duneflower

[duneflower]

I seem to only be able to get things done in dire circumstances.

Maybe that's a trauma response. Either way, it's severely annoying.

[duneflower]

Slough walk, January 2025.

[duneflower]

You've gotta love those parking lot birds.

[duneflower]

On Christmas Eve, I went for a walk. Without my camera.

Of course, that was the fateful night Income across this stunning beauty.

They posed so beautifully - perfectly in sight. They'd even flown to another, separate but still in view branch halfway through our meeting.

Even when I sneezed like a hearty old man, it merely ruffled its feathers.

A beautiful encounter, I love this owl well, but I am quite peeved that I did not have my camera on me. That's how murphy likes it I suppose.

[duneflower]

Oh 12 year old me, we're really in it now...

[duneflower]

I'd like to start posting here more casually. I've been considering staying logged in here on my phone so I can post whatever comes to mind. I may also make a separate blog for reblogs rather than the current system I use on a different account.

[duneflower]

I've not been doing much at all.

I always heard that it got worse before it got better. I took this to heart - expected it. I expected once I moved out into the dorms that it'd hit me right away.

I, despite knowing, despite expecting, was caught off guard.

I've been so stuck. I've been rotting again- not leaving my room, not leaving my bed. I was fine. I was healing from the last downslope I'd found myself on. And suddenly it got worse.

I think the worst part is that there isn't an immediate reason. At least last time I had the two hurricanes in a row to back me up. At least I could just say that it was my PTSD taking ahold of me. Thats easy to explain and to understand - being in a flood as a child would fuck you up, right?

But then comes months later, and the invisible things fuck me up. I dont even know the trigger. I don't even know whats happened. And I'm in a haze where I can barely communicate. And people can draw their own conclusions, mostly negative ones, but even if I could know my triggers or what was wrong, I don't think I could feel comfortable telling a stranger that.

I emailed my math teacher on Wednesday to tell her I wouldn't be able to make it to the exam which was an hour later. I had walked out of a sexual abuse awareness presentation required for my transitionary class because the boys behind me wouldn't stop whispering and I was already in a bad mental state. My teacher followed me out to ensure I was alright - catching me off guard - and I'm glad she cares, but she tore down the numbness I had built up. She said it was okay.

I went over to the bus stop and cried for awhile. I realized I couldn't take the test in the state I was in- so I rode home. The bus stopped outside the building the exam was in- 10:28, still enough time for me to make it in and not be late- but I had already sent the email. I did not want to explain that.

Anyhow, she sent a message asking me why I missed the exam. How am I supposed to open up to people? How am I supposed to know when its courtesy? What is professional? When I do let my guard down, it seems hurt people through me missing some dumb social cue. I get taken advantage of. I get seen as an idiot. Or worse, inconsiderate.

Anyhow, after that, I did not leave home for a week, minus Friday therapy with my mother. That night did help me beat off the worst of it, thankfully, and I have been gradually stepping toward better. It's just that I fall so fast, I take so long to get up again, and by the time I am in a stable place where I can once again focus on being who I wish to be, I am due for another fall. I feel I am running out of chances with those around me- like I have already been lent too much patience. Like I have to hide it. Like I have to beat myself into a better position, as to not appear too lenient or acception of my poor behavior. Typing that out makes me sound insane. Probably because its kind of an insane way to think. Another thing I most certainly need to work on.

I will post this for now. I will not read it over. If someone finds this and finds a reflection of themselves in my muddled thoughts, I guess it will have done some good. You deserve better. I deserve better. I'm just gonna keep on trying.

[duneflower]

Goldenrod is quickly becoming one of my favorite flowers. The pollinators love them.

I first found one growing in a ditch behind some of the modulars. Despite the grass being recently cut, it stood proud and tall. There were a bunch of tiny black bees [?] flying all around it. I only noticed this when I nearly grabbed the stem to get a closer look.

I hadn't been sure at first, but the name goldenrod jutted out at me as the answer. Lo and behold, some reverse image searching later and my gut was right. Still trying to figure out those cool bees, though...

Perhaps I'll post that goldenrod soon and see if anyone can help me identify them! :D

[duneflower]

They feel like paintings to me.

For as much as water has fucked up my life, I find an awful lot of beauty and comfort in it.

Then again, I live on a peninsula, so perhaps I don't have a choice...

[duneflower]

Going outside after an open-mic storytelling event, I heard loud drumming. Instantly I was enraptured- and I literally darted toward the source of the music.

It brought me back to my ol' faithful: the parking garage. I'd heard someone playing music there before, some sort of brass instrument. It'd been over a month since I'd heard them, though, so this was a pleasant surprise.

I planned to go all the way up, to stand atop and look over the world for a minute, as I sometimes do. Foolishly, I hadn't considered the fact that the mystery drummer may be there.

Going up to the 5th floor in the greenly lit elevator, the drumming grew louder. Louder- no, I mean louder than that. It brought me back to when I had played drums- you forget just how loud they are until you're in the seat yourself, not quite hearing the noise but feeling it. I had always worn my fathers gun-muffs while playing.

The door opened to the fifth floor. I had smushed myself up against the wall, and frantically spammed the close door button, not wanting to disrupt this strangers practice. Thankfully they did not halt, and I am unsure if they noticed the door open or my form desperately attempting to hide.

So I went to the fourth floor instead. The drums reverberated, sort of melding the melody they'd set up together. They were talented, I could recognize that much. Sitting there, I had a moment to reflect. I thought to the older woman that I'd spoken to after the event, and the national park she'd told me about. I thought about my friends. I thought about my camera hooked to my belt.

Walking down the stairs, the drums became a lot clearer due to the lack of reverb. I could truly hear and witness this strangers skill.

I wish them the best for whatever they are practicing for.

[duneflower]

FISH CROW SPOTTED!!! >:D

[duneflower]

Really fucked up picture of the moon.

It looks like a vector image or a high-res ms paint circle tool, but its not. Zoom in and you'll see the faint craters.

[duneflower]

Behold, more pictures of the moon! Alas, the moon continues to be something only the most talented and well equipped photographers can capture well.

She shies away, preferring her beauty be only seen and remembered.

Who can blame her, really?

I still think she looks beautiful in her hazy frustration, though. Unprofessional, but charming to me nonetheless ^^ !

[duneflower]

Here's photo dump #1, as a celebration of me finally making a real blog :D !!