Tag Archives: ashley

rubber ring

the passing of time and all of its sickening crimes is making me sad again

(but don’t forget the songs that made you cry and the songs that saved your life)

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heritage

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So, I’m thinking about my ancestors this week, too.  Or maybe my lack thereof.  That’s my Grandpa Mitchell.  I’ve been wanting to add him into my deck since the beginning.  I thought of him during Foundations, and during Sage, but I never could figure out just what I wanted to say about him.  I’ll try.

Here are a few things I inherited from my grandfather:  my weird sense of humor, my love of photography, the way I blink way too much–deep blinks where I squint my whole face, and also the ability to rock a flannel shirt and bowler hat.  I never see much of myself in my Missouri family, perhaps because they are so close, but the other half of my family, my dad’s side, full of quirky, intelligent New Englanders, I totally get it.  But where did it all come from?

Here are a few things I know about my grandpa:  He was born in Canada to a 16 year old girl and then adopted by an American family in New Hampshire.  When he was 16, he crossed the border on his Indian motorcycle and went to track his birth mother down.  He found her, but she wouldn’t even come to the door.  I’ve heard he threw quite a fit, but she never spoke to him.  So, he went back home without any answers.  He was always curious about his heritage.  I don’t know if you can tell from the blurry photo but he looked Native American, as do his children.  About ten years ago, he had his DNA tested, hoping to dig up more answers, but the results were “inconclusive, with some Asian markers”.

He passed away last year without ever really getting those answers he was searching for.  So, it’s weird.  He must have wondered where he got his blinky eyes and weird sense of humor and ridiculous fashion sense, but he never knew.  But I look at these photos of him and at least I know where I got mine.  And I guess that’ll have to be enough for me.

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This has been in my head all week.

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Wild(e)

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Morality is overrated.

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Real Live Flesh

This.  The music industry needs more of this.  The world needs more of this.

Also, here is some proof of how much of a tUnE-yArDs dork I truly am (that’s Merrill on the top, me on the bottom):

tune-yards-merrill-garbus-4ad tyself

On a side note, I’ve been wanting to do a whole self-portrait series of me as other people, but I haven’t gotten around to it yet.  Next in line was me, Robert Mapplethorpe, and a pair of devil horns.  It’ll happen one of these days.

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Girl Type Thing

girltype

I’ve been thinking a lot this week about those quizzes they put in teen magazines:  “What Type of [ girlfriend, flirt, kisser, whatever] Are You?”  Like everyone can be so neatly categorized into five types.  And why do we need those labels, anyway?  Even as adults, we still seek them out, looking for kindreds.  Yes, I’m artsy.  Yes, I’m an introvert.  I’m a vegetarian, but not a vegan.  I say I’m a nerd, but I’ve never seen Star Wars.  I like Manic Pixie Dream Girls, but really I’m way too responsible to be one of those.  And, speaking of responsible, am I an adult?  At what point do I need to stop reading YA and start wearing clothes from somewhere other than the Junior’s section?

It’s this kind of thinking that really limits us.  What Type of Girl Am I?  None of the above.

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This Playlist and a Closet Full of Dresses

…are pretty much the only girly things about me.

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