Seen on Whenever (and a Little Quality Control)

Last time I blogged, I posted a picture of my half-eaten dinner.  It’s gross.

So why did I do it?  Clearly the beauty of a personal blog is that you are sole content editor.  You chose the subject matter, when to post it, whether to allow comments on it (By the way, it would have been fine to tell me my picture was disgusting.  It was quite polite of you not to mention it).  So why?  In a word: obligation.  The worst kind of obligation, in fact; Self-imposed Obligation.  It has an alias: Perfectionism.

I had this idea to post a picture once a week on Saturdays.  This Seen on Saturday was my way of blogging more than once a week without committing to two longer form posts.  It worked for a while.  Then it started to slip into Seen on Sunday.  Then it totally devolved into “It’s 9:00 on Sunday and I haven’t posted anything.  Hey look, there’s my half-eaten steak and mashed potatoes – perfect!”  And gross.

The crazy thing is I saw lots of great things on Saturday.  The people I usually see at the gym around 5:30am gathered around a table for brunch at the civilized hour of 9:00am.  The Christmas parade.  Pretty jewelry.  My married into family around a birthday table.  A holiday party full of wine and laughter.  It’s just that I never remember to take pictures.  I am in awe of folks who can and do.  The ones who can capture just the right moment, expression or gleam of the eye.

It’s not that I don’t see those moments.  It’s just that I’m more likely to fish around  in my purse for the small writer’s notebook I always carry.  Film is not my medium and therefore the worst thing to impose some crazy non-necessary deadline on.  So I’m changing it.  Because (ah ha!) I can.  Once a week, when I see something (other than my masticated food) I will take a picture and post it here when I have a moment.

Welcome to one small step to keeping my inner perfectionist in check.  Welcome to Seen This Week!

kitten

A couple times a week this little guy greets me on my walk to work.  I love cats, but am allergic to them.  So he’s my cat.  I haven’t named him yet, but trust that I will.

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