photos

new photos. yes. after three? months

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Hey Remember that time?

We skateboarded on Bailey road almost every night because it was newly paved?

Matt gave me a high five and there was a worm in his hand?

Matt brought over "fresh baked goods" and it really was a bowl full of live worms?

All those times we sat in the tree in Genesee Valley Park?

We found a secret path by an abandoned school that led to the banks of the Genesee?

Kirsten and I skateboarded all afternoon around campus carrying a boom box blasting the beatles?

Derek came to visit?

When we all went to Ithaca?

I came home to emily cooking, wearing a cow-print apron, and listening to the gray album?

When santa visited the darkrooms freshman year?

When I took the girls to Watkin's Glen and we got lost multiple times?


It all comes back everytime I come to Roc. That's why it grows on me every day. I'm planting memories into a beautiful rose garden.

music

I've been meaning to write about music for a long time. I think between color and music, color is more important to me (I'd rather be deaf than blind), yet music still is a group of threads in the tapestry of my existence, and it would be a rather threadbare existance without music.

my house has always supported a disjointed caccophany of music- the mostly mellow music of mine in the room right up the stairs, the contemporary christian music in the room on the left, the classical music in the room on the right, the elevator music downstairs, whoever's music in the kitchen, michael card in the back room, the punk/ pop music in the bedroom in the back, and the mostly flawed tunes coming from the out-of-tune piano in the dining room. No one in my family can play an instrument especially well, but we all can sing surprisingly well- and that adds to the music filling our house.

It wasn't until I was around thirteen or fourteen when I realized that I associate color with music- each song has a color, or colors, that I associate with. Not synethstesia per se, but something close. The Bruch Concerto is a velvet red, Iron and Wine's Upward Over the Mountain is a pale blue, Eliott Smith's Angel in the Snow a Paleish Green. And I'm not the only one to do this kind of seeing/ listening. James McNeil Whistler (the one who painted Whistler's mother), painted a series of portraits and landscapes with the titles merging musical terms and colors. Genius. I'm going to the Frick in NYC on the 9th to see some of his work.

Words more could be written about music, as any other subject. Yet I am off to Rochester now. I'll be back on Sunday. goodbye.

christmas

not "holiday".
fourth of july is a holiday.
so is valentines day
or mothers day.

christmas sparkles with its own colors. no. not red and green. not entirely.

christmas is the blue of the snowstorm mixed with twilight that i ski in as I cut the silence with the steady swish swish of my skis as I head home, the orange of the solitary streetlight on our country road making the strangest shadows.

it is the yellow-white of the lights of our christmas tree, as seen from the outside of my house.

it is the black and white, red and green and blue of the city mixed with everpresent snow as I drive home from a dinner with friends, listening to music written hundreds of years ago.

it is the purple of the sprinkles poured on the gingerbread man to make the most awesome purple suitcoat and pants on a gingerbread man that i have ever seen.

it is the white light that floods my eyes, before they have time to adjust, when I wake up to an eleven-o-clock snowday

it is the orange of the city lights as i stand on top of the scaffolding of manhattan square park, looking over a quiet city, with many, but alone with my thoughts, and with my God.

music: Iron and Wine's Faded from the Winter
Sufjan Steven's Holland

topics

snow: There is a very wide-spread wives tale that because Rochester is North of Erie, is receives roughly double the amount that Erie gets. Contrary to this belief, it is the opposite. Erie has had four blizzards since november- two, while I was at home (three feet total), while Rochester has received four inches of snow in all. This, of course, makes snow a precious commodity up here. Because of this fact, on Thursday, when Jason, Brendan, Kirsten, Moses and Myself saw the snow falling from inside downtown Java's, we walked straight to Manhattan square park and began to play- sliding on the ice skating pond, making snow angels in the middle of the street, climbing to the top of the scaffolding in the park and watching the snow fall quietly over a dormant city. We moved then, to a parking garage, and watched the snow more, sliding on the ice at the top of the garage. It was simple, quiet, and magical.
Friday night, we took advantage of the snow again, this time, derin, kirsten, joi, michael, tyler, and myself all staying over at tyler's house in Marion, and tobagganing on this extremely large hill that we discovered. It was terrifying, hurdling down a hill, along with three others, shouting instructions, trying not to slide over the cliff, the snow from the front of the sled kicking back and covering our faces. But in the same moment it was thrilling. We tried another, steeper hill, covered in bushes, and that was even more terrifying, the logs, prickers and bushes that peppered the hill threatening to break limbs or scratch or faces.

