— Frank O’Hara

Let me just start by saying that it’s awesome when you have that moment where you can apply what you’ve learned in school to the real world. And I don’t mean your A, B, C’s and 1, 2, 3′s. I mean specialized skill sets. What you majored in. What you pulled all-nighters for. What you spent thousands and thousands of dollars on learning.

I’ve been struggling with trying to accept that which I do not understand, especially in regards to my professional work life. More specifically, where I’ve ended up at this time. The past few months have been spent scouring job sites, searching through mast heads and info pages, making cold calls, speaking to editors and art directors at super amazing companies and publications I’ve only dreamed about working for (FYI they’re human too), writing to try to sell myself, and saying lots of “please, please, please” prayers. And ironically, the one job that I did not apply to on my accord, or try to get, or thought I wanted, was the one I got. And if I can be honest about it, I was reluctant to accept at first because I had plans on going another direction. Plans to move back to the big city. Plans to work for major companies that are recognized world-wide and come with prestige. Plans to become some sort of big shot by association. (I was raised to aim high and dream big). And as you can tell by now, the point that I am trying to make is that plans are just that. Nothing solid.

I think we all wonder about our purpose in life, and that is the reason I felt compelled to write tonight. I am here to report that unlikely situations can be great situations. And that sometimes you just have to roll with the punches and not fight the paths that open up for you. And trust. Trust is such a huge…thing. And who knows…maybe these paths will lead you to what you wanted after all and that this job you currently have, town you currently live in, friends you’ve recently made, are just neccessary pit stops you need to make along the way. I read and tweeted the other day that “writing a novel is like driving a car at night. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.” Just replace “writing a novel” with whatever you are feeling challenged with and you can pretty much apply that advice to anything.

Through this recent experience, I’ve learned that a simple life is a good life. And oddly, the desire to go anywhere “big” or do something on a world-wide scale is no longer important. It doesn’t make you (me) more important. In fact, it could potentially turn you (me) into a pretentious jerk. And like any other artist, I’m sure I will tire of the routine eventually, but I know that the experiences will lead me towards the next pit stop along the way in fulfilling my purpose in not only my life, but in others as well. There’s no such thing as coincidence, remember? And “big” (as in “dream big”) is a subjective word. I have faith, good health, a loving husband, roof over my head, amazing family, et cetera, et cetera. If life could get any better than this, the rest are just accessories.

P.S. I absolutely LOVE my new job. And I am happy to report that photography is part of it though not the main task. I’m still working on excelling at my personal photo work and will of course keep sharing all the goodies that I come across. Just wanted to give an explanation for any hiatuses that I’ve had or will have. And as a side note to this side note, I did a shoot not too long ago for a story for the Wall Street Journal that will be published in June. If any of you get the paper, I’d love it if you could let me know if you see my cutline (I’m not subscribed). kthanksbye!

I came across this quote in Bobby Earle’s blog post titled “Originality is Overrated (for Photographers).” In it, he writes about the importance of sincerity in art and I couldn’t agree more. I know for a fact that I do my best work without the added pressure of doing it for any other reason than just to make a photograph that is meaningful or taken candidly in a quiet moment. Check it out for some reassurance.

With the passing of author J.D. Salinger on Wednesday, I’ve spent some time reading lengthy obits and stories about him. I’ve probably read The Catcher in The Rye at least four times in my adolescence and I think it’s safe to say that it’s definitely made an impression on my life.

In April 1972, the New York Times Magazine published an article called “An 18-Year-Old Looks Back On Life,” by Joyce Maynard. That article got her a lot of fan mail, including mail from Salinger, which developed into a long correspondence and eventually, a romantic relationship. I think it takes a good writer to make an great writer go “wow” so I looked up the article and man, was I totally into it. First of all, you read the title and think “an 18-year-old looks back on life? How much experience can an 18-year-old really have?” But her article was just so well written and defines an era which I think makes it a really important piece. I was completely entertained, and with beautiful sentences such as “…we were torn — wanting to run for shelter but tempted, also, to sing in the rain,” who wouldn’t be? It’s quite lengthy and I hate reading articles and long posts online because I find it annoying that I can’t hold it, bring closer, make marks in the margins and be able to feel the pages between my fingertips, but this article kept me scrolling. I actually copied and pasted the article into a word document and considered printing it out until I realized it would use up a dozen sheets of my precious printer paper. I don’t think I could ever jump into the virtual book craze for these very reasons but then again I thought it was completely insane when TV shows were starting to be released on DVDs and that people would actually spend their hard-earned money on them. I mean c’mon! You can watch them on TV! But yeah, we’re now owners of more TV series on DVDs than I’d like to admit. My first purchase was the box set of My So-Called Life…and I justified that because you actually couldn’t watch it on TV anymore.

