Tongue Tied

Heeeeeey. Remember me? I didn't drop off the face of the earth, just this corner of the internet. I've been quite busy with things that aren't writing, but I'm feeling the urge to write again. Which of course means the things I've been busy with (photography, home schooling, painting my house, folding laundry) are going to be ignored. I can only ever focus on one thing at a time. And sometimes that time lasts months. Lately I feel like there's so much to write about that I can't focus, so I'll start with a ten things post to get the ball rolling. 1. I feel overwhelmed. Not buried (yet), just barely keeping my head above water when it comes to the things I need to do. The summer was extraordinarily busy, and it has bled into a fall that is extraordinarily busy. Maybe life just gets busier and busier and I need to learn how to deal. It's a process for sure. I'm not great with being out of my house a lot or with variations in the routine. The fi

I am not a very creative person. [No, I'm not fishing for compliments. I promise. I hate when people do that.] I'm not very imaginative. I don't have bursts of original ideas. I can't easily envision things that don't exist. My brain just doesn't work that way. I'm definitely a thinker, and I like thinking deeply and excessively, but I just can't do thinking originally. What I am good at is finding inspiration and then imitating it. I can look on Pinterest and easily figure out how I'd like to decorate my house, because it's all right there in front of my eyes. Now, my own imitation will probably vary from the original, because I shop at Ikea and Marshall's and not [insert fancy home store here], but there will be a definite flavor that isn't inherently my own. The way I assemble it is mine, but the source of inspiration rarely originates with me. I've been musing on this idea for awhile now, and truly, I think mos

The internet's a funny thing. I have a very, extremely small, minuscule really voice here on the vast ocean that is the world wide web. To be honest, I like it that way. I like that mostly, only people I know in real life (and a very small percentage at that) ever even glance my blog's way. Being introverted means I don't really write here for strangers. I write because it's one of the ways I learn and process. A few times in the last eight or so years of blogging here, I've had strangers comment. And nearly every single time, anonymous comments meant disagreement--often angry or condescending disagreement. And almost every time, they've been deleted. Perhaps that's selfish of me, but whatevs. That's the perk of having a blog. Total control. Mwahaha. If the disagreement came from a person I knew in real life, I allowed the comments and often there was a spirited, yet respectful debate. And while I obsess over things like that, they can be very

When I started out in digital photography five years ago, I had a sour feeling about editing. It rankled a bit that there seemed to be less skill needed for photography these days, because all ya had to do was put the camera on automatic and then add the pretty on the computer. Art could be contrived and mass produced, and it made it ten times harder to stand out. I still feel like photography is almost a little too  accessible these days, and not because I don't think the masses should be able to photograph. I appreciate that cameras capture moments in our lives that fifty years from now we might not remember otherwise. That is valuable. My grandmother shot hundreds of Poloroid photos, not for the sake of art, but for the sake of memory. Everyone should have access to that. But the age of digital photography has definitely convinced a lot of people that they could totally make a career out of this picture thing just because they have some fancy equipment and programs. I don

I had a really cruel dream last night. I dreamed Dad was alive. Like, the whole death thing had just been a big mistake. He'd been rescued by a funeral home worker and had spent the last year getting better before he could come home. And there he was, sitting in my sister's kitchen like nothing had ever happened. I could hug him and talk to him and watch him with my mom and everything was just perfect . The details were so vivid. I can't even fully describe the feeling of it. It was as if every wish humanity could ever wish was fulfilled in that moment. There was one  tiny negative thought in my mind during the dream though. It occurred to me, that even though he was back now, there would come another day when he would leave us again. And the grief would renew. Even in my magical dreams I'm quite the realist. I was sad to wake up from the dream and come crashing back to reality, where this Thursday marks one year since he really did leave us. I've been think

At the beginning of 2014, I told Seth that I wanted to spend the year really studying photography. I had exhausted all I could do on my own, and I had developed a desire to learn.  Not just technical things for taking better photos, but the works of other photographers as well. If there's one thing I find myself really enjoying, it's studying something I'm passionate about. So, I did just that (and I'm still at it). I read hundreds of books and blogs, started my own notebook of things I wanted to remember, perused thousands of photos on flickr, pinterest, and my dad's overflowing stash. I even watched hours of tutorials on youtube. My goal was to see a difference in my photography from last year to this, to perhaps see if this is something I want to pursue as profitable hobby instead of just a enjoyable one. I've learned a few things about the whole process and myself as a photographer. Not only can I see a difference in my photos, but I feel  so much more con