I read Seth Godin’s blog somewhat sporadically, and am always absolutely astounded by what he writes. The wisdom he imparts. Today was no exception, but there was one post in particular that struck a chord – and created a series of events that led to an epiphany. Or, if I’m being honest, a fist-pump-phany. “Stand out or fit in. Not all the time, and never at the same time, but it’s always a choice. Those that choose to fit in should expect to avoid criticism (and be ignored). Those that stand out should expect neither.” After reading those words I discovered that all of my fears and all of my doubt do not exist because I’m afraid to stand out. To the contrary: I’m not afraid of being different or opening myself up to criticism. I realized that my fear, especially in this business, is that I’m just going to always sort of…fit in. That despite my best efforts, I am nothing...
a cacophony of minutia: the two most darling girls since ever
I’m not really busy right now – and I’m okay with that actually. In a few weeks I’ll be busy again, and preparing for an insane summer wedding season. So right now, in the moments when I’m not at the cube farm or watching Gossip Girl, I find myself spending every last moment with my two darling girls; Playing, adventuring, laughing, tickling, living. The things I miss when I’m working – which I tend to do all. the. time. Last night, as I was falling asleep I realized I don’t take any photographs of my life. The moments I live. Every single day. And I remembered a conversation that occurred a couple of years ago – when someone asked if I would consider taking photos professionally. “I don’t want it to be work,” I said. “I don’t want to need a break-and work tends to do that to you-it takes...
On Becoming Myself : A Post About Failure
I’ve struggled with the idea of publishing this personal of a post. This exact post, in particular. It’s scary, showing yourself to the world. But it is part of an ever growing process for me. Of getting out of my comfort zone. Of doing things that scare the bejeebus out of me. Of pushing and perservering and trying. And of failing. When I was first starting out in this business, I mean really seriously omigod-what-on-earth-am-I-getting-myself-into starting out, I was scared. Terrified, if I’m being honest. Knees shaking, fingers trembling, heart racing scared. Of success. Of failure. Of not actually being a good photographer. Of letting people (my friends, my clients, myself) down. I was so scared that I was going to misstep, that I would falter. I was conviced of it, actually. It was inevitable: Failure. At least that’s what I had told myself. If I prepared myself to fail, to...
thirty one years
Today marks the thirty first anniversary of my birth. Birthdays have always been a big deal to me – a cause for raucous celebrations festooned with cake, confetti, cupcakes and gifts. Music and dancing and flowers and friends. A proverbial tiara to be worn for twenty four solid hours. But this year feels different, somehow. Calmer. Peaceful. Without need for tiaras or confetti. I seem to have come into my own over the course of the last twelve months, and this week I found myself looking forward to my birthday for completely new reasons. I usually get excited over the promise of gifts, small, medium, or large (or handmade by toddlers) and a facebook wall full of well-wishes. Phone calls and texts and make-you-feel-special words from all angles. I’m a shamelss self-promoter of my birthday, and I tak e no prisoners when it comes to making sure all who know me are aware of the...
