For all of you holiday shoppers: A message from a retail employee

I work occasional time retail at a certain national chain store. Unless you’ve done a holiday stint in retail you have no idea how manic it gets in those few weeks of December. Yesterday I worked my usual shift and let me tell you, it didn’t take long to realize we’re heading right into The Frenzy.

The Frenzy: that week before Christmas where everyone realizes that they’ve only got a few days to make the PERFECT purchase for that special someone, yet they are oblivious to the fact that thousands of other people were out earlier in the month making that same perfect purchase. The shelves are getting bare, the lock up cages are emptying, the workers are growing haggard… yet God forbid there not be that $50 pink camera in stock!

With that in mind, Kind Readers, here are my reminders for the surging masses as they hit the stores this weekend and in the days to follow:

1. That kid who is waiting on you? He’s just a kid, probably in school, trying to balance working 10 hour days with a hellish finals schedule. He’s tired, he’s worn, he’s probably fighting back a horrible cold, and yet he’s standing there smiling at you and trying to help. It won’t kill you to smile back. You might even feel better for it. Imagine it being your child, your niece, your nephew or grandchild before you snarl in his general direction.

2. It’s our job to ask if we can help you, if you need anything. Please don’t snap at us for asking. We’d get fired if we didn’t, and then who would help you? Besides, it is amazing how often one simple question from us can make you realize that you do, in fact, need some help in finding that perfect fit.  Letting us ask you questions gets you on your way to finding a product and out the door much faster.  Trust us- its’ what we’re trained to do!

3. I know that what you wanted more than anything was the turquoise thingamajig on sale for $49.99. But so did the other 35 people who came in with the ad in hand the day we got it in. Please be realistic. Come with a back-up plan, just in case. Know going in that there is a very real chance that what you want isn’t in stock, and that we may not be able to find it for you before the holiday.

4. Also know that we’ll try our best to find it, even when you’re being a complete and total crab-ass. I can promise that. And yes, i’ve looked everywhere I know where to look- I’ve looked on shelves, under racks, in lock up, in the warehouse. I’ve checked the computer. I know it says there are two, but I have no way of knowing if those two items are wandering around in someone’s cart right now, or if they’ve been hidden behind a giant rack of product so the customer can come back and find it later (or maybe they were just too “involved” to go put it back where they found it in the first place). Unfortunately, I have no magic wand to wave and make your item appear. I really wish I did, simply because it would make you stop snarking at me.

5. I swear, I’m not trying to screw you over when I tell you that you’re going to need X accessory to make things work. Yes, I know that ten years ago every camera came with a memory card, case, and little elf that told you how to take the best pictures EVAR. Yes, I know your circa 1991 printer came with every cord and cable you could ever need. And yes, I know your Atari came with two controllers, four games, and it’s own Evil Overlord. That’s not the case today. We didn’t do it, the manufacturers did. If you want to get mad, blame Nintindo for only packaging one set of controls with your Wii, blame Canon for the lack of memory card in your camera box, and blame Epson for the need to purchase a USB cable. All i am trying to do is make sure that, when your lovely wife/husband/child/mother in law opens their gift on Christmas morning that they can actually USE it rather than just staring at it in the box. “Gee honey, I’d LOVE to be able to take pictures of christmas dinner today…wait! I can’t because I don’t have a MEMORY CARD.” Merry Christmas, Happy Festivus, indeed.

6. Speaking of- please don’t bite my head off with “Merry CHRISTMAS” when I cheerfully give you a Happy Holidays. I swear, I’m not trying to spread my anti-Christ agenda. I’m trying to be inclusive. I understand that Santa, his reindeer, and the Nativity scenes rule this time of year. Hey, I’m Christian myself! But I’m also wise enough to know that the guy picking out gifts for his kids may not be preparing for Christmas, but for Hanukkah. He may be preparing for Solstice or Kwanza. December does not belong solely to Christmas… a little research will show you that a large number of religions have their “Big Bang Holiday” this time of year. So while you may be a Christian gearing up for the Birth of Christ with a new laptop and pearl earrings, please realize that *I* realize that others may not be. I’m not taking Christ out of Christmas, I’m just being nice, so why don’t you try a little compassion and tolerance and do the same right back, mmmkay?

