Fourteen years ago, I was a seventh grader at Samuel Morse Middle School for the Gifted & Talented. My cousin had her first baby, a little boy she named Izaiah. I wore fat pants, chokers, listened to Limp Bizkit, Incubus, and Linkin Park. I was a pop-punk emo kid. The morning of September 11th, 2001, I remember my aunt screaming and crying as she got ready for work in her bedroom nearby. I didn't quite understand what was going on. I recall her mentioning something about airplanes hitting buildings in New York and how we needed to call my grandma. I am now aware where my grandma lives in relation to the towers. At the time, though, I had no clue. Whenever the subject of my paternal grandmother living in New York came up with peers, I always decided which sounded more badass- Bronx or Brooklyn? Well, my grandma lives in Manhattan, in East Harlem. I know that now, but New York was too complicated for my thirteen year old brain, having not visited for five years. There was no time to call that morning (I doubt it would have gone through anyway) so we decided to call when I got home from school. I walked to the bus stop, and thought things would be normal.
I don't recall any other class than my algebra class. Advanced math nerd that I was, me and a few other smarty pants seventh graders were taught with eighth graders the wonders of algebra. There would be no algebra that day, though, much to my not-homework-doing delight. Instead, we sat and listened to our teacher's clock radio as the news was somberly played for forty-five minutes.
"I heard it was the Ay-rabs!"
"I heard it was the Puerto Ricans!"
"Shut up! Puerto Rico is a US Territory, idiot!"
So many stupid things shouted by thirteen and twelve year olds not really sure what was happening. My brother was at the high school I'd be attending in two years. He told me that the teacher who ended up becoming my English teacher senior year ran into his Spanish class screaming,"We're all going to die!" Now that I know her, I can see it clearly in my mind. My best friend's sister was in her Italian class where they turned on the TV to watch the horror unfold, rather than studying vocabulary or whatever was on the agenda for the day. I remember moving through the rest of the day as though I were floating. I don't remember anything else about school that day. I was there, but my mind kept turning to the things I was hearing. What was going on in the world outside this building?
When I got home, 24 hours news monster was already spewing images that haunt me to this day. It took some time for my brain to comprehend that the things falling from the burning buildings were people jumping. I cried and wailed uncontrollably. I stuffed a pillow in my mouth so no one else could hear something was wrong, but everyone else was upstairs with the baby. I was alone to deal with these images. For weeks, it was all I could see in my mind when I closed my eyes. I couldn't understand why. Why did this happen? Why did those people have to die? Why did they jump? Was taking matters into their own hands better than waiting for whatever fate had in store for them?
That day always plays in my head when the anniversary comes around. We were able to get ahold of my grandma the next morning. I talked to her briefly before school, said,"Bendición," and "I love you," as if those words were enough to alleviate this strangeness we all felt. We were able to reconnect with someone we loved, but what about the thousands who never can? And the lives of innocents who didn't ask to be in a war zone? What about those whose voices we'll never hear again? What about them?
fourteen years ago
the best camera
...is the one that's with you. This phrase came about when Chase Jarvis, an American photographer, released his book of iPhone photographs. He also had an app called Best Camera. This is something that has slowly taken me time to learn and accept. If I don't have my DSLR with me, just my iPhone, I could become a bit sad because I'd rather have the ability to shoot RAW, but I will still take a picture. Recently, a few people have said to me,"I wish I were photography savvy" or "I need a better camera; I like to take pictures." No, no, no, people. You've got it all wrong!
