Pictures

Pictures.

You love them, or you hate them.

Very few attain neutrality, for it is only possible if you avoid them altogether (which is very difficult to do in our visual society), for if you do not love them, you will be annoyed by them. Even if you do. Maybe especially.

Pictures and I have a love-hate relationship. (I usually do not like it when people use that phrase. But that's okay. I'm using it anyway.) Obviously I love taking pictures, looking at pictures, manipulating pictures, some editing of pictures, and scrapbooking pictures. As far as I can think, other than that, I hate dealing with pictures.

You see, pictures are technology, and as you may know, as I have mentioned before, we don't get along. I mean, we also have a love-hate relationship. That is, I love to have technology (camera and lenses I have been wanting...) but it hates working for me.

That actually doesn't quite related to why I wrote this post, nor is it even really true. Give me a break. I wrote it last night when I was really tired and not feeling very well and recently saddened. (Yes, even that line I wrote last night. And this one.) Of course, I would have written the exact same thing even if I weren't tired and sick and saddened, but hey, it makes a good excuse. Kind of like my opinion of how giving kids sugar makes them hyper and being slaphappy. Kids would have been hyper anyway, and Beerbowers don't get slaphappy. We just allow ourselves to be unguardedly goofy in certain situations, which usually happen at night, when you're normally more tired, but it is not uncontrollable thinking that everything is funny.

Although, I actually wouldn't have written the exact same thing if I weren't saddened, for that is the topic of this post.

(You may be surprised to find there is a reason I am writing this. You may not be surprised that it is out of silly frustration, thus the rambling. However, like I explained before, that is just an excuse. Really, I just chose to write it this way because it was fun.)

So perhaps you're wondering what in the world could have prompted such a post. Well, there's news. Whether it's good or bad news depends on your view. As you may have guessed by words such as "saddened" and "frustrated", my opinion is that it is bad. If, however, you are already frustrated by my over-abundance of pictures, you may find it good. If, however, as is just as likely if you follow my blog (or would, if it didn't take so much time) you are frustrated by the overabundance of my words and are glad to have pictures to break them up, it is bad news.

I have run out of space for my pictures. I cannot put any more online.

Well, that isn't quite true. I could. But there is another thing I have a love-hate relationship with. Money. I won't pay for something I can get free. Of course, I can't get it free now, but the statement still stands.

Wait, I thought, I can ask my other blogging friends what they do. Then I realized: no one else puts 300 pictures in a post. No one else uses over 1 GB of storage space for two blogs in just over a year.

By the way, why did I write, "other blogging friends"? What does that mean? Other than my friend, me? Or other than my non-blogging friends? Isn't it obvious that I'm not asking them?

My brother said I could delete my old posts. The thought is horrible. You never throw away old writing (or in this case, delete old posts). "That is like burning an old diary!" I said. By his look, he didn't seem to realize what a tragedy that would be.

My mind turned to A Day Outside. (I am not putting a link to that post lest you are tempted to look at it.) If any post begged for deletion, that one does. Yet even that I hate to delete, if only to remember how stupid I was to post it. Besides, Deanna's comment makes it all worth it. "If someone actually read this long post, I would be like, "Wow! You must be bored!" or perhaps they were put in solitary confinement for 20 days with only this post as reading material." I love it. I mean, I always love comments, but that one always makes me laugh.

All that to say, I am sadly pondering the fate of my blog, especially the photo of a day one, and I may end up having to start a new one.

Just to be sure, let no one read this too seriously. It may be an interesting read for a psychologist. If you can figure out anything deeper than for my own enjoyment for why I wrote what I wrote, you're a leg up on me. Which is a rather strange word picture.