tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81512596081955814832023-11-15T05:40:03.162-08:00We're On A Road To SomewhereStarted off this blog hoping others would join in with thoughts. Now I think it will just be about my random thoughts about the journey forward.Adrienne Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16658593098911314756noreply@blogger.comBlogger82125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8151259608195581483.post-8633529289655014582011-05-23T23:50:00.000-07:002011-05-24T00:00:40.067-07:00Love Knows No LinesWhen you love someone, you love them. You see how they are different, but it is the last thing you see. There is no line between us when there is love. When I feel love for me, I no longer see the one who loves me as other, or different, or separate. We are each part of the same thing, the same life. There is no line.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/adriennejohnson/5505043788/" title="I Can Haz Love by Adrienne Johnson SF, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5178/5505043788_8e274691de.jpg" alt="I Can Haz Love" height="334" width="500" /></a></div><br />Love is love. I love my cat and my cat loves me. She is nothing but love and joy and she is a part of me. Even in death, she is part of me. She is love and that love can not leave me, even when the purr is gone. It would be no different if she were human, love is love.<br /><br />Her name was Dottie and every moment she was with me she made me know she loved me. Every moment she was here, I loved her. There is no line. The love is still there, because that is what makes us all one. And like any true line, it has no end.Adrienne Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16658593098911314756noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8151259608195581483.post-86400272958668519122011-05-18T23:17:00.001-07:002011-05-18T23:17:34.007-07:00Close To The BoneSo nervous<br />nowhere to go<br />open, close<br />open, close<br />Fingernails in palm<br />open, close<br />shift left, look to the sky.<br />Not there.<br />Nails dig deep.<br />Open.<br />Close.<br />goodbye<br />Adrienne Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16658593098911314756noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8151259608195581483.post-53367855396216781382011-04-19T21:25:00.000-07:002011-04-19T21:26:48.852-07:00I Am Wrong!It's been awhile. Many things have happened and now it is time to move on. Here is something worth thinking about.<br /><br /><!--copy and paste--><div style="text-align: center;"><object height="326" width="446"><param name="movie" value="http://video.ted.com/assets/player/swf/EmbedPlayer.swf"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"><param name="wmode" value="transparent"><param name="bgColor" value="#ffffff"> <param name="flashvars" value="vu=http://video.ted.com/talk/stream/2011/Blank/KathrynSchulz_2011-320k.mp4&su=http://images.ted.com/images/ted/tedindex/embed-posters/KathrynSchulz-2011.embed_thumbnail.jpg&vw=432&vh=240&ap=0&ti=1126&lang=eng&introDuration=15330&adDuration=4000&postAdDuration=830&adKeys=talk=kathryn_schulz_on_being_wrong;year=2011;theme=master_storytellers;theme=how_the_mind_works;theme=a_taste_of_ted2011;theme=new_on_ted_com;event=New+on+TED.com;tag=Culture;tag=failure;&preAdTag=tconf.ted/embed;tile=1;sz=512x288;"><embed src="http://video.ted.com/assets/player/swf/EmbedPlayer.swf" pluginspace="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" bgcolor="#ffffff" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" flashvars="vu=http://video.ted.com/talk/stream/2011/Blank/KathrynSchulz_2011-320k.mp4&su=http://images.ted.com/images/ted/tedindex/embed-posters/KathrynSchulz-2011.embed_thumbnail.jpg&vw=432&vh=240&ap=0&ti=1126&lang=eng&introDuration=15330&adDuration=4000&postAdDuration=830&adKeys=talk=kathryn_schulz_on_being_wrong;year=2011;theme=master_storytellers;theme=how_the_mind_works;theme=a_taste_of_ted2011;theme=new_on_ted_com;event=New+on+TED.com;tag=Culture;tag=failure;" height="326" width="446"></embed></object></div>Adrienne Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16658593098911314756noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8151259608195581483.post-63218252553779953332011-03-11T21:29:00.000-08:002011-03-11T21:39:12.260-08:00ComparisonsAs people try to survive the unimaginable in conditions straight from the part of Hell reserved for those who did nothing worse than live, there are those who think the rest of the world was made for their convenience.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/adriennejohnson/5518950126/" title="I Know I Am A Selfish Fuck... by Adrienne Johnson SF, on Flickr"><img style="width: 433px; height: 290px;" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5178/5518950126_8a0f041a28.jpg" alt="I Know I Am A Selfish Fuck..." /></a><br /></div><br />This man yelled his way out of a much deserved ticket and then came back into the cafe to gloat over his victory.<br /><br />To the people of Japan, and Haiti and Libia... I apologize that the people of my country frequently show such little respect for life. Such little awareness of how lucky they are to live here. Such minuscule regard for even the most basic aspect of civilized behavior.Adrienne Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16658593098911314756noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8151259608195581483.post-62134497126149281732011-03-08T23:17:00.000-08:002011-03-08T23:45:15.475-08:00The ReturnBeen gone for a bit. Now I am back, having thought of a great many things. For now, though, just pictures.