Yes I love Photography

When I have my camera in my hand I feel powerful. I feel exhilarated, and I'm looking at the world in my favorite way. I feel the most like me. Sunday was a day most magnificent, we took a drive up the winding canyon road, and spent the afternoon completely absorbed in shooting the most beautiful Fall scenery.

Henry David Thoreau was an American author, philosopher, poet extraordinaire, famous for writing pieces like his masterful "Walden", a reflection piece on the natural and simple things. Anyways, Thoreau once said: "The question is not what you look at but what you see."

This quote is so simple, but leaves me thinking about the bigger picture (ohh good one Spring, the bigger picture and you're talking about photography, accidental folks.). This is speaking of something entirely natural. Can we train ourselves to see specific things? Yes. Can we alter our views and learn to see things in a new way? Yes. Do we at times block out what is really there and focus on what we already think we see? Yes. This pertains to so much more- character, judgement, human nature, class, etc. Sometimes when we look at something we already have an opinion formed, and there is no room for change, we forget to really look and see what is there. This happens in regards to people most commonly. We form our opinion of that soul, and no matter how much time passes, we only focus on what we think is there. This scares me because I hate when people think they know exactly who I am, my ins and outs, my quirks and habits, and while I certainly have those, I change often. We all do really, and this is refreshing! Never do I want to be the same bland person, I want to constantly be learning new things that ignite new thoughts which make me grow.

Anyways, before the 3 AM ramblings get too out of control, here are a few of my favorite photos. I have a folder of literally 50, so I'll just randomly add a few as to not bore you and bog you down in random art. Some I love because they do a great job of speaking volumes, even in their simplicity. Others are here because they are of my favorite people. Enjoy... 

If you can't tell, this is Audrey Hepburn. While I look up to her because she was brilliantly classy and poised, this is the most natural her. Away from the glitz and the glamour that is "Breakfast At Tiffany's". This is her later in life, having accomplished much and suffered greatly, and she just looks comfortable, and wise. 

This is my prized possession. If you were to lock me in a room with this, my camera, a notebook, my photos, and a few of my dearest, I could be content for years. This piano is mine, passed down from the legend that is my Grandma Ruby Leavitt. I treasure every single memory I have of my Grandma. She was witty, she was clever, she was classy, she was wise, and she had a remarkable passion for life and for music.

You know who. Before they made it big and were rebelling and rewriting the musical world. 

 My brother, Chancho, is an artist. When he was in ninth grade he did a poster sized dot art of this guy, I began researching to find out who he was, and what was so great about him. Che Guevara represents adventure, service, revolution, change, and brilliance really.  He was executed while fighting with all he had, and anyone who is willing to do that has me impressed.

This is a photo of my brother Spencer's grave, the first time I visited it. I have talked about this before and do not need to say anymore, but Superman is fitting for Spence. 

 My brother Brian took this, and it instantly became one of my favorite photos. Not only is it an exceptional photo, but that bridge holds buckets of memories for our family. This is the famous money bridge, you cannot visit it without mysteriously finding a few coins, and even a couple of bills on occasion!

Ohhhhh Johnny, you perplexed bad ass you, I'll always love Johnny, another love passed on from sibilings who were naturally awesome and who taught me to appreciate good things, Johnny being one of them. I love this photo, representing defiance and attitude, thank you Johnny. 

 Taken in my favorite pub in London on a very good day.

 Taken in Belgium, on what was one of  the most whimsical, content days I will ever have on this Earth. It looks like a fairy tale.

This photo has led millions of tourists to risk their lives, so I feel it must be an inspiring shot. Ohhhh Abbey Road. 

I fully acknowledge the random collection that this is, just embrace it. 

Just a bit of silly rambling really.

Toddler's and Tiaras is on tv and it is making me queasy. These Moms are beyond bizarre. Spending their days obsessing over frilly miniature sized pageant gowns, while forcing their seven year olds (or younger) to get a spray tan and go through traumatic eyebrow waxing. Perhaps I cannot fathom these rituals because I did not get eyebrows until I was eighteen years old, but that is beside the point, people.  When I was seven years old the most important things on my mind were which matching outfit Julia and I would wear to school the next day, if I wanted Shreddies or Cheerios for breakfast, and how I was going to convince Peter to let me stay outside for seven consecutive hours instead of five. Ohhhh the simple life. Perhaps I find these tiara clad seven year olds so creepy because I have never had the desire to be anything like this. I've never had the desire to be grouped into any category. People work so hard to classify themselves as this or that,  a Jackie or a Marilyn, if you were to ask me which I am I would tell you to take your label and... you know. I am neither; I have developed my own style. Sometimes I wear head to toe J-Crew, and the next day I might not wear pants with vans and a fedora. Does this mean I don't know who I am? Nooooo! Quite the contrary really, I know exactly who I am and I am sooo content with that person. Instead of working towards morphing myself into a specific category, I have a desire to fill my mind with new things. I want to be spontaneous and smart. I want to exist in this world as a person who is strong, who knows what she wants; is determined and is content with her weaknesses. I will be poised and classy, but you better believe I have an opinion. I eat a quarter of a cup of wheat, rye, and flax mixed with three quarters of a cup of water for breakfast every morning at eight o'clock, but sometimes I sleep until 11:17 and eat fruit snacks instead. This makes me grin and feel accomplished. Does that sound bizarre? I hope so. I am not going to submit to one specific path, not today or ever. Sure I have set beliefs, my world would be complete mayhem if I did not, but I take those beliefs and run with it. At times I am impulsive, but I'm no flake.

