Photography Journey: Part 2

2011: Boston. Shadows were intriguing!

I was very lazy and had no idea what a photography business entailed when I so proudly (and stupidly) announced I was going to run my own photography business. Sure, I had some photo shoots...a couple of them even paid! But they weren't polished, they were for "fun" and I made no effort to build my business. I never networked, I never bought studio equipment or went out looking for work...I just assumed it'd come to me. And the more I waited, doing nothing, the more nothing happened. I fooled myself thinking that shooting my friends was "building up my porfolio" and would help bring in business. I think if I could go back, I'd pat myself on the head.

It was a friend of mine who changed my mind. He was always talking to me about school, pushing and encouraging me to go. And in the end, I did decide to go, all because of the advice of this friend. Through his eyes, I realized that I wasn't getting anywhere and school would help me get somewhere. Even if it didn't help me with the photography, it'd be something to do while waiting for my business to get up and running. Plus, if I wanted my own business, I should probably know a little more about the business side of things.

I remember the day I told my parents I was going...and I remember asking my dad, "What do you think about me going?" I can't remember his exact reply but he told me I had his support but that he and mom were worried that school would change me. I assured him quite confidently that it wouldn't. What is it about being 20 and being so sure of the world?

2011: Oh selfies. And oh, what lighting. 

That same morning, as I was talking of school plans, my friend...the same one who encouraged me to go to school...died. I've talked about my friend's death on here before, hinting at the depression that I struggled with. And I only bring it up again because of the impact it had when I began school and because it was partially because of this friend that I am where I am today, that I am who I am today. 

2011: "Twins" assignment for class. 

The day I went into school to meet with an adviser and set up classes is very memorable for me. After a little mix-up about who was supposed to sit down with me, I finally got a meeting with the man who would become my photography professor. I'd already decided that if I were going to school then I wouldn't leave without a degree, even if that meant I had to major in Business since there was no degree in Photography. After discussing things, however, I discovered that the school was just beginning to offer a photography program where one could earn an Associates degree in photography, rather than just a certificate. Eagerly, I signed up for the first 5 classes listed. "Intro to Mass Media", "English 101", Math, Intro to Photography, and "Designing Business Graphics".

It was a hell of a semester. I had no idea what I was getting into. 5 classes was overwhelming and a heavy load on top of everything in my life. I came home from my first day of classes, called up a friend and burst into tears, bawling that I just couldn't do it. It was the attitude I had all semester long, under the pressure, I was just a basket case. Half-way through the semester, I remember feeling like I was a complete failure and always tired...school, depression...it was hard. My parents suggested perhaps I should drop out and go back to school at a later time. I refused, unable to bear the idea of going back to school and going through it all again. I plugged on and felt relief when the semester was over. In a way, my first semester was the most difficult but I survived.

I just didn't realize how long and hard the rest of school would be, as well as fun and memorable. 

Photography Journey: Part 1

2008

I remember the day I got into photography...I was 18, bored, and it was a rainy day. I picked up my mom's little Canon point&shoot camera and walked around the house with it. I just looked for anything "interesting" (I seriously question my idea of interesting!) and shot anything and everything.
I shot a photo of one of the little girls holding...a bouncy ball. Yeah. A pink and white stripedy bouncy ball. It was as lame as it sounds. My composition was all about dead-centering everything and never knowing when to zoom in or NOT to zoom in!, lighting was provided by on-camera flash (aaaah the red eye days!), and I had no idea what the hell exposure, white balance, ISO, and all that "mumbo-jumbo" meant! Auto was my tool. Heaven forbid!  But I loved it. So much that I bought my beloved Booth, a Canon Rebel, who will be turning 6 in April.

2008: Raindrops didn't need to be in focus: artsy!

As before, I shot on auto, no idea what I was doing, but I was happy doing it. Raindrops on leaves was an especial favorite. Doesn't matter if they were in focus or not...blurry just meant artsy, right? (Hahahahahahahaha).