So without further adieu, if you have some spare time, I suggest reading Maynard’s article: http://www.nytimes.com/specials/magazine/seventies1.html If anything, I think it will prompt you to reflect on trends and important milestones and news events that happened while you were growing up…and that’s always fun.

A new acquaintance of mine wrote that “admitting your insecurities isn’t a weakness, it’s a strength.” And though it makes much sense, it’s sometimes hard to be strong when you know you’re weak.

I’ve been struggling greatly with self-doubt lately, mostly in the business areas of my life. I think I really felt it at the writer’s conference when I was among all of these seriously accomplished writers which I probably should’ve seen as inspiration but instead let it make me feel insecure. I have a degree in journalism but a passion for photography. Though the two definitely go hand-in-hand, I’m terribly worried about becoming a Jane of two trades and master of neither.

I picked up a book many moons ago called The War of Art: Break Through the Blocks and Win Your Inner Creative Battles. It was in the Self-Help section which I never thought I’d find myself perusing. Never really gave it a chance but definitely felt the need to pick it up recently. It’s nicely set up in that it’s almost like a devotional…most of the suggestions/realizations fit on a page so it doesn’t have to be read chapters at a time for you to get anything out of it. As the one line review that is quoted on the cover suggests, it really is “a vital gem…a kick in the ass.”–Esquire.

Despite my self-deprication and nervousness which left my palms sweaty all day, my class (the one that I co-taught) at the conference went really well. They even applauded us at the end (out of pity, perhaps) but I’m sure the students could tell that I was terribly nervous off the bat. I’ve always thought that I wanted to teach, and still think that I do, but maybe next time to a group of students who are younger than me…I think the bulk of my nervousness was from standing in front of a group that was older which made me feel less authoritative. Also, I’m short. And sometimes that translates into making me feel small in other ways too.

There were a few notes that I jotted down from the keynote speaker, radio essayist, Janis Jaquith, not as writing tips but more of things to help you stay positive and realize that it’s ok if the majority don’t get what is that you’re trying to put out there. She spoke about “brain zaps,” which unofficially refers to what happens when you “get” what someone is trying to say…from the mind of the author to your mind, you get it. It zaps. And you re-read it, underline it, copy it into your Moleskine so that you can refer to it again later. Often times I have been afraid to write because really, who cares what I think. But Janice reassured me by simply saying:

“We write to connect to another mind,” and how as a writer (or really, any kind of artist) you amazingly “have a shot at life after death because your audience may not have been born yet…sometimes you’re just waiting for the right reader to come around at the right moment.”

Ironically I’ve recently been seeing a surge in posts/links/articles about self-doubt, tips to get you going (in photography) and I’m hoping these will help me get over this rut. In all honesty, I miss Brooklyn and the experiences it presented, but I think that had a lot to do with my amazing group of friends. It’s hard living miles away from your loved ones who inspire and push you and I have to admit I haven’t found anyone here that has lived up to the great friends that I have in NYC (my husband doesn’t count–he totally inspires me but I need my girlfriends here to talk about stickers and jelly beans too). As I wrap up this post though, I have received an email out of the blue from one of my bestest friends from the city asking if she could come visit me. I think she knew that I needed her even though we hadn’t really corresponded for a few weeks. I love it when you put something out there and just say it to yourself or say out loud to the world…and then all of the sudden you get a response. That happens to me a lot. And Jeff keeps telling me to say that I wish we had a million dollars. If only it really worked like that…

Roanoke Regional Writer’s Conference III — JANUARY 2010

Rethink Scholarship at Langara 2010 Call for Entries from Rory O'Sullivan and Simon Bruyn on Vimeo.

September 26, 2009

So without further adieu, visit Dan’s blog (that’s my editor) to read a blurb on the class we’ll be conducting. And if you’re interested, check out the entire list of classes and presenters. While I was reading the bios of the presenters to see who I wanted to meet and take classes from I kind of jumped when I saw a photo of myself. This was a last minute addition to the schedule and I didn’t realize they’d have the chance to add me to the list. Or feel I was even important to mention. Surprise!

I came across an article that put it into better perspective and these lines really stood out to me: “A photo credit doesn’t pay the rent,” and “Remember: If your photos are good enough to be published, they are good enough for you to be paid for them.” It’s important for photographers who are just starting out to understand this because photographers, if you’re willing to do something for free, or cheaper than what it’s worth, etc, you’re actually screwing other photographers out of making a fair living and being able to stay in the competitive market. I’ve heard one too many stories about photographers losing a bid on a job just because someone else said they could do that job for much cheaper or the same price but were willing to hand over all rights to the publication at no cost. That only lowers the bar for us and for you. The article mentions that people tend to glance at a photo then jump to the story skipping over the photo credit, and even if this isn’t the case, as much as the pub will tell you it’ll be great exposure and free advertising for you, it really isn’t…unless it’s going to be printed in a well-respected publication, and if that’s the case, they would be paying you.

