The perception of time

Perception is an idea/ understanding, or interpretation.

Interpretations are rarely perfect, but convey a general idea.

Time is what? A measurement of what exactly?

Of life perhaps?

Or a location in the universe? (multiverse?)

Is time a sequence of events?

Is it made of atoms, particles, or elements?

Or is it a comforting illusion that adds stability to our lives?

Is it found in a calendar or clock?

Sure, the illusion of it is (found in our own creations)


{\displaystyle E=mc^{2}}

Energy equals mass times the speed of light.

This is completely and utterly beyond my comprehension…

and I’m not going to pretend that I understand it; it leaves me lost.


It’s  where Einstein looses me, but gains my trust, because I have nothing more to offer.

Here you go Einstein, carry the torch, keep it lit, I’m right behind you.


Time can be leveraged.

If you find yourself completely and utterly bored it can stretch for what seems an eternity.

Or until you shift your thinking, or fall asleep.

(Time is wacky in our sleep)

On the other hand you may find enthusiasm and joy burns through time like it’s nothing; leaving you a bit incomplete.

But that is the perpetual motion forward, and that’s ultimately what life is all about.

We find whats incomplete, and in that gap we create more. And we do not think “less is more” we can’t even approach that thought.

All we really know is more is more, the universe is expanding, we are a part of that catalyst, and time is nothing more than a comforting thought we use to measure our existence.

Never-ending night~




The darker side part 2; Time will tell

When I find a place interesting it is    certain that I will be back.

So I returned several times, the sister was always there, and Adams dad even offered to help her with the clean out and estate sale for a portion of the profits.

Ron is his name, and he is probably one of the handiest guys to have around. He’s also very neat and organized.

Im friends with two  antique dealers who agreed to come help price things for the sale (and of course make offers on things they’d like, gotta love those  antique ppl, always beating you to the good stuff lol)

As for me, I meant to actually help out more, but I kept returning to that office, poking around the house, but managed to avoid the kitchen.

I re-read the scripures. Looked through pictures and slides, fiddled with old cameras, even found a pile of …. let’s say “adult  literature”

The owner even gave me things that she thought I’d like, but that kitchen gloominess I thought I imagined was real.

He had died in the kitchen… not just died, committed suicide. Shot himself.

The unrecognizable mess that made me want to vomit, the need to avoid the space and not touch it, the completely overwhelming sadness I had felt there, the scriptures, the unused medication, it made sense.

I suddenly took note of all the bullet shells, all the ammunition, all of this strange darkness that resided their.

The mess. The mess. The mess that had never been cleaned up, the fact that I was the only one to have walked into the kitchen, and I stood there noticing the dishes, but everything behind me seem lost in an unsettled pile of gore, and although I didn’t know it, at the same time I kinda of did, by the way it felt in there.

And the dishes being cleaned, might have been his last chore while alive. The place I stood, he stood to take his life.

The chair I sat in where he must have studied the Bible and obsessed over his own demise.

The slides and pictures scattered on that desk where he had reflected over his past. Maybe his dreams had died long before him.

Maybe the artist and musician where both failures.

And now death itself seemed like such an utterly sad state to be in, or for him, maybe it was life that was so sad.

The darker side part 1

(This is relating to a post a while back when I shared a gloomy picture of a kitchen window)

I’ve been wondering lately about people having a dark side, if that’s a real thing or not, and if it is; does everyone have a dark side?

Lately I’ve been almost unphased by the darker aspects of life.

Adam had a strange listing, an estate sale, the  previous owner had died and now the sister was selling everything off.

I love going into houses like this, especially before people start messing with things, so I did.

The man was a hoarder, you could tell the rooms he used for storage from the rooms he actually lived in.

The living room seemed like a work place, dining room storage, bedroom was a bedroom still, but the master bath was set up as a dark room.

(Pretty cool if you ask me, although I’d sacrifice my main bathroom.)

There was an office area still in use, and a bedroom that was storage. Garage, attic, and shed, all completely full.

I’m a bit of a kitchen junkie when it comes to vintage glassware and things like that, and he had A TON of stuff that’d sell great at an antique store.

