Friday, August 02, 2013

Etcetera. Even though I swear I have used this as a title before.


Lately I have been writing quite a bit for a photography website about various things photography-related (although I try to sneak in some random BS when it works).  This has brought over new readers to this very sad site your eyeballs are currently feasting on, who are possibly disappointed about all the nothingness that goes on over here.  At least I have been getting emails saying as much.  At first I thought all of these emails were from my mom, trying to boast my confidence and make me feel better, but my mom isn't really tech-savvy enough to make-up fake email addresses and then be productive with them.  The woman can cook a Thanksgiving dinner for 30 on 5 hours notice, but anything beyond control-alt-delete is a bit overwhelming.  I know this because when it's beyond control-alt-delete, I get summoned over to fix the problem.  (Don't get me wrong—I'm happy to do this and know it's my duty.  Also this duty gets me free babysitting and no-interest loans, so it's not like I'm ever going to complain about having to run an update or fix a router problem which is the extent of my abilities).    

Then I got a Match message (Yes, I am on Match.  I'm a 30something single woman.  Having a Match profile is Chapter One of the manual they give us.) from Random Dude who was able to figure out my name from here and then got to my blog and then sent me a message about calling a Junk Ball (see below).  Which any normal person would find creepy but my first thought was: YOU READ MY BLOG??  DID YOU LIKE IT???  ARE YOU GOING TO READ IT AGAIN??  The answer to those things is likely no, after the message I sent back about my thoughts on organized religion (no thanks) and drinking (yes please).  So, another possible reader.….scared off……yet again.

The truth is I haven't had a bunch to write about that works here.  June and July were assholes.  My May birthday was easily is in the running for Worst Ever.  I had a little "situation" with a man for a few months that ended with with me having a few of his old t-shirts, a bunch of songs I never want to hear again, and a newfound hatred of car dealerships (nothing really lost there though).  I moved last week—8 houses down from my old house of 7 years—and swore that I will never, ever move again and will be buried in this backyard.  I put both my therapist and my realtor on my "Favorites" list on my phone of out necessity and both of them have had to hear what was meant for the other one more than once.  And been really nice about it.  I was without internet for a week and made some really good friends with a couple people over at Comcast, especially Claire, who recently kicked her boyfriend out and is feeling a little down lately, and Mikahla who restored my faith in humanity and loves Thin Mints and, like me, street names that make sense (I prefer Samoas).  I completed my state exams, passed, and am now a registered psychotherapist and Reiki Master.  Which will surely come in handy if I am ever stuck on a desert island.  Much more so than, say, being able to start a fire.  Which, thanks to my father badgering me throughout the years, I can also do.  Assuming I have matches.

And that's honestly about it.  Though if my therapist were to read this, she would laugh out loud, but never LOL because she knows I hate that phrase.  It's been a hell of a summer.  But in 12 days, 10 hours, and 42 minutes my kids start school.  And I am convinced that's when the world chills out a little.  I'm also convinced that by then I will have all of these boxes unpacked and life will get a little easier.  I may also learn how to start a fire with nothing more than a stick and a piece of paper.  Because I'm on Pinterest and they love that kind of shit there.

Because I never post without a photo...........I needed some new bio shots and after going down my list of photographers, I ended up having to have my 9 year old take some of me.  He took this.  I am renting him out for double my rate. :)



6 comments:

qwertyu said...

Ms. Lynsey Peterson,

My natural inclination to which many could attest would be to relegate your complaints to "total bs," or, in your parlance, "**calling** bs." But the clarity and growing fierceness of your writing, which I could almost cut with a damned knife, makes me wonder if you are not the unsung poet of Generation Y. Hmmm.

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said...

my apologies... that was me up there that deleted their comment... blogger used an old blog id, silly thing. It said it would give me a choice and then didn't. so here is the comment I wrote, but hopefully now my "current" blog will be the id.

I got a chuckle from this... because I think I am one of those readers you talked about. I just started using Feedly, and you are one of the few blogs I'm now following, in an attempt to figure out if I can pull off writing a blog myself. (It seems we photographers have to writers as well as photographers.) The thing that drew me is your writing style, which is real, and human. I hate blogs that blow nothing but sunshine and butterflies up the butt of readers, as though their lives are a beautiful fairy tale. I don't read blogs to feel inadequate, I read blogs to feel like I'm not alone. So keep doing what you do.

said...

WOW. deleting isn't enough, it seems. you can find me at http://ememphotography.blogspot.ca/

Paulmac said...

Can I hire your nine year old, and is he willing to travel to Australia?
He takes a lovely photo...

Bart Hamilton said...

You have a gift of being able to communicate well. Well to me anyway. Your brain seems to fire within the same framework as my own, so I find your thoughts entertaining, like those of an old friend whose sentences I often finish. I will voyeuristically follow your posts as long as you share them because they make me smile, and they make me feel comfortable. Thank you for sharing them. Mom.