Poetic fog and quotes

I keep saving a lot of photos on the computer, thinking I want to show them off on the blog, but often I don't get around to edit them and after a while it just feels misplaced. For example showing summer photos in September. I have said I'm going to do three "remember summer" posts this autumn because there are a few things I really wish I had time to write about at the time.

Right now it's a batch of photos I took in the last days of September that bugs me. It was one of those foggy days you get when a cold and chilly weather suddenly changes and you know that tomorrow it will all be so different, sunny and warm. Fog adds such a mysterious veil to the landscape and softens everything. I know some of the photos I took look good on the camera display, but not in full size. Still, I really hope there are some photos good enough to publish here. So far I've only edited a couple of them, as you can see here. Not the best, but not the worst either.

That photo inspired me to do this (as I'd already softened the focus on that one, cheating a little, but not so much it altered the original mood of the photo):

The quote is from Hamlet (there is a small, almost invisible credit to Shakespeare in the pic). I found it on this lampwork bead, which I more or less fell in love with (the front, not the back, sorry).

It was kind of along the same way as another quote I've been contemplating for some time now:

Without going in too much on my personal life and why I've spent the last two years dreading my 30th birthday (which is just a little more than a week away by now), I can say this quote -- which I stumbled upon my chance in a magazine -- really struck a cord with me. Must admit to not knowing who Joseph Campbell is, but at least he has said some good things it seems.

See, since I began studying and choosing what I wanted to learn more about, I've not had a big plan about how I wanted my future to turn out, but I knew I wanted to work with the issues I felt so passionate about: environment and planning (samhällsplanering). Since the day I stepped out of the university world into the real world, the adult world, I haven't gotten a chance to do so. That hurts me, makes me feel so sad. One of the reasons I don't sell my jewellery is actually related to this in a weird way. I have this idealist in me that want to dedicate my life to the big things, to create a sustainable development, and I don't want to be side tracked by less important things. I think I feared that by focusing on my beading and putting my energy into making that my business (that's one of the things I've studied, by the way, business administration) I would turn my back to the one thing I really want to work with. Since I don't seem to be able to get a job in the field, I have to rethink my whole purpose in life. Or at least that's how it feels. I'm at a turning point. 30 years old without a job, lover, own home or money (but a nice big loan after six years at uni). That sucks. And I have to do something because it can't go on like this. It's just that I feel like I have to give up a dream, an education -- a part of me. I know there will be other dreams if I just let them in, but there are so many things I hate to let go of. I don't want that to be my only way of getting out of the deep, black hole I'm in. But I have to do something. I've slowly begun to -- if not accept it so at least realise it might be what I have to do. Because my life can't continue as it's done these last years. I wish you could just pause life, make everything just stand still and stop time. To give me a moment to really think about what I want and must do without being stressed by the clocking ticking and minutes, days, years of my life just floating by and be gone, never coming back again but lost forever. And it was at that point I saw that quote.