It's me; just musing

I still have a while still school starts and then I'm going to be really busy keeping up with three college courses. I've decided to take an AA History class, a Creative Writing course, and a class on the basics of Photography. (I'm hoping I'll get to do a lot of film development and photojournalism). It's become a passion of mine to take natural, unaltered photos of life. I could care less for wedding or baby photos, because, well, anyone can take a photo of a baby or a bride and groom. Not everyone gets to take pictures of history in the making (not private history, but world history...the kind that makes it into the history books). I want to capture real life events in black and white--photos that tell a story of America. I've got chills just thinking about it!

Today I visited my Chiropractor/Kinesiologist. As usual, he cracked my buttery, popcornlike bones and released tension from my lower back. It's always elating for me to be completely free from the surging pain my joints cause me before an appointment. What relief!

Like last week, my Kinesiologist went over more emotional stressers, one of them being my sister. Everybody's siblings stress them out from time to time. But I felt the need to lay this out for him to help me work through. Basically, after testing for the exact reason my sister seemed to be a stresser for me, this came up: I felt disrespected by her innability to ask before using (or taking) my things. Her insensitivity to me in regards to using my property is irksome. And the allencompassing word used for that point in the session was frustrated.

Yep. Frustrated with my sissy. There are a few reasons why. All of which I think are justifiable. But that doesn't mean I don't love her. It just means I have a hang up about all the little things she does that drive me crazy. Well, they're little things to her, but to me, well, their kind of BIG. Like using my face scrub, for example. That drives me batty. It's like someone using someone else's tooth brush. Gross. And inconsiderate. Or taking packages of gum, pens, pads of paper, expensive hair accessories, MP3, clothes, shoes; you name it, she'll probably take it. So hide it carefully!

Nah, other than that, she's OK with me. ;D

On the other hand, my Dr. and I went over a word that kept reoccuring everytime I journaled: invisable. Except the word he used was unnoticed.

....that word. Wow, um, it's a pretty sore wound that I have tried to nurse and heal from for what seems like an eternity!


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