.171 day 148

just because i don't can't smoke it, doesn't mean i can't appreciate it, vicariously, through another's indulgence.

.170 day 147

.169 day 146

mon petit bébé 

.168 day 145

i'm with toots, practically, every moment, of every day. 

as a mother, it is, both, blissful and straining. i've seen every morsel of her being grow, and all it took was the sacrifice of personal space, my social life (romantic or casual) and large quantities of treasured sleep. as an artist, it's simply...a beautiful obstacle. so used to being able to create anything i felt, at any time, i've acquired patience and practice to hold on to inspiration long past the precise moment when "the moment has passed". 

i planned to take a few simple, soft, self-portraits, simply because the lighting in my room felt clean, cool... calming. but toots and toddler crackiness chose a different path, and i end up taken a just few quick shots and nestling my baby (and myself) into a clean...cool...calming...nap.

.167 day 144

.166 day 143

two man made birds • on flights of death

two man made eyes • take one last breath

two thousand plus • are laid to rest

two worldly wars • two valves of peace

two million souls • to say the least

two million shrouds • drape those deceased

two paths in life • one road to take

forever two choices • never two fates

too close to now • too near to wait

maybe tomorrow • maybe too late

(written by my father)

khalid muhammad 

march 19, 1953 - january 26, 2012

he wore this hat religiously.

his pisces pendant that hangs in my car

his lock. his scent. frozen in time.

(happy day of transitioning, daddy)

.165 day 142

peaceful day. ran a few quick errands before the snow fell while listening to an awesome mix i made before i left the house. half-way to my first destination i saw this school. nothing spectacular, asides from the colors being one of my favorite nail polish combinations (ketchup on my toes, mustard on my fingers) but i liked it. i pulled over while five young men, standing on the corner, seemed ill-at-ease by my camera. i smiled. they nodded and continued to look on. three quick shots and a few flirtatious winks to keep the peace later, i nodded a swift goodbye and was back in my jeep, singing unabashedly off-key with my windows rolled down, despite the crisp air..."peeeople...make the...worrrrld..gooo...roooound".

.164 day 141

.163 day 140

all doctor offices look largely the same. i suppose it's due to the "sterile"  environment that they wish to portray, but that doesn't negate the fact that...all...doctor offices...look...the same. because of this, i am growing bored with my options of moments to shoot, as most of my moments during the past two weeks have been spent bouncing from one doctors hands to another. if this was cell phone challenge, i would have more of a variety (i take a LOT of secret shots using my hipstamatic phone app, which imitates the look and feel of vintage film cameras). but, as it turns out, carrying a huge camera into doctor visits gets frowned upon. so, i make do with what i can. today...i semi-lazy shot, choosing to focus on the blank, clean canvas that fashioned the room i was in...

.162 day 139

my brother is the most militant cream puff i know. he shows his emotions in the form of settle moments of sibling intimacy and the transference of useful wisdom. when my father was dying, he scoured dusty books in vintage libraries, and newly formed sites on the internet searching for holistic healing remedies to reverse the irreversible. 

he doesn't know what to say to me when brain pains start threatening my sanity. shifts uncomfortably when my eyes are squinched or blank stares the only expression i can muster in that moment. but he does know how to research. and thanks to him i am well on my way to the perfect brain diet and daily math problems (it's like cardio for your brain) to build me up. i smile. these books are his care. the settle way, my non-emotional, militant by nature, use your resources, not your tears, brother says...i love you.

.161 day 138

 

.160 day 137

there is nothing in the mind that cannot be calmed with tea...and solitude.

(at least...for me)

.159 pastor green

we went to highschool together, but would not become friends until years later.

now, it's rare if we go a day without text/talking at least once. rare if our conversations, minutes brief or hours long, doesn't leave us equally inspired and full of pure...love...and i hope that never changes. i hope we are loving and shit-talking with each other until we are babbling and shitty old fools (old G's if you will). being one of the greatest souls i know, his birthday is now an inner holiday, as i am so very happy he was born. dear pastor...you are loved. and i truly hope you know how much.

