Imperfect Prints, Perfect Memory

A few weeks ago I dusted off my mom's 35mm camera that she used during her college years. I popped in some black-and-white film, and I set out on a hike. Through the viewfinder, I took in the winter wonderland that was Lexington, Ky., and basked in the silence of freshly fallen snow.

There's something relaxing and freeing about re-embracing a film camera. Forget instant gratification: Anticipation and eagerness build as you wait to develop the film. Will the photos turn out? Will they not? If you didn't get the perfect shot, oh well. The soothing action of setting up a pleasing shot, the rhythmic shutter of the camera and the hope of the image to come all combine to make the perfect memory.

I thought I'd share with you some of the imperfect prints from my 35mm adventure. My exposure time is a little rusty, and sure, the prints aren't as sharp as their digital counterparts. But these imperfections seem to add to the whimsy of the images and the peacefulness of the day. I rather like them.

Send me a link to photos you've taken recently.

A View from Bourbon Country

Hello, lovelies! How was your weekend?

On Saturday, a friend and I traveled down the road to Woodford County, where we visited the Woodford Reserve distillery. The tour was a bit nippy, but the scenery with all the snow was a delight. Take a look:

We finished the tour with a taste of bourbon, a bourbon ball and bourbon-flavored coffee. Yum!

Moving Forward: Gain and Loss

I drink prophetic tea. Mostly because it tastes delicious, and partly because the tea label imparts words of wisdom like this:

For every loss there's an equal gain. For every gain an equal loss.

These words couldn't ring more true for me in this part of my life, where it seems like every decision I make yields amazing joy yet requires immense sacrifice.

You could say I've moved out of the "honeymoon phase" of life, so to speak. The idealism of my teenage years and the glory days of college have passed in a whirlwind, and tiny bits of reality have seeped into my thought process. (What a bummer!) Don't get me wrong, I still possess an unflinching hope for the adventure ahead, but I also know that every move I make not only takes me a step forward in that adventure but also causes me to leave something behind.

Recently, that step forward has been "nesting" in my current town: committing to organizations, branching out to meet new people ... to put it simply, planting roots here. In the year-plus since I've moved to this place, I haven't allowed myself to do that. I've clung to my original roots--old friends, old hobbies, an old way of thinking--and that hindered my moving-on process. While all those things I held on to were (are!) wonderful in their own right, place and time, I allowed myself to linger in them, which caused me to sacrifice the relationship I have with this new phase of my life.

The 20-something journey is a little like adolescence. You're no longer the "kid" you once were, but the idea becoming a settled adult seems preposterous. Letting go of the comforts of the past is difficult--I'd even go so far as to say a little heart-breaking--but a sense of freedom comes in relinquishing control and allowing new opportunities to prevail.

Good things have come out of the few weeks since I took that step forward, saying to myself, "I'm going to be happy here (here being the physical city I live in and the time of life I occupy) until it's time for me to move on." I'm sure the gain won't come without its struggles, but that's all part of the adventure, isn't it?

Photo thanks!

Reconnecting

In the grand scheme of things, seven months is not all that long. But when you’ve been disconnected, cut off, seven months—more than half a year—can seem like a lifetime. That’s right, the reason I have not written you since (ack!) May is because I have been wireless, as in without wires.

As in, without anything. No cable. No internet. Nada.

Well, friends, I sucked it up and am paying an extravagant bill (it really is quite pricey!) every month so that I can be here with you on a regular basis. Gosh! I really have missed it.

My first day back online was filled with so many horrors. What did they do to my Facebook profile? What the hell is a Groupon? I can’t remember my Blogger password!!

But it also brought the delight of opportunity. The chance to reach out to friends new and old. The nudge I needed to plot out the next steps in this crazy life adventure.

To tell you the truth. The past seven months, I’ve been coasting. Not only have I let this blog fizzle, I’ve let my attitude toward this great journey of ours grow rather dull, as well. So the next few months are going to be about experiments. Digging into life in this no-longer-new town of mine that still seems so new. And reworking this blog so it suits the adventure.

Please don’t mind the mess as I experiment with new design styles and figure out this blog’s niche. In fact, feel free to give me your input along the way. It would be great to reconnect.

Photo thanks!

The Kick in the Pants I Needed

Ok, so maybe I did needed to jump out of a plane to cure my pre-summer funk.

Skydiving was awesome. (I say this like there's any other option.) The worst thing about the whole experience, is the ascent. When you go diving, they squeeze as many jumpers into a tiny plane as possible, so you feel like a can of sardines. My tandem, Gila, and I, sat by the pilot, so you know what that means ... we were jumping last.

With each foot we climbed, I could feel the pit in my stomach growing. Grass and pavement turned into green and black splash marks, while houses and buildings became little white clusters. According to Gila, most jumpers' "Oh, sh*t!" moment, is the 10 seconds you stand at the door before taking the plunge. "So we're going to make that part as quick as possible," he said.

Whew!

After he found out I'm an "experienced" jumper (one jump? hardly!), he asked if I was "feeling a little frisky" today. Absolutely, I said.

So during our free fall (about a minute total) we did some somersaults, floated on our backs and did some 360 spins on our stomachs. I saw the ground, the sky and stared the sun right in the face. It was cool (much cooler than on the ground), and the action was freeing.

Once we pulled the chute (I was offered the honors, but that was one responsibility I wasn't confident in taking on that day), we flew around for maybe 5 minutes. We swung by the other jumpers and had face-to-face chats in the air. And best of all, the landing was simple and smooth--two feet on the ground, no sudden jolts and all body parts in tact.