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Sorry we 🐶👩🏼 haven’t posted 💻 for a while. It was the anniversary 😕 of my sister, Holly 🐈 passing away ✝️ on Sunday 📆

What the hell , If I cant use the code why send it, plus the fares are , the good old days

Today would have been Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s 90th Birthday A pic from my trip to his memorial in Washington in 2013. 'What are you doing for others?' ~MLK Jr

“Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.” - Dr. Martin L. King, Jr. , join us Jan. 21, 11th Annual “Celebrate Dr. King Explore the Dream Through Art” 11am-2pm

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Remembering Pasts

I have been remembering my past lately. I have been so triggered by the events that had happened. Just having a relationship with my ex when I was 21. That has been a reoccurring event that I have been reminiscing with. That has been a tough one for me. I have been thinking about how hard it was to be with him. How the distance was difficult. He was more difficult. I have been remembering how I didn’t like his vibe. How I felt like I wasn’t appreciated by him enough. Why does it bother me this much two years later? I am in a better relationship that is healthy and I am super comfortable with my present boyfriend. I am in a comfortable position in life. Why am I starting to look back on my past and start remembering every little detail that I didn’t like about my ex?

Today my Grandma would have turned 81. Not that she ever would have told you that. She was always so embarrassed to admit her age and even died my grandpa’s hair for him for years so that no one would ever know the truth. I’ve been thinking of her a lot lately, maybe today is why. She’s been gone for six and a half years but I’ve never forgotten her birthday.

The older I get, the younger people seem. Suddenly, 81 doesn’t seem that old. It’s all in the perspective. She passed away when she was 74 and that was still so young. My grandfather on my dad’s side (so, not her husband) passed away when he was 56, but since I was 6 he seemed so incredibly old to me… It’s all in the perspective.

My grandma’s last birthday on earth was before we knew she was sick. She might have suspected something, but she hadn’t been diagnosed and didn’t tell us until later that she hadn’t been feeling right for a while. Like so many of her previous birthdays, she blew out candles that said she was 29. I probably told her that people were going to start to catch on soon because I was 25. I wish that I’d known it would be her last.

She’s been gone for longer than I’ve had this blog, but I still feel that it’s necessary on this day to stop and reflect on her life. I just talked the other day about her words for my life on her deathbed and how much they changed me. I wish she could have been alive to see the change, to see me grow. But I think that she always knew that I would. 

Happy birthday in heaven, Grandma! 



The Grey Knight - Hole in the wall (romance, remembering, first encounter)

Blurb on life

Im writing again my blurb on life.

Photo shooting to find a new walk of life. In Australia theres so many birds outdoors. And i capture a bird in flight its wings perfectly proportioned to its incrediable height. Its a large crow with its beak tough and strong. I watch him pull a big worm out the ground and remember a place i once saw in Windsor theres a lake down the back and you walk Into a camp area for free. Theres trees and you kick through the autumn trees. And you climb up in the car and theres a sharp bend where i was knee deep in autumn tree leaves. And theres a contribution tin and if you take a bunch of flowers you leave money in the tin. And theres a really sharp angle and it bends around the fern trees. With a big steep gully at the bottom. With a free open camp spot beautiful and misty and a river where we never went that far. Its a gorgeous little environment. Ohh a farm with little trees and its a wide set of branches either side of the road. Big huge set for camping later and all four of us had a pie from the pie shop. I had water handy so i took it from inside my bag and kept it goin for ages as the kids played in the park next door and saw a large area in the grass for a campsite. It kept it going on so the road became a path. It is a wide path that had many flowers and trees, creatures came from far and wide to reflect among the reeds. Just passing the time. so much to see during the day if you know where to look and watching it turn into night. Theres so much to see.

Its underwater where you explore all of the deep dark caves and catch up with old mates.

Love and laughter

Remembering DAVID BOWIE ❤♠ Thanks for following

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Some Pretty

So I went in search of Oliver with GOOD HAIR for healing purposes….

First I found these beautiful gifs from S1, I tried hard to find who to credit and I kept being led back to a random Tumblr page - I’d be happy to credit the maker. LOOK AT THE HAIR!

Then I jump ahead to one of those stupid flashbacks in 5x09 - at the time I thought Oliver’s hair didn’t look that good in S1, see gifs above that prove he so did.

Then I moved on to S6 - everything about S6 sucked EXCEPT Oliver’s hair. It was glorious!

He’s just too too attractive for his own good in these! I of course own nothing…when it comes to these photos.

@memcjo @allimariexf @lucyyh @babblingblondegenius @it-was-a-red-heeler @miriam1779 @swordandarrow @tangled23works @msbeccieboo @emeraldoliverqueen @smoakmonster @juvinadelgreko @felicityqueen@kak430 @icannotbelieveiamhere @stephswims

January 3, 2019

I’m trying to remember how to create a good narrative. I seem to be doing a lot of that these days. Trying to remember how to line up a shot and how to decide what to paint. Trying to remember what led me to journal writing in the first place. I spend a lot of time just trying to remember.

This morning I was all ready to be consistent and make some real effort towards this. I packed my camera in my purse the night before I went to work so that I could get a couple of shots of the church. But that made me feel self-conscious, so I resolved to start out smaller. And when I got home, I found it. The back gate of the house I’ve been staying at has been open for the past few weeks, and the sight of it in the light of a fading January morning hit me in the way all of those old photographs used to. It’s a feeling. And maybe it’s not a great picture, there is nothing very interesting about that pitiful and dirty lopsided fence, but when I look at it I feel something. That’s the whole point of photography to me, you capture the feeling in you and then you send it out away from yourself in the full awareness that the feeling will completely rearrange for whoever looks at it. I took the picture, and I came inside and rested easy knowing I had my picture for the day all lined up and ready to transfer over to my laptop. 

I never put my sim card back in the camera yesterday. All of the photos I took this morning were locked onto what little memory my camera has on its own, with no way of transferring them over to this platform. I had to scamper back out into the evening in my laundry day crop top and a faux fur coat looking like a lady of the night, desperately trying to recapture the moment I had gotten earlier before the sun went down. It was one of several little slip ups that I’ve faced in less than forty-eight hours of trying to do this. Yesterday I accidentally copied multiple files over one another, and ended up losing the majority of the photos I took last year. Pictures of my dad. Videos of moving into the dorm with Ray Charles playing softly in the background. All gone. You make mistakes in the remembering. 

But that’s all too soon. In January of last year I was just beginning to lose myself. There were no pictures being taken or cassette players. I slowly unpacked the boxes that had been thrown in by the movers, keeping most of them packed up in the hope that I would get to leave in the near future. For the first time in my whole life, I left the walls of my bedroom bare. No paintings, or boyband posters, or drawings given to me by friends. The barren thing growing inside of me was going to begin with my surroundings. I made the closet up into a small sanctuary. It would become a place where I would make phone calls and rock back and forth and cry. You could scream as loud as you wanted and no one would hear you, the only room in the whole house that was soundproof. I sat in that room and stared off into the distance at nothing. The nothing would last for days. 

I don’t remember how to write a compelling narrative yet. Right now I’m hoping for consistency and gaining the courage to pour more memory out of the places where I have locked them. It’s a feeling, not a moment or a memory. It’s the way I feel after coming home from watching other people’s kids and glancing at that open gate on my way inside a house that isn’t mine. There’s something there even if I can’t hold it in the palm of my hand.

- M