Good morning

It’s rather obscenely early in the morning for my tastes (6:30) but unfortunately another one of my very long and very vivid nightmares disturbed my rest. It’s becoming a bit annoying, really. I figured since I have nothing else to do, I would write something.

I haven’t been very good about my writing something everyday goal, but then there’s a reason for that. Upon reevaluation I realized A.) Forcing myself to write about uninteresting things is hard to do and, well, boring and B.) No one really wants to read about the normal contents of my days. They’re simply that mundane most of the time.

I did have a busy couple of days this past weekend. I had a private wet plate shoot with a lovely couple of ladies interested in a wild west theme. It was the first series of western shots I’ve done and they turned out pretty interestingly. I also was able to successfully make another equestrian shot. The horse was old and it was hot, so he stood perfectly still for me. It was nice. One of the ladies is also a CW reenactor who promised to spread our name and send as much business our way as possible as well as sit for us again in her soldier’s kit. Business is always good. Business ensures we can keep playing with wet plate.

As usual, I’m bored with something. Not that I mind making images of soldiers and ladies in petticoats, and in fact, sort of see it as a tribute to my photography forbears, I just get bored and restless with the same thing after a while. I’m like that with everything, though, and always have been. So, it’s really no surprise that the photography I do as a job, which is rather limiting creatively, isn’t what I wish to do on my own time.

Unfortunately, this summer the only photography I have done has been for the Studio. The creative dry spell that threw me for the first quarter of the summer gave way to a rather busy schedule that prevented me from whiling away an entire morning or afternoon in the darkroom when I wished. Now I have just a couple of weeks before I head back to school and no more wet plate. On a side note, it’s amazing how finicky apartment complexes and school photography departments are about that sort of photography. I suppose I get the apartment not wanting hazardous chems lying around, but come on photo people. You should be thrilled to have someone around who can actually do that type of photography. Don’t be such pansies.

I digress…

This week, though, I do have some friends who have been kind enough to give me their precious weekend afternoons to model for me. I have some ideas working, and am optimistic that I can come up with something interesting. I’ve been wanting to do portraiture in the upstairs studio for a while, but haven’t had the models or time, so I’m optimistic and a little excited. I think I’m most excited to get back in the darkroom, though. I’ve felt a little blocked from it this summer as that is not my job on the road. I love being in the darkroom, but for efficiency’s sake, tasks are broken up when we take the Studio out. I’ve missed my darkroom, and the way I use it very much. It will be good to get back in it before I go again.

Speaking of going, I’m finding it it increasingly strange to think that I’m going to a new school in August. This time of year, for the past four years at least, saw me preparing to head northward to Rochester, which felt like a second home. I took Rochester for granted, I think. I ignored and didn’t appreciate its familiarity and hominess after that first semester. I’m finding a little tenderness as I hear my younger collegiate friends talk about their preparations for heading back, and I pack up my things to start in a new place. I guess it’s finally registered that Rochester is no longer home. I can go back and visit all I want, and indeed I hope I will at some point, but it’s not my place anymore. It’s time for me to go on and join the ever-growing ranks of distinguished (and not so distinguished in some cases) alumni as the constant cycle of renewal repeats itself with the introduction of a new class each fall. We are replaced, but that’s how it should be.

I can’t say I’ve completely warmed to the idea of the new place waiting for me, unfortunately, and I can’t pretend, nor should I have to, that the last six months or so have been anything but confusing and a bit dazed. However, things seem to be clearing finally, and I’m getting there. My prospects are good, and I’m young enough still to have a cocky optimism but slightly cautious enough to remain temperate when I need to. I’m not afraid of a challenge either, which helps. Things will always work out they way they do.

Enough sentimentality. It’s unattractive, I’m aware. I’m awake now, this morning’s pot of coffee is all gone, and there is a stack of books taller than me waiting upstairs that wants packing.

I’ll leave you with a picture Mom snapped yesterday morning before heading to inservice. Apparently Irving ventures downstairs to hang with her when he can’t, despite his best efforts, rouse me that early. He’s developed a rather strange relationship with our eighteen year old cat, Fin. I know next to nothing about cat behavior and have no other way of explaining this picture than Irving trying to make out with Fin, but my thoughts probably just naturally run on the dirtier side of things. Enjoy your day, everyone.


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