What time is it? It’s t-shirt time.

I’m on the brink of a new series…
I watched a Tyler Perry interview a few weeks ago
and was completely inspired.
He was talking about how he turns all the negative things
in his life into something positive. He talks about
how negative things create an energy, and rather
than sulking in them, we should turn them around and use
them for our own, or others own benefit.
I don’t have the slightest idea on how to even begin
to do that, but I don’t think photography
would be a bad place to start, eh?
So I came up with this idea to photograph mothers
and daughters together. I still don’t know exactly
what I’m doing but I knew I had to just start doing it.
So I did.
Again, I’m not 100% sure of what my intentions are,
but I do know that I’m curious about it being a subject.
I have an idea of what I’d like to accomplish, but I’m not
sure on how to properly execute it just yet.
Here’s a quick look at the first photo:
The Bone Women.
A special thanks to Jackie & her Mom, Phyllis.
They were very patient and lovely.
I’m open to suggestions & ideas.
I believe that art is a reflection of the artist,
and I’m beginning to believe that its nearly impossible to
hide from that. So instead of trying to ignore it,
I should just embrace it and go with it.
Perhaps there is some greater good that could
come from the very aspect of my life that seems to be the
hardest struggle.
Stay tuned.
I love using 4×5 color.
I love 4×5 negatives.
They are so big and wonderful.
It’s cold & it snowed last night, but the tourists are back.
I can’t even begin to express how much I loathe them.
They walk so slow & take up too much room on the buses
and sidewalks. Oh, and the “Excuse miss, could you take our
picture in front of the Art Institute lions?”
What do you think I am, some kind of photographer?
I’m a sentimental hoarder.
Guilty as charged.
But when I’ve been chasing a bus for 2 blocks and MISS IT,
the last thing I’m interested in doing while I’m
hyperventilating is taking your picture.
I think that tourists should be
confined to the Magnificent Mile, Museums & well known
skyscrapers. They’re just too slow.
While they’re enjoying their long weekends, the rest
of us have places to be.
I will say one thing though, now that I have a compass,
I do love when they ask for directions because I can
now say “Head north (south, east or west) on ______St
rather than “walk a few blocks this way” (arms pointing in a
not-so-confident manner, “and then go left.”
I also think that only residents and cab drivers
should be allowed to drive downtown.
I find it incredibly unfair that we have to spend
40 mins trying to find a parking spot.
ESPECIALLY in neighborhoods like ours where its
mostly residential.
I “Chicago Bumped” someone a few weeks
ago while parking, and when I saw their Ohio plates,
I didn’t even care.
There’s only one good thing about Ohio,
and his name is Joshuah Olen Reed….
to be kidnapped from that awful state when I strike
it rich or win the lottery.
The Irrational Person.
Everyone knows one.
Hmmm…I’m going to come back to this particular
topic when I have thought about what I want to say more thoroughly…
I just recently had a revelation about this specific
type of person, but I need to think it through a little more
before I say too much.
On a lighter note, I bought my very first watch!
($12 @ a cool thrift store!)
I’ve always hated them…
I think it has something to do with the most traumatic
school year of my life…1st grade.
Miss Carlson.
She still haunts me in my dreams almost 20 years later.
Her steel wool hair, witch-like voice and her breath that
always smelled like Hall’s throat lozenges.
I had really struggled in 1st grade when we
began to learn how to tell time.
There was something finicky about it to me
that I just couldn’t grasp…and she knew it.
She would make me stand up in class every single day
and tell the class what time it was.
I couldn’t.
I got it wrong everytime.
And rather than help me, she would just shake her
head and quietly chuckle to herself.
She truly was evil.
I remember crying every single night in my bed
because I knew what tomorrow would bring.
So you can safely assume that not asking for help
became a trend that started very early in life.
Anyhow, I still stutter today when someone
asks me what time it is when the only clock available
is an analog one. I do know how to tell time NOW,
but I’m still brought back to those days when I just couldn’t
comprehend that even if the hand was past 3, but not past 4,
it was 3-something.
I don’t think that that misunderstanding as a
7 year old is as pathetic as she made me feel.
So, this is my way of throwing up the middle
finger to Miss Carlson.
It gets a nice thick black border to really
scream the F bomb at her, wherever she might be today.
I’m going to visit my Grandparents (Dad’s side)
this weekend. I’ve got really icky butterflies about it.
They are both in their 90’s, and my Grandfather was just
recently diagnosed with very aggressive cancer.
Mind you, he has been a 30+ year survivor
of prostate cancer which is terribly fatal.
I was completely overwhelmed with sadness when
my Dad told us about this last weekend.
I am not treating this visit as a goodbye, but
I am feeling this need though, to spend some time
with them.
This is going to sound crazy, but they
are not typical people.
I’d even go as far as to say that they are real
life angels walking among us.
They are incredibly special people, and I want
to make sure that I soak that up.
….And I want to make sure that my Grandpa knows
that his Princess loves him, even though he is
the grumpiest man I’ve ever known :)
Oh, Grandparents.
Speaking of Grandparents,
I think its so cool that my Dad is a Grandfather.
It’s really something to watch him with her.
What a fickle aspect of my life.
I love a nice glass of white wine.
A cold Oberon in the summertime.
A celebratory Irish Car Bomb.
You get my point.
I do not like nights where I have
1+ of each.
I’m just not interested in this anymore.
Yup, I’m officially transitioning into
my late mid twenties.
I no longer have the option of adding
an entire day to recover from a hangover into the equation
of a night out.
Not to mention that bank statement evidence of a night
out the next morning is pretty much a buzz kill in itself.
I’m all for everyone else in my life to keep
drinking their faces off…I’m even encouraging it.
I need to keep stock piling my blackmail photos….
to be used against you when you least expect it.
But please, refrain from hassling me.
I’m not preaching sobriety.
Nor will I ever judge you.
Those drinks I listed above, will be consumed
for as long as I live….but in responsible moderation.
Ya Dig?
…Till we meet again.



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