7. You’re going to have to wait. This is not the middle of March, it’s the middle of the Holiday rush. There are waits for everything- getting someone to help you, the checkout lanes, technical assistance, returns, even the damned bathroom has a line. We’re hurrying as fast as we can. While you’re waiting, think about the service you expect from us, the attention you want us to pay to you, and realize that EVERYONE wants that, and EVERYONE expects that. You’re not unique to this situation.

8. Yes, it’s 9pm and you want to get home. Yes, you’ve had a long day. So has the person trying to help you get out of here. She may have been working all day too. In fact, this may be her second job, the job she took to make ends meet or just to have a little extra for her family. She may have gotten up at 5am to get ready and go to Job #1 and at 5pm come straight here. She, too, would like to be home with her family, with her dog, with her feet up watching Big Bang Theory. You are doing this one night out of your life. She is doing it five nights a week. When she smiles at you, smile back.

9. Yelling at me will not make things go any faster or any smoother. In fact, the more you yell, the more frazzled I will likely become, and the slower the process will go. Take a deep breath. Count to ten. Let go of your frustrations and realize that I’m really not making enough money to take person after person screaming at me. If you can vent your frustrations in a calm manner, I’m more likely to take your cause under my wing. Make me your friend and I’ll treat you like one.

10. If you hate crowds and you hate people and you truly don’t feel like being decent… have you considered shopping online? I know that most stores- mine included- have great online shopping options, oftentimes with free shipping. I’m just saying… in some cases, it’s definately a win-win for all involved.

In the end, I always say thank you, and I do mean it. If you weren’t here shopping, I wouldn’t have a job. I am incredibly grateful for that. This Frenzy week, let me say thank you for something else- for actually being polite to the little guys helping make your holiday wishes come true. We’re kind of like Santa. Just don’t ask me to squeeze this ass down a chimney, for the love of God.

Insomniac TV

I haven’t been sleeping lately. It’s not an angsty thing, it’s a simple insomnia thing. So i watch a lot of bad late night television.

*click*

“Don’t be mad because the deuce showed up on the River, bro.” Poker as a sport. Seriously? Seriously people? But I do like the guy who always wears sunglasses. He makes me giggle.

*click*

“I got so excited looking for new things to clean, I forgot to tell you all about the new magnetic storage latch!” A really neat… uh, broom? Seriously? You can give it a cool name (the G2… it’s been “engineered” to be better. How the hell do you engineer a broom? It’s a freaking broom!), but if it is a cleaning brush on the end of a long stick, it’s a broom, people.

*Click*

Oh, Anderson Cooper. I remember you from your days on Channel One. With your Silver Foxy looks and tight t-shirts, only you can make poverty and destruction both heartwrenching and sexy. You’re interviewing Sean Penn, though, and quite frankly, he kinda creeps me out. He looks like that creepy uncle from the 1950s.

*click*

Glenn Beck *gag*

*Click*

Reality TV. “The Bakery Bunch” on TLC. So, these people own a bakery and  have triplets. Why is this interesting? I mean, I know my life taking the Monkey to speech and later teaching people to take better pictures isn’t television worthy, but how is a husband and wife talking about the fact that their son is getting ear tubes even remotely television fare? This gives me hope that my travel series “Hillbilly destinations” could get actual airtime.

*click*

Oh crap. The humane society commercial with Sarah McLachlan’s “Angel”. ABORT! ABORT!

*click*

Look- a 13 year old pro surfer is on MTV Cribs, making me disgustingly jealous over his house in Hawaii. He’s far more verbally progressive than many of the stars featured on MTV Cribs; I particularly like his missive on peanut butter and jelly. But seriously, aside from the fact that it’s on the freaking beach in Hawaii, there is zero that is special about this house. Maybe MTV could come to my house. Wait- now he’s showing people “the yard”- you know, the FREAKING BEACH. Little bastard.

