tpt in the motions of... pt. 2

Highlights:

• I had the best interview with Mr. Demek. 32 minutes of deep stuff.

• Got pranked on and scared by Kristen in the back-backroom. I shoulda known better... some fishy stuff. Why can't Shevy go ask the 5 billion other people in the backroom to go grab her Sharpie for her? Why me? But I guess Danielle convinced me with the thing about the interview info being on the desk... (Nevertheless I felt something was really sketchy about the whole thing). So I walked in, thought it was pretty dark, turned on the lights, turned around, and BAM--Kristen leaps up. I yelled "OH MY GOD!" At least I didn't do some hilarious shit where people throw their hands up and start squealing/screaming in high-pitched voices...
  

• Tumblr/Twitter mania

The only time I can ever appreciate geometry is when it's applied in the design of fucking awesome dresses.

Case in point 1:

Frida Gustavsson wearing Maison Martin Margiela, shot by Andrea Sjodin for Bon International Summer 2010

Case in point 2:

Magadalena Frackowiak wearing Viktor & Rolf, shot by Josh Olins for Dazed and Confused February 2010

Image credits: Fashion Gone Rogue

andro is the epitome of coolness in epic proportions

Glowsticks and Shevy: coolness in epic proportions. 'Nuff said.





I mean, what can possibly be cooler than accidentally vandalizing school property with glowstick paint, breaking glowsticks to make your hand glow and stinking up the newspaper lair?

[fashion] Chloé Summer 2010

Chloé is the height of ultra feminine chic, and perhaps my favorite fashion house.

The summer 2010 campaign was AHMAZING:

Ad campaigns:

Chloé S/S 2007


Chloé S/S 2010 (via fashiongonerogue)

And so is their fragrance campaign:

In the end, there is always a person I will love unconditionally and for all eternity.

My aunt.

She is like a mother to me, the greatest woman with the biggest heart on earth. She cared for and loved me when no one else did for the most untarnished years of my life: childhood. And she still does.

It makes me very sad. I have a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach; the sort of feeling you could relate to as a child when you were caught by your parents in the act of doing something ostensibly bad.

Just yesterday she looked so sad, so weary and beaten from seeing how terribly I was doing in school. If there is anyone who could ever sway me from any resolution I make, she would be the only one. One glance at her teary eyes made me guiltier than I had ever felt before; so guilty I could not look her in the eyes.

When she dropped me home and drove off, I stood at the doorway of my house. Guilty, guilty, guilty. Even though I am indignant and relentless and unwilling to compromise my dreams, it pains me beyond words when the person I love the most suffers from my own selfishness. But while I will not yield to anyone, not even this great woman, I still respect and love her more than anything or anyone on this earth.

If there is anyone worth dying for, it would be her.

She lives by herself. She has no children. She is growing older and older, wearier and wearier, and clumsier and clumsier as the years go by. I can see prominent white in her hair, her hands wrinkled and more worn than crumpled paper, the limp that constantly plagues her.

I am always worried about her. Sometimes she can't remember how many high blood pressure pills she has taken. Sometimes she forgets how to go home. Sometimes she slips and falls. Just recently she slipped on water on the kitchen floor. I was there, and I watched in the utmost horror, seeing the whole incident unfold right before me. The scene drove a stake into my heart. She was a broken heap on the floor, clutching her knee in agony. My blood turned cold.

She called me just now at 8:30 p.m. Her voice was strangled. She said that her ear hurt intensely, as well as her jaw. Ear-splitting pain is the best way to put it, I suppose. But the pain in her voice really drove home. She didn't know what was wrong, so she asked me to research the possible problem since she can't really use a computer. It is only in these times that I would ever wish to be a doctor.

When I was a little more religious; before I abolished the notion of a so-called "religion," I always prayed every night for one thing, and one thing only. It would be the same verse every night:

"Dear Heavenly Father. Please let my aunt and all my loved ones be happy and safe for all their lives."

Whether there is a heavenly deity or not, I still pray for the same--now more than ever.

I think my head is going to explode from everything everyone has ever said to me about quitting newspaper and about how I am going to fail and how no college will accept me.

Yes. I am failing right now--I pretty much had a B or B+ average since the second and third quarter. I have been down in the dumps for these few quarters.

