"The Crib is Gone"

The crib is gone. This is the phrase which Nicole had tasked me with for this past week. Initial interpretations were relatively literal. But to make this one work, I realized that I'd have to stretch that languid mind of mine, contort an image to fit with a meaning. And I am pleased at the result.

Though not technically a new picture, the implicit meaning behind it is. Amazing how an old image can stir your interest after having a change of heart, circumstance, or disposition. The image is a small grouping of silos I drove by in almost blizzard-like conditions while on my way back home from school. I hadn't put much stock in this simple series. I had snapped it with the window open, snow hitting my lens and eyes, compounding my already-dangerous habit of taking pictures while behind the wheel. But now, much later I realized something.

That was my last trip home from college. That was my last farewell drive on that road which had taken me to and from the Bubble. College was a place of rapid development, understanding and a place to get a handle on one's future. College remained a safe harbor for diverse thought and practice. Students' behaviour was explained away by statements like, "the old college try," "you only live once," "the best time in our lives," even "it's our last hurrah!"

The University Experience is an adult crib. It coddles thought and excuses otherwise ridiculous behaviour with simple phrases. Just as a kid may jam a Transformer in his nose, may a college kid miss a final. Neither behaviour is advisable, but there is empathy for both. Allowed to stumble and falter, but never truly allowed to fall out.

Unfortunately, the crib is gone.

Consequences of Being Home

Consequence of Being Home No. 1: Access to My New Camera

As I sit here waiting for my camera battery to charge on my Canon Rebel XTi, I anticipate the composition of likely crappy pictures I've taken upon long-awaited receipt of the camera. It was originally a Hanukkah gift, but apparently I was going to use the camera as a football, the strap as a whip for naughty frat boys and the lens cap as a shallow shot glass just because I was in college. So, in the meantime, my parents took it on various trips, frightening destinations and to unprecedented heights, such as a helicopter ride over the volcanoes of Hawaii, on the beach (near sand! how dare they), and a little too close to the probably extremely sticky hands of a poorly coordinated, though very agile, toddler. Now that we have finally gotten to know each other a little bit, I find myself still guilty of indiscretions like not holding the lens properly, not knowing what type of camera it is, not knowing what 75% of the buttons of the do, asking Brian how to operate the most basic features, and secretly wishing that it would spit out some black and white film that I could do a sub-par job developing. It's like taking care of an actual baby instead of playing with a babydoll.

Consequence of Being Homes No. 2: Endlessly Wishing I Had Time for Art Both With and Without the Use of My Computer.

You know what though? More about photography. I liked knowing that it was up to me to do a good job, that I needed to find the correct lighting, a good angle, a great composition, engaging subject-matter and so on. Now, I can Photoshop any picture that "could have been" to make it what it "should have been" the first time around. Don't get me wrong, Photoshop is like the sweetest thing that has ever happened to me in the realm of technology, but I also have a lot more to learn (courtesy of Brian). I mean, a lot to learn to really appreciate it all. There's just something to be said for those photographers that could only dodge and burn their mistakes away. There's something to be said for having the most basic piece of equipment and making the best art of all time from it.

Consequence of Being Home No. 3: Deciding to Pursue What I've Been Scared of Wanting.

Getting back to basics definitely does not follow the direction of the trends, but I guess that I long for the days of the photo assignment that led me to drive around Louisville in search of an interesting take (no pun intended) on a tired object. I guess that's why I've always wanted to go into advertising. Not because it's sexy. I didn't know advertising was supposed to be sexy, nor did I know that you can make shittons of money doing it. I just always kind of wanted to do it because, and everyone says this, I was the person that found myself more intrigued in judging the content of the commercials in between programs than in the actual program. But, it's true. If there was a gauge, I would say that would be a good one. Reason being, if your whole career is going to be a tidal wave onto the rest of your life, encompassing it into the nothingness that is your free time other than the ruins that are left behind, you better fuckin' love it. You better not wish you were watching the women of Wisteria Lane or whatever other programming on a Sunday night instead of working out creative ideas for some Tide advertisement that those women, in theory, would use or at least their Nannies. So, in this mess of deciding how best to put aside the practical (finding a job that will pay me to live somewhere else) to make time for the impossible (find an internship that won't pay me in order to live at home), I've decided. Nothing else has ever interested me as a prospective career before I went to college and nothing else popped out after I studied Marketing in college. And now that is what I'll do and what I must doing, being as how I'm home now.

