I'm only doing this now because I have developed a physical aversion to my work. Updating my blog, checking my email, they all give the illusion of accomplishment without making me go anywhere near the stack of orders I have to either send or get ready for pickup. Maybe the graduates in the photographs wouldn't understand my need to avoid them, but I'm trusting that everyone else will.
I need a life, in the worst kind of way. I need friends who don't live an ocean away, and a place where I can sit and hang out with these closer friends. Maybe in this imaginary world I would have someone to go to the zoo with. And there would be balloons, and birthday cake...and wait. I just described the birthday party I wanted when I was a kid. Either way, the fact remains that much as I love and am grateful for the friends who still make time for me when they're six hours ahead of me at all times, I work way too much. I can justify it because most of that work I can still do while talking online, but eventually everyone else will find better things to do with their time than sitting up at their computers to talk to me, and then I'll just turn into a bitter, lonely old woman. Happy people will shun me. I'll spend my evenings talking to cats. And then when I die none of my friends will be at the funeral because you're all too far away to get here. And somehow it all ends in the detruction of the universe, but I won't follow that train of thought any farther.
So short of hanging around in bars or joining a cult church, what is the best way for someone who isn't in school and doesn't work in an office with other people to make friends? I could start handing out candy to people on the street, with a business card attached to it saying, "Hi, my name is Amy. If you enjoyed your candy, please consider being my friend and hanging out with me on the weekends." What do you think?
Monday, April 13, 2009
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
I wasn't doing this for you anyway
Just in case the few people who read this were not aware of the fact: I'm still probably a fair bit heavier than I was the last time I saw you. I am not saying this to elicit sympathy, or to put anyone off, but it seems that my weight is something I'm going to have to post next to my age in any future encounters with fellow human beings.
Yes, I am rather angry at the moment. Everyone has a certain way that they deal with stress, depression, feeling like they don't have control of their life's direction. For better or worse, mine seems to be a tendency to overeat. I don't have an alcohol addiction, or a destructive relationship with men, or a propensity to cut myself, but many people would argue that letting myself get fat is the least socially acceptable of the options.
It's only been in the last 6 months or so that I've taken control back, so to speak. I haven't started a diet, or made grandiose plans to lose all my excess weight in three months just so I can show everyone, but I have begun a conscious effort to live a healthier life. It's part of a general plan, physical health, financial health, and most importantly emotional health. I've felt genuinely GOOD about myself for the first time in three years. I've also felt lonely, and so I took the terrifying step of attempting to meet someone socially.
Here's the thing, though....he liked me. He read my profile, saw my picture, we talked online and on the phone, and he really did like me. Not to belabor the point, but I make a really good impression. And my face it seems is not entirely unattractive. But we met in person, and this guy who thought I was wonderful and had started making plans for the next time we met before we'd even met the first time...well, he just disappeared. There were no warning signs, he was just gone.
I guess my ego is still too fragile to play this game. I'm not trying to be something I can't sustain for the rest of my life, but is it too much to ask that some guy, sometime, find me attractive? I'm witty, and intelligent, and incredibly nice...I have a great smile, and a nice rack...and I know it takes time to get to the point I'm trying to reach with my weight, but I'll be damned if I put my entire existence on hold until I reach some magical point where the world at large decides I'm worthy of having a life again!
Rant over, but at least now when you see me again, you can't say I didn't warn you.
Yes, I am rather angry at the moment. Everyone has a certain way that they deal with stress, depression, feeling like they don't have control of their life's direction. For better or worse, mine seems to be a tendency to overeat. I don't have an alcohol addiction, or a destructive relationship with men, or a propensity to cut myself, but many people would argue that letting myself get fat is the least socially acceptable of the options.
It's only been in the last 6 months or so that I've taken control back, so to speak. I haven't started a diet, or made grandiose plans to lose all my excess weight in three months just so I can show everyone, but I have begun a conscious effort to live a healthier life. It's part of a general plan, physical health, financial health, and most importantly emotional health. I've felt genuinely GOOD about myself for the first time in three years. I've also felt lonely, and so I took the terrifying step of attempting to meet someone socially.
