Ripley's journal #1 (+ Prospect Waterfowl #2)

Yesterday was sort of a strange day for me. I had no online classes, which was fantastic, and I spent the morning and midday hours huddled in my bed half-asleep. I generally exist with a level of tension and discomfort that I become aware of as soon as I am allowed to relax, so it was strange when I got back into bed and felt really mellow and comfortable. My theory is I felt so good because I changed my bedding (I've been meaning to for like a week, and finally had an excuse to after I threw my room in disarray to let a cable guy access some cord and had to clean up). It lifted a major source of daily stress and guilt off my shoulders. I also had a lot of paranoia that my bed was dirty, therefore attracting bugs and making me unclean, etc., so that simple task was enough to relieve a lot of low-lying anxieties. For some reason, changing my sheets legitimately feels like a daunting task. It's really hard to get up and do.

In the afternoon I eventually shuffled out of bed and got ready for the "day," however that might be classified. I knew I wanted to get outside, and I was actually almost deterred when my sister told me it was really windy and cold when she went out with our dad. Wind chill is really interesting to me. I found this chart, because I had trouble interpreting what was windy vs calm in the weather report on my phone.

Today it was around 17mph winds (I don't remember which direction, who cares). According to the National Weather Service, this is only a "moderate breeze"?  I'm sure that the season must have something to do with how cold it feels, but my hair was definitely getting blown around when I stepped out...

I lived either way. I left with my camera in my bag, figuring I'd go get coffee on 7th avenue with my Starbucks point things and then walk over to the park. And I did! It seemed to actually warm up a little as I was outdoors, the sun being a bit stronger in the sky and the wind reducing to what I genuinely might call a "moderate breeze".

I sat on a bench on Prospect Park West for a pretty long while. The whole time I found myself wishing I brought a book, or my journal, or something to do with my hands. I usually do bring something along those lines, and either end up being to cold to utilize them or cursing myself for the dead weight in my bag. Of course I didn't in this instance when I actually felt capable of using my fingers. 

Prospect Park West is a really interesting area of Brooklyn for me. My initial reaction is sometimes disdain for the sheer wealth of Park Slope, especially the grand houses and private schools lining the opposite side of the street. On the other hand, it's a very significant location from my childhood. Walking alongside the park there, I feel like I am seeing through my eyes and experiences as a toddler. My parents used to bring me to the playground on 3rd St all the time, where I'd run and play and get ice cream afterwards from one of many carts on the sidewalk. I think my dad once told me I took my first steps there. Rediscovering the fondness I have for places like that has been a weird ongoing thing for me. Ever since 2009 or 2010, when my parents divorced and simultaneously got priced out of our apartment on Washington Ave, anything remotely in the Prospect Heights/ Park Slope area besides my elementary school felt unreachable and grossly rich.

I like Prospect Park in many ways though, and that includes its familiar side streets. On my bench I took some photos, of myself and of some details that I liked looking at around me. The ivy on the stony wall lining the edges of the park, I thought, was very pretty and nostalgic. 

I started thinking about something I think about a lot as I was taking photos. This pervading guilt, I guess, about being so interested in my own image. Like, isn't it more admirable to focus your camera on scenery, and environment, and maybe other people? I know what I look like, right, and there isn't much missing from the thousands of photos of myself that already exist. That's one side of my thought process.

The other is: why am I attaching value and honor to not wanting to take pictures of myself? What good does that do? I have autonomy, enough to go out in the late afternoon and sit on a public bench alone for no reason. I can work a camera fine, and it's a fun and rewarding activity for me. I don't understand what it is that makes me feel so conflicted about it. Self esteem issues, or embarrassment, or what?

I had this little discussion back and forth in my head a lot, and figured writing it out might help me settle it. The truth is, I like how I look sometimes and I like keeping archives of my life. I especially like using this camera, because I have always admired the beautiful images of me in my early childhood, before cell phone cameras. Now I feel like I can memorialize and preserve my current experiences and self on my own terms... and I have good quality photos that make me look pretty. I think the logical part of my brain has no issue with this, and I hope I can stride forward with that and let go of the shame I have around my pictures.

After my bench time I walked into the park and began to make my way down and around to the lakeside. It was very pretty in the low sunlight.

Sticky...

I am really gaining an appreciation for trees. I like how they look from afar, dark and knobby and contorted. And close up, the texture of the bark, the squirrel holes and nests and amber coated bugs! Thinking about it now, a fascination with trees and the things on and in them is another thing that makes me feel the way I did as a little kid. I liked to try and scale the ones with low branches that framed the edges of the Great Lawn in the park.

Soon I was at my favorite birdwatching spot, my little geese coast on the lake. It was very quiet there, being around 6 P.M. Only a few other people were standing around, and the birds were calm since nobody was throwing food for them to fight over.

There were a couple unusual ducks out mingling with the mallards today! One type I spotted was the Northern shovelers, hard to miss with their giant overbite sort of beaks. The other I didn't know straight off the top of my head, but having consulted my beautiful Waterbirds of the Northeast book, I learned that they were wood ducks. The one that surprised me the most was actually the female wood duck, which I had never seen before. Like with mallards and a lot of other birds, the male is much more distinctive and colorful, while the female is a neutral brown tone. I thought their large, circular eyes were very striking, though.

Miss wood duck

Shoveler of the north

Sir wood duck (more vibrant in person)!

There was some activity in the water, even on the calmest of days. Pockets of geese flocked and flew over together, which was beautiful. Someone's very cute dog was attentively watching the birds from a log on the far side of the lake. I also think that I saw some pretty gratuitous mallard sex.

I don't think there's much remarkable to say about the lake today, but I'm happy and comforted knowing I have this sweet little animal community within close reach. When I told my dad about the different duck species that were out today, he made me realize that now is the time when a lot of birds will be flying back North after winter. I think that's so exciting, knowing there are probably so many birds I never cared to identify in the past. I especially hope some new (to me) sorts of geese pop up in my area!

I walked home after a bit, and with that my outing was over. I'm so happy I made the choice to go out today and take my camera with. 

Pubbyyyy

Cute couple

Thanks for reading :o)