irony

It's funny how the people who love you the most can bruise you the hardest.

Actually, no. It's not funny at all.

if not now, when?

"If I am not for myself, who will be for me?
And when I am for myself, what am 'I'?
And if not now, when?"

This quote has been running around in my head a lot the past few days. I've hit my quarter-life crisis, and it's pretty sucky.

It all started when I went back to AU for a round-robin sort of thing and of course, everyone was asking everyone what they were doing. The conversation went something like this:

"So what are you doing now that you graduated with - what?"
"My bachelor's in journalism."
"That's great! Applied for any jobs?"
"No, I, uh, teach piano."
"Oh wow, that's neat. Bet you're more fun than the old grey-haired teachers. Have you done anything with your photography?"
"Um, well..." DON'T MENTION POLE DANCERS "...just trying to shoot whatever I can."
While working retail. Fuck fuck fuck.

So yeah, try suffering through that little gem three or four times in one evening. If you ever want to feel insignificant and like your $30,000 debt from your degree that you're not even using was the biggest mistake of your life - well, don't. Just live vicariously through me and save yourself the cash.

So god, what's a girl to do?

Strap on a pair and make life happen.

There's no time like today (and by today, I mean the immediate future, I can't go out and purchase $2000 of photo equipment at the drop of a hat). But I'm really coming to grips that no one is going to hand me a perfect job, money isn't going to fall out of the sky, I'm not blessed with a mentor who can open doors for me. I've got a camera, some great experience, a dash of talent but most of all, I've got determination.

And really, now is the time. There's no other time BUT now. I'm single. I don't have a family to worry about supporting while I go off and pursue what could realistically be a failure. I don't have a husband who will be wanting my time that I'll be spending in post production. I don't even have a pet to worry about. It's me and the bills, and I can manage that.

I can't say it enough. NOW. NOW NOW NOW. I know that photography businesses take a crapload of time to build - have you ever met a truly successful photographer who was, like, 21? I haven't. There are few. Because photography - unlike some art forms - takes a hell of a lot of time to just ... grow. I would equate its gestation period to that of a baby whale. I'm not expecting Shamu to pop out in a few months, and I certainly am not expecting to start getting the Kennedy Center as clients tomorrow.

So where do I start? I'm working on compiling a list of equipment I need. This is the hardest part because once I make that step and spend practically all my savings, this can't just be a hobby. I will need to be shooting with that equipment every single day until I know it as well as my own face. I will need to be advertising, spreading the word to everyone I know, something I know I suck at. I need to redo my website, I need to put together a printed portfolio, I need to really unify myself and my work.

It's scary. This could be an even bigger failure than going to school and not using my degree. But I have to try because this two jobs thing (neither of which have to do with my degree) is not going to cut it for much longer. I'm not going to give myself a timeframe yet, but I'd like to think by the end of this year, my photo business would be modest percentage of my income.

Now. I need to make the wheels turn NOW. No matter how old, rusty and creaky they are.

Because really, if not now, when?

and yes, i cried

I want to apologize for my moment of emotional vomiting all over this blog, and you, my readers, the other week. Things are better - I think the snow really just threw me out of whack. Those issues aren't even a concern any more, and our anniversary was pretty fantastic (one year!).

I'd like to share what JD gave me for Valentine's Day/our anniversary. He wrote me a poem, and well... just read it.

valentines day

describe for me the love in fairytales
where kisses can wake beauties in
slippers made from glass and crushes can
draw mermaids from oceans to dry land
sprinkle a little dust a pumpkin will carry
you to dances made from pencil sketches
until the sound of midnight
with witch our disney godmothers return
to the grave and dragons rise to watch over
cement cityscapes where damsels look into
mirrors hoping they are the fairest ones
while maleficent's spindle pricks away ever
man with the last name charming and
ursula steals cupid's arrows to the laughter of
jafar watching as we drown in sand

a fair backdrop for a new tale in which
our hero raises his sword to the rocker boys
with emo haircuts and medical conditions
who don't know that true love can break any
spell spoken from broken-hearted anastasias
or depressed drizellas cased in stone
lady tremaine cannot lock up little ariel
when his kisses can reach the tallest tower
and over power the deepest slumber

cinderella rushes to a modern ball where card
games fit for kings and wishes are made from
golden lamps
she draws a queen next to our hero and spends
the night on a magic carpet that continues on
well past midnight and fantasy
from her glass cage his light shines through and
spectrums into rainbows of emotions wider than
a dragon's wing span and deeper than a mirror's
reflection of a cartoon fairytale


If you know my backstory of my past relationships with guys and/or how JD and I met, you'll get a bit more out of it than just all the clever Disney references. But either way, I can't believe he wrote it for me, and it was really one of the best gifts I've ever received.

in a world full of wrong, you're the thing that's right

The snow is taking its toll on my emotions.

This past weekend, JD planned a surprise trip to get away for the two of us as my Christmas present. Since we had to spend Thanksgiving and Christmas apart, I asked him to find us a place to just spend a weekend together without our jobs' interruptions taking us away from being together. We planned for the first weekend of February due to my work schedule in January, and he refused to tell me where he was taking me, giving me only the smallest of hints.