*click*

It’s the best of Mother Angelica! Her wimple is always so impressive. You know what’ s fun? Flipping back and forth between Mother A and the Sex lady, Sue Johannssen with her Candadian wackiness.

*click*

Everyone still hates LeBron.

*click*

*click*

*click*

*click*

Oh Edwob!

“But Bella, this GPS tracking device I’ve implanted under your skin is only because I love you and want to protect you!”

Yeah, I saw it today- Eclipse. DONT JUDGE ME.

I’ve got this whole love- hate thing with Stephanie Meyer and her not-so torrid epistles of teen  love. I started the first book at the urging of my then-thirteen year old niece. “ZOMG, you have GOT to read this,” she gushed, shoving the paperback into my hands while we wandered through Wal Mart. “You will LOVE IT.” A little secret? I only bought it to appease her. It looked vaguely interesting, not really my scene (I’ve never been into the whole supernatural genre. I’m more of a Southern Gothic girl) though. But I took it, I bought it, and after dinner that night I sat down to make a show of reading it.

I think I fell asleep around 4 a.m., after reading the whole damned thing on one setting. One look at my bleary eyes the next morning and my niece knew. “I told you!” she sing-songed.

Though I knew better, I wanted more. I went out to snag New Moon, and within another 24 hours I’d added it to the pile of spent books that rests beside my bed. And I have to admit- I was completely befuddled by my enthusiasm. Really? I mean, REALLY? What was the attraction? The books were like heroin- absolutely awful, horrible for me, with no redeeming value whatsoever, yet I couldn’t stop. I was jonesing for bad teen melodrama. It was so bad that I did the unthinkable and raced into Wal Mart on release night for Eclipse and snagged one of the first copies. My only solace was seeing the number of other adult women doing the exact same thing, and I’d happily wager that it wasn’t for their daughters, either.

So what is it? It’s not the love story. I mean, Edward’s heavy handedness is beyond irritating. “don’t talk to him!” “Stay in the car!” “I’m only doing it for your protection!” Uh, hello, stalker much? Someone give Bella a hotline number to call. I can admit, though, that the absolute undying affection is… I don’t know. Enticing, maybe? Lets look at the two key demographics for the books: Tweens and Soccer Moms. Tweens have yet to have their hearts dashed on the rocky shores of love. All they can see is the idea, the idea of a man who could have anyone- a man who has waited just for you, and who loves you so deeply, so sincerely, so purely that he can’t see straight. Soccer Moms have, quite possibly, been with the same man for so long that those little romatic moments are a thing of the distant past. I mean, lets be real-the magic begins to fade a bit once you start washing their socks, see them scratching at the dinner table, and after you’ve watched your spouse deal with a rather persistant strain of the stomach flu. That passionate, obsessive love begins to look pretty good when your dose of affection is a slap on the ass while you’re making Hamburger Helper.

So yes, I watch. I’ve been to all three movies now. KStew irritates me, Dead Cedric often looks like someone is sticking him with a cattle prod while trying to look pained, and the WolfBoys are a Justin Timberlake short of a boy band. I can’t help myself, though. Maybe I can plead Temporary Wistfulness?

Random musings from a perfectionist.

You know, kids really need to come with a tag that says the following:

WARNING: If you are A: a perfectionist or B: try to do everything yourself, or C: involved in your kids’ lives, 0r D: have a life or job outside the confines of your home- if any of these apply to you, accomplishing writing in a daily blog will take effort. If E: you do all four of these things, it might be damned near impossible. If F: your name is Heather… HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

I am flat out awful at time management. I just am. I’m also a habitual list maker, and I can’t break from my list to do something like sit down and blog. I’m also a perfectionist, so when i get a mental idea of how I want to do things, or how I want them to look, nothing less than perfection will do. So that idea of going to all of these uber fun places and documenting it with pictures? yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. I mean, we’ve done a ton of fun things, and I’ve taken a ton of pictures, but putting it together without a professional staff OR a nanny to watch the kids while I get it just right, OR ninjas to hold me down and scream “JUST POST IT, DAMMIT” (wait, do ninjas scream?)… well, it hasn’t happened.

