PBDC Day 19/31: Cropped

This is the first picture I posted of Paula and I together. Yes, I already named her. I had only met her a few hours before, when I had walked in the building of our apartment. She was on a stand by the mailboxes, and as I saw my upstairs neighbor coming down I asked if it was his. Turns out he was moving and was going to put her out with a sign that he held up to show me, "FREE TO A GOOD HOME."

Shoot. Done. I don't know if he named her, but I named her after her dad, Paul.

I had been wanting to learn how to play the guitar for years, but never got around to getting one. With the opportunity for a free one, I have no excuse now. Thanks to my violin background and a online tuner, I was able to get her back to good and figure out steps and half steps to play scales on each of the strings.

I'm nowhere near the level of joining jam sessions, but this is damn exciting.

Here's a full body shot of my new friend

...which, technically, this was the first picture of Paula and I, but when I posted it to IG, I cropped out my feet to make the shot all about her in the square frame.

There it is. Cropped. Check.

Next!

Photo and Blog a Day Challenge-Day 28/28: Up

I love seeing the sun rise. As I ready myself for March, having the long winter we've been experiencing here in Indiana, seeing the sun, even for just a few minutes is a sign of warmth to come. The sun coming up symbolizes so many things: new beginnings, a reminder of how the world operates in cycles, you've been at the strip club too long, the list goes on.

Typically, I view the sunrise in a positive light, accepting it as day greeting me with warmth, illumination, and a brand new start. Lately, because of the clouds, there have been plenty of mornings where the sunrise has been blocked from view, but I know it's still there.

I also enjoy a nice sunset. This next picture I captured just over a month ago as I leaving work. Enjoying a break in the clouds as the sun shared some warmth in the frigid Indiana air, I felt a sense of relief with the vision of an oasis of seasons warmer.

Whenever I look up at the sky, even at night when I see if I can find my favorite constellation, Orion, I take a couple of deep breaths and think for a few moments to bask in the concept of how large our world and universe really is. And most times, I smile about it because the perspective helps me refocus myself and realize that there are things I can directly affect and things I cannot.

Perspective is a wonderful thing, and as I got home today after work I paused for second to capture my view when I walk into our building.

Just a simple set of stairs, leading up to our second floor apartment. Here are the same stairs after completing the journey up one flight.

The latter of the two stairs photos I like more, and I think it's because of the red front door, appealing to the eye, inviting me to adventures of the day. But the first photo, the one looking up, it literally lifts me off the ground to a place where my wife and I call home. 

And when I think about that, us living on the second floor of our building, it shows me that where we live is literally separated from the ground we walk, drive, work, and spend most of our days. When we are home, we are somewhat isolated and above much of what goes on (but not in a condescending, "we're above you" in regards to social class manner). I mean that in regards to safety and security. As I take the stairs up to The Farm (as we like to call it), I am granted a physical indication that what happens at home is completely separate from any stressors in the outside world. Together, at home, we can rise above all the garbage and negativity and hate to create a safe place for ourselves where we alone can forge our identity as a married couple.

Perspective really is everything. How you look at things in your everyday life can truly alter how you view your own life. From a new pair of shoes (Day 21: Tiny), to pocket-sized tokens (Day 15: In My Hand), or even the music you allow yourself to be swallowed by (Day 12: Can't Go Without), these last 28 days, 28 photos, and 28 blogs have become a journey in finding my voice.

I absolutely love being able to find positivity, motivation, and encouragement in things that are shared by everyone, things that I am surrounded by every day. And furthermore, I am so thankful that I am able to share this message and these stories with anyone that feels curious enough to peer inside my soul for a blog post here and there.

But what I love the most about writing is that, as my friend Angela and I like to put it, as writers, we are gods of our literary worlds. When a writer shares their imagination on paper, or a screen, or a couple of napkins, or on the walls of a subway station, they bring you on a journey that you had no idea was even there before you saw it.

And the most accessible example of how creative writers can be is at the top of this blog, because both of the pictures I shared are of sunsets. But if you take a picture of a sunrise or sunset and show it to someone who has no perspective of the environment in which the photo resides, they leave it up to you to provide context, either in a caption or a well crafted introduction.

But I really do love sunrises.

Photo and Blog a Day Challenge-Day 21/28: Tiny

I bought a pair of shoes today. Not the most riveting of activities in the grand scheme of things, but for me it's kind of a big deal. Growing up with a less than athletic background, there was never really a need for expensive shoes. I've always been curious as to why sneakerheads are the way they are: what was their first pair that really turned them on to shoes of a certain style/fit, why they like the shoes they do, you know, questions about why they love what they love and what they love.

