*** From The HP -
This was posted during "week 9" of the A Picture Is Worth 1000 Words project. It references a picture YOU CAN FIND LINKED HERE.
Let’s talk a moment, you and me. This web site, A Picture Worth 1000 Words, has been a great deal of fun for me. I have always enjoyed writing quick little one off pieces, as they suit my style of just tossing out some words with little or no research needed, and that kind of writing is a special kind of therapy for me. I am the first and loudest critic I have, and admit most of what I write is not going to be pressed into textbooks a hundred years from now – I do not paint literary masterpieces to hang up in a gallery of significant prose, rather cave drawings that the fire smoke will eventually obliterate.
I have to admit it is kind of daunting once in a while – a picture may make me feel one way , but I want to keep that feeling to myself, so I go another. This image above is a great example. This image makes me sad, for some reason I could not admit for quite a while. So, earlier in the week you got a story of hope and reformative redemption. I took it another way.
Now however I want to simply talk about the image – and lay naked my emotions about it.
Some of you have met me recently, others never, and few of you have known e for quite a long time. It may surprise any of you in either group that I, despite my online presence and postings am a bit of a socially phobic person. While I love to give speeches or lead a discussion on an area that I either know well or have some authority in, I have as I have aged gotten to like meeting folks , especially n public, less and less. One doctor called it social anxiety. I took some maintenance medications for this, along as to treat some mild depression, on different occasions. I also had a legit prescription for Valium as a “rescue me” device for when I just got too tense or could not slow my racing thoughts, fears and emotions.
Now, on the whole other end of the spectrum, I love to entertain folks at my home. I like big crowds of people, bellies full of food, cold beverages in hand, telling stories of exploits of the past and discussing the winds of politics of the day. But that is on MY turf – that makes it more acceptable to me.
So, while I do not wish to be a hermit, I have times when a crowd is simply the last thing I want to be a part of. Sure, most folks do. But my times far outweigh the times I do not. My Sweetums jokes we are like the President and Vice President – you rarely see us travel to events together. This is for a real simple reason – when I get edy, and ready to leave – I HAVE to leave. The longer I stay, to wait on someone else, to get something done, for whatever reason – the more it eats in me like rats. I often show up late for the same reason – because I know when I have to go, I have to go – so if I am late, then most everyone will be there already, will have made it past the obnoxious ( to me at least ) greeting rituals – and I can glide in from the side, act as if I have already greeted everyone and go to visiting until my internal alarm starts screaming.
And that, dear friends and new alike, is why I hate this picture. It is like someone exposed me in it. The figure out front, faceless and anonymous – that is me. Away from the crowd, but happy none the less. You can see the cars in the background – a group is somewhere – but except for the photographer (whom we cannot see and there for we can edit out into a role of omnipotent observer) the figure is alone.
I see myself in that image – and ask a million questions – Is it before the gathering and the person needs time to get ready to be a part of the group? Did they have to walk away to get the monster under control? Maybe they are waffling – they do not know if they can even face a crowd today.
For the image – I do not know. For me this image is more than the image you see – it is a mirror of my face cast upon that of a stranger in a strange place, one that I recognize all too well.
All that being said, I have to say here as we close the ninth week that this site has helped me a lot. It lets me have my written therapy; it seems to provide some enjoyment to those who read it. It lets me feel like I am making those cave paintings, and atleast someone is seeing them as the smoke creeps down from the ceiling and starts to ossify the walls.
Thank you each and every one who come here to read, and especially those of you who have contributed with images and written work. Thank you to Gabrielle, who maintains it and is the cruise director on this crazy little ship. And most of all thank you to those who have made a purchase or donation, turning this little niche corner in the huge whole world wide web into a place where a little bit of good can come from something so simple.