But it’s been a fun summer 🙂 I just wish I could show people that! We’ve been fishing at Remembrance lake; we’ve done Oceans of Fun; I’ve been to Fritz’s Railroad restaurant at Crown Center; We’ve been to any number of baseball fields in the metro; we’ve even made it to Branson.

Hrm. Maybe I start in July?

And i still want to star in my own travel show called “Hillbilly Destinations.” Yes, random, but so, so true.

The Countdown Begins…

tick tock, tick tock, tick tock….

In case you didn’t know, that is the clock ticking down to the end of school and the beginning of summer for my kids.

Tick Tock, Tick Tock, Tick Tock…

It’s getting louder.

In just over 24 hours, and in the words of the great Alice Cooper, School’s out for Summer. My oldest will be a rising 5th grader, and my baby? My baby is leaving behind preschool and headed to Kindergarten. What the heck? I mean, wasn’t I just putting in endless nights trying to get him to sleep? Wait- that was just last night. Different situation needed here. Wasn’t I just changing his diapers? There, That’s better.

The crazy, lazy, hazy days of summer are upon us. It’s not quite the 104 days of summer vacation that Phineas and Ferb seem to forever be on, but it’s close enough- 76 days of summer vacation this year. From the time the 4:05 bell rings tomorrow until the 9:15 bell rings on August 18th, these kids are mine and mine alone.

Crap.

Not that I don’t love my kids. I love them more than flip flops, beach sand, and a good wave you can ride a boogie board all the way in on (and if you know me, that’s saying something). But 76 days is a looooooooong time. No matter how much you think you’ve got it together, eventually the shine wears off and the “I’m boooorrrreeeeeed” whining begins.

I don’t believe in overbooking the kids. We pulled the Z Monkey out of summer school because really? Did he NEED more school right now? He’s doing 2 sessions of speech therapy a week, swim lessons, and t-ball. He’s not developmentally or educationally behind. I don’t work days, so why do I need to put him in summer school? Answer- I don’t. I won’t like though… it was tempting. One less kid to entertain for 7 hours a day? Less fights? Less angst? Tempting.

Instead, I had an idea. We’re still what I’d call “fairly new” to the Kansas City area. Well, maybe not- we have been here 2.5 years. But I don’t feel like I know my city like I should. So the thought occurred to me- what if the boys and I did something different each day this summer- from Memorial Day to Labor day- and I blogged about it? I’ve been wanting something to get me writing more, just for the mental exercise. It would be a way to get out in the community and experience what KC really has to offer. It might also help drive away the Summertime Blues.

And maybe I could extend some of those to adult-only fun too. Oh, not like that! But things like “best place to watch the sunset”, “Great bar to hang out in with friends”, “best margarita”…. because frankly, being a full time Summer Mom is tough work, and this girl needs a break from time to time.

So gas up the trusty Mom-van (the Parrotmobile), throw on your sunscreen, and don’t forget your shades and your camera. Summer is upon us. If you’re in the KC area and have any suggestions as to places we might go, drop me a message. We’re open to anything this summer!

TICK TOCK, TICK TOCK, TICK TOCK….. it’s almost here……..!

Kicking it Minnesota Style

Guess who is on Twitter? SilentKh, folks. Look me up, and follow my extremely random musings. You know you want to.

So, this past week the Flake and I had another sojourn up to Minnesota. He had a full week ahead of him- three days of fun times at the Mayo clinic. these guys take their fun seriously. Is it wrong that I giggled at the concept of their “S” stations? The S stands for Specemin, and yes, that means you can drop off your vial of bodily fluids at any of these handy kiosks! But seriously, this place is a Godsend, and gorgeous to boot.

