A Life In The Day, Of ‘One Of Those Days’.

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Today started as a normal, lovely, day. I had an eye appointment, seeing that I’m a blind mouse and desperately need new glasses, so things were running as smooth as icing, considering. I arrived…on time, big plus. The coffee-shop had my favorite coffee, double plus. The waiting room had Garden and Gun, the best magazine ever- which was enough to be a day maker. Fast-forward. In the office I waited, and finally the usual abrupt, hurried, doctor appeared and checked everything out. ‘You’re basically blind’, sweet/check. Perfect. Small talk occurred as if he actually gave a damn about my life- you know how it goes. I usually try to counteract this and have a somewhat genuine conversation with anyone I meet, so I really gave it a try this morning because things felt particularly pink and rosy. I was feeling good. (Abrupt halt music, cue!) I truly don’t know if it was the joke I told the Optometrist about my eyes being sensitive in elementary school and my wearing sunglasses that had me resembling somewhat of a alien-type figure on the playground and him NOT laughing at all, or the fact I suddenly realized I’m 23 and have no clue what my life resembles, besides wanting to save the world. God only knows, but I’m sure he knew I crashed like a fox driving a car. And no, I have no clue what that means. Come to think of it, speaking of foxes and crashes and nonsense, it’s almost comical the kaleidoscope of emotions you go through as a young woman in your 20s on any given day in 2013. Maybe you’ll relate: One moment everything is most pristinely represented by spectacular fireworks, kittens, and Michael Cera-ish humor, you’re about to be able to afford your, life! And then suddenly we’re, like, lighting black candles and drinking wine from the bottle, and barely able to scrap up enough cash to buy half of an apple. Extremes? Yes, but life blindside-hit me today on a dashing Mid May morning (should have gotten my glasses earlier, perhaps I could have dodged it? No? Okay) and it turned black-candle-lighting worthy. Then again, I mean, who am I kidding? Life always hits you about one-million-seven-hundred-and-fifty-BILLION times, and it happens apparently when you think things are finally starting to coast and sparkle. When you’re trying to make sense of what you want out of your life and from your life, I think it’s best to plan these things out. However, that’s just an ironic statement in itself. “Hey Life, let’s make a bargain okay? I’ll give you one day out of the month to pretend like you’re blindsiding me, sound good? Cool.”

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 So anyway, the usual hysteria began in my mind today; What has this world come to? Why don’t people see how amazing it could be if people were a little more, let’s make this easier for the general public…caring? What makes sense when everything seems not to? Why aren’t things a little more…I don’t know, fucking, bright? How can I actually contribute to make those things brighter? I have a Super Woman outfit! Will that do? Oh, and why does France seem to get to take naps and holidays, like, all the time? America, take notes. I want to be apart of something bigger than myself!….(blank stare at what this could be). Real talk though; You know, those questions that begin to overwhelm you when you least expect it and sneakily undermine your absolute determination to rise above it all.

When I got home I followed with my “best” attempt. I decided to resort to a classic, past phase of complete ‘childish wisdom’ in response to those questions that randomly swarmed me; I’ll cry and cry…and cry. Then, when I open my eyes, the world will definitely have infinite amounts of lollipops and rainbows, right? Or at least perhaps, bright and beautiful pastel buildings, with clear oceans, and people smiling for absolutely no other reason than loving their life and other’s, too? Well, needless to say, my ‘childish wisdom’ let me down, but hey, it was worth the try. I sat for a moment in mascara-globbed silence to regroup. I regrouped right down to the only choice I had: Picked my 23 year old, lost-kind of-sort of, ass up, and said the following; “You’re okay, your life is a beautiful gift, and you’ll make it spectacular, for yourself, and everyone around you- if it’s the last thing you do”. So cheers, ladies (and my gents), even when life is randomly overwhelming you- remember we have to get back up and turn on the light for the world to be a little brighter. My lesson to myself, and you, today. So hug the world…(or your dog, like I did) and smile! We got this loves. xoxo

Oh, and a little inspiration on how to turn you’re day around, as I did;

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 All in all, lessons learned, day past, and it was monumental in a small, but surprisingly lovely, way.

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Monday Morning Madness: Would You Keep A Body Photography Diary?

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…As a portrait of yourself as a young, 20something, woman? To remember who she was all those years later?…

Yesterday evening I got on this whole feminist kick, which I tend to do a lot. I’m a woman, I FUCKING rock, kind of ordeal.  I was watching videos on modern feminism (which I love, makes ya’ think), looking at this new book that seems very interesting on where our generation is heading, and basically just thinking about how I am a woman in my 20s at this very moment. Of course, these thoughts kind of dwelled into my restlessness last night and I started to think how this part of my life will probably one day feel as if it was lived in a complete flash. I mean, keep aside that every single day I ask myself, “What the hell are you doing with your life, Laura White?”, but then I always end up thinking- well that’s how I know I’m in my 20s. It was actually quite funny because I then had this non-existent nostalgia for something that wasn’t really even gone quite yet. That weird feeling like I can already feel myself missing, well, myself. To be…free, and lost, and completely crazy at times. To be…in the most miserable of miserable, and mind-blowingly happy, places of my life- all at fucking once.  It’s something I think I’ll always cherish and want to remember. My next question seemed to just kind of float around as I was laying there, ‘how can I remember myself…at this very, fragile, stage?’

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Then it came to me, why not a yearly-photograph in the form of a body diary? No, I’m not talking about recording the things you hate about yourself, the insecurities, the food you ate that day, slowly morphing into something you hope resembles page 6 in Victoria’s Secret. None of that. Why not take one photograph every year that made you remember the strong, independent, beautiful, and lovely women you are slowly, but surely, becoming? Or, hell, already are. I think it would be nice to keep something like that around, as women, in a raw state, to remember ourselves by in such impressionable times. The things we were doing each year, whether we were off-the-wall lost or completely and pristinely together in all forms. To have something you could take with you to capture the interesting moments of being a woman, right now. I think it would be a very freeing ‘self-adventure.’

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Of course the idea of keeping this ‘Body Diary’ would be completely up to us. Whether we bare-it-all, or take a picture of our eyes, it would definitely have a frame of its’ own judgement. It would be cool to have a seriously talented photographer friend somewhere around your life, but the point is just keep the moment here. Maybe the apartment you dwelled in that felt like your first true ‘home’ by yourself…the breakfast you usually ate, every morning before the silly job you had. I think it would be nice to go to a place that was particularly important to us that year and get a photo- or a certain book that felt life-changing at the time. It would all be within a realm of growing and being able to look back on each of these years when we are older. Even as a ‘one-day’ mom, I think it would be super cool to be able to show your daughter a look back on your life so they can see how fearless you were, and they will be too. Because we’re woman, and we’re amazing.

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