Here's the thing, though....he liked me. He read my profile, saw my picture, we talked online and on the phone, and he really did like me. Not to belabor the point, but I make a really good impression. And my face it seems is not entirely unattractive. But we met in person, and this guy who thought I was wonderful and had started making plans for the next time we met before we'd even met the first time...well, he just disappeared. There were no warning signs, he was just gone.
I guess my ego is still too fragile to play this game. I'm not trying to be something I can't sustain for the rest of my life, but is it too much to ask that some guy, sometime, find me attractive? I'm witty, and intelligent, and incredibly nice...I have a great smile, and a nice rack...and I know it takes time to get to the point I'm trying to reach with my weight, but I'll be damned if I put my entire existence on hold until I reach some magical point where the world at large decides I'm worthy of having a life again!
Rant over, but at least now when you see me again, you can't say I didn't warn you.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
In case you didn't know
Today, in addition to continuing the 25th anniversary of Jeff Nemetz Photography, we are celebrating 55 years of the man himself, my dad. As I think the only thing people have heard from me lately is how much it annoys me to spend 5 days a week or more sharing an office with him, I'm going to take the chance to say something nice about him (albiet in a place he will likely never see it).
He was described by someone just yesterday as "jolly," which was a new one. Kind of in the same vein as most descriptions, "goofy" and "weird" being a bit more common. I was also told that I seem to have inherited the same type of smile, which I suppose I should take as a compliment, because no one has yet described my dad as "that mean old bastard."
As just about everyone knows, I came back to Abbeville at the end of 2007 to help out with the studio. The fact that this was equal parts supporting my family and not having a clue what else I was going to do is, of course, immaterial. I like to tell him it was all because I couldn't stand the idea of him working himself to death all alone. It's also because I don't want to have to say that after so many years one of the most recognized figures in our small community had to admit failure because of something as silly as failing health and a bad economy. It's vain, and perhaps really misplaced pride, but we're a community of prideful people, in Abbeville and in Vermilion parish in general, and I spent too many years at Vermilion Catholic to be naive about the things people would say if it happened.
There are times I certainly feel like my actions and my attitude about what is really just one of approximately 6.9 billion photography studios in this area have trapped me in a place I never intended to be. I used to think that staying in Louisiana would be tantamount to giving up on life and all goodness in the world, but my year and a bit working here have started to change my outlook on that and several other things. I never had a "job" I wanted to do with any great conviction. I want to write, to photograph, to create, and none of that is for the monetary benefit of it. Here I have the chance to do all of that and more on a daily basis, I have a supportive community of people who know me and my family (and for once I don't see that as a bad thing), and, most importantly, I have the chance to work with one of my closest friends. I earn enough money to keep my bills paid, and if there is something I want to do, like my summer trip, I have the freedom and the ability to do it.
Freedom for my dad was always being able to control his own life, and unlike many people he saw his opportunity and ran with it, and he's held onto it ever since. I always thought he was trying to trap me into something he would never have stood for himself, dragging me out on weekends to teach me composition and lighting, and insisting that I work off my money for going out in high school by being at the studio after school. It really wasn't true, though. Because of the skills I learned from him, the experience I've had, and the respect I've always had for him, I can help him keep his dream going and have the chance to figure out what the hell mine is. It's the best job in the whole world.
We're off in a couple hours to take him out to dinner, where I will not tell him a word of this. No sense in getting all maudlin. I might, however, be a little nicer to him the rest of the week...until he does something to annoy me again, of course.
He was described by someone just yesterday as "jolly," which was a new one. Kind of in the same vein as most descriptions, "goofy" and "weird" being a bit more common. I was also told that I seem to have inherited the same type of smile, which I suppose I should take as a compliment, because no one has yet described my dad as "that mean old bastard."
As just about everyone knows, I came back to Abbeville at the end of 2007 to help out with the studio. The fact that this was equal parts supporting my family and not having a clue what else I was going to do is, of course, immaterial. I like to tell him it was all because I couldn't stand the idea of him working himself to death all alone. It's also because I don't want to have to say that after so many years one of the most recognized figures in our small community had to admit failure because of something as silly as failing health and a bad economy. It's vain, and perhaps really misplaced pride, but we're a community of prideful people, in Abbeville and in Vermilion parish in general, and I spent too many years at Vermilion Catholic to be naive about the things people would say if it happened.