But I honestly got the creeps in the kitchen, it felt grosse and I didn’t touch anything. Even though all the dishes were clean, but the rest was just an  unfamiliar grosse mess.

The sister of this man who was listing the property for sale was there, and friendly, she seemed interested in my family and remembered everyone’s names.

I poked around, sat in the office chair and red all his notes, mostly scriptures about death.

Prescription pill bottles were everywhere, but most of them full. I concluded he must have been sick, but didn’t take his medicine.

( I even thought, had I been a very dishonest person, I’d collect those pills and see what I could sell. Of course I didn’t.)

He was an artist, maybe a graphic designer, I noticed a lot of amazing drawings of logos and branding. A photographer. A musician, there was a variety of instruments.

‘Interesting person’ I thought, just from the information I’d gathered so far.

However their was a darker underlining to the story of this mans life that I’d wished I knew ahead of time.


My place to be


I’m not caring so much lately. I’m not sure that it’s good or bad. I guess I’m just going with the flow.

That’s a straight down drop. 

People seem to be annoyed by it. They don’t need to be, just go with the flow with me, that’s all I ask.


I’m tired of trying, I’m sure trying really means working against yourself and everything else. So I don’t try as much, and people usually look down on that.

Because im not willing to struggle I guess?

Meanwhile, I haven’t been ‘trying’ to hike or exercise or anything, but  yesterday I hiked 5 miles of literal uneven rocky cliffs. I’m not joking, at one point I even thought “nobody knows where I am” because b/c I went off the trail and climbed down to the river.

I want to find a campsite close to where I can practice hiking. I looked at one that was $30 per day.

That seems insane to me, since I’m actually good at this I’m tempted to just find my own spot. It’s a crime to charge for nature. Just messed up all together.

I’m looking for long term, a place I can return to over and over, and I’m not talking about a campsite that offers a fire ring, a grill, electric, toilets, drinking water, etc.

I’m like Pa in the little house books, searching for independence. Being ran off by the people who assume ownership of this planet.

I venture farther, much farther, into the unknown, deeper than their deepest dreams, and this alone make me feel safer and comforts me even while I’m mixed up in this thing called civilization.

I’m ready to plunge deep into the wild, at least most of the time.

Im over this place.

Heaven and Hell

I feel like I’ve been through them both recently, Heaven and Hell that is. It puts a drain on the mental faculties.

I’m a bit emotional this evening, it’s hard not to be.

When life gets boringly fair and somewhat steady, your in deep for a surprise, don’t try to figure it out though, you can’t.

In your world it can’t happen, so it’s impossible for you to even imagine. The surprise that is…..

Otherwise you’d see it coming. You wouldn’t be wrong no matter what.

Good has come along with the bad, so I guess in a way it’s just all good. Pretty hard for me to perceive, but I know it must be that way.

It’s like I had to loose one person to save another, And that saved other was what would also save me.

An endless cycle.

I have come face to face with life and death. In order to die, I’m pretty sure, you have to have a mission that’s bigger than life itself. Something more than a self interest. I don’t think people can die while they’re thinking about themselves.

I mean, even seeing yourself can seem unreal and fascinating, why else do we over analyse our own pictures, or get within a 1/4 in. of the mirror to study our own face. That’s pretty insane, but you know we all do it.

the “education” system

Mom is getting married and moving away soon, she has been packing up her house and giving me things she’s saved over the years.

It gives me insight on my childhood experience from a parental viewpoint.

Some of it makes me smile, a few thing I can remember, and then there are some I’m left asking ‘why? For Christ sakes why?!?!’

I found a card I made for someone that opened on the wrong side.

I found an A- art project. (No note as to why the -)

But most unnerving of all is a file folder labeled ‘L.D. Papers’

I knew then just as I know now that ‘L.D.’ Stands for learning disability.

I can see some things in those early works that might make people question my abilities, but there’s also see my stubborn attitude in there.

And one thing I’m never aw?of at the moment it’s happening; I repeat things.

Back then it would be a word or a number.

The ‘L.D.’ Folder actually had IEP forms in it. ( individual education plan) which is pretty common place now days, but newer when I was a kid.