The best thing about snow is how everything is silent when it falls- a beautiful, silvery sound. I think it's some kind of phenomena actually.

the black market: is a very real thing. but i'm too lazy to write about that. will write later, i suppose.

christmas in rochester: also a good future topic.

I've fallen in love

with the sound of snow in the evening
truth and honesty
the way light changes a person's face
the snow falling from my window in the evening
my roomates all being at my apartment all the time
the way God holds me in the palm of his hand
sliding on the ice skating rink at Manhattan Square Park
Laura Gibson, the singer/songwriter
christmas
Sujifan Stevens, singer/songwriter
Kirsten's and my midnight adventures
Wednesday girl's club with val after class.

God is so good. He is always here. I never have to feel alone.

november poem

i forgot that i liked writing poetry.

we sing no longer
ice over my favorite tree
too dangerous to climb
and I'm left here
with faded coat and boots
looking up
to where i cannot climb alone
to where
you sit
like we used to in summer song,
but there are leaves no longer
i've taken them all.
your flaws cannot be hidden any longer
for i
am fall

11-21

everytime i come back from break (or go home, for that matter), i feel like i have become a completely different person.

or is it the people around me that have changed?

i'm terrified for what will happen next summer.
i'm terrified for what will happen tomorrow.

only God can help me here.
but im still trying to figure out how.

First,

look up Loch Lomond- they opened for the decemberists when i saw them in Ithaca on Sunday. Brilliant. Better than the decemberists, in my opinion.

Next,

update.

-After a terrible terrible week last week I have a week of doing absolutely nothing.
Its awesome. I haven't done this for years- solid days of tree climbing, driving excursions, cleaning house and my room, reading, watching movies with people, hanging with the photo kids, etc.

-ANNND I am going to see Iron and Wine this week in Buffalo. Should be fun.

Who left you so?

Striking a match for the keyhole
Dark as the evening laid
When he left you all alone

Turning to fade through the sawgrass
Tall as the only love
That you'll ever really know

Who left you so?

Grace is a gift for the fallen, dear
You're an angry blade and you're brave
But you're all alone

Turning a shade of an angel born
In a bramble ditch when the doors
Of heaven closed




I love Iron and Wine.

Psalm 62: How I feel
Psalm 63: How I want to live.

lost.

there are a lot of times in my driving experiences that I come across an interesting predicament. i get lost, but then i enjoy getting lost, but getting lost makes me late for wherever i need to be. so i ask myself. should i stop the car, get out, and ask for directions. or should i enjoy wandering aimlessly, eventually getting to the place, but annoying other people and missing out in the process?

this is where i am right now in my life. and my main question is. what am i gonna do with the gray areas in my life? what does God want me to do?

i hope he gives me answers soon.

favourite things

*my bikes
*mustard yellow
*beirut
*hot apple cider
*paneras
*colored trees
*sidewalk chalk
*naps
*good photo shoots
*being content
*God's forgiveness
*being guilt-free
*skateboarding
*horses that neigh

life.

Racing
Kirsten and I have lots of competitions between ourselves, such as, who is more of a man, who is more daring, who is a faster skateboarder, etc. The most common of these competitions is running. We have a race about once a week. When I win it is usually because I end up cutting her off or cheating in some other way. But on friday night, we raced down a dirt road in the dark, which is a bad idea, and I was actually in the lead, when I tripped, fell on my head, and may have suffered a minor concussion (ie, i could not focus my vision and could not think quite well). Anyways, maybe it was divine providence that allowed kirsten to continue her winning streak.

goats
goats have made their way into our conversation more frequently lately as seen in the lines below:

(said in a thick indian accent) "we have a blue goat outside waiting for you.. his name... (looks to the stove)... is... uh.. butter flavor" -eric


eric: if you could have a goat do anything, what would it do?
me: fly of course!
kirsten: tap dance!

