An airplane just flew over, the kind with a propeller engine. Neeeeeeeerrrrrrrroooooooowwwwwwww! That’s as good of a word as I can come up with to describe it. Take that noise, and multiply it by one hundred and you have an idea of the noise pollution in my neck of the woods. I don’t mind it too much I guess. I am fascinated by the planes themselves. I get a great view of them flying over, I can discern the little corrections the pilot makes from the shakes and jitters the planes do as they pass. I keep waiting for one to crash into my apartment.
catwoman and mother goose
no personal space
a colorful glimpse
on four-twenty-four Colfax
grimy concrete paths
weathered and worn over time
the ghosts of Denver
beautiful doors peppering
the tattered landscape
predatory paycheck loans
skin by Aveda
supermodel door deco
beyond beauty school
The Street Photography is my holding pattern. It keeps me interested in photography. It keeps me in practice. I do it to satisfy my curiosity and test my limits. I think that all people are beautiful and that beauty is only relative anyway. I’m looking for direction, trying to determine what story it is that I want to tell. I keep expecting that I will have this epiphany, that these journalism courses I am taking will somehow trigger the creative enthusiasm that lies dormant within me.
The truth is, I am learning a lot, but it is really just the basics, and so far I am not impressed by the level of instruction I have received versus the amount of money I am now on the hook for in my pursuit of this journalism dream. This is merely my opinion, but I get the feeling sometimes that my professors are competing with me. It might just be me being paranoid or egotistical, who knows? I just felt that in some instances I was being completely ignored, shunned even, when it came to positive or even negative feedback on my work. I felt virtually ignored. This is what $20,000 plus in student loan debt gets me?
I am tempted to go it alone, to try and break in on my own, but I’m afraid I need more structure and planning. In the next two years, I will be required to perform an internship which I both dread and long for, as I believe I will be ridiculed and exposed as a no-talent fraud, but I’m holding on to the hope that just maybe I am a diamond in the rough. A guy with a chance to break out into something bigger. Isn’t that what we all want to believe? That our dreams are attainable? Realistic even?
So for now, I walk the streets with my camera and document existence. One thing about taking your camera with you everywhere that they forget to mention, it exposes how boring and mundane your life actually is. I can’t even count how many times I’ve pointed my camera at the same thing over and over again, trying to capture it in a way that I’ve never seen before. All it does is drive me crazy and give me the urge to see something new.
While I pursue my personal goals, my family life also is presenting challenges. In three weeks, my girlfriend Maizy, the mother of my child, will have her final mastectomy. I await the day with great sadness and worry for her well being. the one story to tell that has meaning, but needs to be kept private for the most part. Suddenly my petty problems pale in comparison to the love of my life having flesh removed from her body permanently. Cancer is so overbearing. It all seems so matter of fact at times. We have to plan for it, schedule it, budget for it. It hangs over our heads at every chapter in our life. It’s always “once we pay off this $5,000 bill, everything will be so much easier,” only to receive another bill in the mail we forgot about.
So I grab my camera, I take off. I walk the streets and I watch. I walk until I can’t take another step, then I shuffle slowly back home clicking all the while. Hoping for the best.
This image has nothing to do with anything I just said, other than it is street photography. Maybe I shared it because the facial expressions are an illustration of how I feel inside right now at this moment. I can’t be sure.