It has been absolutely way too long since I last posted, and trust me, I'm completely aware of it. For the past month my life has been substantially full of schoolwork and picture editing and working out and photo shoots and reading. Have I mentioned how much I love to read? It's like breathing for me, or eating cake. It's a given, it's second nature, it's an insatiable hunger.
I know that "books" do not fall under the category of "photography" and that this blog is supposed to be photography-themed, seeing as it's linked to my photography website... but given that none of my current shoots are finished being edited yet and there's nothing better to discuss and I haven't posted anything in a month, this is better than nothing, right? Or am I deluding myself that anyone would want to read the ramblings of an addicted reader turned aspiring writer turned professional photographer? Eh, oh well. If you find the rule that says a photographer can only blog about photography or a writer only about books, let me know.
My life is actually kind of split down the middle by my love of literature and my love of photography (not to mention all of those hairline fractures caused by my other loves like tv, crafting, and art). I find myself often having to choose between the two: Should I edit these pictures, or can I take a little time out to work on writing my novel? Should I schedule that photo shoot for my morning off, or leave it open so I can spend the morning reading in bed? And I find myself very, very often voting in favor of photography. Not because I love it more, but because of an obligation. An obligation not only to myself to finish what I'd started, but to my clients as well, who deserve a finished product that I threw my entire self into. They deserve what they paid for - a beautiful product that I created for them from heart and hope, something unique, special, and not something half-baked because I was too busy engrossed in a novel or wrapped up in the book in my head to see their order to the end. So photography comes first, every time.
But this week, it's been a little different. Nothing super pressing was in the way, and I had a few bouts of unscheduled time with which I could attempt to finish the book I'd started weeks ago (a stellar and heartbreaking novel called Handle With Care, by Jodi Picoult). And just like every time I finish reading a particularly stunning book, it left me feeling... well, empty, for lack of a better word. Void, broken, ashamed. Ashamed because I have known since the age of eight that the one thing I wanted to accomplish in this world, the one thing I want to have done before I die... is write. And not just write, but write for the world. Get a book published. Give the world my voice. I want to be heard, like anyone else. But more than that... I want to make people feel.
I want to make people feel how I did when reading The Perks of Being a Wallflower. How I felt when I read The Truth About Forever by Sarah Dessen, Stay by Deb Caletti, Paper Towns by John Green, The Things They Carried by Tim O'Brien, and most recently, how I felt when I read Handle With Care.
...But saying you are going to do something and actually accomplishing it are two entirely different things.
And I'm sure most of you know what it's like to grow up determined to do something with your life, then suddenly it's ten years later and you ARE grown up, and you look behind you and the path you followed is not at all the one you intended to take. I'm 20 years old and I'm a professional photographer living by herself and working a desk job during the day to support herself while she goes to night classes for her photography degree at the community college. Do you know where I thought I'd be now, just a few short years ago?
I thought I'd have spit out not one, but several books by now. I thought I'd be published, and a third of the way through college to become an editor. I thought I'd have met someone special by now. I thought this, I thought that. But what you think is going to happen to you is never actually what does, is it?
But despite all of this, I'm not really unhappy with the way things turned out. Sure, like anyone, I might have changed a right turn to a left here or there, I might have forced myself to be more diligent when it came to my writing, I might have this, I might have that. But if I'd become engrossed in the idea of becoming an author and an editor, I may have never discovered the magic of photography.
There is more than one way to capture beauty and make it immortal. You can write about it, you can sing about it, you can paint it, you can dream it... or you can photograph it. While I will never give up on the notion that I will never capture beauty as well as I do it with words, I cannot deny that I've found new faith in the timelessness of photography. How can I? On the one hand, writing about life is as inextricably linked with magic as one can get. But on the other hand, photography... well, with photography, you can see the magic. You don't have to imagine it. It's real, it's right there in front of you. Photography opens up an entire new world of possibilities for me.
So maybe I'm not where I thought I'd be. Maybe this life is not the life I would have chosen in a line-up a few years ago. But somehow, I think I'm right where I'm supposed to be. And maybe sometimes, just sometimes, reality is much better than fiction will ever be.
