Decade
It’s strange to remember ten years ago — how insecure and unsure I was about myself and my value.
Why?
Hell’s Kitchen (via rachadler2003)
I wore this back brace 23 hours a day, every day, for two years (from when I was 12 to 14).
These were the most torturous, insecure years of my life. Still, even after I had the corrective scoliosis surgery that rendered the back brace unnecessary, I kept it. Throwing it out seemed wrong — like I was throwing out the embodiment of all that those years meant.
Parting with it now is a lot easier. I’ve come a long way in these sixteen years and I don’t need a physical reminder of the lessons I learned during that time. They’re part of the way I live my life. But when my parents asked if they could throw it away, all I could think about was that big, clunky metal and plastic object occupying space in some landfill.
There has to be a way to recycle it, I thought. An hour of research and I found it.
This organization is amazing, people. They’re called A Leg To Stand On (ALTSO) and they take old medical supplies (back braces and beyond!) and use the materials to make prosthetic limbs for people in other countries who need them. How incredibly awesome is that?
So now my back brace, the instrument of so much pain and torture in my life, is being used to help make other people’s lives better. So friggin cool.
If you have anything that can be donated, contact them!
One day you just kind of figure it out
That it’s all bullshit.
All those rules others taught you from day one - the Authors you MUST read, the fashion gods that shall be listened to, the right sentence structures, how to be a girl, how to be a good girl, what “bad” and “good” mean anyway.
[…]
But one day, wandering in some field or some city street - the sky will open a peek of sun through and dance the whole landscape into technicolor. And you’ll look all around your world and you’ll see yourself, how alive and real and wild you are…
And you’ll want to scream it, “But I’m alive now! And I want to live!”
From there, you’ll either take the reigns or you won’t. It’s your choice.
~
It comes to this. There are only a few real rules - to eat, to drink, to make yourself and life into your own art, to help others do the same (in their own way) with theirs.
Everything else is waste.
(In keeping with the theme.)
People here are pretty opinionated about New York, apparently.
I maintain that New York loves me, maybe even more than I love it. ;-)
(via rachadler2003)
It feels good to be alive today.
I’ve had over a month (almost solid) of guests — from New York, New Jersey, New Orleans; passing through as they bike across America to Oregon, drive across America to Burningman…
And so a summer has happened. I’ve been in Boulder for three months.
I’ve travelled to Los Angeles, Las Vegas, Southern Utah (one of the most beautiful places I’ve been in my life), Wyoming.
I’ve hiked through Rocky Mountain & Arches & Canyon National Parks, as well as an abundance of local trails.
I’ve biked at least three times a week and can now do the fifteen miles to and from the Canyon with only one stop.
I’ve written three chapters of a book.
I’ve met so many amazing people.
And, at thirty, I feel healthier than I’ve felt in a long time.
Van Gogh action figure (via rachadler2003)
As seen in Empire, CO (home to the original Hard Rock Cafe!)
piggies at the Boulder County Fair (via rachadler2003)
For Ronen. (“You’re going to the county fair? Buy a pig!” They were everywhere. I didn’t want to buy one, but perhaps you can buy one when you get here and take it to Burning Man?)
(via rachadler2003)
Dude on the Chatauqua trails.
He said he lived in New York for two years.
It’s a funny shirt, but I wished I could show him my New York.
About me
I write. I draw. I adventure. I do a lot of other things, too.
If you know/knew me in real life, have stumbled upon my blog, are secretly reading this, and think I would feel strange about your reading my thoughts, I don’t.
Drop me an e-mail and say hi.
I miss you.
And if I don't know you yet, and you have something fun to say, e-mail me, too.
I probably miss you also; I just don't know it yet.
rachmouse|at|gmail|dot|COM
