thoughts one encounters when taking/editing/posting photos of oneself in clothes

I had no idea my neck looked like that. Interesting.

Can I make the neck look different? What if I stretch it out a bit?

Nope. That just looks haughty.

Okay, make some goofy faces to loosen up. You can just delete them later.


omg Are my hands disproportionately small?

Does the disproportionately small size of my hands indicate that my ENTIRE BODY is too large? That the weight I have accepted as ideal for my bone structure is actually much larger than ideal?

Dude, what? Why do you think about bone structure so much?

It’s the default comfort for tall girls. Don’t take that way from me.

Okay, fine. Smile at the camera. DO NOT LEER AT THE CAMERA.


Though, it’s not much worse than all the others. Bring back that crazy eye photo.

Maybe when I see “crazy eyes,” other people see “totally normal person who is alluringly passionate about life.”

Why is my face doing that weird thing? THAT IS NOT WHAT MY FACE LOOKS LIKE.

It happened again. Okay. Maybe this is my face. This is my face. It’s a great face. PEOPLE LIKE ME, WILLINGLY SPEND TIME LOOKING AT ME, AND DON’T MAKE COMMENTS ABOUT HOW WEIRD MY FACE IS SO MAYBE IT’S NOT WEIRD.

Some have even called me beautiful. I tend to interpret this as a not-just-skin-deep kind of beauty that expresses itself in the experience more than the image of me. Which is a preferable form of beauty.

Can this experiential beauty be captured in a photo? Let’s try.

Too sultry. DELETE.

Pretty-not-sexy. Pretty-not-sexy. Relax your shoulders. Lengthen your neck. Try not to be too intense in the eye. Smile.

Oh shit I started moving after the countdown but before the shutter so now this is blurry, but…I think…everything that’s not blurry is PERFECT.

Just do the same thing again. Just be perfect on command.

Ummm…I look like I’m farting in this photo. I didn’t even know I had a Passing Gas Face.

Look at the camera. Don’t look at the camera. Don’t look at the camera but look at a very specific area to the left of the camera.

Oh, no, that’s too far. You look distracted, not bemused.

Hrm. Too close. You just look like you’re incapable of making eye contact.

Smile? Not smile?

Resting Grimace Face is not the look I was going for.

How about an open-mouth smile.

Muppet Smile.

Try a fake laugh?

Okay, this is PERFECT, facially. POST IT.


this guy



Does he look stressed out to you? I want him to be totally zen about his life – and he probably is, because we’re not really talking about him right now – but instead he’s bobbing up and down, flopping around, moving far too slowly and not knowing if there’s anywhere particularly interesting to go anyway.

Maybe he needs to set some resolutions?

Yeah, he’s working on it.

November thoughts

I’ve had the urge to post on this blog more often, so I’m just running with it.

There might be a new (and short-lived) series hitting your screens/faces in the near future. (Hint: it includes more mirror self-portraits, because I am never not thinking about my wardrobe.)

I LOVE DAYLIGHT SAVINGS TIME! Some people think it’s awful, but I kiss the air and dance for joy and generally talk about it every day during the weeks before and after because WAKING UP WITH THE SUN IS MY FAVORITE!  Yes, walking home from work in the dark is rough, but I find it breaks my day into two clear-cut segments – it’s already dark when I’m home, so the setting sun doesn’t confuse my hunger or sleepiness. I just turn on my Happy Lamp (that’s really what it’s called) and work on projects.

Since I’ve never once had a desire to write a whole dedicated post about my double vision, I’ll sneak it in here – yes, I still have double vision. I know. I KNOW THAT IS CRAZY. It’s been over two years now. Bringing it up is like opening a whole can of worms, but I’ve made peace with some of those worms in the past year. I’m not okay with how awful the medical industry is, and how I’m expected to be my own champion through this whole ordeal, and somehow it’s my job, as the layman, with a highly personal and conceptual idea of the problem, to help these highly-educated and logical professionals understand this journey WHEN I ALREADY SENT THEM A CHART WITH PAGES AND PAGES EXPLAINING THE PROCESS IN MEDICAL LANGUAGE.

Now that I think about it, this explains why one of them said, “I feel like the process of getting a diagnosis is more stressful than the actual double-vision,” because IT IS. I can make peace with a medical anomaly (which is what I meant to talk about here), but I didn’t expect to need medication to help manage the anxiety I now get every time I have to see a doctor. The system is broken. I’m experiencing that. My heart aches for people who don’t have the option to say, “This doctor thing is too stressful. I’m going to just focus on living my life instead of searching for an answer.”

But, obviously, I want an answer. I want to have normal vision again. I am haunted by the thought that someone out there knows how to fix this. I want to find them, and I wish it wasn’t so difficult.


1. I no longer “own” any domains! Which means I also no longer “own” this persistent dreadful feeling that I should be Doing Something Cool on the internet.

2. Fear not. I’m still ALL OVER THE INTERNET! Me and my shameless self-portraits will never go away, because HOW ELSE WILL I REMEMBER WHAT MY HAIR LOOKED LIKE IN 2013?

3. But I’ve given up most of my internet dreams. They will be sufficiently mourned.

4. Uhhhh…this is supposed to be a list of things?


6. And I already know what the next one is going to be. The supplies are sitting in my room, waiting patiently for their moment.


random list

…of things I still can’t bring myself to throw away, found in a box that had been sitting in someone else’s basement for a few years…

-Film strips and test sheets from a black & white film photography class in college.

-High school yearbooks. (I really *want* to throw them away, but it seems wrong for some reason.)

-A copy I made of my application to CCC staff in 2003. Haven’t read the main contents yet, but the psychological survey reminded me how carefree and easy my life was (and still is, in so many ways).

-Sheet music from that time I was in a white suburban gospel choir.

-My favorite Exploding Dog comics.