Since Flake had taken the car up the previous week, we had a bit of a Transportation Conundrum for Yours Truly. I could fly, but the price of a short-notice ticket is just slightly lower than that of a gently used black-market liver. Amtrak could get me there… but by way of LA and Portland (want to get me started on that idiocy and how beneficial a better rail system in the US would be? No, you probably don’t.). I could drive the BeachMobile, but then we’d have TWO vehicles in Minnesota, and that’s just… stupid.  So it came to me:

The bus.

I’m all for a good adventure. I love to travel, and I’m pretty fortunate that the Flake is the understanding sort of guy who indulges my whims. I’m also pretty fortunate that, due to the fact he stays in the Bloomington Marriott Courtyard more than he does his own home, he’s got a metric crapton of hotel points and flight vouchers I can burn up. I’ve travelled by air, by ship, by train, and by car. But I’d never travelled by bus. It was time to change that.

It wasn’t bad. I mean, the bus station was a little smelly, and my seatmate for the first leg of the trip (Kansas City to Des Moines) was a little… creepy. That’s what IPods are for, though. When half the bus disembarked at Des Moines, she moved to an empty area, and I had my whole little pod to myself. It was nice. I read three books, edited a few pictures, listened to over 200 songs on the iPod, and even watched a little Robot Chicken: Star Wars. It wasn’t until Albert Lea, MN, that the requisite “Ex (god, we hope so!) Criminal” boarded, chatting up the guy behind me about his time behind bars, his baby mama drama, and how he was headed to his sister’s in the cities. Pretty benign, and even a little disappointing. I’d really hoped to discover an old woman talking into a paper bag or something.

Anyway- I made it to the Twin cities in one piece, and Monday morning The Flake and I headed to Rochester to begin his third Tour de Mayo. It requires just as much stamina as the Tour de France, but no one sprays you with champagne when you’re done (I’d stay away from anyone spraying anything… remember those “S” stations.). Monday evening he was pretty worn out after his day, and encouraged me to get the heck out of dodge (or our hotel room) for a while. Since I’m always up for a little exploration, I hit the road.

First Stop– Assisi Heights, home to the Rochester Franciscan nuns (the Sisters of St. Francis). Now, back when I was a good little practicing Catholic and would attend Mass with my folks, my favorite hymn was the Hymn of St. Francis. I liked the idea of being good and nice to people- to being their light in the darkness, their comfort, etc. I mean, isn’t that what it’s really all about? So driving up to Assisi Heights and hanging around that place was kind of like spiritual balm. It just made me feel good. It helped that I just so happened to have a tripod and the ability to set up for some shots.

 Isn’t it beautiful? I’m still working on my  HDR-Ninja-Fu, but it’s coming along. I got to the place around 6:30, and according to my handy almanac, I had over an hour until true sunset. I made the most of it, dinking around the grounds. The Heights sits up on what is probably the highest part of Rochester, so you can really get a great look at the world around you. At sunset, that’s a fan-flipping-tastic ability.  

I was pretty bowled over by the entire place. Like I said, there’s just something about it that makes you take a deep breath and let all of the garbage go.

I hit Silver Lake next, which apparently is home to a huge flock of Canadian Geese. The Lake never completely freezes due to the power plant nearby, and the Geese have discovered that this makes for a great place to Winter. It’s like Palm Springs for birds. Geese freak me out, though, and these have wingspans larger than some planes I’ve been on. Luckily, I stayed away from the geese and caught a few images.

You can see everything I shot in MN (it’s not a lot. I was being… choosy for once) on my flickr site- http://www.flickr.com/photos/silentkh/ 

Three days in the Not So Frozen Anymore North is enough for this warm weather girl. we made it home on Thursday night (this time, I got to ride in a car like a gooooood girl! I even stuck my head out the window a few times. Hrm. Maybe too much information?) I’m glad we have the ability and opportunity to make these trips… I can’t begin to define what they really mean. For now, though, let’s just leave it at a general sesnse of relief and assurance. But why can’t they have a beachside clinic, maybe Mayo does Myrtle or something? I suppose there’s enough toxic waste in the oceans without worrying about a bunch of “S” stations, though, huh?

Til next time. I promise it won’t be so long.