It’s not to say that you shouldn’t ever work for free—if it’s for a good cause that you believe in, or something that will make a great addition to your portfolio, etc, then by all means. Just make sure that you get something out of it.  These were just a few tidbits that I picked up and thought I should pass along as things to keep in mind.

Along the same lines, here is a posting of email correspondance between a designer and a “technology entrepreneur and potential yacht owner.” Warning: the f-bomb is dropped a time or two. It’s pretty freaking hilarious but also puts the situation into perspective when this entrepreneur  tries to get a logo made for free and tries to justify it by saying that he knows it would only take the designer a few hours to make, yada yada yada, and the designer responds with a correction that the entrepreneur isn’t just asking for a logo that would only take a few hours, but that he’s asking for a logo that would take a few hours and fifteen years experience. Boo-yah! This one is via joshualongbrake.

I don’t know where the origin of this quote is from but I’ve seen it posted on various sites without a source. Googled wasn’t any help either. Nonetheless, it put a smile on my face.

Even though this article was published months ago, it’s still a good read now. I’ve recently become a fan of the Opinionator Blog over at nytimes.com, and stumbled upon this lovely little piece while browsing the interwebs. Content and subject matter on the blog is all over the place since not only does everyone have an opinion, but everything gets an opinion, and rightfully so. Every now and then there are a few article gems that are just about life and lessons learned. Those are the ones that I like.

Click to read “The Joy of Less” by Pico Iyer: http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/06/07/the-joy-of-less

Edit: it’s actually the Happy Days portion of the Opinionator Blog that I adore which for some reason hasn’t been updated since November. I knew there was an easier way to sift through all of the other opinions and just realized it as a separate section of the blog.

From Donald Miller’s A Million Miles in a Thousand Years: What I Learned While Editing My Life, a book about getting a second chance at life the first time around:

I don’t wonder anymore what I’ll tell God when I go to heaven, when we sit in the chairs under the tree, outside the city.  I’ll tell him about Mike Barrow riding his bike into the Atlantic Ocean, and about Bob Goff and his family jumping off the dock, waving good-bye to world leaders as they left the lodge.  I’ll ask God if he remembers when I fell apart in the hotel room in Los Angeles, and he’ll look comfortingly at me and tell me he was there.  I’ll tell him about Jason and his family, about breaking ground on the orphanage in Mexico, and about my friends drilling wells in Africa.  I’ll tell him about The Mentoring Project, how quiet the kids are when they meet their mentors, and how we can’t get them to stop talking only a month later.  I’ll tell these things to God, and he’ll laugh, I think, and he’ll remind me of the parts I forgot, the parts that were his favorites.  We’ll sit and remember my story together and then he’ll stand and put his arms around me and say, “Well done,” and that he liked my story.  And my soul won’t be thirsty anymore.

Finally, he’ll turn, and we’ll walk toward the city, a city he will have spoken into existence, a city built in a place where once there’d been nothing.

A friend inquiring about this very wedding asked me the other day whether or not I liked Jeff. I instincitvely answered “yes,” but then she asked me what he was like. I paused. The only way I could describe him to her was, “He’s like someone who would work at Google.” For those of you who don’t know, Google’s workers are portrayed as innovative, cool nerds—not that Jeff is a nerd.

The truth is, I’ve only known Jeff for a few years in between family gatherings, brief conversations and of course, the male model in Huong and Jeff’s photo excursions. But I know he makes someone I love laugh and bare a toothy grin which is enough for me. They are equals, taking turns in the passenger seat as the other is driving home.

It is rare to meet a couple so visibly at ease with each other even if, as outsiders, we know little about their actual relationship. It is an obvious silent bond they share, and I trust that it will last until the day Jeff needs to put false teeth in to chew on Pez candy as Huong finds the calcium pill she hates to swallow hidden in her sandwich because Jeff wanted to be sure she would be strong enough to play Wii Bowling with him on their Friday date night.

But until then: From Roanoke to London to Vietnam they’ll Rome, and wherever they travel, they will make their home. He’ll support her decisions, and she’ll love his vision, as he looks at her through a camera lens.

I know right? It definitely made me shed a tear or twenty. To better explain the stuff that Ashley was scenario-izing about when we get older, Jeff used to have this huge collection of Pez dispensers…well, he still does but he’s stopped collecting. And I…I hate milk. Not so much anymore but I despised it as a child therefore my calcium levels are not so good. Also, I can’t swallow pills. Unless they’re itty bitty. And we have a Wii…with the only game being that Wii Sports or whatever…but now we have MarioKart thanks to Jenn and Kyle and our registry. Anyway. I appreciated those small little details that she paid attention to about us and when she was giving the toast it kind of felt like she was talking only to us since only a handful of people there really understood the inside jokes. It was a really nice moment that I just thought I’d share.