Home - Brian

Home.


Home. I've been known to correct people (known by them, I never seem to remember) when they say "house" to instead say "home." I am not sure if it is the etymological portion of "home" that I prefer or simply the familiarity the term connotes.

As I near my move, I find this theme encroaching upon my normal conscious thought, slinking out of my brain and slipping into my mental state. I am subject to mental wanderings, you know. So what does home mean to me? As of late it's been a hubbub of commotion in my suburban oasis. My parent's home is continually being painted, cut apart, and redone. Nothing beyond recognition. Yet, that certain etch of character, the patina of the house, seems to be wearing away. As supportive as I am of new construction and modern design, I find that the fine scratches and daily wear of 18 years on a home seems to be disappearing as another coat of paint is applied, or another synthetic deck-board is screwed into place. So that's this week's picture--the precise deconstruction of memories and, by the law of conservation of thought, the recycling of mental material into new experiences.

Comments welcome.

Oh, right! It's my turn.

Now, I don't profess to have the same command over the language that my "ladyfriend" seems to muster, nor the pop culture knowledge (apparently, my use of Ladyfriend is already steeped in cultural currency given the release of SATC: the pleaser). If the idea of a couple writing a blog to stay together and be in contact and have an outlet for their dormant creative side turns your stomach, well stop reading. It's a less romantic notion than writing letters, but then again, it's now available to the public.

About me: Brian. A self-professed jack of a few trades, master of absolutely none, I am leaving my studenthood behind in search of truly finding myself. And by truly finding myself I mean spending 100 hrs a week in a cubicle cranking out spreadsheets for a regional investment bank. Yeah, well it's not for everyone. I suppose I will suspend any additional revelations about my character until further posts, no-one likes to see the end of the movie before they sit through the rest, right (a few notable exceptions exist, I realized this).

So here it is, an outlet for general creativity. This week's theme is "home." I have yet to have intelligent thoughts and/or creative vision surrounding the topic despite the fact that I was responsible for coming up with it. That said, I am planning on making next week's "Ribs." Why? Because I am itching at attending the Lincoln Park RIBFEST. I hear there will be 65,000 lbs of ribs. I am planning on eating 55,000 of them and photographing the rest.

About Nicole and I: We're great, thanks for asking, but that's not to say we don't have our own fair share of obstacles to overcome in the coming months/years. In all liklihood as Nicole's explained, we'll be in different cities. That's pretty difficult on a realationship which has spanned such a short period of time. But hey, we'd be crazy if we didn't try (credit: CKS). That said, here's a common goal and tangible history where we can profile and record our creative endeavors and failures.

What an exciting time! Here we go and wish us luck!

Starting Out.

Nicole's Perspective: A Vehicle is Found!

In an effort to keep busy, stay creative and keep learning how to use all these complicated new gadgets and programs to their maximum levels of awesomeness we started a blog. I guess this is the part where I explain the "we." Nope... I'm going to talk about something else first. Naturually. And as a disclaimer, whatever I leave out, don't explain or make sound as if some secondary audience is reading this... Brian can remedy. While I am always right, he is always able to correct the times when I am less right than usual. I can't help but to write this as if someone else other than the two of us will be reading it... and perhaps some day when I have either made a name for myself and someone decides to google me to find out more about my fabulous life full of accomplishments or one awesome accomplishment that is not dying in some crazy way, this will come up. Then, the life I led post-college will be like the sound of a tree hitting the ground in a forest I thought was empty, but wasn't. Or maybe someone will just google Brian because he'll be some famous investment banker that proved the existence of G-d through some equation or Excel spreadsheet and they'll find my name and they'll wonder who I am. AND THEN they will Google just me and find out that I'm just me. Brian's "ladyfriend." Either way, I will be known somehow, someday. Maybe through facebook? There's always facebook.