Draft

It was late, and now it is early, and my backspace key is still getting more attention than all the others put together. I have fifteen drafts lingering here. Fifteen drafts waiting to be published. Posts about music, Charles Dickens, Gary, public washrooms, my childhood best friend, class, Audrey Hepburn, global positioning systems, and who knows what else. I have a vicious case of writer's block, and I cannot seem to shake it. My own personal writing book is full of squiggles and incomplete thoughts scrawled in frustration. I truly do not know what to say; everything comes at me in fragments. I am capable of focusing on one topic for about four lines, and then I lose inspiration and motivation and my next thought crashes in and takes the old one out at the knees. Usually the only time anything even remotely makes sense is when I am alone in nature giving my notebook a thrashing, so you can imagine what this mundane bland phase has done to me. I have nearly gone entirely insane instead of just my usual seventy-five percent. Finally I woke up and decided to make today different. It was a crisp Fall day, and I chose to spend it alone with my notebook and my camera by a lake. I was surrounded by a plethora of autumn-hued trees, and for the first time in months everything finally seemed still. I perched myself on a hidden bench, and let everything hit me. All Summer I was a bit of a robot, allowing myself to slip into some state where feeling anything at all, decision making, or doing something the least bit constructive were things that existed... I don't know where really, but someplace very far away. I became a bland nine to fiver who only looked forward to my after work nap and or a lunchtime dollar drink.  I laughed as I wrote that. Who knew a large diet coke could bring so much joy. Not me! I don't even like soda. I sat on that faded bench, and let myself think about the last six months of my life. They were not a dream, but a reality that gave me new thoughts, goals, and interests. So I suppose I'm making this (whatever the hell I just dumped on this page) a declaration of sorts. A declaration that I am back in fulllllll force. The quirky, bizarre one... yes, her.


...and just so there is something of quality on this page I leave you with this.

“There is a wisdom of the head, and... there is a wisdom of the heart.” - Charles Dickens

Thank you, Sir. 

Heebie Jeebies

So Peter is leaving for Arizona on Monday... literally, she is on her way out the door. Naturally she has left me a list of all I am to do while she leaves. So I think I am safe. There she is, I can see the back side of her flapping out that beautiful front door, and then... it happened. Her body began to turn towards me. I tried to hurry and anxiously engage myself in a good cause else where, but I was not quick enough. She turned around. Eff. Her mouth falls open, and she says to me: "Ohhhh yeahhh.... Spring.... I know that you are so busy and that you are moving on Wednesday and don't even have time to sleep because you are a chronic leave it until the last minuter when it comes to these kinds of things... buuuuut can you just.. well, clean out the fridge before you leave?!" You want to know why she waited until half her hiney was literally out the door? Because cleaning the fridge gives me the heebie jeebies. What if there are hot dogs in there from a barbecue I innocently did not attend on the weekend, and they have a set date for rotting before she gets back, then what?! I have to touch the slimy already opened, once brown but now slightly grey,  juicy package? What about the pasta that she made for dinner the night before she left? It sat in a beautiful purple glass bowl,  lurking in sick mockery. What if there is still egg nog from Christmas that just gradually got pushed further and further back until it was permanently and conveniently hiding behind that twelve gallon bottle of ketchup that was on sale at Costco for six dollars?! *there is no egg nog left in our fridge from Christmas, just to shed any judgments you just shot with disgust at  the Pierson family. Anyyyyways. I begrudgingly strap on my bicep high, yellow rubber gloves and beging the hideous task. I'm twitching and jumping about every four and a half seconds, and Gary is dying. He is watching me with an entirely hideous, amused look on his face.

We then proceeded to have a twenty-seven minute long discussion on what gives us the heebie jeebies. There are categories you see.

Don't hate me for saying this, or do, but to every single one of us, a few people fall into the cautionary "heebie jeebie" category.

