What Am I doing? That is a fantastic question. The entirely vague and vaguely personal answer is that I’m finally writing this damn thing. Apparently I’ve been pathetic.
I‘ve been saying that was going to happen for years. I said it when I was modeling, then when I started photography, then of course when I became the insane modelographer, the traveling modelographer, the meandering musician (who was also a modelographer), the ultimate modelographer… there were a ton of them. Well, the modelographering was unfocused and chaotic, so the attempt at blogging was the same.
And Then Came the Children
After my first child was born I was going to write this whole “I am a photographer, I am a mom, I am awesome!” kind of blog that I tended to see a lot from other models and photographers who managed to assume their art without missing a beat after having kids, but I was not feeling inspired or awesome for almost a year after my daughter was born. Then when I finally got back into shooting, there was no way in hell I was going
to spend my spare time writing about what I was doing – it was amazing that I was actually doing anything.
A lot of women find pregnancy inspiring, or at least start writing during pregnancy to help with the anxiety.
Around the time that I was finally feeling like my pre-baby self – shooting again, modeling again, becoming a much more functional mother and human being – and was starting to reproach the idea that I might actually have a voice and something to say that isn’t completely idiotic, I found out that I was pregnant with my son. A lot of women find pregnancy inspiring, or at least start writing during pregnancy to help with the anxiety. This was not going to work for me, pregnancy brain rendered me incapable of being able to do anything besides watch baseball (let’s go Os…) and cry. And, obviously, I could also watch football and cry when the preseason started… in case you were wondering. But writing, that was far too intricate and complicated for me to attempt to wrap my mind around.
The post-partum year was rough. It was definitely the most emotionally trying year in recent memory. It was a year that was very real, very informative, very constructive in the end, but definitely not a year that would have given me a voice capable of expressing sentiments other than how dark the nights were and how long were the hours… little bleak. But, we move forward. And here we are – approximately nine years after the first time I felt compelled to attempt to write a blog.
Killing Time Wasting It
I’d like to think that the last decade, my life experiences and the perspective I’ve acquired has finally given me something to say that isn’t completely asinine. I’d also like to think that I may have managed to retain a few bits and pieces of myself from back in the day, I may still have a bit of charisma. I guess we’ll see how that plays out.
I am prolific.
I always have been. My English teacher in 11th grade told me my writing was verbose and I thanked him.
But it’s not always (even to me) a good thing. I’m always driven by some sort of artistic passion or desire for some sort of creative expression (like I said, it’s not necessarily a good thing)… it’s actually kind of like a mental tick, but I like to think of it as a skill. I also have a hell of a time letting things go – and that applies to things that I create. I can feel them (yes, I am talking about my creations as “them”) harboring evil intent toward me the longer they sit around unfinished. I create the ideas of monsters, put them into the heads of dragons, chain them down and wait for them to either turn on me or die of starvation. In other words, I need to do something with the shit that I create or else I can’t move on with my life or with my art.
I create the ideas of monsters, put them into the heads of dragons, chain them down and wait for them to either turn on me or die of starvation.
… and then there’s another weird aspect of this. Oh yes, you should come to expect nothing less from me. We’ll call this the personal aspect. In the process of searching for every movie ever made that has the remote potential to cause some sort of visceral emotional reaction (I’ve had issues with my emotions for a while… let’s just leave that there for the time being), I discovered that I actually have a deeply routed love for movies. I think it’s always been there, but the better part of the last decade had left me without much of a desire to want to feel any intense emotions that I didn’t already feel on an involuntary yet constant basis. In fact, I didn’t want to feel anything at all.
So there’s all of that – and then there’s the simple fact that I want to share my photography, my writing, talk about movies, music and random fun – and so, without further weirdness, here we are. Yeah?