Looking at this sort of thing is normal for me. I usually look for the teacher notes first.

These things can be very detailed and I’m proud to see my moms signature on almost everything.

They noted that I was neat and organized, got along with peers, often missed homework assignments.

They wanted me to progress in asking for help when needed, and of course completing homework.

But here’s what really grinds my gears; they had a chart showing that I tested below average on everything!

Meanwhile the teachers comments were good, all my grade were over 95% and they had me reading on a 6th grade level in 3rd grade.

If that was my child I’d be more than happy, I’d be proud.

But I always felt stupid and behind; yet determined to prove otherwise.

It just makes me wonder, like so many other things, if their could’ve been a better outcome.

Teachers always focused more on going by the book then. (Do they still now) ?


Saying goodbyes


I haven’t felt so good today. I haven’t really felt good in several days, but I’m hoping tomorrow will be good.

The kids will be in school. All except for my cousin Collin of course.

IMG_1672 I snapped a picture of him snoozin’ on the sofa. He’s 15, I have to get used to that because I just remember a little kid version.

But for being a teenager he’s not bad, he’s pretty trustworthy and easy going. We’ve talked so much. He seems to like hearing stories of his mom.

I took this picture of my cousin Ava (Collins mom) after the funeral. A couple of us just lingered there a while.

My Aunt Marry is looking at her daughter for the last time, she had been sobbing and crying a moment before this, saying “it’s not supposed to be this way” it was so heartbreaking.

A lady working at the funeral had suggested I take the ring, necklace, and earrings off, along with a couple locks of hair to give to her kids.

I took the jewelry off, my sister worked the hair.

That’s my sister on the left.

It felt like an incomplete good bye for me. I did all that I could do for Ava in life and death.

Even in the midst of bad times with her we had enjoyed a certain bond. It doesn’t feel real.

But don’t worry about me, I’m fine, just have this horrible cold. I really am strangely looking forward to things getting back to normal.




getting through the hard parts of life and death

I’m tired, it’s been a long day. I haven’t truely talked to anyone, aside from stuffing my feelings down to make polite small talk.

I wasn’t sure that I could face the things I knew I had to do, but I did it, and I’m glad I did. I took a few pictures of my work, but I’m not sure if that’s just way to morbid to share with people or not.

But tomorrow the whole family will see her at the viewing, and she’ll look like the same person they knew when she was alive.

Ive felt like she’s been peeking over my shoulder for a day and a half. I almost thought I heard her a couple times, and I’d listen very closely for more, but got nothing.

Her son is staying with me until next Thursday, and it feel nice to have him here.

Im off to bed



Rainy day

It’s been raining all morning, I always slow down when it’s like this. I love how it sounds outside my window, and the skylights have their sound also.

Poor Pickles is in his pin right now. (Don’t worry, it has an indoor area for him, he wanted to go outside)

There are things I need to be doing, but haven’t forced myself to do.

Sometimes it’s nice to have weather that makes you slow down a little. It matches the tone for my day anyways.

Im perfectly content with my tiny bit of spare time, thankful to have it, but I really just can’t wait until to night is over.

Part two

So on Sunday my cousin Ava died of a drug overdose.

In the beginning of my blogging she played a HUGE part in my life, and I always questioned  karma because of her. She seemed to defy it.

It tormented me, although I never clearly stated anything. I figured she was reading. I would’ve adopted her son had his biological father not been found.

This hurt me beyond belief. I had taken care of him the majority of his life, he felt like my own and still does.

But me and her have a history also, and she wasn’t always a bad person, in fact she was mostly good, so it was crushing to see her life unfold in such a way.

Her son was safe though, and it was hard, but I cut all ties with her to start my own family.

And now all hope of her returning is gone. Sunday I heard she’d been found dead around 2 o’clock.

The next day they said she died around 1, of a drug overdose. A needle. I can only think of meth, maybe  heroin, but my gut tells me meth.

Anyways, I was in total denial, everyone was calling to check on me but I was ‘just fine’. Then it hit me hard.

I’ll see her Thursday, to work on her hair and make up a final time, and to finally say goodbye in private.