Lost in a haze of smoke and light...

"What is life? It is the flash of a firefly in the night. It is the breath of a buffalo in the wintertime. It is the little shadow which runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset" -Crowfoot



The view from my back yard, at sunset. The column of smoke is from the power plant in the city.

I have a sharper picture of it, but I love the hazy look of the first picture.

My Favorite Things Part III

Of all my worldly goods, books are probably what I love the most. In books there can be found so many things. Reading a book isn't just about gaining knowledge. It's the pleasure of it, the feel of the cover between your hands, the weight of it, the turning of each page, the smell of the ink and paper. Books contain entire worlds, anything you could possibly imagine, things fantastic and mysterious and heartbreaking.

Growing up homeschooled was difficult at times. I did get lonely on occasion. I had friends, but my world was something entirely different from theirs. Their lives revolved largely around what had happened at school that day. When you're the only person in your school, there is no drama, or gossip, or wondering what to wear. The bullies, the popular kids, the geeks, the outcasts..none of those people existed for me. I was all of those things, and none of them.

I frequently lost myself in my own imagination. Books were really not much different than that. It was just taking a break from my own head and losing myself in someone else's for a while. There was no loneliness in the turning of pages, in the stories playing out in each chapter. There was no one to judge me or think me strange, which is what often happened when I met other people my age. It was like someone had branded me with a big blazing mark that said "DIFFERENT", and of course when you're a child, and then a teenager, being different is usually considered to be a bad thing. I've never regretted my education, and I don't wish that I'd been allowed to attend public school. I just wish others had been more accepting of it.

So I read. I devoured books. I spent most of my allowance on new ones, and I always wanted more. Fantasy, history, true crime, mythology, fiction...I tried to fill myself to the brim with stories and facts, but my desire to read was bottomless. It's something I have never grown out of. I love books, and bookstores, and libraries. I hoard my books like a dragon guarding treasure, gloating over each new one I acquire. No matter how many I have, I will never have enough.

I dream of one day having a house with a proper library in it. I want every wall to have floor-to-ceiling bookcases loaded with books. My fiance is a smart man. For Valentine's Day, he didn't get me chocolate, or jewelry, or flowers. He bought me books, because he knows that's the way to my heart.

My Favorite Things, Part II

To continue my post series about some of my favorite things, my next subject is: machinery!

I find old, broken-down, rusted machinery to be fascinating. All of those gears and bolts and knobs have always been so interesting to look at. I used to use pieces of old copper pipes in some of my artwork, and the more grungy they were, the better.

Living out in a rural area provides me with a lot of old broken-down farm equipment to choose from. People out here will frequently leave things to rust into nothingness in their fields, which itself is rather shameful for the environment, but provides me with lots of things to poke through.

In Pieces

The owner of the auto shop my car is currently housed in called me this afternoon. He said it was awfully close, but the insurance company opted to fix my car rather than total it. Since the frame and engine were unharmed, and the car is still fairly new, it was considered to be worth fixing.

I was so relieved that my legs started shaking. I've always been an emotional person. I get very invested in things, and my car represented more than just a means of getting from point A to B. I still remember with some measure of regret important things I've lost over the years, like my favorite teddy bear. It wasn't the bear itself, but the comfort it represented that I missed. I place more meaning than I should, perhaps, in material objects. Rather than viewing them as replaceable, I instead view them with sentimental value attached. A replacement is not quite the same.

So in about two weeks, I'll have my car back. Right now it's sitting in pieces in the auto shop, stripped of its panels and bumper, waiting to be put back together. I'll be happy to go get it from the shop and bring it home.