If my eyes are windows to my soul, then the front of my refrigerator is a maarmie's Soul for Dummies book - in large print.
Some people collect Star Wars figurines. Others collect vintage stamps or rare coins or those horrendous little porcelain Precious Moments tchochkies, all of which could one day actually be worth a wad of cash. I collect postcards and refrigerator magnets.
I have an extensive collection of postcards from museums, restaurants and book stores. My friends have learned that a book of postcards given to me as a gift from their vacations to fascinating foreign lands will (almost) make up for the fact that they didn't invite me. I also pick up several books of postcards and one or two magnets as souvenirs from my own domestic trips.
This post is largely my first big effort to liven things up around here using photographs. My first inclination is to show off the most important part of my collection, postcards and magnets stuck to one of my favorite things in my apartment to look in and at - besides, of course, the screen of my computer thanks to the installation of cable internet this morning by a former registered socialist from California. Turns out, he's just not a free market kinda guy.
My fridge is where my favorite postcards - reflections of my personality and spirit - have found their place. And, duh! Where else would a refrigerator magnet hang out?
First, an overview. Notice how the postcards and magnets are artfully arranged.
Now for a closer view. Notice my handy camera work? Whatever you do, don't pay attention to the glare.
Ok. Come a little closer. First up, my dead mom. Well, my dead mom is in a cannister somewhere, but here are a couple of images of her. On the left is a portrait of my birth mother when she was just a wee lass. On the right is a photo of her taken about five years before she died. My brother made copies of these photographs to hand out at her funeral in 2004.
Let's move on to one of my favorite corners of the fridge. As a volunteer with NOW NYC, I worked on a street harassment campaign that involved handing out fliers on the streets of New York to inform men and women alike about the huge harassment problem New York has on its streets and in its subways. In upcoming posts, I'm sure I'll share my own private daily ways of coping with and defending against this plague and the maggots who plagued me, but, for now, I'll just say that - per my idea - the cover of the flier said "Nice ass, baby." I sure offended a lot of women that day.
Hateful me (from a gift I gave a boyfriend one Valentine's Day. On the back of it, I glued a typed copy of a love poem by Paul Eluard)
My idealistic and utterly ridiculous goal for myself and all of humankind