Writings

Author: Irene Page 19 of 44

It’s the little things that count

As human beings, it’s easy for us to look at the negative rather than the positive. If we make a mistake, we beat ourselves up over it. We look to blame someone or something else. The negative is easy. We should be paying attention to the little things that bring us joy and appreciation in our lives.

A rant, in pictures

There is so much to unpack every day in the news that it’s overwhelming to try to keep up. I’m sharing some political cartoons, memes, and photographs I have been collecting for a while. Just saving them and doing nothing with them helps. The following are pictures that made me laugh, think, and worry about where we are headed as a nation.

Unmasking deception

It just doesn’t work for me

The left side of the desk is my side. The right side is Paul’s side. I do my online therapy from here and there are many distractions.

I walked into my therapist’s office for my usual Tuesday appointment and sat down in my usual spot. We exchanged the normal pleasantries before she said, “Irene. We need to talk.”

My brain screamed the loudest, “Fuck,” I ever heard rattle through my skull. I knew what was coming.

The only way to soar is to believe you can fly

A mule deer runs around the back of the Scotts Bluff National Monument in the late afternoon.

One thing I wanted to work on in 2020 was becoming a better photographer. I’m an okay one right now. I know I can get better. It takes practice, thought about how to frame your picture and why you are taking the picture, and some more practice.

Running through the streets naked covered in green jello

Movies are a magical world which take me away from my own life, but the films I watch tend to tackle the hard questions in life. They make me think, laugh, cry, and wonder about my place in the universe.

Since we’re all still sitting at home, I thought I would make a list of some my favorite underrated gems I like to recommend to others.

TK-421 would like to be relieved from post

A classroom exercise secretly makes me a better writer

As a 17-year old high school senior, my English teacher, Ms. Prather, assigned me and my classmates the task of writing about our bedroom and what we saw using as many adjectives as possible. It could be real or imagined. My story was a mix of both. We were also supposed to let the details do the work – show don’t tell – through the use of metaphors and similes.

We spent a week working on the assignment before turning it in on March, 4, 1988. After working on the suggestions Ms. Prather made on my third rough draft, I was confident I would receive a good grade.

I can cook now, mostly

I’m still not sure why I was home alone that monumental day, but I had graduated from setting the table for dinner to making the meal by myself.

Peace is just a click away

Over the past few weeks, I have been making a conscious effort to spent less time on the internet. It’s been a mostly successful endeavor.

Page 19 of 44

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