Pictures
I was scrolling through Facebook this morning. In fact, I sat down to write a blog post and came up blank. I have so many things I want to say, but gosh. Okay, so let’s get the elephant out of the room… no, I’m not sick… I lost someone extremely important to me. No, I’m not ready to talk about it… Jalapeño. (I’ll explain that someday, too) Anyway, back to the procrastination.
Two ladies pop up with ads constantly, but there are more ads related to photography. The two ladies I’m referring to always talk about polished photos wherever you go. No one around to take your photo, no problem, etc. I look at these polished photos and wish I had photos of myself like that. Come on, that’s what they want. They want to inspire you to buy their book or their course, or their Lightroom presets, so “You can look this good, too.” Here’s the thing… I’ll never look that good, both in real life or in photos, I don’t really want to spend the money on crap I already know (I’ve spent a lot of years studying photography), and three… well… I’m a goofball.

Circa 1998
Growing up, my mom hated photos. She hated being in them. She hated taking them. She hated them. When she and my dad got married, she wasn’t even going to have wedding photos done, but my grandma said that she was paying for it, she was getting her photos too, so my mom bought the smallest, cheapest photo package offered. Then, throughout the years, she’d hide them in the house. Mom and Dad’s marriage license was in between the pages, and when Dad would need the marriage license, he’d grumble. She wouldn’t give him the photos, and I’d be sent out to find them hidden in the house. Usually, I knew where they were, I just never said so because then she’d move them on me. (more…)