Expectations

Through the years I have had many friends. As most people experience in a lifetime some friends come and go, some are there every step of the way, and some you may not talk to for years but as soon as you get on the phone you pick up right where you left off.

I always held my friends to the highest. I put most of the friends I admired onto pedestals. When I was in my sophomore year of college I lost my "best friend". Although she did not die, she tore down a structure that had been standing so long between us that I had no idea what would be on the other side.

It has been years now since I broke off my first friendship. With time I have embarrassed a level of jaded understanding that has now allowed me to fully understand what kind of expectations are realistic. Although the definition of a friend seems to be well understood throughout most people I think that I was at fault for most of my friendships ending. I have a tendency to see people for what they are truly worth, what they have the capabilities to achieve, and what talents could hurdle them into the future. When you stand by and watch someone you care about make mistakes it is hard to understand and sometimes even harder to accept. That pedestal you put your friend on has a crack in it now and you feel betrayed that it might crumble from beneath them.

As years pass by I have discovered that sometimes the best thing to happen to a person is total dismantlement. To have all illusions destroyed and sometimes their environment too. I think I'll call it "The Human Condition of Natural Disasters". After you stand by and watch people hit an all time low yet slowly rebuild and even bigger and better castle there's a new understanding of expectations.

I am fortunate to have many solid, understanding, talented, and caring friends in my life. The definitions have changed, the meaning is different, and the outcome of those friendships is spectacular compared to my adolescent, premature, ideals that surrounded friendships before. My childhood friends who I still communicate with are omitted from that statement.

Unfortunately I am not sure how clear I'm being with these thoughts. What I would really like to touch on is the personal acknowledgement about expecting too much out of people. Setting your personal standards, for yourself, as high as you wish is your business, but you need to make sure that you do not project those values onto other people. It is too overwhelming to invest so much energy into a group of people to simply have the outcome exactly what you feared most. Instead, I am not saying you shouldn't support or be there for your friend, you need to give up that right, or entitlement, to voice or act on how you feel because in the end it will not be your decision, life, choice, or action.

Supporting your friends is simple. You should be there for them when they call or really need you. There is no pressure between the people that "choose" to hang out with you. I love the saying "You can't choose your family, but you can choose your friends".

My husband has been a new guide into trust, trust with strangers, new people, new possible friends, and he has taught me that it's okay to be picky. Sometimes I trust people too much, so much in the past that it's gotten me into dangerous situations. We all learn from things ending and beginning. Hard times with people make us stronger, it will be the social experience that continues to mold us. Too many of us take for granted the simple things that we can do for each other. Sometimes it is as simple as a phone call instead of a text. It is nice to know what your friends think about you, but not EVERYONE is your friend. Put up a wall for a while and the ones who are meant to get through will. I sound jaded, but I think if you truly live your life to the fullest you are meant to be a bit jaded, in a way it's wisdom. Choose carefully, on all counts.

Expect nothing and you will most likely get all that you will need. Last but not least do not forget about your good friend karma. Karma is instant and just when you think you've got it beat she'll sneak up on you like a cobra and swallow you whole. Be true, be you and you're friends will do the same.

Cheers!

Coming Full Circle...

"You may not know where you are going, but you will end up where you are supposed to be." This is what my mother used to say to me growing up.

Often I felt lost, confused, and turned around as a teenager or young adult. I did not feel like I fit in and it was even harder for anyone to understand where I was coming from most of the time. I was not an outcast or a black sheep really, instead I was on my own, but not a loner either. Everyone knew who I was or had heard of me, but I was not defined by a "click" or stereotype.

Although I seemed to lack a label or reputation I didn't mind most of the time. I was a child who preferred to be myself and whatever came with that. My parents really did a great job enriching me with certain qualities as an individual that I used to roll my eyes at in the past. I have known their influence for a long time and acknowledge those understandings with them on a regular basis.

At one point I knew what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. I knew that there were a lot of things that I would enjoy or be good at, but only one occupation would allow me to put all my interests into one job. If you don't know by now that I am a photographer then this is it. Now you or anyone can know that I am a photographer and why I became one.

Considering that I graduated college in 2006 I consider myself a professional from that point on, although I did at least four years of professional shooting before that. Really I'd say I've been doing professional photography for eight years. How I came to understand the business is a true tale of growth and patience.

I started shooting photography as a child, for fun. My father was the first person to mention that photography might be a good path for me to take. When my father made the suggestion I was only 10 or 11 years old. I wasn't sure and didn't know what to make of the idea.

In high school my best friend, Beth, took a photography class. I remember her excitement for the course and after I saw her archive from the first couple of months I knew it was a class I was going to take too. My next birthday my mother and I split the cost of my first camera, the Canon TX.

My first photography teacher was Mrs. Waldschmit, Mrs. W. Mrs. W started each of her students out on the right page, the traditional page, shooting all manual before she would even entertain the idea of digital. I will forever be grateful for her approach to teaching. We all learned basic photography but with college level expectations. There were weekly critiques and constant conversations about each element to photography. She was hard on each of us, but I remember really almost hating her from time to time. Mrs. W and I still talk from time to time and I'll cherish her friendship forever.

