and whiny (which i think should be spelled whinEy, but spell check disagrees)
on a SNOW DAY?
this neighborhood crew will make a fort come rain, shine, or snow. it is all about the fort.
shortcake watches out the window. she thinks snow is “yucky.”
what about this picture does not say “Wisconsin?”
and of course, black nail polish is a post-hot-cocoa necessity. for some reason.
i’ve got really cute kids.
p.s. i’d like to dedicate this post to my mom. watch for her comment, i’m sure it will be entertaining.
Want A Quickie?
December 7, 2009My favorite way to do things is on a whim. My second favorite way to do things is at the last minute. And so, yay for this:
On a whim, I’m offering quickie last-minute photo shoots from now until December 17th. You know (do you?) that I haven’t been accepting photography clients since the Spring. I miss it, and I’m ready for my comeback (cue music). And so, in the Spring of 2010, I’ll be baaaa . . . ack! I’ve got some wild ‘n crazy stuff a-brewin’ for then. And it will not be quick, nor will it be cheap.
But this is!
Here’s the whim-induced deal: An all-digital, super-fast photo shoot. No proofs to deal with. You’ll get an big ol’ eff-off package of prints (email me for a list) for yourself and grandma and everyone else. I will choose the one best shot. You will be happy. Grandma will be happy. $250 for one kid (or one you!), $50 each additional person. That’s it, includes everything.
I will not offer this after Christmas, ever. Not in a department store last chance sale! sort of way, like when they offer it again the next week anyway; but in a no, really, this is it kind of way. Because this is not at all intelligent marketing, and plus, it is my pro digital camera’s last hurrah. She has a date with Ebay, and I have a darkroom.
Squeeze me in during the next 10 days of mania to get the prints by Christmas, or give me as a gift, and we’ll do a January session. (Once I had a client email me on December 22nd for a gift certificate for his wife. That is my kind of shopper!)
Send an email to terri (at) terrifischer (dot) com, or visit the contact page on my website, if you are interested. I have last-minute shopping to do, too (haven’t bought a single thing), so I will only offer a very limited number of these.
Wheeeee!