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/adriennejohnson/5511243428/" title="You Are Loved by Adrienne Johnson SF, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5217/5511243428_241e36885b.jpg" alt="You Are Loved" height="500" width="334" /></a><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/adriennejohnson/5510642861/" title="Not Ready For The Light by Adrienne Johnson SF, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5214/5510642861_69e86db291.jpg" alt="Not Ready For The Light" height="500" width="334" /></a><br /></div><br />I am not sure what I would do without my camera anymore. Taking pictures is really just a different way of having a conversation with myself.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/adriennejohnson/5511240442/" title="Window by Adrienne Johnson SF, on Flickr"><img style="width: 430px; height: 289px;" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5057/5511240442_9e880d719b.jpg" alt="Window" /></a></div><br />The light brings perspective, the colour demands attention, the table brings back memories. Why record what I see? Is this something I should let happen and fall away or is this a moment I want to remember? What is it that draws me to this moment in the first place? Why did I see what I saw and why does it speak to me?<br /><br />Today it was the light. It felt like a lifeline in a place where one was greatly needed. Beauty and warmth and life were pouring through the window and it was magic. Magic I could put into my camera to save for later.Adrienne Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16658593098911314756noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8151259608195581483.post-69748270784030958882011-02-09T21:05:00.000-08:002011-02-09T23:51:21.322-08:0039/365 (work in progress)<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/adriennejohnson/3130316710/" title="Good Light by Adrienne Johnson SF, on Flickr"><img style="width: 430px; height: 324px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3255/3130316710_c31cc40738.jpg" alt="Good Light" /></a><br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/adriennejohnson/3510853119/" title="Inside Out by Adrienne Johnson SF, on Flickr"><img style="width: 430px; height: 324px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3407/3510853119_1b2eeb0cf1.jpg" alt="Inside Out" /></a></div>Adrienne Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16658593098911314756noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8151259608195581483.post-39898586171877903402011-02-07T22:04:00.000-08:002011-02-07T22:17:56.551-08:0037/365#5- How Do I Want To Be Different Because I Lived In This World?<br /><br />It is suggested that I make a list of things I want to do while I am alive. I used to have a list of things I wanted to do- travel, go to medical school, learn to paint in France... Nowadays, I don't have much of a list. I am not sure what I want, with the exception of a few things<br /><br />1) Touch a glacier. A big glacier. Preferably I would like to kayak up to a great, huge glacier and touch it.<br /><br />2) I would like to travel in Italy by myself. Not the whole country, per se, but a few cities that I could spend some time in and be a part of for a brief time. I would like to be "Adrienne" in an Italian city, not "Cameron's Mom" or "James' Wife" in an Italian city.<br /><br />3) Go to Graduate School and actually know something about something. No stupid Business degree, though.<br /><br />I hope that by the time I die that I am a larger person than I am now. A grander person. Someone who has seen life in all its permutations and wants to see more. A person who is alive until I am dead.Adrienne Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16658593098911314756noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8151259608195581483.post-89100015771154236672011-02-05T20:46:00.000-08:002011-02-05T21:25:46.439-08:0035/365#5- How Do I Want The World To Be Different Because I Lived In It?<br /><br />The world is automatically different because I live in it than it would be if I had never existed. My children are my single greatest contribution to it. Beyond that, I don't know. Perhaps to live a life without regret, without contributing to the worsening of the world, in accord with my spirit and not at the whim of others. That isn't as simple as it sounds, by the way. <br /><br />So much of daily life adversely impacts people we never meet. The organic cotton t-shirt we bought on sale at the cute boutique in whatever chic part of town was still most likely made in a sweatshop by someone, possibly a child, who makes fifty cents a day in Jordan. The gas that powered the truck that brought my farm fresh radishes from the farm in Marin to the Ferry Building in SF is the same gas that is killing us all as we use it all up to get to work on the other side of nowhere. The laptop I use to write this post is about to die, and even though I will try to find an e-waste company to take it, fact is it will most likely end up poisoning the water supply of a village in Ghana.<br /><br />So I try to buy clothes second hand and reuse everything I can, recycle what I can not. I try to buy my food from people in California. I try not to drive. I try to make what I need, and to need less. I try to teach my children a different way, to understand that their choices impact the lives of people they will never see. I try to live a life of less impact and more conviction and joy.<br /><br />Then again, I still shop at Target and I have a Costco card.Adrienne Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16658593098911314756noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8151259608195581483.post-9590492504162698172011-02-04T13:55:00.000-08:002011-02-04T18:14:03.967-08:0034/365#4 Why do I like (what I like) more than I like (what I am supposed to like)?