Do you like to take photographs? Do you have a device or actual camera with which to take photographs? Then you've got the tools you need! When I was thirteen, I was bitten by the photography bug. For Christmas that year, I asked for a camera. I should have been more specific in that I wanted a digital camera, despite the fact that it definitely was not within our means to get that kind of gift just for me. I pasted a smile on my face that I got a camera, period. I also got the Bell Jar and Red Hot Chili Peppers cd. I was excited about the camera. I put the battery and film in and began shooting immediately, but also being cautious as to preserve the film. I took that camera to middle school, taking awkward flash photos of my eighth grade friends. I brought it along on a Mitchell Park Domes field trip, those same friends in botanical conservatories. Those photographs are so clear in my mind, it's as though they're in front of me right now. I would have to search many boxes for those specific pictures, but they do exist. Eighth grade graduation, us frozen in that weird adolescent transition from middle to high school. But underneath it all, I just wanted to take photographs. I had sketchbooks full of awful drawings, and although I got into abstract painting that year, I wanted to capture moments. Those years, I became an observer. Things changed even more significantly after read The Perks of Being a Wallflower. In becoming more observant, I was able to frame things with my minds eye, always itching to take photos. If I forgot my camera, I was so bummed. I carried extra double A batteries at all times, for fear that my now monstrous digital camera (2.3 MP!) would die at the worst moment!
These days, things are significantly different. Late to the smartphone game, only within the last three years have I had the tools to photograph with me at all times. I still carry my DSLR, but I do mostly shoot with my phone. Some people don't feel that's enough, but if you look at photographers like Amanda Jasnowski and Kevin Russ who have built careers with the very phones we carry with us each day, you can see that it's not the camera itself, but how one uses it. I have demonstrated to people how to adjust brightness and focus by simply touching the phones and they are amazed! It is all about how you choose to use the tools given to you. You can learn by practicing and exploring all the different settings and options available. Don't be afraid of using the camera on your phone. You'll be amazed by all of the things it can do. You can also search how to improve your phone photography, if you so choose. There are many great posts here and here that can show you how.
personal style blogs: a thing of the past?
It's better to burn out than to fade away, at least that's what they say. Does burning out mean going out with a bang? I'll pretend for the sake of this writing that that's what it means. I've noticed this quite a bit with blogs I have been following for years- they burn out or fade away. It's a bummer, but a reality of the fickle young industry of blogging for a living. Even if that was not the goal at the start of the blog, it sometimes has a way of coming back to bite you.
I could be 100% percent wrong, but it's as though around 2009, fashion blogging exploded all of the internet. Folks with a flair for personal style garnered an audience thirsty for more- more creative looks, more information on how to cop the same or similar items, and more information on their personal lives. The audience demanded it! Most blogs I visited always had thirty+ comments. "Cute skirt/dress/shoes! Check out my blog kristinsfashionblog.com"
The audience saw how successful a handful of these people were that they wanted a piece of the pie. Where were their free pair of Swedish Hasbeens close? Why couldn't they get a dress "courtesy of" Modcloth? Quite honestly, I don't believe there is a formula to the success. For some reason, things worked out for those girls. That's not to say that some of them didn't work hard. I can only imagine trying to please an audience you gained while being yourself, but now you have to also work in sponsorships and advertising without losing too many people. As the bloggers grow older and begin families, is the audience going to care enough to stick around if the blog transforms as the blogger's life transforms? Is a blog that's strictly style going to bring in the same success approximately six years after the boom?
Lots of blogs nowadays have changed quite a bit. Some of them still feature their personal style, but there are little bits of lifestyle, personal life, maybe even some cooking mixed into these blogs once so dedicated to personal style. It's interesting to see the change over the years and how it seems that the style "blogging" has moved over into Instagram, it seems. Instagram is a place to grow an audience with some well placed hashtags and killer style. Companies seem to lean towards the social media aspect of advertising and utilize a lot of these Instagram style 'grammers. Can the blogging world keep up? Or have we seen it have its moment, with its time to now fade away?
on friendships, old and new
Friendships are weird, especially those established during adolescents. It’s a murky time where we change who we are and what we believe in almost as often as we change our underwear. We want to be cool, we don’t want to conform. We want to try everything and have everyone as our friend, but we also want a little tight-knit group. We don’t really know what we want and will only find out by trying every. Little. Thing. That’s okay. That’s how we find who we are, those of us who haven’t had it established from the day they set foot inside their pre-school. That’s most people, I feel. But then, you can be made out to be a poser or a fake just because your tastes “changed,” but you actually do still listen to Band X, you just like the older stuff ~snicker snicker~ Eventually, though, you will fall into your group.
