The Dream is Not Dead

Some days (okay, a lot of days lately), I wake up in a funk. I can’t seem to find any meaning in the mundane work, eat, sleep schedule. Between being caught in a minimum wage job that drains my energy to missing events because of that said job, it’s just not easy to feel like I’m making my dreams the reality I so need.

With those weights and constraints, I have got to keep focused. While my summer didn’t end up being what I expected, it had moments that weren’t short of wonderful and I can confidently say the dream that felt so dead just a couple months ago is alive. It took a lot of days of feeling down and out (hey, still having plenty of those days, but looking at the bright side and looking towards an amazing support system). It took days of doing what I love, seeing my work, writing some and remembering the feeling it gives me when the thoughts flow so effortlessly. It took a good conversation with an unexpected friend, plus conversations with the people that have been rooting me on from the start. I may not be at the top, but as I look around me, both figuratively and literally, I can say I am definitely not at the bottom. I have crazy dreams that people undoubtedly call me crazy for, I stay up late chasing and doubting those dreams, I have to clear my head at least a dozen times a day, but it is worth it. For the goals I have already achieved and what I wish to accomplish, this is worth it. Every single day of feeling worthlessness makes the days of feeling invincible and on top of the world worth it. It has been two years since this journey of mine began, and I can’t wish any of those past two years to be any different than they were. From the people I have met to the people I have lost, to the unbreakable bonds and incredible friendships that have come both out of the music industry, photography, and the journalism world, I have gotten my efforts back tenfold. Even if it takes me years and years to make the dream all that I want it to be, I have gained so much from the journey, that I’ve already made it. The dream was tossed to the side for a while, only for me to stop and realize mistakes were being made. To this summer, thanks for providing me with the wake up call that I really needed. I’m back and the dream is not dead.


An open letter to the people that criticize my career choice

Your question came with innocence, but as soon as I smiled and said, “Journalism,” you frowned and shook your head, despite the look of pure happiness on my face. The reaction applies to so many people, but to top off that clear disapproval, you had to open your mouth to spew your unnecessary views, while prying into my life where your nose is not welcomed. You put me on the spot and essentially forced me to explain my entire life plan, with you rudely interrupting to remind me that I won’t have a job or how the medical field is a far better choice.

To you, to all of you that can’t seem to accept my area of study, firstly, it is not something for you to ACCEPT or even give a second thought. Do you go around and badger other strangers like you have to me? Are you finding the teenagers that are choosing not to attend college and telling them they are wrong, the way you tell me I am wrong for what I am going to school to study? If you don’t, what makes bothering me any different? Why do you not care to know what I have done in regards to journalism and public relations? Are you okay with lumping someone you don’t know into categories that were most likely presented to you by *gasp* a journalist? Yes, yes you are because you did EXACTLY that to me.

Did you attend college? Are you working in the medical field? Are you making a good amount of money that allows you to live a lofty lifestyle? If you are, cool, good for you, no need to tell me I will not. If you aren’t, wow, no judging from me. I suppose we are different.

You do not know me, you do not know what I have accomplished or the drive I am filled with or the amount of time and energy I devote to my future. You don’t know the deep passions I have. You can’t see my dreams. You don’t know what I love or what I fear. You don’t know what I want to get out of life. You haven’t experienced my life from the exact position I am in. Until you have, you have not a single right to tell me that I am going to fail. For what it’s worth, I might fail. I might not be employed after college. I might struggle to figure it out, but as that is all occurring, never once will I stop and think, “Wow, that random asshole at the grocery store was right.” So please, kindly take your opinions elsewhere, preferably far from college kids who already wake up with programmed thoughts that they aren’t making the right decisions. Your help is far from.

How My Camera Saved Me from Myself

For my narrative journalism class, we had to write a profile about ourselves. Instead of just rambling about stuff I like, I took a different approach and I thought other photographers (or people with some sort of passion) may appreciate the piece. 

I was a junior in high school when I had my first encounter with a camera. By “camera”, I mean a nice camera; one of those cameras with detachable lenses that cost more money than most of the things I owned. It was in yearbook class. While I constantly felt like I didn’t fit in, when I picked up the camera for that class, everything suddenly made sense. My favorite thing was walking around pep assemblies and taking photos; it was like I owned the place.

That experience was so important to me because the first two years of high school were a hell for me. I struggled to find where I belonged and I was picked on for many things. While I had no experience with photography, shooting for the yearbook and seeing my work printed in a book that will be around forever made me feel like someone.

When I finally got a job just before my senior year, I saved every penny from my first few paychecks, having set my mind on purchasing my own camera. It was an exciting moment for me, but little did I know that camera would open many doors for me, while also potentially saving my life.