Pizza

if you tell a boy to go out into the street and eat pizza that has been run over by twenty cars, he will do it. just ask matt, jon, or brendan.

baby

i may or may not have this awesome child sized road bike named baby. it is sortof difficult to ride, but makes for good adventures.

Balance

it's been a while.
and this is due to the massive amounts of work that i have recently. last friday was a near nightmare with a large project being turned in within minutes of the deadline, this week has included many near-sleepless nights due to a presentation being due, and on top of that i am still working on work for myself: at least two multimedia presentations will be shot this month, just for my own practice and portfolio.
I've been struggling a lot with balancing everything out. It always seems that when i have fun, it all comes at once, a carefree existence for a day or a few hours- and then work day after day with no sunlight. I've been working on mixing the two, and I think it is slowly beginning to work. I always make sure that when I am photographing for an assignment, that it stays fun, so I won't ever start to dislike my art. Harder to do then it sounds, but I've been having some really fun shoots recently.

Last Saturday, Kirsten, Michael, Moses, and myself went to Syracuse to the state fairgrounds to do some shooting. Not only was the light beautiful when we were shooting (six o clock light), but we had so much fun exploring and shooting.

And then yesterday Kirsten ended our shooting expedition yesterday with a half an hour in our favorite tree.

I've been stressed alot recently, but have found when this is the case, I end up having so much fun when fun actually happens.

nowhere.

ive had this blog for about a month more than jill, but she already has three times as many posts as i do.

in quite a short time (about a week), I've figured out a lot about a lot- priorities, relationships, friends, time management myself, how to make an omelet, etc. It's been an up and down week, but I've come out realizing what I have yet to learn and what I have learned. I'm still trying to figure out where I am with God, but i know that will come as long as I am seeking him.

I've been given a lot of grace this week, from God and from my friends, and in return, I have done the same.

I have no clue what I will do or where I will go next in my life, but I am happy to see what will happen.

nine days later

another entry.
more adventures.
even more homework to finish.
new people met.
the same tree climbed again (this time with a picnic)
2nd favorite pair of jeans torn.
bike crashed, broken, then fixed (with stolen parts from another bike. not my doing.)
another thousand pictures taken.
first reporter magazine assignment.
wednesday adventure and a chocolate malt.
yellow paint (consequently, my temporary favorite color), on the back bumper of my car.
red paint (my favorite color), now on some nice yellow fire hydrant in pennfield.
henna-d hands and feet (flowers on my hands and a tree with a tire swing on my foot)
favorite spot on campus visited twice- with new folks to enjoy it.
spinning in the rain at midnight.
yerba mate every day, as always. not missed one yet.
painting parties every sunday.
american analog set- 6.99 cd at the record store downtown.
the color blue-gray.
constant talk of living in maine.
girl talking.
living.

Wednesday, September 10 was a small but significant turning point in my life.

Fall.

It's not the 21st of September. But it's fall alright.
I know.
I went to Ithaca on Saturday with some friends, just to see what kind of adventures we would find there. We saw lots of hippies, hiked up waterfalls, swam under the waterfalls, listened to music, went to a skatepark, and laughed alot. That was summer. But the strangest thing happened when we were swimming in one of the pools in the river- it was about 6:30, getting dark, and all of the sudden there were many yellow leaves blowing all about, scattered in the dark blue pool. It smelled like fall, and it felt like fall too.
And this morning, biking to 2D design class, the trees in the quad were yellow and red.

Things happen so quickly. I get caught up in one routine, and suddenly it gets whisked away. Boarding and biking will soon be a memory. So I enjoy it as I can, board as much as I get a chance to- not complain when it is hot and sticky, and wrap this sunlight around my shoulders to keep me warm when winter comes around.

And so many things have just been so lovely recently. Skating, my apartment, a kitchen, the boys filling up my car gas tank for me, cookies, ice cream party, Val, favorite tree, Yerbe Mate tea every single day at 189, nick drake, m. ward, mason jennings, cloud cult, matt pond pa.

God is good.

Anna Rose is a poet.

who likes to merge reality and fiction. Here is an excerpt of a poem of hers that she wrote based on conversations we had this summer.

I.

