aka Scenes From The Week Of
Monday I had to go to the dentist to get a couple of fillings done plus a crown. Yes, a CROWN. I guess probably the ultimate sign that you have failed in life and dental hygiene is actually having the tooth pulled, but I think a crown is pretty damn close. Anyway, it was a miserable experience (the first bit of Novocaine wasn’t enough, and the dentist made fun of me for complaining when I could feel the drill — “that can’t hurt as much as THAT THING in your nose,” she said, meaning my nose ring — she is kind of a mean person, I think). I not only spent the entire day feeling like a numb-faced marble-mouth, but I also now have this temporary crown in my mouth that in no way resembles a real tooth and also kind of tastes weird.
Tuesday I ventured up to Atlanta to soothe my pain with some shopping from the Anthropologie clearance racks. I bought two new dresses and caused my debit card to whimper in pain a bit, but all for the good. They are work dresses, therefore necessary and unavoidable. So at the mall, we were sniffing some perfumes at the Dior counter when the makeup artists working there accosted us, picked me out of the group, and basically gave me an entire makeover. It started with the fact that I needed some mascara to show off my “great lashes,” and included some “airbrushing” foundation that turned me into a fresh-faced teenager, a bit of brow filling-in that called to mind the great Brooke Shields, and some, like, lipgloss and stuff. I don’t know. At some point, my friend B. grabbed my camera from my purse and started shooting.
Seriously, check out my brows and lashes. This lady was not joking around!
Wednesday I spent pretty much the entire day lounging on the couch and trying to fight off this mysterious non-cold I have. It’s, like, trying to be a cold, but it just can’t achieve full success. I have commissioned an army of vitamins and fluids and even a neti pot and such. I seem to be holding it off, but the stupid sore throat and random nose-drips linger. I’m sorry, there is nothing worse than a person describing their illness symptoms, unless it is a person describing their dreams. WHICH REMINDS ME! I had this wacky dream the other night….
[Actually, I did have a wacky dream, but I'll keep it to myself.]
Today I spent the day gathered around a conference table with some colleagues for a work training session, but thankfully this conference table happened to be located in the library. After we were finished I had occasion to roam the stacks, check out my favorite sections, and then spend some time in a comfy window chair reading. I realized how much I miss spending time in the library. Ours has a wonderful book delivery service for faculty, which means I can quickly and easily order whatever books I need, have them checked out in my name and delivered to my office. But that means I never go hang out in the stacks! I need to remedy this more often.
In other news, I am participating in Project 365 again this year. I am actually kind of proud of completing the project last year. Last January, I had just gotten my new DSLR, so taking photos was going to be happening no matter what, and a daily photo project was a great way to guide my exploration of the new camera and make sure I was practicing every day. Even on days when I didn’t have my camera on hand, I was able to snap iPhone pictures and managed to get something “on film” every day for the whole year.
The thing with Project 365 is this: every day is not exciting. Every day is not an adventure. There is not always beauty or even interest apparent in each day. The goal for me is not necessarily to take a beautiful photo every day or even an interesting or good photo every day. It is to take a photo every day. A photo, period. Many of my photos are repetitive: dog, food, book, bike, running shoes, bed. Last year, I often only managed a photo as I was getting ready for bed. There are at least 3 photos of my pillow in last year’s set. But there are three hundred sixty-five photos, dagnabbit.
And you know what? Even the most mundane or unskilled or artless of those photos is an interesting memento for me. When I look back on them I remember my year in an entirely different way than I am used to. I am no stranger to the way that writing about my life can preserve and shape my memories, but photography has added to that in an incredibly interesting way. As alive as the moments of my life may be in my own mind, it is another thing entirely to see them captured, in the smallest degree, as pixels.
I look at this as one of life’s situations where the most important thing to do is keep showing up. “Come back tomorrow,” as Mr. Miyagi would say. Some days will produce boring, repetitive photos of my tofu and collard greens and lattes and running shoes. But if you keep showing up for long enough, there may be beauty waiting in the most unexpected places.
Come back tomorrow.