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cartoons, rain and mean trees

today has been …. interesting.  right now the wind outside is fierce and howly, the sky dark and foreboding, and the trees are shaking so much they look like villains in a horror movie.  but it’s been a lovely, melancholy rainy kind of day.

it didn’t really start out that way at first.  i had a trigger this morning.

usually a trigger that makes me switch personalities, or go into a post traumatic type of mindset is fairly upsetting; a violent scene in a movie, or a killer with an axe is a sure bet; loud, thumpy music that invades my home via the neighbor’s car; smells i can’t avoid.  all these things can trigger me and send me into a panic, or switch me right out of my current personality and into something/someone i’m not prepared for.

today, however, it was a cartoon!  just lounging around the house today as my sister got ready for work, and she had on old cartoons.  i love the Flintstones, so i was surprised when i became anxious while watching an episode, and so distressed i had to turn the channel.  then i was just flipping out for a while.  something about this particular episode triggered me – one of me anyway – and it took some fresh air, a little rain, and Jimmy John’s to make things right in my world again.

damn dangerous cartoons!

around town.6






soul shots.1

i don’t know what it says about me, but this is one of my favorite pictures, and one that i feel represents “me” most of the time.  moody.  atmospheric.  out of focus.  slightly askew.  hmmm…well, i guess i DO know what it says about me


rainy morning

not much for writing lately, but pictures say lots of words.  somewhere around a thousand, i understand.  so here’s a couple thousand unspoken words…









just me


Today it is me here

lying on my porch

face to the sky as I


to the wind

sweeping through my


and nudging the trees,

encouraging them to

talk to me

once again.

Today it is me here

sharing space with

the world

as I study my trees

which have already begun

to change

into colors so vivid

my crayon box cannot

replicate them.

Today it is me here,

and I’m not vying for

this body

and it is only me for now

and this precious moment

is unique because

of the singularity

of voices

I hear inside.

Today it is me here

and I revel in this day

to myself

in the quietness of

the hour

and the stillness

of my usually

too chatty