I decided I wanted to take photography lessons, because I finally discovered that my Canon Rebel did not only have an Auto function but, believe it or not!, it also had a manual function where some interesting words like exposure and lighting and f-stop were a true photographer's second language. It was like being in a club and I wanted to be in that club. I looked into taking private lessons from a photographer, even emailing him about what he charged and how such a lesson would occur. The parents vetoed my taking lessons alone with a guy, so I turned to the internet. I managed to find a photography course and paid $90 for the class. 

2009: Rule of Thirds? I really wasn't as clever as I thought.

I think I completed...3? lessons worth before I discovered how rubbish it all was. So I went back to just snapping photos as I liked em. I even discovered the "non-flash" function and how it sometimes worked better than flash! Oh and placing the subject of my photo in other "sections" of the photo instead of dead-center? I thought I was so clever and unique to compose differently.

As I grew older, I realized that reality was drawing nearer and the fact that I would have to eventually support myself was finally dawning. Marriage wasn't happening any time soon...so what better solution than to start my own photography business??

2010: I realized I loved photography!

My first real photography "gig" was my older brother's engagement photos. With my mom as a "partner", I shot photos of my brother and his fiancee in the lovely town of Amherst. I shot and shot, taking hundreds of photos (did I mention, I just snapped and snapped and snapped without stopping? It seemed much more professional to me if you could hear the shutter repeatedly clicking!), and the more I clicked, the more excited I became. I LOVED shooting. I loved the interaction, the posing, the capturing of so many pretty photos. This shoot was the first time I realized that photography was definitely what I wanted to pursue in my life. It was the first time I felt passion, the first time I loved doing something.

After that, I tried to fill my days with photo shoots, a mixture of senior portraits and engagement photos amongst my friends and family. I told everyone I was going to start my own business. I was warned that in order to succeed, I should probably go to school, but laughed and shook my naive little head. Why go to school when I could just start a business on my own? Why spend all that money and leave my comfort zone to just take some stupid classes? I thought I knew everything at 20. 

2010: I thought I knew everything.

Coffee

Coffee

It deserves its own blogpost, don't you think?

I have a love-hate, bitter-sweet, half-n-half (hahaha) relationship with coffee. It gives me some very high highs and some very low lows. It's been known to make me the most loving, most friendly, most awesome person on the planet. And it's been known to make the most annoying, the most loud, the most dead person on the planet. It gives me energy or it gives me a migraine. I never quite know how my body is going to react to the caffeine. Is it worth the risk? Probably not, but it tastes so damn good.

Can we talk about the amazing coffee? My favorites? I'm not afraid to admit that I'm a huge Dunkin Donuts fan (what can I say? you can't drive 5 min. without running into one here, whereas you have to go into the cities to search for a Starbucks!)...their Pumpkin Spice lattes are *amazing*. All those cracks about girls going berserk in the fall for the pumpkin spice lattes? Well, I'm that cliche. I could drink them all year round.

Now that winter has set in, however, the peppermint mocha coffees (hot, preferably, though iced is not insane for a New Englander in the middle of the winter...it tastes amazing either way) are fabulicious.

Does this mean I have the $$ to blow every day at DD? Sadly, it doesn't. So I have to resign myself to making a cup at home. I like to brew a cup of DD's myself but lately I've been guzzling the wondrous delights of a Dark Chocolate blend that a friend sent me. Sadly, I can't remember what brand it is, but normally I find that the funky flavors aren't as good when you make them at home. This time was an exception. It is delicious!

My bestie Genny occasionally runs out to grab me a coffee and knows exactly how I love it. As she puts it, "Lotsa cream and VERY sugary." Such a girl. And it may seem like the cliche thing to be the photographer that walks around with her camera in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other, but that's okay. I like being the cliche. :) There's a reason why I'm called CoffeeGirl.

Here's to many more years of a rocky relationship with coffee!