Of course, as you all know, the heavy snow started Friday night. I had also made reservations to take him to Ruth's Chris (a wicked good steakhouse), but they closed early due to the impending storm. While disappointing, that wasn't too hard to handle, I bought a ton of groceries because JD told me we had a kitchen.

So we hop in my car, and he drives me around - taking me through back roads, trying to confuse me - and we end up where I suspected, a small cottage on the Potomac River, in Algonkian Park. It was amazing. The cabin had an adorable little kitchen and a room with a jacuzzi and a fireplace and windows that faced the river so we could watch giant sheets of ice floating down, and we pretended we were in Alaska in the wilderness and nature. The first night we made pizza and spent the evening drinking and having an amazing time.

The next morning, we look outside, and the snow is everywhere. JD, being the responsible guy he is, goes out at about 10 to start shoveling after I made a breakfast of eggs and toast. It's while he's out there, around 11, that we lose power.

Thankfully, we did have the gas fire, which we kept going. After a while, bored (no electricity = no computer), I went out to help him shovel and clean off my car. Once that was completed, we journeyed back in to contemplate our lunch options. No microwave, no oven, no stove. Our only option was the fire... so we filled a small pot with water and JD sat by the fire, boiling our Pokemon maccaroni and cheese. Let me tell you, pasta never tasted so good.

About 2 in the afternoon, the park authorities came by and told us the electricity wasn't expected to come back for a while, definitely not that day, and that we should leave for our own safety. Very grudgingly, I did. I put most of the food into a box to take with us, packed up my clothes and computer, and the ranger took us back to JD's in his truck, since my car couldn't handle the unplowed roads. When we reached JD's house, we found that he, too, had lost power.

So that left us with my house, but first we had to shovel out JD's car. That was no small feat, since he parked on the side of the road and had snow all pushed up against his car. But it all worked out, and we eventually made it to el barrio where we had heat, light and hot water.

Today, as you all have witnessed, we got more snow. I've been home all day, and it's been particularly rough because today is JD's birthday. I stayed out last night getting his present, and then all this blizzard happened, and I can't venture out, and his neighborhood hasn't been plowed.

This feeling of dissatisfaction and overall frustration has been bubbling since the weekend. I finally voiced it to Matt, and it surprised me how relieved I felt after I just put it out there: I am really pissed off that my perfect weekend didn't happen, and I'm really pissed that I don't get to see my boyfriend on his birthday. I'm really pissed that he hasn't called, and I'm pissed that I'm overreacting and feeling like he doesn't care if he sees me or not (which I'm pretty sure isn't true).

So I want some more therapy, and I want to say it here. I am not angry at JD, none of this was his fault. But it's so unfair that my Christmas gift got cut short, that I barely even saw my boyfriend that weekend because we were so busy shoveling and driving and finding a place that had power. I'm so upset that I can't be with him now on his birthday. I'm frustrated that this is bringing up old insecurities about our relationship. I'm pissed that I'm near tears as I'm writing this, and I'm pissed that I really can't tell him any of this (at least about the weekend) because I know he'll feel guilty and apologize that it didn't work out, and then I'll feel guilty for making him feel guilty and... GOD I just want to be angry but I don't know where to direct these emotions. I just want someone to hear that I'm upset and just know.

I just needed someone to know.

musical moments

I've been having a bit of a "blast from the past" when it comes to music lately.

I remember being 15, 16, 17... and music meant everything to me. I was a bit of a dork, a punk, when it came to music some five years ago. My CDs were the only thing that could understand me. Lyrics were letters written to me, melodies were meant to be belted out while driving in my car until my throat was raw. I believed in God, soul mates and most of all, music.

And these memories are coming back lately. Maybe it's my new lack of piano that's forcing them to the surface, or maybe it's the fact that three days a week I am next to that same instrument, only this time it's teaching little ones about the rhythms that my heart once pounded to and the notes that brought me to tears. But it's music, once again, that's coming out in waves, that's making me remember.

It all comes back when I listen to My Favorite Highway, of all bands. No other band, not even Matt Nathanson, can drudge up such emotions and memories and god - it was so long ago. They're so distant now, I don't even know what they're doing or how they sound. I mock them (not that we didn't before), but it's halfhearted, really.

But the memories aren't. I don't have to close my eyes to remember coming out of a J&R rehearsal and hearing them playing Harbor Bay, sitting there outside, listening to that song wrap itself around me. I remember being invited with Pez into that rehearsal, watching them and hearing what no one else ever would. I will never forget that one time, at the Sterling Community Center, the time Dave Cook sang it so quietly, "I have toyed with the idea of burning your stuff," the only time it ever had any meaning, and now I can't hear that song without looping over the only way I will ever know it.

But the days of MFH are long gone. And though I still love music, am involved in it almost more than ever, it's not the same. I tried playing my old songs today, and I could barely remember the words, let alone the chords. I don't believe much anymore in anything other than myself, the man I can hold and the fact that tomorrow will never stop.

The music keeps coming back though. My Favorite Highway's existence is -as much as I hate to admit it- only one very personal reminder of how music once touched me, once moved my very soul.

It's hard to even imagine going back to those days, let alone that kind of faith.

But one day, maybe I'll believe again.