Following the third year of a holiday letter comprised
of my (increasingly complex) life via a (increasingly complex) year-in-photographs, I
wondered what it would be like to join the great experiment of 365 days of photographs.
I'm not a photographer,
I'm a writer. I'm a visual thinker, and if ever there was proof that a photo is worth a
thousand words, it would be the story a photo tells me, or in this case, about me.
Follow me on this adventure, where I
learn about photography, my ability to record my life, my dedication to something (I've
never been known for doing anything everyday) in my posts. I've also discovered I'm
learning about time, the history of it, and the odd practice of recording it, measuring it,
turning it into something tangible, and I'll record these explorations in the sidebar.
As always, feel free
to say anything. My experiment is not a spectator sport.

September 6, 2009

September 06 2009 Sit

Hey everybody,

some days I get left
just sitting around, being around,
then everyone walks away one by one until I'm all alone
and stuck, usually, stuck watching my own kids and sometimes theirs too,
while everyone is off being social with the adults.

I'm never quite sure where the line between being a mom and being a babysitter gets crossed,
but I thinks it's somewhere perpendicular to
when others prioritize their being an adult with their fancy adult choices
over the result of a previous fancy adult choice that results in perpetual responsibility
how do I get to be the pendulum and when do I get my turn at being an adult?

Why does my personal fancy adult choice of
not choosing what those other fancy adults do
make me the one stuck in a seat by myself all alone ensuring the welfare of children?

Should I enumerate the times I was stuck alone tonight? Waiting? Stuck, unable to walk away and inspect the reason for my isolation, to find a way into the "adult crowd"?

doomed to always sit at the big-kid table, watching from a distance of age over a bunch of little kids

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