Archive for March, 2009


…But I Managed…

So, last post, I went on about how I couldn’t take pictures… and how it was ruining my life and such… but I did. I went out over the week and balanced the camera on my forearm as I attempted to focus and everything. My pictures may all come out terribly but it was certainly worth a shot. I have to develop them and such before I can find out but I’m keeping my fingers crossed… well the ones that I can keep crossed…

In the meantime, here are some cool pictures I found at www.dpchallenge.com (A photo contest website that I commonly enter, but never anything this good.) None of this is my own work, and I do not own any rights. I am simply admiring these photographers’ works.

barbed-wire

city-beat

girl-jump

hopskotch

line-love

one

the-meeting-1

the-meeting-21

the-meeting-3Admiringly,

Rachel

:( No mo photo…

umbrellaI have found, that with a dislocated thumb, it’s quite difficult to focus the lens of a camera… much less hold the thing. Therefore, lately, I’ve been trying to refrain. Let me tell you, it’s been hard. But the pictures I have taken have come out mostly blury because I have to balance the camera on my arm as I press the shutter. But, I never realized how much I depend on photography. I guess depend isn’t the right word… (it reminds me of old person diapers…) but I guess I never realized how much I truly enjoy it. Now that I can’t (really…) I wish more than anything I could. And of course this happens right at the beggining of spring, one of the most beautiful times of the year. There was a cardinal in a tree the other day and I just sat there looking at it, praying for my thumb to magically fix itself, and a camera to fall out of the sky into my newly healed hands. Needless to say, that did not happen. My cast is still on, and I still have the same camera I did a year ago… But, A girl can dream…

suitcaseThoughtfully,

Rachel

Rubber Glove Kingdom

Here is a poem I wrote in English class. (Posting it by request of Madeline) The assignment was to write something hinting the style of Ginsberg. Or, well… at least writing something obscure and making up some words I guess… I wrote about hospitals (because I wrote this when my uncle was in one…) and, I don’t mean to¬† make doctors and nurses sound bad. I actually aspire to be a nurse… I guess… I was just mad. Haha. Here goes:

The Rubber Glove Kingdom

In the ever enchanted Rubber Glove Kingdom,

Dwell the lime-jello brained care-giving doctors and nurses set on autopilot.

Check a chart, check a chart, check a chart, lunch break.

Feed their jiggly, shapeless fruit brains.

Each word they read in medical school, just another minute in the fridge,

Solidifying the gelatinous substance in their cranial mold.

And cranial mold was exactly what it was.

The rotting, wasting, destruction of something that could be good.

 

In the suburbs of the kingdom live the employees, the staff, the slaves.

Not good enough for jello, so pudding to fill their heads.

Whether they dance with the mop, fix the ever-dripping ceiling, or serve the voluptuous mystery of ground-to-a-pulp monkey masterpiece,

they are of the same species, and they all think with their jiggly mold minds.

 

When the electric egg yolk sun cracks and crashes onto the frying pan horizon each evening,

The dessert-headed robots head back to their cells.

They forget about the lives saved or lost in their daily symphony of sadness.

And this is the price of living in Rubber Glove Kingdom.