Kindness

It is so easy to get captured in my own head and to believe that my pain is all that matters. My tears, my fears, my hurts...what you feel is what grabs your attention. In those moments of feeling lost and alone it is easy to believe that there is no pain greater than your own.

As an INFJ, it is very easy for me to see others' pain and to empathize, but even I sometimes put my pain first. Having been raised with the mindset that humbling means putting others first, I struggled to ever care for myself. Then, one day, I accepted that it was okay, it was even good to put myself first.

Your own pain and tears and fears are real. They matter. How I feel matters. Sometimes, I have to put myself first because not to do so would mean breaking down, falling to pieces, not functioning. Our bodies and our minds, our physical and spiritual beings need the attention and time to recover. I say this because I do not want you to feel that I am promoting NEVER putting yourself first. Because I'm not.

However. What I've discovered in this journey of self-healing and self-discovery and allowing myself to grow and mend, is that it is so easy to put yourself first all the time. To avoid things that cause you discomfort, even things that could help others.

I have realized that it is very easy to be kind only to yourself and redirect the annoyance and the grievances you once would push on yourself on to others.

Learning to love yourself, being kind, self-healing...it's not about pointing the hatred and the annoyance and the drive of perfectionism onto others. It's about disposing of these feelings altogether so that you are not filling your life with them or someone else's life.

It is easy to get into the habit of thinking, "I've had greater pain than she has and if I can pick myself back up, then she can too!" When you direct kindness inward, don't forget to direct it outward too. Clean out the hate, the vile feelings, but don't just push them out into the world. Throw them away.

It is hard to choose to be kind sometimes: to yourself and to others. What I don't always realize is that kindness is a choice. I don't want to lose the empathy I have as an INFJ, I don't want to lose my characteristic of always rooting and fighting for the underdog, I don't want to lose my sensitivity to others' pain and my urge to help those in need, no matter how great or small their need is. I also do not want to lose the art of being kind to myself, stop my practice of learning to forgive or accept myself. It is a hard balance to achieve. I want to blow out all my anger and self-hatred into a place where it cannot hurt, instead of redirecting it from myself to others.

I want to choose to be kind. Sometimes this means putting others before myself...sometimes all it means is being patient, even when I feel like people should suck it up. Sometimes, it means sucking it up myself. Whatever I do, wherever I go, whomever I become...above all, I want to be kind, the kind of kindness that God instilled in my personality. It's a choice, kindness is...so 2014, let's be kind: both to myself and everyone.

Words

In the film The Book Thief Max, a Jew in hiding, asks Leisl, his protector, to describe the day to him. She responds with a cliche answer and he corrects her...

If your eyes could speak, what would they say...

It's the best advice I believe every writer should apply to their writing. One of my greatest struggles with my novels is to capture the story in a way that shows my readers how I've envisioned it. I have a vivid imagination and see my stories as if they were films inside my mind. It is incredibly easy for me to get into the rut of thinking that people should just envision the same film as I've seen it in my own mind. Weirdly enough, it doesn't always work that way with just roughly describing the story. It takes a unique approach of writing to capture each scene as I've seen it unfold.

If my eyes could speak, what would they say? They'd speak the depth and hues of colors, the warmth and comfort of relationships, the pointed and prickly way words can stick on a person...

This year's inspiration for my novels is simple...to write what my eyes say.

Books

It's amazing how overwhelmed I feel with the variety of things I could do in my spare time, now that the semester is over.

Should I try a new recipe? Should I deep-clean my room? Sort my books? Watch a movie? Knit? Read?
I actually have the time to read!

As always, I have an enormous stack to read, too. So what is there in my stack to read? Quite a bit. The photo above is merely one of the stacks I have lined up. I was very tempted to try the whole Project 52, where you read a book per week throughout the year. However, I know that realistically it's impossible for me to read a book in a week what with everything else I want to accomplish and do this year. Instead, I'm going to just be lax where reading is concerned and make a point of trying to read as often as I can.

So what exactly do I have coming up? A lot of Young Adult novels, apparently. I never quite realize how often I frequent the Young Adult section at the library until I stack all the books together at home and the red YA stickers stick out.