There are times I certainly feel like my actions and my attitude about what is really just one of approximately 6.9 billion photography studios in this area have trapped me in a place I never intended to be. I used to think that staying in Louisiana would be tantamount to giving up on life and all goodness in the world, but my year and a bit working here have started to change my outlook on that and several other things. I never had a "job" I wanted to do with any great conviction. I want to write, to photograph, to create, and none of that is for the monetary benefit of it. Here I have the chance to do all of that and more on a daily basis, I have a supportive community of people who know me and my family (and for once I don't see that as a bad thing), and, most importantly, I have the chance to work with one of my closest friends. I earn enough money to keep my bills paid, and if there is something I want to do, like my summer trip, I have the freedom and the ability to do it.
Freedom for my dad was always being able to control his own life, and unlike many people he saw his opportunity and ran with it, and he's held onto it ever since. I always thought he was trying to trap me into something he would never have stood for himself, dragging me out on weekends to teach me composition and lighting, and insisting that I work off my money for going out in high school by being at the studio after school. It really wasn't true, though. Because of the skills I learned from him, the experience I've had, and the respect I've always had for him, I can help him keep his dream going and have the chance to figure out what the hell mine is. It's the best job in the whole world.
We're off in a couple hours to take him out to dinner, where I will not tell him a word of this. No sense in getting all maudlin. I might, however, be a little nicer to him the rest of the week...until he does something to annoy me again, of course.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Of Shoes, and Ships...and Ceiling-Wax, perhaps
I think this is what "normal" is like. I'm at home on a Sunday evening, wrapping up conversations and updates to friends, getting ready for a week of work, and remembering what was really a very nice weekend. I didn't spend two days in front of my computer, editing weddings or schools or frantically trying to figure out where someone's order went so I can avoid their shouting at me on the phone. I didn't spend two nights watching TV reruns because I was too tired to track down live people to spend time with.
I fulfilled one of my goals for the month and participated in the Race for the Cure. I was outside, in the sunshine, doing something with other members of my community. Beautiful. Bring on the MDA bowl-a-thon, I say.
I drove to Baton Rouge and spent the evening with my sister and her friends, grilling hamburgers, drinking, discussing iPhone applications...a whole group of computer nerds, that's what we are. Don't you judge. I, Lord help me, participated in the conversations around me instead of just sitting back and listening. And I enjoyed it.
I spoke to a good friend for more than an hour, and avoided pesky international calling rates. With any luck I shall be able to decipher the thorniest of accents again by July. Small talk is so much easier on the phone than via written messages; I was sorely missing out on petty gossip.
I listened to all three games of the LSU/South Carolina baseball series. I shouted happily at the teams, the umpires, and the announcers, and have the great satisfaction of knowing that my team rocks.
I made a new friend. Note that when I say "made" I mean that we're talking online. Don't judge me for that either. I have every intention of meeting him in person one of these days. And it was nice, to be something other than Amy the photographer or Amy the old friend or Amy the sister. It's an Amy I haven't had the chance to be for quite a while now. And you know what? She rocks, too.
I fulfilled one of my goals for the month and participated in the Race for the Cure. I was outside, in the sunshine, doing something with other members of my community. Beautiful. Bring on the MDA bowl-a-thon, I say.
I drove to Baton Rouge and spent the evening with my sister and her friends, grilling hamburgers, drinking, discussing iPhone applications...a whole group of computer nerds, that's what we are. Don't you judge. I, Lord help me, participated in the conversations around me instead of just sitting back and listening. And I enjoyed it.
I spoke to a good friend for more than an hour, and avoided pesky international calling rates. With any luck I shall be able to decipher the thorniest of accents again by July. Small talk is so much easier on the phone than via written messages; I was sorely missing out on petty gossip.
I listened to all three games of the LSU/South Carolina baseball series. I shouted happily at the teams, the umpires, and the announcers, and have the great satisfaction of knowing that my team rocks.