<br /><br />Oh boy. There are so many things I could put in those blanks. What comes to mind right this moment is-<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/adriennejohnson/5416908303/" title="Kitchen View of the Universal by Adrienne Johnson SF, on Flickr"><img style="width: 430px; height: 288px;" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5291/5416908303_17ca43f14d.jpg" alt="Kitchen View of the Universal" /></a><br /></div><br />I like the quiet moments where the world is still a beautiful and amazing place way more than I like your IPad.Adrienne Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16658593098911314756noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8151259608195581483.post-71318953110206853842011-02-03T18:18:00.000-08:002011-02-03T18:22:58.181-08:0033/365<div style="text-align: left;">No questions. Just statements.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe title="YouTube video player" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/SgjIgMdsEuk" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" width="425"></iframe><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Hers was the call that galvanized it all. Never sit when you can stand on your own feet, never accept degradation from anyone, never be less than you are because of the actions of others. Believe, stand, hold fast, breath.</div></div>Adrienne Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16658593098911314756noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8151259608195581483.post-35472770830739715242011-02-02T22:32:00.000-08:002011-02-02T22:46:05.687-08:0032/365#3- Why worry?<br /><br />While I can be counted on to be the Voice of Doom, I am not a worrier. At some point when I was very young I found out that worrying was not worth the energy, especially when there was a world full of worrisome crap swirling around me for most of my childhood. I knew that thinking about something endlessly would not make it happen.<br /><br />"Why feel defeated?" would be a better question for me. Feeling like I am a failure, defeated, whatever word you can put in there, is where I get tripped up. It isn't the failure that I find difficult, it is the feeling of failure I need to work on.<br /><br />Where do we pick this stuff up from?Adrienne Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16658593098911314756noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8151259608195581483.post-75039060674014642962011-02-01T12:09:00.000-08:002011-02-02T22:32:42.066-08:0031/365# 2- Is this what I want to be doing?<br /><br />This is a question I ask myself quite often, but not often enough. As a result of being somewhat rudderless and open to just about anything, I often find myself in situations where I need to ask myself if what I am doing is really what I want to be doing. Surprising thing is how often I find that the answer is no.<br /><br />It has been very frequent lately that I decide to join in on an activity or go out to do something only to find when I get there that I was a great deal happier when I was quietly on my own. Every time it comes as a shock to me that I am feeling uncomfortable and that solitude is the remedy. It wouldn't be a surprise if I was asking myself question #2 a little bit more frequently.Adrienne Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16658593098911314756noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8151259608195581483.post-40333865084434837342011-01-31T07:00:00.000-08:002011-01-31T07:00:13.942-08:0030/365I have run upon 20 <a href="http://www.oprah.com/spirit/Martha-Becks-20-Questions-That-Could-Change-Your-Life_1/2">questions</a> that I am supposed to ask myself. Sure. Why not? One a day for the next 20 days then.<br /><br />#1- What Questions Should I Be Asking Myself?<br /><br />I suppose it depends on the situation, but in this greater life sense I will have to think about it a bit. One thing is clear, I need to question my current path. I have become a drifter and seem to be floating in an eddy . Sometimes a little drifting gives you the rest you need to paddle back out into the current, but sometimes you get stuck in the mud of the shallows and you have to get out and push to get going again.<br /><br />Am I where I am supposed to be? Am I letting myself bob along the edge of the river so long I am becoming skittish about diving back in? Are some of the things I see coming things I am trying to hide from? When was the last time I really engaged the world around me in an energetic and truly enthusiastic manner?<br /><br />Those seem like enough questions for today. There will be others tomorrow. I will find myself doing something that will require new questions to be answered.Adrienne Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16658593098911314756noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8151259608195581483.post-72363688738410642202011-01-30T18:15:00.000-08:002011-01-30T18:31:26.652-08:0029/365There is much I have wanted to write about the past few days, but much has kept me away from the keyboard. Typing has become one of the daily tasks I have that has become quite painful, along with cleaning, food prep and bicycle riding. My hands, especially my index fingers have become so swollen and painful that I find myself rationing my activities to make sure that the most important things get done first. Personal writing does not rank very high on the list, no matter how much I love to do it. Making sure there is dinner on the table seems to be a more pressing concern.