I've been reading the minor prophets lately. Some of them speak to me more than others, mainly because they relate to the situation(s) I'm in or have been in. Particularly Hosea recently, and now Habakkuk.

These are my verbatim personal notes after reading, no references, no great scholarly comments. I recommend reading it for yourself: just 3 short chapters.

Habakkuk’s cry is the same as throughout the ages: why does evil seem to be winning? Injustice and violence are everywhere. The wicked prevail against the righteous and they are helpless. Habakkuk cries out to God, but God seems to be doing nothing.

This is a topic I've been thinking about a lot lately, mainly triggered by a couple of specific situations. Friendship with the opposite sex is an area that everybody, single or not, has to navigate to some degree.

I'm a very friendly person. I genuinely love people. I also tend to get along best with guys. Growing up, I was a tomboy. I played with the boys and took part in all their sports and activites. (OK, maybe not quite all. Things like peeing messages in the snow, I skipped.)

Longer-term readers will remember Gail, my former landlady, from the previous version of this blog.

After I moved out of Gail's place, I promised her I'd come back and take her out for Indian food. I left a note with my phone number, and told her to call anytime. That was November. I called her at Thanksgiving to invite her to join me with some friends, if she had nowhere to go; she thanked me and explained that she had an invitation, but as holidays were "trigger times" for her, she didn't know if she'd be able to go or would have to be put in the psychiatric hospital.

When you're out in public and you observe a potentially dangerous/bad situation, what do you do? Do you interfere? Or do you pretend you didn't notice and keep going, along with the majority of people?

Scenario 1

A crowded subway car. I'm standing by the door, as usual. A middle-aged man and woman are inches away from me. The man has his face in the woman's. With steely eyes and jaw clenched tight with hate, he's muttering horrible things at her, his eyes locked on hers. This monologue goes on for a minute or so, her face grim, emotionless and unresponding. I decide to interfere. I say, "Is everything ok?"

I've come to the conclusion that I am obsessed with photography. That will perhaps come as no surprise to anybody who knows me, but what is obvious to others is sometimes not so obvious to us.

Photographers will identify with what I'm about to say.

I have been inordinately disorganized and procrastinatory lately. One lesson that freelancing has slammed home, if I didn't know it before, is that I am inordinately disorganized and that I procrastinate abominably.