Live, love, and laugh. Photograph.
This last month has been spent in an amazing amount of soul searching and reflection. The week before I left for Idaho, I was miserably unhappy and contemplating backing out of this summer venture. What I would have stayed in New Hampshire for, I really have no idea. Just to stay miserable, because miserable was familiar. I spent the entire first day of my trip driving to Niagara Falls thinking about the last six months and wondering where they went sour. Where I lost my drive, my dreams, and my happiness.
The first few months I was home from Hawaii, I was blissfully happy, living with abandon. Anything and everything I could pull out of life, I did. I found a job I could enjoy, an apartment that I liked AND was affordable, and I was free. Free from the military and the unhappiness that had plagued me daily as a result. I started school and relished every moment I was there, taking tons of great pictures and learning how to make them better. I turned 24 surrounded by great people, and just enjoyed it. I started doing a lot of things alone though, as a result of living alone. Loneliness has always been a problem for me, sometimes I can be surrounded by tons of people and still feel completely alone.
The beginning of December changed that. I got a random email from one of those address book websites telling me that Heather's birthday was right around the corner, so I sent her a message wishing her a happy one. She emailed me back, telling me she was coming home to New England. Not too long later, we started dating. I really thought life couldn't get any better. In six months, my entire life had turned around. Three months after Heather came home, I'd fallen in love, and was "gently" dumped. By gently, I mean through a text message. She ran so far and so fast, I never had a chance. Suffice to say, I was devestated and the whole situation really sucked.
I spent a while, and still do on occasion, wondering what I did wrong. I still have trouble completely accepting that it wasn't anything I did...at least, not that she told me anyway. In the beginning of June, three months after the breakup, I was nervous to go to Boston Pride because of the remote and slim possibility of running into her. I actually texted her (i hate texting now by the way, and I didn't want to call just for that...I didn't want to hear the answer) to ask if she planned on going. I was half relieved and half disappointed when she said she wasn't. I miss her, still do, and I can admit it. I miss the friendship, I miss the companionship, I miss it all. But I won't let the missing keep me from missing out on my life.
So, here I am, on this amazing roadtrip, dwelling over how badly I let myself go, to where I stopped taking pictures. My camera bag was on the seat next to me, barely used in the last semester, and when utilized, without the extreme love of life that I had found and lost again. I finally get to Niagara Falls, and I'm standing on the United States side, camera bag at my waist, camera in hand, mist on my face, and tears in my eyes. There, in the face of this beautiful natural wonder I remembered why I loved photography and why I hated traveling alone. I could bring this beauty home with me, to let others experience exactly what I had seen, and perhaps find the same emotions I had felt in those captured moments of film. But in that emotional experience, I had no one to share it with right then and there. No one to see my face and my feelings and to understand just how damn important it was to me. I handed my camera to a stranger to have my picture taken in front of the falls. I realized just how important the sharing is to me.
That was what I'd been missing, the profound sharing of an experience, no matter how large, small, significant or dull. A shared joke, a smile, a bad B movie, a bowling game, a beer at the bar, an embrace, a common friend, a car ride...it goes on and on. Despite the need I feel to share, I do enjoy my alone time. This car trip, away from everyone else, is wholly mine. The opinions, likes, dislikes, biases, and needs of others will never color the memories and experiences I've gained from it. I meandered through forrests and national parks, along highways and dirt roads, to my own pace and desires. I traveled through cities, bypassed towns, fields and crops, seeing them through renewed eyes.
South Dakota and Wyoming made me cry, from the sheer and utter beauty of nature. I felt so small, but so connected to everything around me. I traveled along a remote highway right through Bighorn National Forrest in Wyoming, far away from civilization....so much so I saw very few people or vehicles. It was almost a shock when I saw a town again. Driving through there, something inside me that I didn't realize was broken finally healed a bit. I stopped hurting all the time, and I started doing more for myself. I realized that too much of my life recently has revolved around making others happy, so they wouldn't walk out on me. I let go of the values that made me who I am, allowing myself to be run over and weakwilled. I unconsciously acted to keep others close, because I didn't want to be alone any more. I lost my self worth.
And rediscovered it through the lens of my camera. I arrived in Idaho stoked from the 16 rolls of incredible vacation pictures, ready to take on anything right then and there. My boss for the summer, Chris, turned out to be an awesome 30-somthing hippie from New Hampshire who likes my work and loves my ideas. I feel like I'm a part of something again, and my talents and skills are appreciated. We're already toying with the idea of me returning next summer too. What makes this trip the best of all, everyone is so friendly and so open that I have to work at being antisocial, which I haven't done.
Most of these people are more than willing to open their doors, pull up a barstool, share a meal or a story, and pay for yours too. Small acts of kindness are repaid in more than full, and the welcome mat is always out. I've lived around closed and selfish (however unintentionally) people for so long in the military and in college that it's easy to forget how its supposed to be. I even made friends with the mayor of this town (it helps that she's 22, the youngest female mayor in the US, and is kinda-sorta dating my boss), that's how close knit it is. I don't think I could live here year-round, but I definitely do not mind stopping in for the coming summers.
When I go home, I'll be facing some of the same issues. It'll be easy to fall back into the patterns of familiarity, once the good vibes from this summer start to wear off. But I'm better ready to face them. I'm still lonely, but only time and patience can placate that. I'm stronger than I thought, and I can deal with the crap that life throws at me. As long as I remember to keep my mind clear and determination strong, I can do anything because I want to, not because I'm afraid of failing. I got a fortune in a cookie once that said, "I'd rather fail trying to do something great, than to do nothing and succeed."
