photography

I Write With My Hands About Things I Do With My Hands

Sup, mofos.

Remember my fiance? You know, the one who I think is super fucking stoic and mysterious but is actually just a huge nerd that makes goat noises?

This fuck weasel?


Guess what he did!

No, you have to guess.

He upgraded my camera. He upgraded my little Kodak to a beautiful, sleek Nikon D5600. Not that I didn’t love my sweet Manon but the local community college did not know how to teach me professional photography on a Kodak. So, let me introduce you to Richard Campbell Gansey III aka Daddy Dick.

He’s beautiful, yes?

I’m stoked because I can now invest in some photography classes during the summer. Here’s a comprehensive list of “what this means for everyone in my sphere of existence”:

  • More pictures of tarot readings
  • More pictures of crystals and bones
  • More pictures of books
  • More pictures of coffee
  • Humans being dragged into adventures on a more frequent basis
  • Obnoxiously spontaneous day trips
  • “I need a fucking picture of that”
  • “I need a picture of your fucking face”
  • “Hold fucking still”

 

Here are some (edited) pictures of bookish layouts that I’ve done in the last couple weeks (taken on the Kodak).


Here is an (edited) picture of a shirt that my boss designed for me that I turned into Tumblr trash.


Here’s me with Daddy Dick.

I also decided to get an Apple Watch, because go big or go home, right? I’m very surprised with how much I like it – I went on a hike yesterday and it was really efficient to have the watch on instead of trying to use my phone for everything.

So, I’m going to be working on photography quite a lot in the upcoming months. This Mercury Retrograde is absolutely kicking my ass; I’m normally an extremely restless person who needs to be engaging in some sort of creative outlet to feel sane and I’m usually small and consistently angry, but this is something else entirely. This is some “I’m afraid of my own shadow, I don’t know who I am anymore” My sister and I are going to get crystals to combat some of the disruptive energy buzzing around the atmosphere. I’ve had an insane amount of drive to do tarot readings lately and when I was up on my mountain I had a weird pull a card pull a card pull a card feeling tugging at my gut. I drew a card.

 

 

Queen of Wands, as defined by Maggie Stiefvater in my raven oracle deck, is essentially the “fire breathing over-protective viciously caustic bitch” card. In case you were wondering how that fucking translates into something important – I pulled my personality on a card. I rarely ever draw fire cards. My birth cards are the Moon and Strength and I typically always end up with Death somewhere in my spreads. Honestly, I think it’s the first time I’ve ever paid attention to the Queen of Wands but I am now paying very good attention and listening very well to whatever the world is saying.

The Queen of Wands is the dominant feminine energy of the element of Fire. She is not afraid to demonstrate her power to others nor does she shy away from a challenge. She is therefore a strong leader who is focused on her desires, intending to get what she wants. Thus, the Queen of Wands indicates that you are strong, independent and able to take care of yourself and sustain your own creative vision, even in the face of adversity. You know what you want and how to get it, and you are masterful at engaging with others to achieve your goals.

Called. The. Fuck. Out. It’s always a little bittersweet when the universe is like “Yeah dude, you have the magic but you kind of need a kick in the fucking pants to remember to use it.”

In bookish news, I put aside Me, Earl the Dying Girl favor of Labyrinth of the Lost by Zoraida Cordova. I needed some more magic and less male narrative in my life. Normally, I gear myself more towards male-oriented novels because 97% of the time, I can’t relate to the main character when it’s a girl. Unless she’s like, basically Satan, I cannot handle the tortured, love-sick monolog and the internal struggle to be “just like other girls”. I have never once had a desire to be the same as someone else and I hope that I receive a nice uppercut to the jaw if that ever happens. I digress;  I like Cordova’s novel thus far, I have always had a strong inclination to the study of brujas and Dia De Los Muertos. I hope this book does the culture justice. I just finished Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea and the ending was not bad! I really enjoyed the story and I’m considering getting the second book in the series but I’m so behind on my TBR that I can feel my soul dying a little every day. Just kidding, I don’t have a soul; but my TBR is fucking insane, I wasn’t kidding about that part. I noticed that audio-books have really changed my interaction with reading as a whole. I was driving the other day, running errands as we adults do, and I realized that I’ve started to equate certain parts of town with certain moments in books. Seventh Street now reminds me of when Ronan stole the Pig and raced K. The parking lot of Ulta out on Pyramid Highway will always bear the weight of Kit finding out that Della is pregnant. It’s a strange sort of reality, where words have started to paint themselves into my town.

In terms of other creative projects, I am currently teaching myself to embroider so I can give people dish towels that say shit like “go fuck yourself” and “thug ass piece of trash” because you know, I love them. I’d like to be able to embroider patches someday because I fucking love putting patches on shit. I’m trying so hard to put more energy into bullet journaling. That’s right, friends, ya girl is Bullet Journal Trash. Honestly, though, I have tried and tested so many fucking methods of keeping my shit together. I have the attention span of a five-year-old so traditional methods are not good for me. My BuJo (shut the fuck up) is less of a planner and more of a Book of Shadows and memoir cross-over. The most organized aspect of it is my “Important Dates” page where I basically write down any appointments I have that are at high risk to be forgotten aka “any appointment I make, ever.” Here is my cuss-word filled BuJo in all its glory, paired up with my rude-ass pencil bag that has more lipsticks and lighters in it than actual pens. 

My 2017 reading accomplishments page is sad, I know. I got sucked into the Raven Cycle series and it spit me out, completely unmotivated to read anything else, ever again. If you need me, I’ll be continuing my existential crisis over the search for a dead Welsh king and the fact that I have the same soul as a street-racing farmer.

That’s all there is,

Carry on –

The Book Witch

Standard