Take this here Janice for instance, the woman famously capable of making Chandler Bing's "balls jump back up into his body". With zero effort, she can cause his whole entire soul to shrivel up and die. For you, it might be the man in your ward who wears spandex church pants and spends too much time rubbing every females shoulders and offering unnecessary hugs.  It might be that lady that is kind of you Mom's friend, the one you avoid when you see her before she sees you at the grocery store. You are not in the mood to talk small talk for six minutes, and she is!  It might be the girl that you met at school semesters ago, that for some reason, like Chandler Bing and Janice, makes your entire soul die in a fire. You know that feeling. The one that you cannot even begin to explain.  You try not to talk about too often because you realize it appears harsh, but no matter how good of a heart you have, you just shrink up, the light in your eyes goes black, and you shiver every single time you hear their name. I hope right now as you are all reading this you have a grin on your face because someone's name juuuust popped into your head. Congrats on being human.

Then there are the sounds or smells. For my friend it is the fake peach smell. You know, peach flavored things. I will not do her the great injustice of revealing whyyyy this special smell nearly sends her into convulsions, but it just does. For me, it is the sound of ice scraping together. I just twitched writing that even. For Gary and I both, it is the biting of the fork. a;ldjf;aowejr;lkaj;sdlkjf;lkajsd teeth on metal. So nasty. I had a roommate who was a chronic utensil biter and it was a tragic situation.

So there you go. People are people and day old fettucini alfredo is just that, and maybe you and your brain looking pasta make me twitch, but that is that and it is 37 degrees outside. Celsius.

Jolly Roger

The other day for some strange reason I answered the house phone. I never answer that phone because it is never for me. Simple enough. Anyhow, on the other end was Bob, one of our really good family friends who is quite elderly now, and has a bit of dementia.  Anyways, he can't talk so great and gets confused really easily, so all he said was: your mom... emergency...her eye...better go there... I'm like uhhhh ok? I guess I'll go there then! Thanks, bye! Naturally I did not react in the slightest bit. I just looked at my brother Rob and said hmm well I guess Pete is in the ER so I suppose we should go there. She hurt her eye or something? I dunno, but I hope she gets an eye patch! (Don't judge me, you'd all think it was funny if your Mom had an eye patch too)I knew he'd react, and of course he did. So off we went to the hospital. There is Peter sittin' in a chair with a squinty eye. (nooo I am not laughing as I write this... maybe.) So we make sure she is ok, turns out she ran over a rock when she was mowing and it flicked into her eye. A little freezing, and she was fine. Soooo here is where it gets really good.  Rob and I are driving home and I have an epiphany! Guess what I ordered on Amazon that just happened to arrive the day before?! A GIANT JOLLY ROGER!   So what did I do? I dashed out to the flag pole in the front of our house, took down the lovely Canadian flag that was flying so majestically, and up went the Jolly Roger to commemorate the almost loss of Peter's eye. I am without a doubt, the best, most caring daughter EVER. Peter laughed her hiney off and then I woke her up at 2 in the morning by jumping on her in bed. When she started to get mad I told her she'd miss those wake up calls when I leave. Then I blasted some music and Gary and I had a dance party. All while he was wearing his Darth Vader sleep mask. Life doesn't get much better than this, folks. 

Rainy Thoughts

I am working on a new project which I am not going to get into just now, but it is a reflection project. Reflecting on all things beautiful, hideous, past, present, in general and in depth. Of course people play a major role in this.
I remember being fifteen years old and strolling down the hallway of the tiny Raymond High School. I was wearing skinny jeans and they were juuuuust becoming ok again. Translation: only a couple of people in Raymond had caught on at this point. A million people, even my closest friends used to mock the dickens out of me because this is the kind of thing I chose to wear, what I chose to wear was off. It did not bother me much, most of what I have done my whole life is off!  I would be a liar if I proclaimed to be strong as an ox and sure enough of myself back then that it did not create a bit of doubt,  I was an awkward fifteen-year-old after all. Years passed and I did not think much about these things until moments like this one. It is pooring rain outside currently, and I'm listening. Down falls not the majestic sort of rain that steals the streetlights thunder as it dances and gleams, but heavy, thick rain. Rain that falls in singular, grand drops and slowly darkens the color of wooden porches and asphalt. I took a break from my project and went and stood in it. I stood in the middle of the sidewalk and let the large drops soak me. Soak my hair and my cotton clothing just as it did a few months ago in Cantebury, England.
I stood, waiting to be let into a cathedral, and I was soaked from head to toe. I didn't care about being wet that day either. I was standing their perfectly content, content with a feeling of magnificence and appreciation for where I stood. I was entirely absorbed when from the left side of me came some remark about the state of my hair. Apparently the wet look just wasn't working for me. First the skinny jeans, and now wet hair. Me oh my. Instead of shuffling down the hallway of RHS a little slower with my head just slightly deflated, I lifted my chin and grinned. My hair was ugly? Look at her hair? Her Vans Shoes? Her all too often clad in black self? That bone-y creature? Who was she kidding? Who was I kidding? Not. One. Soul. I was kidding no one. My hair was wet because I let it be. My hair was wet because I was entirely too content and too moved to care. My hair was wet because I had just frolicked around in the streets with those most dear, and I was too happy to care. I rubbed in that natural moisture and let my mane run absolutely wild.  I like it that way.  I sit here now, the gold locks as psychotic as ever, listening to the thunder pound the Earth. Shake the very ground this house is built on, and I think of the people who try to do the same. Some do, naturally, they flip the nation without even knowing their magnitude. Those are the brilliant ones. The ones capable of inspiring. Others try and fail. Others think the solution is to take the world in their hands and shake with all their might until something is different. Until something has been pushed down a level and they have risen. They feel with their rising their skills and their stature have increased. This makes me grin. Grin because it is so flawed and the realization of that will one day sink in, just as the rain does to the grass now.

