Recently, I have begun to get out of my comfort zone to learn.  Too much time’s been wasted thinking I can’t.  I must improve myself for myself, helped or not.  I must hold it together, despite feeling disappointed in myself sometimes.

The alternative, well…  Here’s a reflection of losing oneself.

(Jan 12 8:56 p.m.)
(Jan 12 8:56 p.m.)

The morrow calls for a sleep
But the night stretches on
For my mind is up
To no good.

Like the search for an answer
To a question that had left me;
I am not tired
But this relationship is.

I chose the night for its ease
But now I’m caught with its disease;
I fell for a flow
That could ebb for an eternity.

I had entered, at will,
Out of my way,
Passing time,
Glossing over signs with a touch of noir.

Until its darkness swallowed me,
And finally,
I had

A Year In Photos, 2016: Inanimates

Many photos I took last year didn’t make it to the blog for various reasons; so, to complete the picture (pun intended), here are a good many to fill the gap a little.

Unfortunately, none of these were taken with the newer camera (higher resolution, better color accuracy), and many of them are the opposite of extraordinary. …Maybe, you’ll want to get something to eat or drink…

[Kashi Oatmeal Dark Chocolate, high back-exposure]
Oatmeal cookies that taste like brownies?  Yes, please.  (Kashi since updated the box design.) (Jan 11, 2016 4:14 p.m.)
Either way, have a seat.

Bench "Donated by USM Recycles, Earth Day 1991" (May 7 3:10 p.m.)
Bench, with inscription “Donated by USM Recycles, Earth Day 1991”. (May 7 3:10 p.m.)

The answer is yes, if you’ve wondered if I’d captured more of the USM Portland building… a.k.a., the Albert Brenner Glickman Family Library.

There used to be images of library family/staff faces in this spot, wanting people to read. (Lobby.) (Sep 13 2:08 p.m.)
Art design from the inside. (Sep 13 2:09 p.m.)
Art design from the inside. (Lobby.) (Sep 13 2:09 p.m.)

Continue reading A Year In Photos, 2016: Inanimates

Getting back to writing… if I can help it

(Jan 9, 2017 4:29 p.m.)

“One day I will find the right words, and they will be simple.” —Jack Kerouac

A man of few words — God, almighty, if I keep reducing myself like this, I’ll have nothing left to say!

…So, yeah, it’s 2017.  I know I’m late by the fact that it’s been so long that I need to cut my nails…

Holy crap, it’s been three days since I took these two photos? (Jan 9 4:38 p.m.)

If you could could say a year sucked, 2016 would be one of those years; so the the slide into 2017 has brought me some hope to start afresh— new work, if I can help it (but not too much stress); just a newness like a breath of fresh air.  The thing is, what makes things different than before is our own personal effort. Continue reading Getting back to writing… if I can help it

That time of year.

(Dec 25 5:57 a.m.)
Ignore the stove pipe. (Dec 25 5:57 a.m.)

Christmas here was okay.  Some good food, some remarkable gifts, including jewelry (not for me, haha), but otherwise understated.  It’s been hard getting my mind working lately… And then the Breaking Bad marathon started, so it’s not hard to guess what’s been on the TV lately.  (Until this morning, when the finale aired.)

The was finally tree set up Saturday.

Tree closeup
(Dec 24 8:28 p.m.)

The lights on the small, plastic tree this year are LED, white and battery operated.  And we’re talking a battery box with screws… Continue reading That time of year.


(Nov 22 3:03 p.m.)

I’ve wanted to get a post in, on what’s been going on with me, or on the start of Winter, etc.  But it hasn’t come together.  What I have written doesn’t meet my truth standards… I don’t know what I want, and my brain is just not working.  I’ve been holding my tongue until I literally put a tooth mark in it.  And I’ve gone back to the software; because that’s what I’m better at— a writer first in code.

I can manage a small update though.  It snowed twice since I last wrote here.  I shoveled both times.  My mother shoveled first, and I completed the job. Continue reading Tongue-tied

Baby, It’s Cold Inside

(Dec 12 2:45 p.m.)
(Dec 12 2:45 p.m.)

Yeah, it snowed again.  But on the predicted day, so Accuweather got it right.  And tonight, overnight, it should get down to… 1 to 5°F (-12 to -15°C).  And that’s not counting wind chill, which, according to my ears (and my skin earlier; briefly ⛄), is intense.  Feels like: -25. 🙂 And it’s still technically Fall.

Amazingly, some leaves are still up. (Dec 12 2:46 p.m.)

Thank God for artificial heating, right?  Well, the electric heaters in the house never seem to be enough on cold days like these.  I’ve been wearing a “knit” acrylic hat in the house since around Thanksgiving.

(Dec 15 2:39 p.m.)
Lower roofs, looking down from top floor of Portland USM library. (Dec 15 2:39 p.m.)

On Friday, we are looking at below zero temperatures.  And after that, more snow.  It’s serious enough that one group facilitator decided to postpone a bowling event.