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone by J.K. Rowling is a re-read. It is a well-written, interesting children's book. And I just felt like re-reading it. That's my excuse. ;)

I Thought It Was Just Me (But It Isn't) by Brene Brown was a bday gift and recommendation from my older sister. The only piece of non-fiction in my pile, currently, it is *fascinating* and thought-provoking. A book about how "We spend too much precious time and energy managing perception and creating carefully edited versions of ourselves to show to the world..." A book abut how imperfections are okay, no one is perfect, and being vulnerable is not a weakness. Really good stuff here, people!

Demonglass - by Rachel Hawkins is the 2nd in the Hex Hall series. Tale of a girl, who thought she was a witch when she was sent to Hex Hall, a reform school for witches, fairies, werewolves, and other mythical creatures. There she discovers she's in fact a demon and her crush is working for a group set out to wipe out all of her kind. Interesting yet not quite as well-written as I'd like. A bit too predictable, Sophie feels like a bit of a whiner to me. ;)

Rose Under Fire by Elizabeth Wein is the sequel to Code Name Verity. I am in awe of Elizabeth Wein's writing style with its depth and intrigue. I am excited to crack this book open and it will balance nicely amongst all the fluff I have in this stack without feeling like a chore.

A Brief History of Montmaray by Michelle Cooper is the first book in a series. In journal format, we discover the world of Sophie, member of the royal family on the tiny island of Montmaray just before the outbreak of WWII. I do love a good journal-format novel and Sophie is relateable while her little sister is hilarious and her cousin is fascinating.

Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins is yet another re-read. Seeing the film Catching Fire called for a re-read of the entire series. I feel like every time I read this series, I learn something new and I relate so much more to Katniss.

Etiquette and Espionage by Gail Carriger was a recommendation from my co-worker, the Young Adult librarian at work. Apparently it is a novel about a teen girl sent to a very unusual finishing school.

The 5th Wave by Rick Yancey was a recommendation from a patron, a mom who has pretty good taste in novels. I'll admit I groaned a little bit when the library added this to their collection...there has been no end of dystopian and post-apocalyptic young adult novels since The Hunger Games, but I've become more willing to try this particular one since it was recommended by this particular patron. Here's hoping to some good reading success!

What about you, blog followers? What have you been reading and what do you recommend?

I'm Not a Sad Story

I know these will all be stories someday. And our pictures will become old photographs. We'll become somebody's Mom or Dad. But right now these moments are not stories. This is happening...I can see it. This one moment when you know you're not a sad story. You are alive, and you stand up and see the lights on the buildings and everything that makes you wonder. 

- The Perks of Being a Wallflower 

I've had moments in my life where I feel sorry for myself, feeling lost and alone and wondering why I'm always a victim. Is it because I choose to be a victim? Is it because I was a victim and it's hard to shake that mentality off?

I've gone through a lot in my life. I'm not special or especially unique in that I'm alone in pain. I have baggage like everyone else, prying my fingers one by one off the handles.

I flip through the pages of my journals from over the years. The words: lost, alone, scared, exhausted, worthless, fear...sad stand out from the pages. If I get too close to the pages, all I can see is the struggles and I can fool myself into thinking that my life is a sad story.

If I step back from the pages, remove my magnifying glass perception and see the journals stacked, one on top of each other as tall as a tower, and examine them as a whole, I see a live story.

My story isn't sad. It holds sad moments, a lot of sad moments, but that's a page or two or a hundred in a complete story. If I step forward again, examining the separate pages of my journals, this time the word: full, joy, peace, forgiveness, love, brave, strength...happy also grace the pages.

I've stood in front of these books, filled with moments and I wonder at them. These moments are happening, they are live and real. When I touch these journals, I touch moments...the feeling of emotions flowing through me, the tears and the laughter, and I stand in wonder of my story.

This one moment when you realize you're not a sad story. You are alive.