You read that right: I’m giving you words AND pictures! Get pumped.
March so far:
The camera situation: sort of both tied up and up in the air at the moment. The camera can be fixed; the fix would cost more than it would currently sell for on eBay. For about three weeks I went back and forth, and then I decided I wanted my lens back — I sent the camera in with my perfectly-working 50mm because I forgot to take the cap to the store, and that way it would be more protected — and I would try to
save make up the cash for a Canon 6D, which is supposed to be very good and about half the price of a Mark III.
If it were an option to take the camera and then do installments I would do that in a heartbeat, because, shockingly, having a camera to do my work makes it easier to earn money! But it is not an option. So. I just need to be patient, and not accidentally buy a 700D body — the one I can infinitesimally afford — while I’m half asleep and reeling from a nightmare. Luckily Amazon doesn’t take Paypal. Thanks, Amazon! Your restrictions finally work in my favor.
In the meanwhile, I’m trying to do my best with the Nikon I borrowed. I think I’m slowly taking to it. It would be faster if it were warmer outside, but that may in fact happen soon, so that should speed up the acquaintance process. I took it for a spin earlier this week and my fingers nearly fell off, but at least I have a point of reference for how portraits turn out, which is what I was looking for. I’ve also restarted my photo-a-day thing, with decent success — which is how you’re getting this post.
After each set of pictures, including the one on Saturday morning when the sun was shining right onto my patio and my sister was doing whatever with plants, my Raynaud’s was pissed. My fingers are useless.
Other than that, my month’s been the same old, same old. It’s cold still, but getting warmer, which means my laundry’s finally drying on its own and nostalgia’s kicking in; my cat sometimes lets me cuddle him and regularly comes to my bed but not as regularly as he trots after my mom like a lost puppy; I’ve scrapped a project and am trying to wrap up two and I’m focused on the media kit template shop out of my business ideas but have yet to make any tangible progress on most of it. I’ve been handlettering, a fair bit actually, and looking into brush pens. It’s really fun to do, and I get to spitefully use good poetry lines instead of insipid trite bullsh— er, inspirational quotes. (I hate inspirational quotes.) And sometimes I just curse on paper. But prettily.
My sleep schedule goes up and down, as has been its wont this year, and for the most part I go with it because I know better than to fight it. That’s where the wild tears are. I just hate that if I wake up and I’m the kind of tired where I fall asleep again, I will have a nightmare, and it will be the goddamn worst. My brain has done an extraordinary job this week of trickling that unnerving, unsettled feeling deep into my bones, and if I could, I would fire it.
A bit of an exciting thing got suddenly thrown into my schedule for the month in the form of a couple of days in Barcelona next week. I’m taking a train there to meet Megan from Lush to Blush, sticking around for another day, then grabbing a train to Madrid, sticking around there for a few hours, then getting a train back home. The last part wasn’t in my original plan, but Barcelona > Ciudad Real trains fill up a fair bit in advance, whereas trains to and from Madrid just do not. So this way I don’t have to take a ridiculously early train on Thursday or fork over cash for more than two hotel nights.
I’m still looking on hotels.com for a place to stay in Barcelona. The Vincci Bit hotel from September was very nice — and I may even do a quick review of it at some point — but I picked it in large part for the proximity to the beach and the pool, and it’s March now. I want something more central, to see the port in daylight, that sort of thing. At this point I think I’m holding out for better last-minute deals, or something. It’s easier to justify the cost of a room when you’re sharing it with somebody else — since there is virtually no difference at all between what you’re charged for one person and what you’re charged for two.
Among other things, I’m excited about Starbuckses, because they feel like home to me and our bond is sacred, and about getting so many hours of downtime that I can fill with like… reading… a paper book? I’ve got this Sylvia Plath biography here and a rom com book and it would be nice to be able to switch my brain properly off. I could do other things, but it turns out using electronics on transportation makes me anywhere between “so woozy I’m not going to throw up but they may have to carry my dead body out of this car” to “so depressed I was sobbing uncontrollably about a mediocre cat book, so really it’s hard to say whether the laptop reading on the moving train made any difference to my general poor state of being.” I want to feel good during this very very short time away, and the way to do that is to heed previous bad experiences and avoid the shit out of them. So, paper books. Not catching a train at the crack of dawn. Having time to eat in between a 3+ hour ride and a 1 hour one. Basics.
And here’s a handheld selfie for old times.
Now, how do you feel about trains? Aren’t they the best ever? If only they all had goddamn wifi, man.