And that group is amazing, or even, multiple groups. That’s right, some friendships never come together, but you can have multiple groups of people whose company you enjoy. It is possible to find, grow, and maintain a relationship such as friendship over a long period of time, even through adolescents. I feel those that can grow with you and see you through the truly difficult moments as we are growing into adults are the strongest friendships. Those have not only stood the test of time, but the test of hardship, and naturally, tests of quarreling. The other groups can form in other ways, whether through familial connections (a cousin of a cousin of a cousin) or work connections, there are other small groups formed. Those can be just as loving as the first group, but it’s always the first group that takes priority over the others simply due to time. Time spent laughing, loving, crying, learning, growing. It’s those friendships that make those awkward adolescent moments bearable, in retrospect.
Get Off The Internet
Yesterday, I came across a website that is a forum for people to complain about bloggers. It was started in 2009 to "snark" about various online personalities. I feel as though expressing it in such a way gives people permission to talk shit without feeling so bad. It's a "personality" they are portraying that they hate, not the person themselves. But where and when does it stop? There are people behind the words posted, however sincere or insincere you may view them. These are people with real emotions, capable of reacting to the negative things out there about them.
I have never wanted to self-sabotage more than anything after viewing the most horrendously vitriolic comments aimed at fairly popular bloggers simply because they're successful. It's an attack on those willing to put themselves out there, and when they change even slightly, people take to the message boards to tear apart. Looking at my own blogging experience, I have changed a lot over the three years since I began to blog on a semi-regular basis. I suppose I am different in the sense that I don't blog for money. I don't think many of the for-profit blogs out there began for the sake of money. I think it just evolved over time into a business. I could be naive, I guess, but I guess I haven't become so cynical that I allow the negativity to consume me so much that I have to put it out there for everyone to read.
Online personalities are equated as being the "reality star of the Modern World." I feel as though giving them a name with negative connotation gives others permission to abuse them, and still sleep at night. As humans, we should treat other humans with kindness and respect we expect in return. By turning these bloggers into just "personalities" or "reality starts of the Modern World" almost dehumanizes them. It's like saying,"Hey, it's not necessarily the real person you're insulting. It's the personality they're putting on for the world. Buck up, kiddo. You're not so bad." I don't think that's a right way to look at it though. Where does the personality they portray stop and the real person begin? How does one know that this "personality" they're attacking isn't the real person? No one knows, except for the people behind the blogs themselves. I feel a though everybody has admitted that yeah, they put their best face forward. "It's because they're selling a brand, a lifestyle." Maybe. Or maybe they'd like their blog to be an escape, not only for themselves, but for their readers.
I have never understood the need to bring down another person in order to make myself feel better. I'm definitely not the most secure person, and could see how one could go down that route, but I don't understand how it's supposed to make me feel better. The objects of whatever vitriol I decide to spew are going to live on, doing what they do, in spite of what I say. It's energy wasted. It's easy to critique those out there doing things, rather than expending that energy doing something positive.
heaven's to betsy
It's silly, right? To be this broken up about a car? You have to understand some things, though. Most importantly, I grew as a driver in this car. My first and only accident occurred in this car. I have spent many nights chatting and flirting in this car. For a while, I had my own car, a Cavalier that was such a hazard to drive, but I loved it. It was something all mine. Once my mom got herself a car, we'd no longer have to share Betsy. She'd be all mine. But then the axle broke, other things were corroded, or falling apart, and she just wasn't worth saving, I guess. She'd never fully be mine. Just like that, it felt as though I was stripped of my freedom. For a while, I'll have to rely on others for transportation, and it gives me anxiety, waiting around for who knows what to happen.
I feel as though when things are looking up, the universe has to shake things up for me a little bit. Car first, apartment next. It's as though the restart button was pushed on the gaming console before you could get to a save checkpoint, but y'know, real life things. Now back to waiting to find and save for a car again, pushing my move out date to next year. Goodbye, more freedoms. I want a cat companion. I want to be able to spread out my possessions, rather than cramming everything into one little bedroom. I want things to call my own so I can feel like I have accomplished something, anything.