One Who Wanders (abiona) wrote,
One Who Wanders

  • Mood:

halfway to a being photoblog

I walked approximately nine miles today.

It helped that I had no set destination, because I had no urge to wonder if I was there yet. I merely went from one point of interest to another. The temperature was cool without being freezing, and the sun was surprisingly gentle. The gusts were of prairie intensity at times, so I did think that I was going to get blown off the bridges, but that was the worst of it out there. I had a couple moments where, having braced myself against the wind, I would lose my balance when it suddenly let up.

My feet are a little sore, but amazingly, that's it. I remember when it hurt to walk a mere three miles to the universities! I feel like I've really become a stronger person since I've been out here by myself, and not just physically. I finally had to deal, had to face the very core of my issues. I once believed that the reason I had become depressed was because I overdid it in high school and burned myself out, but that was really just a symptom. I began to realize that when participating in one club only did little to cure me, but I still didn't recognize the basic problem: in order to get better in truth and not just on the surface, I had to establish a self and a worth independent of my occupation and goals.

It was here in New City, jobless and broke, dependent on the kindness of others when I wanted so badly to be free, despondent and alone, that I finally understood. I had hinged my entire existence on my activities. This had gone on since I was old enough to think! When I began to realize that I did not have the body to be a professional ballerina, I quit. It was agony! Rather than realize why it was so painful to let go, I switched to singing. When I wanted more than everyone else, I could not compromise. I couldn't lower my standards, couldn't let loose of my ideals, because my very worth depended on upholding them. So I quit again. And again I repeated the same mistake! I poured myself into being a student with good grades and an impressive array of clubs and awards. Still unable to see past the surface, I identified this as the problem when I went to college. I changed my basis for being to art. I sensed that this way of living had grown weak, yet without having seen through to the core problem, I had no way of devising an alternate solution. This final attempt was almost immediately shattered by one terrible professor, and without having figured out why it was so easy to break my drive, I blamed him for everything. I never saw what was really wrong with me.

When I graduated and moved home, I was too badly depressed to think logically about anything, least of all the reason why I was feeling so low. In New City, though I thought being jobless would crush me forever, it did not. Finally, finally, after more than a year, I have begun to understand, appreciate, and tolerate myself. I still have my awfully bad moments, but now I know that they are not all that I am. I am a very deeply flawed person and I can never escape that, but at the same time, I possess redeeming qualities that enable me to overcome those built-in problems.

I am not my father.

I am not what I do.

I am Anne.

May Walk May Walk May Walk May Walk

May Walk May Walk May Walk May Walk

May Walk May Walk May Walk

The graffiti in maywalk02.jpg is total shit, but I liked the colors. Out of this batch, I am most fond of maywalk06.jpg and maywalk01.jpg.

Other things of note:
Here are the dinosaurs at the top of the 10th St. bridge. The structure is backlit during the afternoon, and while I generally like that, the condition makes it impossible (without major Photoshopping) to see my true target ... the apatosaurus-looking creatures, not the bridge itself. Long sentence made short: I'm going to have to go back in the morning.

You can't run from your past. Other people learn it from movies, books, or even figure it out on their own, but I had to look at a water meter access cover to get it.

They really don't like pigeons here.

On this day ... nothing happened. Found outside a defunct bar.
Tags: is your heart in the right place?, photography

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