Dear Jane.

I have a real post churning in my brain, but I can't bring myself to write it just yet. But just so Jane doesn't give up on me I will begin writing whatever pops into my brain or heaven forbid, bits of what is already in there.

I could not find a headband within one foot of me while sitting on the couch today squished up in a ball doing nothing, so like a true boy scout would, I went ahead and wrapped my laptop charger around my head. Try it, works like a charm. The little clasp on there that you use to wrap it up, perfect clasp. Just don't do it up too tight or the blood won't flow so well and you may end up a bit light headed. It's almost like I learned this the hard way or something.

Remember when I used to be deathly afraid of needles? Apparently not anymore. I book myself acupuncture appointments willingly and I love every second of it.

Yesterday I played soccer with the children and I picked them up and spun them around 2 million times and I'm pleased to announce my whole body is sore today.  

I drink about 5 liters of water a day and I pee constantly.

Peter says to me the other day she says: "Spring, if I save something will it automatically go to my table top?" me with stunned face: "Tabletop?!?!?!?!?!?! BAHAHAHAHA" Peter: "whhhhhhhhhhat?" me: "uhhh Petrey, DESKtop you nerd.

Have you ever fallen asleep with whitestrips on? It hurts.

The other day at work I was running up the stairs, toooootally biffed it. I thought I could just carry on and no one would notice, the entire staff came out of their offices. I'm not mad.

As it turns out I am moving in less than one month.

Dave is getting married on Saturday, in Waterton.

I now have a nap each day.

As you can tell, my life is not all that exciting.

Gary doesn't snore anymore, and this is a big deal. He used to shake the house, people.

I drove home from work today with my leg half out of the car window.

I still eat eggs at least once per day, Haley.

I have been reading up a storm and it is divine to read whatever I want. I'll talk more about this when I'm in a better condition.

Yesterday I was saying goodbye to Freya and I said bye Freya, LOVE YOU! and before she could think she blurted out AMEN! She kills me.

She also ran 50 yards, into my arms, screaming at full volume when I pulled up to where she was.


It is really hard for me to ever get enough apples. I'm beyond addicted.

My Grandma, whom I adore, well she is no longer there, at all, so now when I go to visit her we have the same conversations. To keep things interesting, and to make sure I don't go insane I may or may not lie a bit. The other day she said well what do you do at university? and I said oh I am studying to be a rocket scientist. Five minutes later she asked me again, I told her I was done university and that I am now a plastic surgeon. I'll probably go to hell.

The highlight of my weekend, I was strolling casually through Wal Mart, soaking in alllll those square feet of delight, when who do I pass you ask? Just a friendly 5'4" seventy-year-old lady wearing a black Def Leppard shirt that fell almost to her knees. I'm. Not. Lying. I soooo wanted to ask for a photo or to stalk one down, but I missed my chance.

I just crept into Pete and Gare's room while they were trying to fall asleep, walked over to the computer and turned on the first thing I could click on. Just happened to be ACDC "Highway to Hell". I then proceeded to dance around like a psyscho while Peter shook her head at the child she raised, and Gary pumped his arms and tapped his feet to the music.

I do believe this is enough damage for one session. It would appear as though I'm still bizarre.

ps. Gary came home the other day and asked me if I had seen Kate's wardrobe while she was in Canada because her stylist was "spot on". Thanks Gary.

p.p.s. I just realized that too many of these random things include my parents. That is because I'm a hermit and I live in their basement. It really doesn't get much better than that, folks.