So, the "we" or "us" or reason for the jointness in the bloggingness: Brian is my "manfriend" and yes, I just watched Sex and the City: The Movie. I promise, it's worth every penny and every minute. Before you peg me as whatever for rejoicing in the glory that is SATC, you've got to understand: It's what every girl with ambitions would want. I mean how could you not want to be a revered writer and all you have to talk about is you sex life and dating history and somehow make it sound like you learned something and were insightful. I'm pretty sure every woman does that every time she has a conversation with her friends or therapist or whatever about a man. Or what about being a successful PR exec who manages one of the most famous actors in Hollywood and can get you into every club and restuarant and is a true NYC socialite? Or what about being a successful partner in a law firm with a great family? Or what about having a great family and having had a career as a gallery owner and philanthropist? And what about their CLOTHES? And they're all well-off and can afford beautiful and spacious apartments with big closets that aren't bedrooms and they have fun at work and have great wardrobes and all that jazz. Yeah, and it's jazz, elaborate, not quite comprehensible, here and there, never know where it's going or when it might end - jazz. The jazz of youth and valuing beauty and all that is enviable by others. Judge me. I dare you, but SATC was great entertainment. And now it's over. I guess? And I'm stuck with Grey's Anatomy and the Bachelorette for my TV romantic drama/comedy fix.
ALLLL Wrrrroooonnngggg!

Back to my boyfriend [and I better start saying boyfriend or I bet he gets sick on his keyboard if I write any more paragraphs that resemble the last (oh, but I will. Not today, though)]. Anywaaaayyy... Brian and I met and yeah that's it. If I tell you too much about how we met I'll give away too many details about the Murder Mystery Romantic Comedy screen play that's in the works based on our relationship and some other fantastical events I thought of while running. Maybe I'll tell about our relationship and how we met and fell in love sometime... from my perspective, but I honestly think it would be more fun to both sit down and write out our version of the story at the same time and then we can read each other's and get our feelings hurt and say stuff like "Omg. i can't believe you think YOU DID ALL THE WORK. i texted you ALL THE TIME." or whatever. So... Brian is like near perfect, for me anyway. And it's great and wonderful. And I love him. DON"T STOP READING.

And... so now we are apart. In different cities in the U.S.A. and we have some plans. Because long distance sucks and is hard and it would be stupid and lazy to break up and definitely emotionally draining. So, we persevere. And out comes a blog. Because the best way to stay happy is to stay entertained by the cool things that you do or make. I think, anyway. And I get my energy and happiness and creative bursts from interaction with other people and so together it works. I project. I mean, this is the first post and Brian already wants to downgrade his responsibilities to accompanying photography only. But, don't fret. I am unemployed and feeling great about this wonderful opportunity to blog it out. I keep losing track of the point I'm trying to make, don't I?

This blog is what we do together when we're apart. Every week there's a buzzword and we write and post pictures and things about the word. The first word is none other than "Home." Which is where we both, reluctently are, post-college graduation and pre-start of first job. Let it be known, that I don't have a job and Brian does, which is under no circumstance an excuse to not post because work stays at work and fun stays at home and this is fun! Which is why naughty pictures aren't sent to briang@keybank.com or whatever your email address will be - if you get any pictures because you have to earn them first. So, start writing! Please?

Next: The Greatly Anticipated Blog That Creatively Comes from the Word "Home."

P.S. The image for our blog is the two of us, before or after we passed out on the grass at the Kentucky Derby, taken by a mutual friend, Ema Pasic.