The Mom Bag

Missed me? Between trying to remove my own fingerprints and trying to perfect human cloning, I’ve barely sat down, much less had time to write anything. But here I am.

If you’ve got kids, you’ve got one, or have had one. The Mom bag. You know what I’m talking about. That carry all purse/backpack/satchel that contains everything you could possibly ever need in the case of a violent (possibly nuclear) attack by marauding preschoolers.

When they’re infants they have diaper bags, which really rocks. Not only do they carry all the diapers, creams, and

The Mom Bag, before it's cleaning.

 other assorted Baby Necessities, but you can shove your wallet, cell phone, camera, and Tylenol (babies get LOUD) in as well. But sometime around age 3 the kid gives up the diapers and you look kind of silly carrying around a diaper bag. The truth is, though, you still have to have SOMETHING. Until the kids are old enough to handle all of their own crap (which, for some, is roughly age 32), you’ve got one. A Mom Bag. A carry all that does, indeed, carry it all.

I didn’t think about this until two Sundays ago. I was sitting in church, and I went to pull out my wallet so I could slip some cash in the offering. What I pulled out was a baseball. Fast forward to the following Saturday. We were preparing to leave town for Spring Break, and I realized I’d better give my bag a once over to make sure I had everything I needed.

This is what I found:

In short, here is what my bag- a medium sized Ralph Lauren tote I snagged for a sailing trip last October- spewed forth:

** Three pairs of sunglasses- mine, the Monkey’s, and a pair for Dash

** A stack of assorted membership cards- gym, grocery clubs, department stores, etc

** Gum

** Lip gloss in Coconut, Chocolate Malt, Brown Berry, and Puckered

** A handful of Monkey’s “Bad Guys”

** A Joby Gorillapod

** Gum

** My glasses, for driving at night

** Four ink pens

** An Ernie (of Bert and Ernie fame) ring

** A novel

** A grocery list

** A review sheet from Dash’s pitching lesson

** A left handed fielder’s glove and TWO baseballs

** Two leashes and collars for the dogs

** House AND Car keys

** my wallet

** Three bags of fruit snacks

** Two granola bars

** a roll of cherry lifesavers

** a straw, unopened

** one of those tiny Kleenex packets

** And of course… my camera.

How is this possible? I mean, the bag isn’t even that big! When a mother purchases a bag, does it instantly develop a portal to another dimension to hold all of that crap?

So, i cleaned it out. Pared it down to just the sunglasses, two lip glosses, the Gorillapod, my glasses, keys, and wallet.

the Mom Bag makes a fabulous Cubby and Sock Monkey vehicle.

 Oh, and the camera. It’s up to you to imagine how much crap it accrued by the time we were on the road a couple of hours.

Project #1: Living on the Fringe

I want to start this by saying this is not a political project. I’m not trying to push a point, or stand on my soap box. The truth is, I don’t know what the answers are.

Health Care is a hot button topic in America right now. Want to incite a riot? Ask three Republicans and three Democrats to discuss health care reform. Everyone can agree that something is wrong, no one can agree how to fix it.

Somewhere along the line, we forget about the people who are hurting the most. These people live on what I call the Fringe. You see them everyday. They’re the Moms dropping off their kids at school before rushing off to their part time job. They’re the owners of that great boutique bakery you love to pick up a mid-afternoon cupcake from. It’s the guy you went to high school with who finally made it big in business. These are average, every day Americans who are living one serious illness away from financial ruin. They run a small business and can’t afford health insurance. Their plan from work is so expensive that they can’t afford to put their entire family on it. Or maybe they have great insurance through their current job… but live in fear of losing that job, simply because a pre-exisiting condition will make getting insurance an impossibility.

If you are one of these people, I would like to speak with you about partaking in my photo documentary “Living on the Fringe”. As I said, this isn’t about being a Democrat or a Republican, or really what your political leanings are on this subject. This is about one of the most important topics in the lives of every day, Average Americans today.

If you are interested– or if you know anyone who might be- please leave me a message here or on Facebook.

thanks all!

Silly Video!

