sugar

I've actually switched to Stevia. As in, Lend me some Stevia, natural plant derived yet still manufactured and packaged in a little packet sweetener.

So. Yeah. "No more sugar." If they made, um, I dunno, marshmallows and chocolate and graham crackers with Stevia. But they don't. But if they did, no more sugar for me.

I think  based on that little switch to Stevia, I could change the name of my blog. Camera Obscura would be a good name. Nothing about my photography is edgy or photoshopped or fancy like the people these days. On the other hand, it does have weird things going on that I produced using a computer, but the easiest least expensive way possible. Paint. Picasa. Sometimes Picnik.

Look I have finished more shirts!  I will probably list them in my Etsy shop tomorrow.

The girl skulls don't all have bows. I can't decide what I think of the bows! They should look just like the drawing. I decided to offer a choice of bows, from several different fabrics.

I somehow with no nod to my alleged talent won a week of luxury as a something or other feature assuming I can pick several photos worthy of being featured here I suppose it would be better if I were a professional photographer? I mean, well, I might be. I would sell things. Is that what would  make me a professional? Do I have a niche? I'm just a box and the light shines in through my eyeballs (and sometimes back out my ears) and then the pictures show up later sort of fuzzy but you can still see what they are.

I might get a job at the campus library and I hope they like me.


Downhearted a while
few in a row,
more than three, less than a week?
Or have I lost track,
a minute or two, really
in the grand scheme of things.
I think of little skirmishes
iotas of change
which could be made...
light under the
crack of the door
which could come through.
I'm in love with my life
but sometimes,
I fall out of love with the process.


My boyfriend, (I need to think up a more important and permanent term for that man since I've decided to keep him, ... partner sounds too gay, man friend sounds too pretentious, boyfriend sounds too 7th grade) bought me this book, The Undertaking, which I intend to read and take to heart. The undertaker writer poet of this book spoke with such stunning measure I was obliged to once again begin thinking of poetic ways of saying the things I think up. Of all I've ever written there was only one good poem or two maybe if I stretch a little my definition of good. But when I watched him on TV, (click here, go there) I was captivated by the stories he told. I will admit to the fascination with death and formaldehyde. I will admit death became commonplace because I worked at a church, and learned after all, it is a mercy that we die. To live too long would be tedious and prolong the pain. We all feel the pain right this minute even if it is only an itch. Later it will sit in the back seat, and sooner or later it will begin to drive us instead of the other way around.

My aunt says I'm eccentric but I'm not sure about that. I might just not be afraid to tell you what I thought about. Really I'm exactly like everyone else. I have not seen evidence to the contrary.