<br /><br />Moving forward in life I can see that this is going to become an increasingly more difficult dilemma to negotiate. The demands of family and the world around me are so loud and insistent and, ultimately, not possible to ignore. If I am committed to a life without driving then the lovely long rides through the country side or the crazy social rides through town that I have enjoyed for the last few years are not really possible. If I must answer a dozen emails in an hour I can not then write about my thoughts on fear today. The bathroom needs to be scrubbed which means the living room can not be vacuumed.<br /><br />With what appears to be increasing limitations on what my hands can do, how do I find space for the things I love? How do I keep from becoming bitter over what I must do?Adrienne Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16658593098911314756noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8151259608195581483.post-44285905144619778222011-01-27T23:11:00.000-08:002011-01-27T23:46:14.495-08:0026/365Sometimes there is nothing to say.Adrienne Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16658593098911314756noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8151259608195581483.post-2281455021876488352011-01-26T23:30:00.000-08:002011-01-26T23:37:26.741-08:0025/365 (PM thoughts)Here we are. It is 11:30 at night and I just rode 20+ miles up and down hills around San Francisco. I am tired and my mind is blissfully blank as it usually is after a good, hard ride. The stars were out, the air was clear. Life is good.Adrienne Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16658593098911314756noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8151259608195581483.post-29340152895040868282011-01-26T07:00:00.000-08:002011-01-26T07:00:06.817-08:0025/365When power leads man towards arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations.<br /><div style="overflow: hidden; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; border: medium none;"><br />When power narrows the area of man's concern, poetry reminds him of the richness and diversity of existence.<br /><br />When power corrupts, poetry cleanses.<br /><br />- John F. Kennedy<br /></div>Adrienne Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16658593098911314756noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8151259608195581483.post-77712515572525395892011-01-25T18:44:00.000-08:002011-01-25T18:46:59.040-08:0024/365Flu.<br />It drags me down.<br />My only friend, the couch.<br />There is no call from the<br />sunny world outside<br />that speaks as sweetly<br />as my lovely sofa<br />which promises<br />horizontal comfort and<br />healing naps.Adrienne Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16658593098911314756noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8151259608195581483.post-73826691231762241932011-01-23T21:39:00.000-08:002011-01-23T22:01:37.882-08:0022/365This day, last year. Turns out it was a really amazing day! After talking about not being nostalgic yesterday, I thought it might be fun to see if I experienced something I wanted to hold on to. This was just after some huge storms had shut down the Great Highway to car traffic. After 5 storms in a row and a couple more on the way we were stir crazy and needed to get out and have some fun. The air smelled clean and the light was amazing and all of San Francisco was out in the sand just happy to not be stuck inside.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/adriennejohnson/4298791095/" title="Beach Friends by Adrienne Johnson SF, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4072/4298791095_baf624abf6.jpg" alt="Beach Friends" height="500" width="375" /></a><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/adriennejohnson/4301358124/" title="On The Wall by Adrienne Johnson SF, on Flickr"><img style="width: 430px; height: 323px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2678/4301358124_1aab26bbcc.jpg" alt="On The Wall" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/adriennejohnson/4301356762/" title="Hands Up by Adrienne Johnson SF, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4008/4301356762_f6e4fa0290.jpg" alt="Hands Up" height="500" width="375" /></a><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/adriennejohnson/4299538828/" title="Bounderies by Adrienne Johnson SF, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4038/4299538828_90974e7742.jpg" alt="Bounderies" height="500" width="375" /></a><br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/adriennejohnson/4298788065/" title="Each Occupied In His Own Way by Adrienne Johnson SF, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2716/4298788065_dd9a50a43a.jpg" alt="Each Occupied In His Own Way" height="500" width="375" /></a></div><br />The rest of the set is <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/adriennejohnson/sets/72157623146607881/show/">here</a>.Adrienne Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16658593098911314756noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8151259608195581483.post-64432577136797481732011-01-22T21:26:00.000-08:002011-01-23T22:04:53.864-08:0022/365<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/adriennejohnson/5379597950/" title="Meet Up by Adrienne Johnson SF, on Flickr"><img style="width: 430px; height: 290px;" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5201/5379597950_7676f6b814.jpg" alt="Meet Up" /></a></div>Adrienne Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16658593098911314756noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8151259608195581483.post-15296329556700935072011-01-21T12:51:00.000-08:002011-01-21T19:02:45.802-08:0020/365I am not a sentimental person. Nostalgia is not something I spend much time indulging in. Not being stuck to things in the past is very freeing in many ways, but at the same time it is a bit like the Janis Joplin line goes- "freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose". Lack of nostalgia frequently means lack of memory. There are many things that I have not formed strong memories of that others would remember easily and vividly. Sometimes I find this a bit disturbing.