Lost in Txtlation

These are the cookie crumbs for my depreciating mind.

Month: April 2014

You can only grow if you’re willing to feel awkward and uncomfortable when you try something new.

First Impressions

First Impressions…

I want to get to know someone, not based on finding the perfect outfit for a first date, and then canceling because you can’t, but on the person they are every day. I mean when they are old and I am sitting by them in a rocking chair yelling at the kids across the street or the fish in the ocean (depends on where we retire) do you think I give a shit what they wore the first time I met them? (although I will remember because I have a weird memory like that)


But it is more than that superficial part I am talking about. The real first impression, having to do with who you are, who you give off, and how your day has influenced your self at that given time.


The more first dates I go on the more I realize it is impossible to be the same “me” everytime. Sometimes I may be introspective, sometimes goofy, at times I may give off sophistication, and sometimes I just don’t want to tell you about my tattoo again. So for the person on the other end of that night, will that first impression be the “go to” moment of who I am or has social media and the “need” to stalk someone’s past after a date instead of the memory of the night just entertained, made it a moot point.


Will I no longer need to worry about that “changing schools” mentality because so much of me is engrained in an online memoir? Do those first moments slip from mind as the overwhelming amount of social media crams its way into the mind of those around you pushing out the present and consuming them with past?

Or will, as time and dates continue, my true self be a shock. As my personality progresses from one dimension to two dimensional with each encounter, does the person I met adapt or hold onto a memory of that first night when I fit the category of that specific mind set and personality associatively put forth by myself?

Someone said to me I was kinda a “smart dork”, the word smart never really registered as a descriptor I would use for self. People smart or worldy perhaps, but book smart… That would be new. But that night I knew so many random facts, I didn’t need google a damn thing haha. My mind flowed information that might make my LASIK surgery seem like a waste of money since I was being pictures with intellectual glasses on anyway.

So my thought is, does that first impression stick, as the personality we bring back into mind when shit goes wrong or things start to “change”. (Change being a poor choice of words, as it is more like the progression of pulling back the layers of someone impossible to summate in a first encounter) But do we want to live in that “first impression” to hear the songs playing or to feel the butterflies in the stomach?

Does each date, essentially boil down the rudimentary idea of changing schools. In one school you had years for people to “assume who you were”. But you change schools and you can, like a movie, reinvent your self. Eventually you, as a person comes out, but are people so used to a certain “first impression” that even that change will still be crowned with it, masking the quirks, the small bits, the layers. Will we be unable to truly see the person in front of us because our mind has, in some small way, subconsciously, fallen for that “first impression”. Yearning for it to be that simple, that complete, and not having to worry about time revealing more than we are willing to put in effort towards. Instant gratification through perception and projected assessments.

I suppose for me, recently finding love and then having it broken quicker than it was built, I can say over time it is beautiful what more impressions can do, how they can make you find the person more attractive, more exciting, more lovable. I think it is important to just put forward the face you can the day you meet, because then, no matter what, you are being who you can, and each day you continue to tell the truth, to your partner and yourself, allowing for the growth to be organic, beautiful, and comforting. To want that “first moment” back, is like asking for your virginity to be restored. Impossible, to say the least, but so much better the second time, or third, or when you truly understand and embrace a connection.

A snowy spring night…

The evening started alone. Sitting at the table wanting to look busier than I was but being comfortable doing nothing all while being uncomfortable thinking I was perceived doing nothing by those around me. Holding the glowing phone up to let the world know I was not waiting alone. But being annoyed by the glow to put it down and just sit in silence. Something I don’t get a chance to do often. Sure I will sit and not speak, but at a table, outside of work, outside of my comfort zone, surrounded by the voices of others. It felt like a droning silence and it was nice. The ladies next to me talking about their day and me not having to worry about their burdens.

I looked through the menu for a little to make sure I made a good choice. The prices made my jaw drop. I can’t afford this, I can afford this, fuck why did I pick this place, knowing damn well I really wanted to eat here. Healthy organic goodness. A perfect meal for the night. But I am a starving artist, this will make a dent. Fuck it, too late now.

Back to silence amongst the murmuring voices. Texting her to take her time, saying I had gotten a table, no rush. Words I would want to hear in the same situation. Easier to comfort others than yourself of course.

Unable to figure out what we would talk about, 2 weeks had gone by since we last met, work I suppose, but how long would that last. I had forgotten what we had talked about prior. Did my attempt at a goodnight kiss make this weird? The night got to a place where I could actually just speak my mind and ask if it was weird. Turns out it was all OK. No need to analyze. My explanation of my need to hear others thoughts giving her an insight to my intense observation to that around me. Understood.

