Hello Mudda, Hello Fadda, Here I am at Camp Granada, or "Worst Post Title Ever"

It is Thanksgiving break back home, so I doubt many people are reading this. That is fine, as I haven't much to say.

This weekend I went to Granada, in Andalucia. It was beautiful and smelled like Kentucky at times and looked like heaven. I walked much, ran some, saw lovely things and felt romantic feelings in my heart. The Alhambra had roses and oranges and pomegranates and a setting sun behind it. The paths were lined on either side with gentle but constantly flowing rivulets, turning trees, and golden leaves gliding to rest.

More importantly, I made a decision. A decision that is good - and good for me, for a change. It is hard, but the die is cast. The Rubicon has been crossed. Well, just insert whatever trite, overdramatic expression you want. And it's that.

No one pays for what they get for free. And no one will respect what they can take advantage of. So no more.

Here are two pictures from my trip, before editing.


And:

It's Getting Better All the Ti-i-ime

In spite of my last entry, things are starting to look up.

I hiked Hanging Lake, which is something that every human should see (according to the internet).

The couple I live with invited me to sit down with them and have an actual meal for the first time this summer (even though it was on the couch. . .watching the Simpsons).

I am in the process of getting my visa so I can go to Spain.

My plane ticket over there may be as cheap as $400 (one-way).

And I read the Great Gatsby once again.

What a life.

I Love Photography

Some of you may have seen me with a camera around my neck and chided me for simply wearing it and not using it (Kaitlin). Some of you may have been subjected to me continuous geeking out over infrared photography (Shelby). Regardless, I am going to tell you why I love photography.

I started in my Junior year of High School, shooting on 35mm B&W film which we, as a class, developed ourselves. We had assignments and deadlines and stress and it was beautiful. I took some crappy shots and slowly learned what would make them better.

Senior year I was accepted into Photo 2, la creme de la creme. Actually, it was just the less-lazy students. We tried new things and learned and expressed ourselves and cried over ruined shots and it was beautiful.

Since then I have missed the whole experience, but am getting back into the swing of things. Today I took advantage of the sunlight to walk around Searcy and find something pretty. Instead I found lots of puddles and stray cats, but they weren't so bad.

But here's why I love it: it changes every situation. People take notice and somehow feel compelled to talk about their old Polaroids and Pentaxes. Today I leaned in to grab a shot of some cats on a porch, and a lady across the street yelled at me to ask what I was doing. When I yelled back, the house's owner came out and immediately struck up a conversation about all of the cats that he takes care of: Boo, Bluto, Brother, Pretty Girl, RT, et. al. The one called "RT" was named for the Rings on his Tail.

Frank told me about how hard he works to keep them alive and warm in the winter. He told me of a few that he had buried while constantly adjusting the brim of his hat. Suddenly he went back inside to the TV that was still tuned very loud and I met the lady who had previously yelled at me. She was fidgety and nervous, presumably due to the camera that was around my neck, but before she left she actually THANKED me for "taking some pictures of our cats."

Then in the park I met a lady named Shirley. She asked for gas money to get back home, and I was grateful for having cashed a check earlier today so I had something to give her. Emboldened by the cheerful smile she wore, I ventured to ask if I could take some photographs of her. She agreed, applied a fresh coat of lipstick, took three steps back and smiled self-consciously. She asked for my address before she left to send me money back, but the offer alone was enough for me. I've never had any former stranger offer to pay me back before.

None of the pictures are breath-taking, I'm sure. In fact, I think the thing that keeps me from ever being an "artist" is the fact that I'm overly sentimental, and composition usually takes second place to the memories attached to that frozen moment.

But no matter. It was a beautiful day.