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Location: Home.
Listening: "Silent All These Years" by Tori Amos.

Perhaps not as sleepy as I thought. Blame Peter for pulling me down onto the couch during South Park.

Earlier, while we were watching West Wing, I determined that I was going to have a little one-on-one with the camera. I had just gotten out of the shower, I hadn't brushed my hair, and I had no makeup on. I took about twenty shots with the digital camera and finally selected two that I felt were accurate representations.

Here and here are the results of my showdown.

So there I am, and it occurred to me that these are the most honest pictures taken of me in over ten years. I don't have any makeup on, my lips are chapped, the lighting was retouched only slightly to dull the harshness of the flash, and, for the first time in eleven years, my hair is its natural color. This is the girl in the mirror--Irish, Scottish, Cherokee, German, French, Choctaw, and God knows what else--freckles, broken nose and all. The little brown "odd looking" one.

The camera and I have made peace, for now. Thanks to that, and notes from Rebecca, Kelly, Goody B, Abby, and others, I have a new perspective on things. I realized, also, that I've been more honest in my journal entries lately than I have ever been. It's definitely paid off, in that I've been able to freely express and expunge everything that's been churning on the inside for a long time--and I've apparently struck a chord that several people can also understand. For someone who doesn't "share" easily, this has been a very positive experience.