I made a new friend. Note that when I say "made" I mean that we're talking online. Don't judge me for that either. I have every intention of meeting him in person one of these days. And it was nice, to be something other than Amy the photographer or Amy the old friend or Amy the sister. It's an Amy I haven't had the chance to be for quite a while now. And you know what? She rocks, too.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Lent and the Race for the Cure
Had a conversation with Paul this evening about lent. At first I was adamantly of the opinion that since I am no longer a practicing Catholic it would be a bit hypocritical (and useless) of me to decide that I was going to "give something up" for the next 40 days. My experience with lenten promises growing up have always been a lot like New Year's Resolutions- entirely selfish and impossible to stick to. We spent a lot of time in 3rd period religion discussing how well we had fulfilled our promises and how we could do better.
But then I thought about it a little longer, and I think all the old Catholic guilt started to churn itself up again. So I'm going to try something. It does combine a good deed with a selfish motive, but then there's this whole discussion of whether the good deed itself can ever be anything other than selfishly motivated, and I don't want to get into all that now. I have been thinking about taking part in the local 5k Race for the Cure for a while now, to get out and do something active, to take part in some sort of social event, and...well...because it's a good cause, right? Well, at least that part made the list somewhere.
The point is, I'm going to do it. My deed for Lent will be to actively raise money for the Komen foundation and take part in the 5k on March 21. If you would like to help out without all the pesky being outside, running around business, you're welcome to pile on the guilt to make sure I stick to my goals, click here.
And anyone who wants to have that conversation about intentions and the selfishness of the "good" that we decide to do for the world and our fellow man, just let me know. Only not tonight, I need a few hours of sleep before I tackle that.
But then I thought about it a little longer, and I think all the old Catholic guilt started to churn itself up again. So I'm going to try something. It does combine a good deed with a selfish motive, but then there's this whole discussion of whether the good deed itself can ever be anything other than selfishly motivated, and I don't want to get into all that now. I have been thinking about taking part in the local 5k Race for the Cure for a while now, to get out and do something active, to take part in some sort of social event, and...well...because it's a good cause, right? Well, at least that part made the list somewhere.
The point is, I'm going to do it. My deed for Lent will be to actively raise money for the Komen foundation and take part in the 5k on March 21. If you would like to help out without all the pesky being outside, running around business, you're welcome to pile on the guilt to make sure I stick to my goals, click here.
And anyone who wants to have that conversation about intentions and the selfishness of the "good" that we decide to do for the world and our fellow man, just let me know. Only not tonight, I need a few hours of sleep before I tackle that.
Monday, February 2, 2009
More Excuses
I have roughly an hour before I drive to Comeaux High School to inflict all manner of photographic horror on their unsuspecting basketball team. That's right, a year after my graduation from LSU with my hard-won creative writing BA, I'm photographing sports teams for Jeff Nemetz Photography. I know anyone reading this will already know that, but some things are just so completely wrong that they have to be restated every once in a while, lest they be accepted as normal whims of fate. Let it be known: I have not resigned myself to a lifetime of Abbeville and making barely enough money to pay my rent every month. Not that there's anything wrong with Abbeville, actually since I'm not in high school here anymore the place has rather grown on me. And it's not that I mind the studio, I gave up my boyfriend and my life in Baton Rouge to come back here and make it the best studio in the area again; plus, where else am I going to find a boss who will let me take three weeks off with some of his best camera equipment to photograph Scotland this summer? I think I can resign myself to not making as much money as any of my friends, as I discussed with Erik a few days ago, I might have to save for longer to make it happen, but when there's something I want to do I have the freedom to do it.
So that's what I've been doing, in this year I haven't been posting anything- taking advantage of the freedom I suddenly remembered I have. I watch nerdy, nerdy things on TV and stay up all night reading novels; I went to the New Kids on the Block concert last October; I'm taking belly dancing lessons in Lafayette; and in July I'm taking three weeks off to see my friends from Essex. I wasn't always so happy about living alone or the fact that most of my friends are an ocean away, while my terrible ex has our dog, all the video game consoles, and a new live-in girlfriend already...but when I realized what I was giving up in order to have him in my life, well it turns out it really wasn't much of a sacrifice. Plus, I have the freedom now to buy healthy food and keep the treadmill out in the middle of the living room without getting fussed at, so compared to the day he ended things I look amazingly hot. Relatively speaking, of course; we're still working on that one.