I snapped a picture of you at twenty,
sitting in your car.
Your hair was red.

I figured you were in love,
because your hair was red.

Is there any other way to show that
you’re 20 and in love
than by dying your hair red?

You disagreed at 20.

bright green
is the color you see in love,
you said, looking into the rear view mirror.

But I always thought that green is the color
of youth and fertility,
I told you then.

Are you young and fertile?,
I asked, expecting a laugh.

Don’t be so analytical
was all you had to say.

II.

You laughed when I showed you
the picture of your twenty year old self.
I asked you why.

You thought I was asking why your hair had been red.

I dyed it red because I liked Bartok.
I wanted to hear Bartok when I looked in the mirror,
you said with a toothy smile.

You pushed your brown hair behind your ear
as you looked down at the picture.
You laughed at your old red hair.

Clean

One of my favorite things is to walk into a clean room.

Surprised?

Though my room at school and my room at home both are a mess most of the time (my room is worse than ever right now- packing does that), I do love a clean room, yet I seldom see my own in that condition- the only time it's clean is when I'm gone at school. Nothing gets done at home then, so there's no mess. and I guess the same goes with my life.

I worked at a high school this summer- teaching for the first half, and then doing graphic design stuff the second half. What I noticed about the school is that it was absolutely pristine- floors shiny and spotless, walls devoid of posters, even the air was clean and unpolluted by noise. Yet the day the students return, the school is a mess again, studdents cramming the halls and the classrooms filled with noise. I think most people would prefer the clean school, but without the commotion and noise, there would be no learning, and the school would be an empty waste.

Last year, in the first few months of school, I found myself in a whole new enviornment, social system, and with a whole new attitude. And I was a mess- stumbling more than I could take a strong step forward. I called my mother and relayed this to her- I wanted to change and live gracefully- not flat on my face half the time. She said "If you want to grow, it's going to be messy, never graceful. If you do all you can to grow gracefully and flawlessly, you will never change or grow"

Funny how in my ceramics class in high school, the most productive days were the ones that I made an absolute mess of the four tables I was given to work on. But what did people look at when all was said and done- the mess I had made, or the piece of art that was the result?

People Watching.

I'm a photojournalist, so I guess it gives me an excuse to watch people, to see how they are taking what they are given in life and using it.

I like the line from the Cloud Cult song- "You're as big as you're gonna get, but you're still growing."

It's fun to watch people in different stages of life. By this I don't mean age, but rather, states of mind and thought- some that I have been through and others that I haven't and may never experience. It makes me think and learn about my own life. In a way, it's quite nice to sit down and talk with someone who is going through the same things I have, but oftentimes, someone will tell me the way they feel that is completely different than what I have ever gone through. And its nice. It forces me to listen and learn rather than to talk.

That's why i like to people watch- something that comes most easily with family and friends

Take my youngest sister Caroline, for example. She is 13, always making plans, calling people, organizing her schedule and her backpack for school, and hardly ever gets stressed- smiling nearly all of the time. 30 year old business woman meets 10 year old. That's her 13.

And then my Dad, who, when I woke up yesterday morning, was talking to the septic sucking people for over an hour- never looks at outward appearances.

And then there's my friend Jody, who merges both of above qualities- always smiling, organized, on top of things, who is never afraid to reach out to people.

I guess life is just a big group project- there will always be those who you will gain experience from working with, others who are complete slackers, and still others who you will get to teach.

and then sometimes its fun to watch people just to find bad fashion.

speak.

In a way, this new blog is the continuation of my xanga blog (xanga.com/lady_of_the_reigns)- as I don't plan to use that blog anymore- mainly for the reason that I already have a photoblog with blogger (anappleadayphoto.blogspot.com) and would like to keep all my blogs in one place.

But really, I want to change the way I write here compared to my xanga posts. I want to go deeper, say more, ramble less, speak my mind.

I had a discussion in May with a very good friend and I told him that I very seldom speak my mind. I think at that moment I thought that the meaning of speaking one's mind is to say whatever is in my head at the moment- which is a very dangerous thing much of the time.

It took the good part of this summer to realize what in fact speaking my mind really is- to shut up most of the time and to say what needs to be said.

I guess this blog will be an exploration of that.