When I was accepted into Art School everyone was a bit surprised. No one doubted my abilities rather the choice of Art School over a regular or local university. Through the next four years I had many professors and fellow students that each played a roll in shaping my artistic style, knowledge, and passion. Art school ended though, just as all things eventually do and I was thrown out into the abyss of society. Managing to float I acquired jobs that had nothing to do with art or photography.

Underwater photography was my passion and it was all I ever really wanted to do. So eventually I started to work for underwater photographers as an assistant and tried to merge all of my ventures aside photography. I really didn't know where I'd be going with any of it, but I was always facing forward.

A lot of time has past and I now live in Vegas working for two photography companies both shooting and editing for them and yet I'm holding a 9-5 in retail during the week. Coming full circle I am clear of mind when I discuss my desires and drive for photography, but life has ultimate control of my direction. When I think it's going in one direction I take a job to make rent and all of a sudden it takes me in a completely different direction.

This strange, awkward, woman is still a reflection of the student from years past. Truthfully always a student. I'm pretty good with driving, but when it comes to life sometimes I'm directionally challenged but I'll always end up where I'm supposed to be.

Process

I feel like a lot of "this" is process. Using music, notes, books, Internet, and beyond to constantly fling our minds in and out of portals of the past and present.

I had a friend who once said to me "I wish I could be there for the next chapter of your life, but only you can write those chapters, because I know you will make each chapter that much more interesting than the next." If people ask me what I'm up to I tear from that moment with my friend these few sentences; "I'm on my way to something greater than my imagination. Writing a new chapter in my novel."

The further I get into my own novel I find that I flip backwards through those pages more and more to get clarity about the next step, word, or purpose. I think the most moving forum I use is music. Music seems to take me to "that" place instantaneously. There's often a very clear memory attached to the songs I listen to. I choose to keep them in my life as a reminder or a portal that is there weather I need it or not.

Second would be writing I've done. Most of it is cryptic. If it's a clear piece of writing then it's most definitely for someone else to read someday for some purpose. Those pieces are left behind as a time capsule for people to read later. I am pretty sure I just admitted how much of a narcissistic artist I really am.

All the other forms of media or resources that I surround myself with are triggers. I find that if I choose to pick up a book I've never gone through before or play with a roll of tape for a while something triggers and I'll get that idea I have to write it down. I pause to record that thought and then create around it. Each object, photo on the wall, printout lying on the floor, or marking on the wall are "things" I use to push this process into motion.

Enveloped

I am surged. I have started to create. I have started a creation or a habit of creation. This is the first time that I have lived with someone and have attained the ability beyond my normality to create in the same space. I don't have money for a real studio of my own, nothing away from home. My studio is in my house. It's a bedroom. The size is small but very suitable. While growing up my bedroom was my studio. This room is the first place, since my childhood bedroom, that feels like home or my creative space.

There is something within an artist that requires a level of selfishness. An artist needs space to grow, expand, and express what they are trying to get out. There is an understanding of that precious space that can only be totally shared with another artist. The space that allows us to create is sacred.

Some artists have an ability to create anywhere, I've only met one. Expression between mental thought and physical vomit (no matter the medium) is held mostly with lock and key. There are artists, many, that may disagree with me. Maybe my perception of this is based on a female point of view, but I doubt it.

I feel as though most people, not just artists, take space for granted. Each person is creative within their own right. Sprawl out, but don't be greedy.

For those of you that may not understand this please don't try, but acception might be enough. Suffication can be a death.

Morning Rant

I hate waking up alone, it sucks. Waking up without my man is simply one of those things that should be less than acceptable. You marry someone, you're totally in love and you never wake up to him or her, in my case him. My husband works on the road as a tower hand, he climbs radio towers for a living, as a result he's on the road quite a bit. His schedule is similar to a truck driver's schedule. We moved to Vegas because he was promised a job that would keep him home more than half the year and put him back into a higher position. We have been blessed that he has actually been home more this year, but his job still takes him away so early in the morning, 4am or 6am and sometimes even 3am, that we rarely get to wake up next to each other.

I believe in hanging onto the little things in life and in close relationships. I cherish those mornings when we both run to the bathroom to brush our teeth before we kiss or say fuck it and roll over to cuddle for an extra hour. I realize that being young and even younger into our marriage that time sacrifice for the sake of good jobs and paying our bills is necessary, but I don't have to like it.

Personally my schedule is so irregular that I would miss him most of the time based on my schedule alone. We talk about retirement A LOT! It's a daydream, a place we both go to get away from the things we dislike and back to the things we miss.

It's interesting now too, when friends in the past got hitched sometimes they'd disappear and piss their friends off for never coming around for a beer or social gathering. Now I understand that although you're married to that person you may barely get to see them at all too. If you both have jobs or any kind of personal goals then there will most likely be a lack of quality time spent together.

I wake up alone. I have my morning coffee and let the dog out for his morning piss. I turn on the tube for some background chatter, and throw on some comfort clothing until I have to jet out the door. It's okay, I don't need sympathy or the "awe it'll be alright" from anyone. I have adjusted. Lets just say, most days, I can't wait until retirement.

