Just random pictures taken in the woods behind my in-law’s house. They’re a few months old. Color is edited, blur/etc was done with camera. I’m a fan of obscure photography.
I’ve always been fascinated with photography. It is one of my passions, right up there with writing. When it comes to a career, I would prefer it over almost anything else. The freedom to traverse the globe and snap photos would appeal to anyone, I’m sure, but for me… I’m just obsessed with history, with culture, and with nature in general. To capture it in a way where the photo tells its own story, without the addition to words? That’s mastery. I’d love to be a part of something like that, to be able to create words with pictures, to spur emotions, to bring back a time and memories long forgotten.
Needless to say, the first thing on my “unnecessarily expensive things to buy when able” is a DSLR camera. I favor the canon line over Nikon, it’s just personal preference, both are very amazing companies that put out some amazing DSLR cameras.
Key West brings out the photographer within. I love just wandering the keys and taking pictures. If I had a better camera, I’d be a bit more risky with my shots. I got some amazing ones last year, with my grandfather’s Canon Rebel EOS. I’m one of those people who will stop a stranger on the street and ask if I can take a photo of them.
It’s become a combined joy for my husband and I. We love running around and just taking pictures. We take the camera with us everywhere now. It has several scratches from being carried around in my purse or his pocket. Key West is what really brought it all to a steady boil. We spent as much time enjoying the island as we did taking pictures of it!
On the way home, I started challenging myself with more difficult pictures. Husband would point out things, like airplanes landing in Miami or taking off. Distant, faint dots on the horizon, but with our camera? They took shape and form. I managed to not only zoom in enough to read the side of the airplane, but also got it stabilized enough for it to not be blurry. Go me!
Unfortunately, there seems to be a dead pixel in the camera already, sigh.
Still, it’s shaped up to be a pretty good camera. Not comparative to a DSLR, but unfortunately, that isn’t in the books. Soon, though. Very soon, I’m hoping. It will be a one-time purchase, as they tend to last a good while. My grandfather’s is several years old and still amazing. I bought him a separate flash for it as a Christmas present, which he loved!
How awesome would it be if we could all persue our dream jobs? I could be traveling the world right now, taking pictures and getting paid for it. Instead of being the sheltered person I am now, I could be worldly, outgoing, and happy. Unfortunately, its not to be. Still, it’s fun to dream, isn’t it?
Houston, we have a problem. Things aren’t getting better; in fact, they’re getting decidedly worse. I’m not sure what to do other than to step back and recalculate? I feel like a GPS navigator that’s lost its satellite feed. I can hear the monotonous voice now, repeating again and again–recalculating. I seriously am at a loss and that alone terrifies me. I’ve been a chameleon all my life. When something doesn’t work, I just sort of… disappear and reappear, fresh and new. I carry the baggage, sure, but I learn from it. Now? I can’t do that. My feet are glued to the floor and there’s nothing to “blend in with”.
It’s been so long since I’ve been in such a dark place. I don’t know what to blame when there are so many things. Perhaps it isn’t just one thing, but a number of them that have snowballed into something insanely out of control. I don’t claim to be a stable and put-together person. Sure, I fake it outside of this sphere of words and babbles, but that doesn’t mean I say I am. No one asks. I guess they assume… either that or I am one fantastic actress. Maybe I am. My paternal grandmother always says to me, “I don’t know how you turned out as well as you did. I figured you’d be a mess. You’re so well adjusted.” Sigh. If only, grandma, if only. Truth be told, I am kind of fucked up and in extreme denial. Worse yet, I think I can fix myself and use myself as an experiment on cognitive therapy and other sorts of hobbies I have. It’s kind of messed up, really. What can I say? I’m a control-freak.
Little, stupid things are making me angry and irrational. I want to throw diva-esque tantrums and tell people to step the fuck off. Which is wrong and not like me, at all. I just… can’t control the flow of emotion I am feeling so extremely right now. My body is all messed up, my health is in the crapper, and I’m afraid my birth control may be giving me “serious side effects”… that or something else is wrong and God knows, that would just be fantastic. Oh, and I have two cavities. None of which I can do shit about because I have no insurance and no real money. Yay, life.
I just want to be so over and done with the parent thing, but I can’t. I don’t think anyone ever can, really. Especially not when your parents have been together pretty much your entire life. I don’t think any of us looks at our parents as separate people. We see them as a combined entity, especially if their personalities are on the extreme scale. Then they balance one another out, you know? I should be happy my dad is free, safe, and recovering… but I can’t. I just want to cry. It’s the honest to God’s truth, thinking about it still makes me want to cry. I feel like something has been torn away and it’s never, ever coming back. I think it would be easier if my home hadn’t been decimated right before my eyes. Nothing is sacred anymore. My things carelessly thrown into boxes and pushed aside by a man I barely know who thinks my father is some irreprehensible criminal who deserves death row. He’s a plague that’s infested what was my home, putting his things where mine belong. See? It’s not about my dad, but me. I’m my own therapist. There’s no place for me in my home now. No place for me at all. I don’t have a home and it hurts so very deep that I can’t put it to word. I just feel… lost. Tossed away like useless garbage. Like my computer. Like the countless other things that meant something to me, that held my memories, my imprints.
The worst part is, the realization that my dad and the people I consider family are separate now. If I can’t reach my grandparents or my mum, I can’t call dad and ask why anymore. When there’s a holiday or an event, I won’t be able to look at pictures and point out my dad. He won’t be there. I stole the family photo they took at Thanksgiving (I wasn’t there). Everyone is smiling, happy. Even my dad. He has his arms around my grandparents. The last picture he’ll ever be in with them. It breaks my heart.
I hate this. I just want it to be over. I don’t want to feel like such a failure at everything because this one stupid thing… and I can’t deal with it. I can’t.
It’s strange. It’s warm, sunny, the air is brisk; you can smell spring everytime you step outside. What is it about this that makes me drift backwards? It’s everything I can do to keep myself focused on the here and now. It just seems to bring everything together and I can’t help myself. Coming home is hard for many reasons, most that I can’t even begin to put to word. All I can say is that this is growing up, that this is moving on, that this is the realization that even when we’re gone, time passes, people change. There’s no pause button and certainly no rewind. When you are gone, life moves forward, barely noticing your absence.
You realize, all too suddenly, that the people that have painted your life with their colors are fading. Soon, you will be forced to fill in the empty spaces that they’ve left.
Unfortunately, I don’t have the fancy Canon Rebel EOS D-SLR. All I have to document the brilliant snowfall we’re not experiencing here in the Ohio Tri-State area is this cheap little Olympus my father-in-law gave us. Pictures are pictures, I figure. Plus, I love snow. It makes me feel good no matter what. I love to just go outside, flop down on the ground, and stare up at it. I don’t feel cold, I don’t feel anything, I just feel… at peace. Somehow. I’ve done this since I was little. It’s my way of connecting with nature, I guess. I love the snow. I love it.