(Dec 14 3:11 p.m.)
Choppy panorama… literally speaking, given the partial cars. (Dec 14 3:11 p.m.)

I wonder what causes these scattered little indentations in the snow on these roofs. Continue reading Baby, It’s Cold Inside

Fall update

(Nov 22 2:44 p.m.)
What was left of the leaves in November at Deering Oaks, compared to the many colors of October. (Nov 22 2:44 p.m.)

At this point, the trees are practically bare (not counting the white stuff).  But leading up to Thanksgiving (U.S.), there were still some reds on the trees.

Purplish shadows in the parking lot. (Nov 22 2:20 p.m.)

The snow that appeared November 21 cleared enough by the next day; as you can see in the above pictures, it’s hard to tell that it snowed at all.

Smoke in the center. (Nov 22 2:26 p.m.)

It was still cold enough that the large quartz heaters were set up outside the Tiqa Café.  Not only that, but the people there were burning something.  (I could smell it, and see a thin layer of smoke coming up in the center of the ‘seating area.’) Continue reading Fall update

Of building bridges… and sheep

(Nov 16 2:14 p.m.)

“The hardest thing in life is to know which bridge to cross and which to burn.” —David Russell

Yeah, okay, so that quote doesn’t quite apply here, lol.  I’m not known for burning bridges, literal or otherwise.  I don’t forget people.  My memory may not be 100%, but I still remember faces, even if the names escape me.  Every once and a while a regret may pop up in my head over broken connections and bad impressions… but those things are a part of life.

On the literal side of things, a new bridge was recently built to replace an old one and make way for new power lines, here in Nowhere, Maine.  (Buxton, to be precise.)  It was the Bar Mills Bridge, built in 1936, that had to go.  The green bridge, which closed July 11, is still being dismantled…

New beside old. (Nov 16 2:13 p.m.)

Large trucks (above a certain weight) were not permitted to use the old bridge, for obvious reasons.  (Eighty years old.)

Side view, across. (Nov 16 2:13 p.m.)
Side view, across. (Nov 16 2:13 p.m.)

The new one was completed in November— a contract of 120 days.

Welding sparks in the distance. (Nov 16 2:14 p.m.)
Sparks in the distance. (Nov 16 2:14 p.m.)

On the metaphorical side, I have a real problem at building my own bridges.  An Aspie who fell out of love with life, connecting with people has always been hard.  But I must build.  No man is an island.  We must grow to live.  At least professionally, we need relationships.  Of course, there’s always some pain in the process, some kind of labor.  And when a bridge fails, it can take part(s) of you down with it… But we need to exercise the right muscles; we need to try to repair and move on.  Sometimes we can manage without a bridge somewhere, but every so often we must rebuild.

(Nov 16 2:17 p.m.)

All of us come and go in our own time, and none of us are the same.  What was sweet is bound to turn sour, so we must accept facts and learn to move on— forgive when it is time.  Easier said than done sometimes.  But if we can, in fact, never forget someone who no longer needs us… then why try to hold on if we’ll always remember?

(Nov 16 2:15 p.m.)

Soon after crossing that new literal bridge over Saco River, and for the first time, my mother spotted some sheep.  Or, at least they appear to be sheep…

(Nov 16 2:16 p.m.)
Horned.  The images I came across for bighorns didn’t quite look like these.  They can’t all be rams, can they? (Nov 16 2:16 p.m.)

She pulled over.  It was quite sudden, but there was no traffic.  And so I took the opportunity; I crossed the road, and approached the fence.  And they, the sheep, were excited.  They may have expected food (from strangers), considering they rose to see me.  Needless to say, there was no intellectual conversation to be had.  I said “hello,” and one of them immediately pooed.  They all gradually turned their heads away.  …Again, I’m not known for connecting very well with others.  Noticing the dropping of “malted milk balls,” I said “okay,” and moved on to the other side of the barn. …And I’m sorry if I’ve caused you to never eat Whoppers® again.

(Nov 16 2:17 p.m.)

On the other side of the barn, I got some baas.  Click here for a video.

I could go into the metaphors of being a “sheep” and “don’t be like a sheep to the slaughter,” and stuff like that, but… nah.  (Or na’ah’ah…)  We’re all on our way to some place, and it’s not really my place to tell you, dear reader, what to think.  I can, however, ask you to be honest with yourself, in good reason and good health.

Well, I got a lot of backlog of reading and writing to tend to.  Until next time…

(Nov 20 3:03 p.m.)

Final leaves of fall

(Nov 20 4:01 p.m.)
(Nov 20 4:01 p.m.)

It’s now the last month for the season.  Most of the leaves have hit ground, and what remain of them are brown.  The only greens I can see now are of moss and pines.

(Nov 20 4:00 p.m.)

Notably, I still see some crisp, brown leaves…

(Nov 15 3:38 p.m.)
(Nov 15 3:38 p.m.)

…that remind me of those leaves I saw back in April Continue reading Final leaves of fall