Good Morning Vegas.

FUMBLED THOUGHT

I have fumbled
Prayed
I have remembered
Strayed
Between trees of veins
Trees of trains
Between trees of spades
Trees of trades
I have lived
Gained
I have died once
Waned
Silence in fields of grain
Fields of pain
Silence in fields of sand
Fields of grand
I have been without
Within
I have good
Him
Treks through skin
Through sin
Treks through blood
Through mud
I have kissed
Missed
I have touched
Much
Tiptoe without song
Without strong
Tiptoe without shoes
Without clues
I have sank
Sinned
I have been afloat
Hymn
Written between pages
Between cages
Written between notes
Between boats
I have a word
A rhyme
I have a thought
In time

Jumbled Junctions & Family Vacations

Car Rides, Sunsets, and lots of margaritas mixed up in a human-sized blender gets you a one hell of a 2010 4th of July.

It starts with a morning interview, a rush home, and shoving luggage into the trunk of my mother-in-law's Mustang convertible. With our dog in the back seat and the radio properly set to the 60's channel we're headed south to the California border. Along the way we see an old, operating, fire truck and one of the largest speedboats I've ever seen in my life. There are countless car wrecks along the way with similar amounts of rubber necking occurring simultaneously.

We finally arrive at our destination in Oceanside, CA. Promptly around 5pm we arrive at a relative’s house and settle in for the night. Oceanside is a part of California that I'd like the opportunity to explore more someday. Although it was a very quick pit stop along our journey we ate well, had some evening wine, and a healthy amount of laughter.

Joining us for the last trek to San Diego were our relatives we'd stayed with and their grand children. We all arrived in San Diego with time to spare and in need of showers, food, and the feeling of the cool ocean breeze on our faces.

Along this journey I discovered a lot about my new family and simply "the way they are". Not every family operates the same. Through the last three or four years I've bubbled myself among my own family and friends to the point my tolerance only fits into those people. To put it in short we had our disagreements on this trip, things exposed and unexpected. We had those quintessential moments that bring it to your attention that this "IS" family now and not just a bunch of people you hang out with once a year.

After the hurt feelings and passive aggressive bullshit we all had the maturity to move on from it. My husbands family really understands how to move on from things that are not as important as we make them out to be in the moment. I am impressed with those qualities. I do not like yelling, or people raising their voices for petty reasons. I found out that some people literally communicate this way and at most for fun. Adjusting is the word best used for my experiences this Fourth of July.

Later into the trip my husband’s sister and her husband joined us. There's a lot going on with each individual in this family. Each person has there own battle going on right now. Sometimes these battles can bring out the best in people, the sides to those people you know have always been there. There is an opposite to the battle, the side that none of us really want to be on, but someone has to face it while others begin to clean up the mess it made. Each family member has a part in a change this year that will inevitably take part in painting an entirely new picture this time next year.

The first night there was a sunset. The type of sunset that comes around once every three or four years. I was fortunate to capture this sunset. Between the orange and yellow there was a black ocean serving its reflection well.

On the second day we had sunshine. The only day we had sunshine was on the second day and then it hid like a coward behind it's foggy clouded days. Carpe Diem was the theme for that sunny day, gathering our things we headed across the bridge to Coronado and cruised the oceanside in search for a beach we could swim and let the dog swim. Do not be fooled by California's open policies because they really didn't want dogs on their beaches, not in Coronado. We snuck the pup in anyways.

After wonderful seafood dinner we slept like logs in our rented beds until we were woken up by an antsy puppy that needed to go to the bathroom. Walking out of the hotel in a zombie daze I let the dog empty his bladder and move onto his next destination. Each morning, after two cups of coffee, there was a meeting for breakfast and then a short break before the first excursion of the day.

Fourth of July was a wonderful day. With a red, white, & blue scull t-shirt I prepared for the firework show of the year in my own patriotic fashion. With confidence I can say that the fireworks in San Diego, CA are some of the best I've ever seen, two years running. A unity of families, friends, and country gathered by the bay shore for an hour of pride and proper partying.

I crossed paths with strangers, families, attitudes, birds, dogs, ideals, and history on this trip. There was a great deal of hospitality everywhere we went and no lack of thankfulness from each person surrounding us. San Diego gave us a pleasant welcome and extended stay.

As the trip wound up with smiles on our faces and food in our stomachs we all realized that we were thankful. We were all thankful for being together, for a healthy family, long talks, overdue walks, and feeling like there was really something to celebrate. I remember as a child feeling similar to that kind of thankfulness, a true sense of patriotic pride that I could feel from everyone around me. There's always something else for us to learn about each other, our countrymen, and ourselves in general. We gave thanks to our troops and our past. No matter the differences in political opinions within our direct company of family and friends we knew we needed to leave with a sense of pride and we did.

The jumbled junctions are mixed in with the family experiences and figuring out which roads to take a stand on and which ones to simply walk away from. It was truly a family vacation. A new tradition is officially born and we will join once a year to pay tribute to each other and our country. Where else to do it than on the bay that harbors so many brave souls each day?