I'm doing something great every day, just by living. The pictures are just the proof. So check the site and experience a little bit of the greatness I'm experiencing.
Live, love, and laugh. Photograph.
The first few months I was home from Hawaii, I was blissfully happy, living with abandon. Anything and everything I could pull out of life, I did. I found a job I could enjoy, an apartment that I liked AND was affordable, and I was free. Free from the military and the unhappiness that had plagued me daily as a result. I started school and relished every moment I was there, taking tons of great pictures and learning how to make them better. I turned 24 surrounded by great people, and just enjoyed it. I started doing a lot of things alone though, as a result of living alone. Loneliness has always been a problem for me, sometimes I can be surrounded by tons of people and still feel completely alone.
The beginning of December changed that. I got a random email from one of those address book websites telling me that Heather's birthday was right around the corner, so I sent her a message wishing her a happy one. She emailed me back, telling me she was coming home to New England. Not too long later, we started dating. I really thought life couldn't get any better. In six months, my entire life had turned around. Three months after Heather came home, I'd fallen in love, and was "gently" dumped. By gently, I mean through a text message. She ran so far and so fast, I never had a chance. Suffice to say, I was devestated and the whole situation really sucked.
I spent a while, and still do on occasion, wondering what I did wrong. I still have trouble completely accepting that it wasn't anything I did...at least, not that she told me anyway. In the beginning of June, three months after the breakup, I was nervous to go to Boston Pride because of the remote and slim possibility of running into her. I actually texted her (i hate texting now by the way, and I didn't want to call just for that...I didn't want to hear the answer) to ask if she planned on going. I was half relieved and half disappointed when she said she wasn't. I miss her, still do, and I can admit it. I miss the friendship, I miss the companionship, I miss it all. But I won't let the missing keep me from missing out on my life.
So, here I am, on this amazing roadtrip, dwelling over how badly I let myself go, to where I stopped taking pictures. My camera bag was on the seat next to me, barely used in the last semester, and when utilized, without the extreme love of life that I had found and lost again. I finally get to Niagara Falls, and I'm standing on the United States side, camera bag at my waist, camera in hand, mist on my face, and tears in my eyes. There, in the face of this beautiful natural wonder I remembered why I loved photography and why I hated traveling alone. I could bring this beauty home with me, to let others experience exactly what I had seen, and perhaps find the same emotions I had felt in those captured moments of film. But in that emotional experience, I had no one to share it with right then and there. No one to see my face and my feelings and to understand just how damn important it was to me. I handed my camera to a stranger to have my picture taken in front of the falls. I realized just how important the sharing is to me.
That was what I'd been missing, the profound sharing of an experience, no matter how large, small, significant or dull. A shared joke, a smile, a bad B movie, a bowling game, a beer at the bar, an embrace, a common friend, a car ride...it goes on and on. Despite the need I feel to share, I do enjoy my alone time. This car trip, away from everyone else, is wholly mine. The opinions, likes, dislikes, biases, and needs of others will never color the memories and experiences I've gained from it. I meandered through forrests and national parks, along highways and dirt roads, to my own pace and desires. I traveled through cities, bypassed towns, fields and crops, seeing them through renewed eyes.
South Dakota and Wyoming made me cry, from the sheer and utter beauty of nature. I felt so small, but so connected to everything around me. I traveled along a remote highway right through Bighorn National Forrest in Wyoming, far away from civilization....so much so I saw very few people or vehicles. It was almost a shock when I saw a town again. Driving through there, something inside me that I didn't realize was broken finally healed a bit. I stopped hurting all the time, and I started doing more for myself. I realized that too much of my life recently has revolved around making others happy, so they wouldn't walk out on me. I let go of the values that made me who I am, allowing myself to be run over and weakwilled. I unconsciously acted to keep others close, because I didn't want to be alone any more. I lost my self worth.
And rediscovered it through the lens of my camera. I arrived in Idaho stoked from the 16 rolls of incredible vacation pictures, ready to take on anything right then and there. My boss for the summer, Chris, turned out to be an awesome 30-somthing hippie from New Hampshire who likes my work and loves my ideas. I feel like I'm a part of something again, and my talents and skills are appreciated. We're already toying with the idea of me returning next summer too. What makes this trip the best of all, everyone is so friendly and so open that I have to work at being antisocial, which I haven't done.
Most of these people are more than willing to open their doors, pull up a barstool, share a meal or a story, and pay for yours too. Small acts of kindness are repaid in more than full, and the welcome mat is always out. I've lived around closed and selfish (however unintentionally) people for so long in the military and in college that it's easy to forget how its supposed to be. I even made friends with the mayor of this town (it helps that she's 22, the youngest female mayor in the US, and is kinda-sorta dating my boss), that's how close knit it is. I don't think I could live here year-round, but I definitely do not mind stopping in for the coming summers.
When I go home, I'll be facing some of the same issues. It'll be easy to fall back into the patterns of familiarity, once the good vibes from this summer start to wear off. But I'm better ready to face them. I'm still lonely, but only time and patience can placate that. I'm stronger than I thought, and I can deal with the crap that life throws at me. As long as I remember to keep my mind clear and determination strong, I can do anything because I want to, not because I'm afraid of failing. I got a fortune in a cookie once that said, "I'd rather fail trying to do something great, than to do nothing and succeed."
I'm doing something great every day, just by living. The pictures are just the proof. So check the site and experience a little bit of the greatness I'm experiencing.
Live, love, and laugh. Photograph.