So I suppose the only thing left to do is to find some use for that degree. If I can work up the nerve to order around a dozen or so high school boys and produce pictures I'm not ashamed to sell to their mothers (something God never intended I should do, photographic talent is not handed down through the genes, let me tell you), then this should be easy. Best laid plans, though...would you like to know how many blogs I am now pretending to regularly author and update? Imagine me attempting to keep to some editors deadlines without taking to chain smoking and regular fits of hysterical sobbing. Actually, that sounds a lot like my last semester of fiction writing...
So that's what I've been doing, in this year I haven't been posting anything- taking advantage of the freedom I suddenly remembered I have. I watch nerdy, nerdy things on TV and stay up all night reading novels; I went to the New Kids on the Block concert last October; I'm taking belly dancing lessons in Lafayette; and in July I'm taking three weeks off to see my friends from Essex. I wasn't always so happy about living alone or the fact that most of my friends are an ocean away, while my terrible ex has our dog, all the video game consoles, and a new live-in girlfriend already...but when I realized what I was giving up in order to have him in my life, well it turns out it really wasn't much of a sacrifice. Plus, I have the freedom now to buy healthy food and keep the treadmill out in the middle of the living room without getting fussed at, so compared to the day he ended things I look amazingly hot. Relatively speaking, of course; we're still working on that one.
So I suppose the only thing left to do is to find some use for that degree. If I can work up the nerve to order around a dozen or so high school boys and produce pictures I'm not ashamed to sell to their mothers (something God never intended I should do, photographic talent is not handed down through the genes, let me tell you), then this should be easy. Best laid plans, though...would you like to know how many blogs I am now pretending to regularly author and update? Imagine me attempting to keep to some editors deadlines without taking to chain smoking and regular fits of hysterical sobbing. Actually, that sounds a lot like my last semester of fiction writing...
Saturday, November 24, 2007
You were always on my mind
Alright so I'm back. Depression and anxiety don't make for regular blog updates. Angsty scribbling on notebooks during class, but not all the effort of logging in, typing things, hitting that orange publish button...way too much work.
Speaking of work, I've actually been doing some. I have turned in all four short stories for my writing workshop, so even if I don't actually finish any of the critiques for my classmates I'm at least certain of a pass. Shakespeare will be fine so long as I manage to find my way to the final in a few weeks. After that I'll be commuting down to Abbeville to run the studio. Twenty-three years, five and half years of that in college, and a year of those five in another country, all searching for a way to get out of Louisiana, and I'll be running my dad's business anyway. It was weird, though, the more I was away from it the more I thought about it. I would wake up some nights with great ideas for promotions, I visit dad and work for three days straight and feel fantastic. It can't last, naturally, but damnit, this is the best I've felt in months.
In other news, less important in the grand scheme of things, but more entertaining, I found "The English Tea Room" in Covington over Thanksgiving. I only went to a tea room once with Becci and Jane, but it did make me feel all nostalgic and weepy. I'm such a sap. I want to go back so badly some days.
Speaking of work, I've actually been doing some. I have turned in all four short stories for my writing workshop, so even if I don't actually finish any of the critiques for my classmates I'm at least certain of a pass. Shakespeare will be fine so long as I manage to find my way to the final in a few weeks. After that I'll be commuting down to Abbeville to run the studio. Twenty-three years, five and half years of that in college, and a year of those five in another country, all searching for a way to get out of Louisiana, and I'll be running my dad's business anyway. It was weird, though, the more I was away from it the more I thought about it. I would wake up some nights with great ideas for promotions, I visit dad and work for three days straight and feel fantastic. It can't last, naturally, but damnit, this is the best I've felt in months.
In other news, less important in the grand scheme of things, but more entertaining, I found "The English Tea Room" in Covington over Thanksgiving. I only went to a tea room once with Becci and Jane, but it did make me feel all nostalgic and weepy. I'm such a sap. I want to go back so badly some days.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)