So we did talk about work for a bit, showing her a preview of my recent photos and actually explaining the reasoning was a ton of fun. No one else had seen it yet. She loved the photos I take with the dancers after each shoot, and I made my joke saying someone would probably want those for a gallery versus the ones I put so much work into… but she saw I actually was honestly thinking of including it somehow and had some great suggestions. But she also understood those photos would not exist without the wonderful rapport I built with the dancers throughout the shoot.

These moments in my weeks where I get to go out and turn my phone on silent are captivating. To get away from the glow of a screen, the reminders of an email, the chime of a text. To just use your phone as a random fact check or to remember an example. When turning your phone face down makes you feel proud versus scared you will miss something important. When the important thing is right in front of you. They give my mind a rest but not until recently was I told perhaps I wasn’t actually just enjoying the moment and being myself but putting on an act of sorts. Well turns out when I am just me, it is amazing to be disconnected from the world. “How much further can we get from nothing” where even a cloud isn’t ethereal enough.

I don’t know if it was the lack of being rushed at the restaurant. The food. The lighting. The company. Or the stories I was telling but I had a sense of complete calm that night. In a flurry of both snow and thoughts lately it was a zen calm. I talked as myself. My passion for what I do came out. My voice calmed. I was in my head speaking my heart no fears in the world. Just enjoying the company of the person across from me.

Explaining my tattoo’s meaning without saying a word. Through my stories that night and my life it brought it to fruition, no need for a “story”. It gave it its true meaning. It brought the ink alive and made it meaningful. “The Fool” made more sense than anything I have ever written or said about it. Sometimes when I write something down I have trouble re-hashing it as a story, because I feel like I wrote it better than I could tell it. But my stories that night old or new had a new sense of excitement to them. Of course I started to become nervous that I was telling a story ir-replicable if this failed and had to be retold to another, but being happy it made so much sense and brushing it off as a casualty of happiness. I can’t even write how I explained it, I would have to tell you every story in the exact same order. A once in a moment moment. 🙂

Telling deep moments and being given the chance to recall memories from the past few years that truly brought a smile to my face: directing, my dad, my life. It brought me comfort. It made me legitimately smile.

Being able to explain my life and not be judged on it but accepted for it or just listened to. Not needing to know what was in her head, because she would tell me. No deep analysis needed. No multiple thoughts within a split second as preparation for what might be said next to head off any dragons or ogres. Not having the answers was just as rewarding as having them. I like not having to constantly make eye contact during a story because I know they are listening. I disarmed myself by not feeling the need to analyse emotions, eyes, shifting, body language, I was comfortable with myself.

I left on that cold night warm and content inside and out. As I write the daily life anxieties start to return but for those two hours I had complete calm and a sense of self. It was beautiful. No expectations, no wants, just enjoying being there. It was her partly her childlike approach to dating that calmed me. It made me feel safe. I didn’t have to talk about sex, pop culture, or entertain. I just got to be me. I could stumble my words, say the wrong thing, and pause to form the words or never figure them out. It all felt comforting. That night was a good night. She opened up to me in an extremely vulnerable way and we could still carry on. Her eyes told an amazingly deep story and through the pain a deep love for herself and those around her.

The snow falling outside the windows on this “spring” evening may have contributed slightly to the mood as it was calming and slightly romantic, knowing we wouldn’t have to endure a WINTER again.

I don’t know if it was friendship or more but right then it was nice. It feels calm. And I like calm. I like being me. I like explaining the different aspects of life I have had a part in. Many people ask me so when did you fall in love with Photography. To me this is a very difficult question to answer. I don’t think there was ever a point. I am interested in many many things so even calling myself a photographer is hard for me sometimes even though it takes up 99.9 percent of my day. Ha. I just really enjoy things where I can interact with people and help to achieve things with them. Help them in their lives and mine gets brighter. When a character I direct them to be bleeds into their actual life and contributes positively, I have to call that a good day. But I am not a one trick pony, I can make a mean sauce, salad dressing, dance, sing, photograph, edit, travel, smile, laugh, cry, be sarcastic, and so much more. She seemed to understand the different aspects and enjoyed taking them all in as a first impression for a second time versus a one time “this is how it is”. I like the understanding of my choices versus the judgements. I like the outcome to not matter. I like good food. And I like sitting menus down for a good half hour before ordering.

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