The nicest pair of shoes I had ever bought myself were a pair of high-gloss shoes to go with my dress uniforms in the Navy. I was stationed in Goose Creek, South Carolina, attending nuke school, and the very afternoon I bought them after class, I wore into the school house with my civvies (aka "civilian" or regular, non-uniform clothes). I had on a pair of black warm-up pants and a sweet Cartoon Network t-shirt with Droopy Dog on it I had found at a Goodwill not too long before. Those were some sweet, shiny kicks, and I wanted to show them off.

Other than that, it's a pair of slip-on sneakers from Payless or Target that I'll wear everyday until there's a hole in its soul. In the last three or four years, I was reintroduced to Crocs and have since then bought a few pairs including my recent favorite, the black and white Hank Haney golf shoe, best worn with mustache socks. (Sidenote: I don't play golf, well, mini-golf, yes, but outdoor, hundreds of yards golf, no.)

Now that I spend so much of my time at work on my feet, comfortable shoes have become more important, and so I've come to the realization which is often shared as a cliche, "I'm not getting any younger."

Last weekend I tried on Nikes for the first time. Yes, in my life. I've just never considered purchasing such an expensive pair of shoes, and with no athletic need for them, they never made it into my department store fashion shows. With the help of a couple of footwear-proficient co-workers, I made my way through several pairs of Nikes, Asics, Adidas(es), and even a pair of Brooks. Trying on the Nikes (and being pleasantly surprised with the comfort of them) I found out that, because they run narrow, I would require a wide shoe if I were to go with the Swoosh. I'm 32 years old, and I've never bought a pair of wide shoes in my life. Maybe that would explain why I've never swooned over shoes like sneakerheads I know do--I may have been wearing an improper fit.

I have tiny feet. Not freakishly tiny, but they're pretty small. I'm typically an 8 1/2 but have worn 8s and 9s in the last few years since every shoe manufacturer is a little different. As I went shoe-store hopping, most stores didn't carry 8.5 in mens (apparently only people with big feet buy running shoes). Yesterday I found out that I fit into a Women's 9, and with so many shoes being colored in gender-neutral patterns, you wouldn't know if I had on a pair of women's shoes unless I told you. 

(Sidebar: in the mid 2000s, I bought a pair of plaid slip-ons and loved them. After a few months of wearing them, I was stopped one-day by a classmate and they said, "Are you wearing girls shoes?" to which I replied, "They're my shoes, so no. They're Rocket Dogs, I've never heard of them, but they were comfortable, so I bought them.")

I must admit, the thought of purchasing women's shoes was a little weird, but I quickly put myself in check and realized that there's nothing wrong or incorrect about that at all. After all, it's about wearing something that is comfortable, and that you love it, right? Like with clothes. Working in retail I see this all the time, customers more worried about the size of the clothes--the number or letters that no one will ever see--rather than how they actually fit you. Clothes are made in different sizes for a reason, friends. Don't limit yourself to a label of a convention that has been established for categorization. Wear what is comfortable, that you want to wear, that speaks to your personality. I was just about to say that I would get back to this topic (of clothes sizes and obsessing over them), and that made me realize I should really make a list of all these topics that I'm "getting back to" because I'm certain I say that in more blogs than not.

I digress.

Shoes sizes. 8 1/2 in men's, maybe a 9 in women's, looking for comfortable shoes, opening the wallet a little to get a better quality of shoe because..."I'm not getting any younger."

On an adventure of exploration on my day off today, I came across a mall in Joliet, Illinois and met this pretty lady:

She, along with the other residents of the Furry Babies store, are all relatively tiny, and as much as I wanted to take all of them home, I know that wasn't going to happen. But what I did find that I did take home, was a new pair of shoes. Following my own advice of looking for what speaks to me, and then trying them on to see if they fit well, I tried on a couple pairs that screamed at me. (Shout out to KB!)

As with many other stores, they didn't have any 8 1/2s, so the guy brought out 8s and 9s. Trying on the 9s, I came to the same result that I do with most shoes: the shoe itself is comfortable, the width is there, but I'm left with more than an inch of extra space in front of my toes. No bueno. So I try the 8s. And then I ran/skipped/galloped up and down one side of the store. It was a little bit magical, and the employees (and a couple customers) were giving me some interesting looks although they recognized what I was doing.

The gray/white pair was my initial draw, but then I saw and tried on the blue pair. Like John Michael Montgomery said, "she had ruby red lips, blond hair, blue eyes..." 

Sold.

A bold choice, but a sweet one, if I do say so myself. 

Yes, I fell victim to the very thoughts I mentioned earlier, obsessing about the fact that I bought half a size smaller than what I'm used to, but they made these shoes in all sizes so that people with all different sizes of feet can enjoy them.

By no means do I feel like I've joined the ranks of self-proclaimed sneaker heads, but ask me again in a few years. Maybe then I'll tell you about the pair of blue Reebok ZQuicks that I bought in Illinois for my tiny feet.

Tiny as they may seem, I still stand on them every day. So put that in your metaphorical pipe and smoke it.