<br /><br />A good friend of mine can remember the smallest details of people she knew 30 years ago. Another old friend remembers just about every bump or scratch she ever had. When they talk about these memories I listen in awe or bemusement, especially if they are remembering something I should be able to remember for myself. There are a good many times I end up feeling inadequate, I really should be able to remember more of my life and the people who have populated it. I can't help but feel there is some level of disrespect on my part for not remembering more and better, as though events and people I care about are not worthy of room in my mind, and by extension in my heart.<br /><br />Sometimes I try to fix things in my memory which is part of the reason I take so many pictures. The world chases artificial intelligence and I try to corral artificial memory.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/adriennejohnson/3110112280/" title="Adrienne and James by Adrienne Johnson SF, on Flickr"><img style="width: 430px; height: 323px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3059/3110112280_e81b008f9e.jpg" alt="Adrienne and James" /></a><br /></div><br />This is the night Barack Obama won the election. When I look at the picture I remember how cold it was out and how happy everyone was in the streets and waving to them from my bicycle as we rode through the Mission. I remember going to our friend Tom Valtin's house to see how his bid for District Supervisor was going. I can also tell by how these memories feel that were it not for the photograph of them that I would not remember most of it accept in a very vague way.<br /><br />Despite this, even when there is something I want to remember and can't (especially about the kids when they were small) I find memories burdensome. When I listen to the extensive memory catalog that some of the people I know have access to I experience an acute sense of the tremendous weight of it. I find myself wondering how they live with it? With that many sharp, detailed and obviously closely held memories, are they able to experience this moment on its own or only in comparison to the past? How much energy does it take to carry it all, and shift through it, and keep it cataloged and continue to add to the collection?Adrienne Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16658593098911314756noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8151259608195581483.post-55260271603169007342011-01-20T18:35:00.000-08:002011-01-20T18:36:28.977-08:0019/365<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/adriennejohnson/5373575993/" title="Hyperspace by Adrienne Johnson SF, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5010/5373575993_e4fdd3ecaa.jpg" alt="Hyperspace" height="500" width="334" /></a><br /></div>Adrienne Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16658593098911314756noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8151259608195581483.post-45167835447506360542011-01-19T21:36:00.000-08:002011-01-19T21:56:44.510-08:0018/365Classes started yesterday, but I have not been given a registration time as yet. Another semester of not being able to start what I want. In the past this would have been enough to kill my motivation, these days, though, I have enough going on that contributes to my future that I can be patient.<br /><br />I sometimes wonder about the things that seem like obstacles. Are they meant to stop us, or are they there to challenge us and what we think we want? If I am going to get back into school I am going to have to really want it. Every step of the way there will be mountains to climb, just getting in will be the first. It is better to know now how much I want to achieve this goal instead of getting half way through and realize it is not what I want and quit (something that has huge consequences in the future should I ever try again to study something).<br /><br />Those things that come easy always seem untrustworthy to me. There should be some struggle. We should have to work, we should have to fail, we should have to try again and again.<br /><br />Looks like I am right on track.Adrienne Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16658593098911314756noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8151259608195581483.post-8824468118538473852011-01-18T09:18:00.000-08:002011-02-09T23:51:48.954-08:0017/365 (work in progress)I walk a fine line<br />between myself<br />and<br />you<br />an edge on a razor<br />that cuts<br />as I<br />balance<br />and bleed<br />tea and sympathyAdrienne Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16658593098911314756noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8151259608195581483.post-80352000828501825952011-01-17T23:58:00.000-08:002011-01-18T00:04:12.670-08:0016/365I rode through the fog this evening. Lovely, thick, dense fog that hugs the trees and seeps through my hair. I love to walk through trees in this kind of fog, or sit out on the cliffs and listen for the fog horns. It is the kind of fog that acts like a time machine and lets me be in any place in time. A beautiful, enveloping fog that makes the Universe a more intimate place. This is the fog of my childhood, that I remember with such longing and tonight it is all around me.Adrienne Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16658593098911314756noreply@blogger.com2