Just a silly video clip from New Orleans 🙂 I may put some from the Buddy D parade up later. Now, I’m off to try and find spring! I know it’s hiding SOMEWHERE.

New Directions

In case you didn’t notice, I’m a photographer. You might be able to apply the term “professional photographer” to me, though I’m not sure that really applies since I’m not doing a whole lot of “professional photographer-ing” these days. Now, see, THAT wants to lead me into a whole discussion of what makes a professional photographer, and how come everyone and their poodle has decided to become one. Is it equipment? Clientelle? Experience? Ordering business cards even though you only shoot on auto and don’t know what the “M” on your dial stands for?

Oops. got a little testy there.

In any case- I’ve owned and operated my own studio business, I have the equipment, the experience, the training, the Jedi Force ways. What I don’t have- at least not anymore- is a regular clientele. When we lived in Oklahoma, Girlfriend’s dance card was BOOKED. Sports teams, portraits, weddings… I was moving and grooving, and after a few long, hard years of paying dues- I had ARRIVED.

Aaaand then I left. Moved away, closed it down, said goodbye. But I was excited, too. A whole new market, new clients, a chance to stretch creatively. Not to mention a market that could bear a price increase after I got my feet under me. What I wasn’t counting on was the economy crashing around my ears… and the simple fact that no matter how solid my portfolio- no one really CARES.

So I started teaching a beginners photograhy class- not just teaching, created the whole stinking course- and realized I’m kind of good at that. So I’ve spent the last two years trying to juggle back and forth between being a great innovator and instructor, and trying to figure out how the heck to get my studio back off the ground. I’m done.

Time to choose.

And shockingly enough, I choose the classes. I know, crazy, right? But I really feel like I’m being led in this direction. I freaking LOVE my job. Even though I sometimes grumble “ugh, I’ve gotta go in tonight”… I get there and I’m in heaven. I love helping people, I love sharing my knowledge, I love seeing the lightbulb go on in their head when they put it together. I’m a born performer, and my classroom is my stage. My students laugh, they think I’m nuts- but that’s okay. I am nuts. I love the fact that my store trusts me enough to do this- to make my own schedule, to be honest about it, to say “I’m taking my students to XXX shooting today”, clock 5 hours… and they’re okay with it. It’s fabulous. Absolutely fabulous. And to be perfectly honest… I’m tired of worrying about marketing, of trying to figure out the next greatest ploy to bring in new clients. I’m tired of letting other dictate to me what my work should be. Go to Sears. Go to Penney’s. Go to the Picture People, or Portrait Innovations. But don’t come to me… not unless you’re ready for something out of the ordinary, a different experience altogether.

It’s taken me a long time to say this, because I always felt rather Massengill-esque making this statement… but I’m an artist. I envision, I create. Somewhere along the line I stopped being creative and started slipping ever so gently towards the cookie cutter. I stopped experimenting. So I’m done. That doesn’t mean I’m not doing any portraits any longer. Ask, and I’ll probably say yes and toss you a price list. But I’m going to be selective. My website is going to change. I’m going to chase what I want to chase more, do projects, work on my documentary style. I’m going to study the artists whose work i enjoy, like Sally Mann. I’m going to flesh out and create the projects I’ve been envisioning for months, even years. I’m going to get back to writing, drawing, and hell, even work more on my scrapbooks. It’s time to focus more on what *I* want than on what the world wants… that way I can be fufilled and have more to give back.

I know, I know, I sound so whiny and angsty… and in truth, I won’t be gone forever. I know that, eventually, I’ll return full force to establishing my place as a portrait  photographer. But not for a while. For a while, I’m going to concentrate on the things I love, and the portraits I DO take will reflect that.  I’m going to grow in my capability in HDR, and learn to apply that to selective portraits. I’m going to travel and immerse myself in local culture… even if it’s just the local culture of Springfield, MO. I’m going to apply for that volunteer position at the Star and see what comes of it.

Time to put my money where my mouth is… or my camera, I suppose, and see what I come up with. Stay tuned…