man down :: nubble light :: may 27, 2012
Both by popular request and because I love it - boobs and all.
I get the weirdest shit stuck in my head from time to time.
Lately, I’ve been waking up with Florence + the Machine’s “Only If For A Night” stuck in my head. But just one part of it. The same part. Every morning.
The grass was so green against my new clothes
And I did cartwheels in your honor, dancing on tiptoes
My own secret ceremonials before the service began,
In the graveyard, doing handstands.
And I heard your voice as clear as day,
And you told me I should concentrate,
It was all so strange, And so surreal,
That a ghost should be so practical.
Dad’s been on my mind a lot more than usual lately. For a lot of reasons… and I have no doubt that this definitely has something to do with that.
In a weird kind of way, it reminds me of running around St. Mike’s looking for my Godfather… both oddly fitting, and oddly inappropriate.
Just another bit of me being me, I guess.
red dress :: nubble light :: may 27, 2012
My original photo shoot got screwed up by work (big surprise), so I dragged J out with me this morning.
He’s definitely not a photographer, and I’m definitely not a model, but we made it work. A little.
The Nubble is a sacred place to me and since I couldn’t do the Boston Public Garden, it felt like the right place. I love that he got this shot… I was sitting there thinking about my dad and what he would think about this whole thing.
You can’t see the other two talismen on me: my chucks and my mockingjay pin. But they were an important part of this.
I went out there and felt incredibly ridiculous - the insecurity was out of control - but my favorite picture is actually the one where I almost fell off the rock I was sitting on. (Maybe in another post…)
Of course, me in a corseted ball gown was just asking for a boob shot. You know it’s a good one when you get a dirty message from an unexpected source. I may or may not be blushing a little bit over here.
The shots aren’t beautiful, well composed, and don’t really show my face at all, but they capture me:
Clumsy, introspective and gifted with a halfway decent rack.
My dance card is filing up for July.
There’s two weekends still available - if you’re getting married in July, and want me there, better send me your invite / save the date!
When it rains, it pours…
this. isn’t. even. funny.
I was “experimenting” in the iTunes Store this afternoon… Every once in a while, I buy albums or whatever from iTunes, and I don’t get the full download. I get all the songs, but I don’t necessarily get the entire song.
The amount of shit iTunes customer service puts me through before they finally release the song back for me to re-download is ridiculous. I purchased it. The only authorized computer on my account is trying to download it… why do they have to be so bitchy about it? (And as I write this—one of the six I just bought cuts out early. Good thing for my new bestie, Lawrence, the “delete song, sign out of the store, close iTunes, open iTunes, log into the store, download” dance worked this time. First time in months.)
At any rate, I’m not going to talk about what I purchased - only that between ABDC and Girl Talk, I’m starting to buy the weirdest crap. My recommendations look like those of several people now. I have a hard time believing that my musical tastes are THAT diverse. But with the exception of the random country song. they are all mine.
So… to circle back to where this all started:
I’m screwing around in iTunes, looking for stuff to buy and see if they will download without a problem.
I decide to see if Black Mountain Symphony’s album is available on iTunes… and what do I spy with my little eye?
Other people who bought this album also purchased: Jason Mraz’s “We Sing. We Dance. We Steal Things”.
Guess what song is on that album?
I’m never going to escape that damn boy and the song that haunts me…
I don’t even know where to start.
Not too long after my father died in 2001, I wept as Kaycee Nicole lost her brave fight with leukemia.
Or so we all thought.
Jaded, disgusted, we turned a blind eye to others who cried out for help and support.
Like the poor guy who became (in)famous for what’s probably the first online suicide.
Or like this girl.
Or like a thousand others whose voices cry out for help, day after day, hour after hour, ad infinitum.
I’ve never posted what I felt was a cry for help. I post facts about the bipolar’s affect on me. If it was a true cry for help, it would be obvious, like so many others are.
People wonder where the parents are, why aren’t the friends helping out, why isn’t anyone reporting these things to Tumblr, YouTube, whomever…
I don’t have an answer. I wish I did.
There’s absolutely no reason I should come across stories like Olivia’s. EVERY YEAR SINCE 2008 I HAVE ATTEMPTED SUICIDE ON THE 1ST OF MAY. BUT I THINK I’M NOT GOING TO FAIL THIS YEAR.
That, my friends, is a call for help. Plain and simple.
I think we’ve all been burned by people on the internet falsely representing who they are…
But the fact remains, when it is so obvious that there is something wrong, someone needs to do something.
I’ve made mention here about the fucked up kids I’ve met on tumblr, and I do go out of my way to message them and try to help them feel like they can get through this, they can stop cutting, they can fight through the Ick…
I’m only one person.
And it sucks.
If I had seen her video on my tumblr dash, you can bet your ass I would have said something to her.
Would it have helped her?
I don’t know. Probably not.
People that desperate to end their lives normally do succeed.
The internet is a fucked up place, full of fucked up people… but that’s no excuse to ignore something like Olivia’s video.