everything about it is a love song: The Lake Escape

never underestimate the power of a change of scenery and a change of pace.
this week, i escaped to david's family's lake house for a couple days.
the last time i was there was almost one year before.
two summers ago, the extreme relief was the same and the escape came at a point when i was at a breaking point (and right before a huge turning point).

something about the woods, the water that changes color with the sky, and my delectable boy all set my heart at ease.
every time.
i unwind.
i don't sigh to catch my breath, i sigh because it feels so good to breathe.
which is a welcomed change.

(*i'd like to make two notes: one, yes, i have freakish feet. two, don't forget to brush. this is my life.)

politics. oy.

i shot two candidates as they campaigned through south carolina before the primary. i randomly was assigned Obama and McCain of the several who stopped in the palmetto state. this was last july, october and december-- i shot McCain twice. once, two on one.

a year ago, i doubted either of these two would be front runners... so much for my clairvoyance.
i was unhappy with the fluff both of them spouted. i've got a big bullshit detector and i'm a huge cynic, which makes election season a rather pessimistic time for me and politicians often intolerable. (don't get me wrong, there are some politicians i can tolerate, i'd just rather hear honest applicable ideas rather than pretty ideals. and don't get me wrong i'm not apathetic, i have strong political views.)
it's too bad. i'd love to be optimistic and cry when i hear a strong, passionate politician speak, but i just can't and don't. (hey, i may be a little more optimistic if obama wins office and actually does the laundry list of lovely things he spouted back last october. maybe. but some things sound too good to be true.)

i shot a local high school's young republicans club as they met at a local republican headquarters when McCain accepted the nomination last week.

a wake up call to a rented room/ sounded like an alarm of impending doom/ to warn us it's only a matter of time/ before we all burn

i'm starting to get over a fun little bout of a sinus infection turned pneumonia/bronchitis, not sure which because the doctor decided he knew what was wrong with me before he even checked me over. but now that i'm feeling a little better, thanks to some steroids that are giving me lots of energy(!!!!!), i can catch up on my recent photo wanderings.
(so here's something that may have contributed to my chokingcoughfest:)

a couple nights ago after going out for tapas and drinks with some friends, a coworker called me to tell me a fire was burning a hotel not too far from me. as i drove across the bridge over the Savannah River, I could see the orange glow and smoke filling the night sky over a mile up the street. my heart raced. it was both amazing and beautiful.

the immediate destruction mesmerized me.

i know it must have been so devastating for the owners and locals, as the building was a historic hotel built in 1903 (with a racist past) that was recently bought and fixed up into a restaurant. a piece of history smoldered over in a matter of hours.

i went the next morning, almost 9 hours later, and the remnants were still smoking.

Pull me out from inside. I am folded and unfolded and unfolding.

I have some new photos I'm excited to post. Unfortunately I'm too exhausted to sort through them right now. I've been battling another sinusycoughtorturefest and overworking.
Hopefully I'll get the energy and time to share soon...

Also, my bepepper-sprayed David Banks returns from shooting the conventions in Denver and St. Paul tonight. I can't wait to see him. If you haven't already, check out his brilliant photos from the rehearsed and unrehearsed circuses.

My Weekend Sisters: Then and Now

There are very few people in this world who know me better than Lindsey and Meghan. Growing up, my mom called them her weekend daughters. We traded Best Friends necklaces, Be Fri and St Ends. I've known the both of them since elementary school. They knew me when I was about 2500 freckles less, with gapped teeth and a one-speed bike. They know how to push my buttons and they know how to make me giggle like I'm 12 again. We can not talk for 6 months, then call each other when we know that only the other would understand what we have to say. These women know things about me that I wouldn't even write in a diary. They are my secret-keepers, my shoulders, my past, my childhood, my teenage angst, my weekend sisters, my forever friends.

I went to Charleston this weekend to be reminded of the wonderfulness of my timeless friends. We went to lunch and parties with other people and I'm sure we just annoyed them as we reminisced and giggled about things no one else knows.

Last Week, More of the Same

Last week I shot more of the same, portraits and food. My love, documentary assignments, are becoming few and far between. I did get to shoot an elderly aerobics class, which surprisingly was a breath of fresh air, despite the fact that I was really sick, because I didn't have to dictate my photo-- I got to decide what I needed to do to get a good image based upon others' movements, instead of my own.
My pull to newspapers is documentary photography. Going freelance did not appeal to me because you don't get to shoot several different events, people everyday, often you don't get to shoot every day at all. But as the good assignments dwindle more and more, as the newsroom shrinks more and more, I'm not sure what keeps me tied to this business. I can't even say it's the free gear, because my work-issued Nikon D2xs is gathering dust as I use my personal gear.
It's a strange time in this industry and I can't say I'm unhappy with my current spot, as it transitions and newspapers try to regain their footing, but my reasons for staying in it and rejecting the freelance life are quickly evaporating...
Here's my take from last week, I snuck some shots at my portrait assignments: