The reason I think Scott’s a tremendous photographer, even without much practice or training, is that he manages to capture the essence of people in those moments where they don’t have have any kind of mask up.
Like this photo, which, in all its tremendous hilarity and irony, is me.
I am so stressed out.
Even in Ravello, looking at that view, on my honeymoon, I’m just so stressed out. *I* don’t even know why—because I’m breathing maybe?
And it’s gotta stop.
Before I get wrinkles.
So I’m taking a break.
I really wish it meant I was going somewhere like this.
(I’m not, but thankfully there is a little pool and spa time in my future.)
Or even taking a four-day weekend off from work.
But I can’t.
Instead my break’s going to have to be a little more metaphorical.
For the holidays, until at least January 4th and possibly forever, I’m going to take a break from trying so damn hard. A bit of a break from the mentally constructed have-to’s, if you will.
See, I have to work. But it doesn’t have to be a pain in the ass. In fact, it can be easy. I said I’d go in today to install some computer programs. Maybe I’ll answer some emails. But I’m not going to let anybody bother me or turn anything into an emergency. Monday I might work from home or not work at all.
I don’t have to blog. But that doesn’t mean I won’t. Maybe I’ll actually feel like it. (I probably will feel like it when it comes to the nosy bitch gift exchange!)
I might read or do laundry. Hopefully I’ll read a bunch of blogs and magazines. But who knows, maybe I’ll nap or watch movies the whole time. It would be good to do some mending. I’d love to fix that hole in my sweater poncho so I can wear it again…
Because despite being in a constant race to discover what I should be doing with my life, I’m not really getting anywhere.
So I’m going to see where giving up and giving in gets me.
And if it’s nowhere but three months of sitting on the couch older, then I’ll reconsider this new approach.