(happy YOU day, beloved)

.158 day 136

"does it come as a surprise...that i dance like i've got diamonds at the meeting of my thighs?"

maya angelou

real women rock underoos.

mines are "g.i. joe" 'cause i'm gangsta like dat.

(thug life)

.155 day 137

the day after i get a sigh of relief. 

my eye is throbbing, looking up like bouts of torture sent to mock my otherwise awesome vision. outside of hospital visits, i'm home bound. it's peaceful...in a fearful, grateful, faith testing sort of way. 

i'm sitting in the middle room, which used to be the computer room, and is presently morphing into toots' play room. this bassinet used to be mines as a child. my cabbage patch kid, theresa cookie austin, slept in it, peacefully snuggled by my crayola themed bedside. i smile now. watching toots stand over it, shsshing me while her bald headed baby doll sleeps makes me giggle. a new toy inside a vintage one. i fill it up with all her teddy bears. partly out of my neurotic need for order (seriously, all these toys are the devil and this is just a quarter of the madness) and partly for this photo. i find the silver lining. loss of sight in one eye, leaves full sight in the other. and if i one day should loose sight in both, i still have full view to the memories of my yesterday...and the ones i'm creating...now.

.154 day 136

some pills, a patch, and peace of mind.

until i find out if slick rick has children, i'm going for "my father was a pirate in his spare time".

.153 day 135

.152 day 134

this is toots' friend. 

she sat by the door performing to my hand-clapping toddler amazed by her antics, while i sneakily opened it to take a quick shot of her.

no energy, today, but between toots and this sweet, stinky, stray cat, i smile :)

.151 day 133

no matter how much we hope...some things are just out of our control. perhaps i realized too little, too late, that my fate has more to do with attitude than physicality (passive aggressive ownership). i want to say..."if i live i'll do things differently" (and i will)...but that just seems like something people haphazardly bargain to god with when there is no where else to turn. 

if god truly does know my heart...i'll keep what i'm feeling...there.

i realize that death no longer scares me. but leaving toots is what presently has me up and adding words to a blog that i posted two nights ago. i'm so scared. and if i cry, my brain feels like it's swelling, so i can't. and if i vent to anyone, i'm hit with positive affirmations void of my reality. i'm nauseous and dizzy. i'm angry. there is a lump in my throat. i have no words at all to accurately portray what i'm feeling. if i die, perhaps i'll regret all the things i could have said, or the "final" words i could have written, but does it matter? will a letter to my child ease her future pain? wednesday, i go for my angio. if it's early, i can be spared (hopefully). almost all aneurysm survivors will have another form. almost all of them die. and even if they don't form another, their days are numbered, no matter how much they change their diets and eliminate vices.

my father died, less than a year into my survival record. and then i backslid. grief overwhelmed, common sense took an extended vacation.

i'm writing out pass-codes. want family and close friends to have access to "online" me and pictures of toots that no one has seen. and then i giggle a little. social media has become so ingrained that i'm actually writing out pass-codes. but i want this blog to remain. or, at the very least, for every post to be printed out for her, pictures and all. if i am not there to cheer her on through life, god, i just want her to know how amazing she is. and not because i am her mother, and she is my daughter, but because she has a rare beauty in her that will heal everyone around her if she so wishes. my amazing aquarian. if i'm not here, dear you...remind her of me...often.

(tears are forming. my brain...hurts. i'm happy my mother doesn't read my blog. i need to stop now)

truth is...it's a miracle i survived at all. even more so to still be here two years later. i had hopes of reaching that glorified ten year mark that so many brain aneurysm survivors strive for (it's a secret world, that no one knows exists, until they have to)...and i am not giving up. but...reality...is...reality. 

all i can do is "hope"...right? 

p.s: i don't have the energy to explain all that i've went through with this, but here are links to two sites that accurately convey those tedious details. get yourself checked. stop smoking. stop drinking. breathe. do yoga. or anything healthy that calms you. pick lavender. love OFTEN. and effortlessly (only an arrogant and lonely heart feels someone needs to "work" to obtain their love). 

my love is given...free of charge. take as much as you want, just leave a little for me to live off of. deal?

http://brainaneurysms.wordpress.com/

and this one is just a straight forward faq sheet.

(love. light. later.) 

.150 day 132

(taken by té)