But I honestly feel as though I have grown stronger and that I am making a comeback since, well, this Sunday. I did practically all my work, felt better than I ever have in ages, and I have been diligently doing work and have not been falling asleep in class these past few days. These past few days, no one has uttered a word to me about quitting newspaper, unlike the past month where I spent every day being ripped to pieces by my family.

Until this afternoon. When my aunt picked me up from after school, she started to talk most vehemently about how her coworker told her about her son, who got a 1900 on his SATs but only got accepted into two schools--two"bad" schools (GMU and VCU) because he didn't turn in homework or do well in classes the last two years of high school. She kept on repeating, over and over, how I will ultimately fail if I continue doing newspaper.

In my head, I was screaming incoherent words, sounds, to block out all the words she was saying. I was sincerely afraid that I would again become reduced to a piece of shit if I heard any more of her discouraging words (that's an understatement). I have told myself, and I believe it: I am strong. But during the whole car ride back, she literally was non-stop repeating, "Quit newspaper, you're going to fail if you don't and no college will accept you."

I could think of a thousand different retorts, a thousand different ways I'd argue back to that statement, but all I want to do right now is cry, honestly. Way to be strong.

But I'm definitely going to prove that I'll continue newspaper regardless of whatever anyone says, and that I'm going to get through high school better than I am now. I hesitate to say straight A's. But I'm going to pull myself up while keeping newspaper. I'm going to prove them wrong.

It just makes me so sad to think that no one has every believed in me, ever, even when I was getting all A's with the exception of one or two B+'s . I was having that good streak until the middle of second quarter this year, and now things have slid down. But throughout most of my life, I've gotten nothing but A's with the exception of one or two B's, and now, because of these past two/three quarters, my whole family thinks that I'm destined to fail/there is no hope for me.

Honestly, I dream of the day of graduation, when I will be standing at a podium NOT saying, "I am truly grateful for all the support my family has given me." YEAH RIGHT. I'll be saying, "HAH. FUCK YOU ALL WHO DIDN'T BELIEVE IN ME!" And I will have passed high school with flying colors.

you are strong. i am strong.

To all who are dreamers, have dreams, want to live:

Do not ever give up.

Do not ever let anyone tell you what you can or cannot do.

Do not ever let anyone hurt you or crush your dreams.

Do not stop believing.

Follow no one but yourself.

You are strong.

I am strong.

remembrance of new

You know that feeling you get when you experience something for the first time--something new?

For some strange reason, I suddenly recalled what it felt like to still be fresh in photography, where every click of the shutter led to something new and wondrous. I was still so young in photography then--I still looked at everything with a different light, a different vigor.

I first started in the summer of 2008 when I got my first camera. Then, my eyes were peeled, uncertain of what to focus on. They skimmed over everything around me, took in everything, though unsure of what to find. I just took in what I got and rolled with it. When I looked around me and saw what I liked, I clicked. Minimal thinking on composition, lines, whatever. (Heck, I didn't even consciously realize lines were "important"!) It wasn't much different in 2009.

Now, it's a bit different. Not quite in a bad way. Just different.

I no longer feel the same sort of fresh feeling I did when I first started out in photography. But instead, I can now look around me and zero in on something decisively. It's hard to explain. Back then, I was new to everything, everything was great, couldn't focus, and I shot much more indiscriminately than I do now. Now, it's focus. It's more specific. It's more thinking. The process is not as minimal as before.

Things are different now. But it's nice to remember how I felt before, how I felt in the beginning.

As to why I remembered--I don't know why.

It happens quite often. Sometimes I'll just be sitting, and I'll be absentmindedly raking through my mind, and I'll come across a memory accompanied by the feelings, the emotions, everything--everything about that memory.

Some part of me asked why it seems that my approach at photography has changed over the two years. Right now, at 2:39 a.m., I do not have an answer. But I'm going to think about it over the next few days.

But in the end, looking back at these few photographs from the past--maybe I didn't start out half as bad as I thought. I think I already innately understood what made a photograph beautiful. I just didn't know as many technicalities (I only learned the rule of thirds and importance of lines in a photography seminar last year!) But the inherent elements--I knew from the start.

3 things to do when i start driving

late afternoon skies on a saturday

Fall in love with beautiful blues.