Having a camera has given me a reason and purpose I never felt I had before I held its shiny black body in my hands. I was always pretty quiet and reserved. I always had goals, and dreams, and all those things that kids have when they’re growing up or whatever, but there was something missing. I would try to figure out what my life needed, but it never truly hit me until the first summer after I bought my camera. That summer was filled with shooting everything and anything I encountered, while exploring with my friends. Before that moment, hanging out with someone basically meant sitting at my house and listening to music. When I began learning how my camera worked, I quickly discovered one of my favorite activities: going to downtown Detroit with a few friends and exploring all that the city has to offer. The beauty of that city comes so naturally behind the lens of a camera, and it is easily one of my favorite places to spend my time.

That summer I even took a photo that got published in the fine arts journal at the University of Michigan-Dearborn. I don’t think anything could have made the start of my freshmen year of college better than being notified that I was finally good enough to get some sort of recognition outside of the academic awards I had accumulated throughout my high school career. Yes, I was book smart, but I was also artistic as can be, but with no way to express it. That’s what happens when you can’t draw or paint.

While all of this was occurring, I was lucky enough to find a friend who was a mirror image of myself, as my camera sparked a conversation between us. Two years later, me and Aubree both studying journalism at the together, while hanging out to take pictures when free time arises. The connection I have with her is one of the best friendships I have ever had, and it’s so funny to be that it was fueled simply because she asked about my camera once. She isn’t the only great thing to come from my camera though, as nearly my entire life now revolves around photography in one aspect or another.

At a concert sometime back in the fall of 2013, I watched the band’s photographer the entire time. After the show, I stalked her Instagram account and envied her photos. It was at that moment that I got this bright idea that I wanted to do show photography. After a lot of Googling about the topic, I learned that I would probably need to start in bars and local gigs before I could ever move to anything bigger. That didn’t stop me from sending an email to a band that was opening for a show I was going to the next month.

Long story short, despite my extreme lack of experience, I was granted a photo pass for the concert and shot my first band at The Fillmore in Detroit. Oh, and I somehow picked up an interview with the band too. It may have only been the opening act but for me, that opening act was what it took to open the doors leading up to the point I am at in my life now.

While waiting to shoot the concert, nervous and intimidated by all the cameras and lenses surely worth more than my little lens from Amazon, I began talking to a girl that had the same lens as me. I have no idea what motivated me to talk to her, because at that time I was shy and never had any intentions of really branching out and interacting if I didn’t have to. Avoiding contact was definitely easier when I felt so awkward. Who wants to talk to some quiet girl that looks like they have no idea what she’s doing and keeps adjusting their glasses clearly to distract herself from her nerves? Exactly. That decision was vital, though, as the girl I talked to runs her own music magazine. I joked about how I was a journalism major if she needed anyone. A month later, me and Adrianna were meeting for coffee and talks of what would be coming next. She needed a writer, she needed a photographer, and there I was.

In the coming months, I shot a few more shows and did interviews with bands for the paper at school, something I write for regularly. The best moment came for me when I was able to get a photo pass for a festival, Chill on the Hill, which took place at the end of this past summer. I went alone to the two day endeavor, as I have begun discovering that doing things alone is actually extremely relaxing and doesn’t make me nearly as upset as it used to. My friendship with one of my best friends had recently ended, so the time to take picture after picture after picture, while listening to great music and relishing the last few moments of summer was something much needed. I may have been alone, but I had my camera and I was doing something I was passionate about, so I definitely was not lonely.

Chill on the Hill was one of the greatest confidence boosters for me; everyone around me had more experience but I somehow was chosen to shoot alongside them. While terrifying at first, I was able to pick up a handful of business cards, pass on my own, and even find friends that keep in contact to see how my photography has been going.

My photos give me a name and what I do sets me apart. For the kid that always wished to fit in, standing out is something I am now so proud of. There are people that just wait for me to post new photos; people recognize me from seeing me at so many concerts. I can say that I have built such strong relationships, not only directly through my photography, but because the networking and interviews forced me out of the shell that I lived in for so many years. You truly do not understand how amazing it feels to have a passion until you figure out what your own passion is. Even after the numerous shows I have shot and the thousands upon thousands of photos I have taken, it still hasn’t lost that feeling of pure joy and excitement. Up until my concert photography, I would lose interest in everything after some amount of time. That hasn’t been the case and while it was first surprising, it now makes perfect sense to me. I can’t think of a better way to spend my days than editing picture after picture and then seeing the reaction when people realize that, yes, I did take them. Even after a long day of ringing groceries at Kroger, I come straight home to my laptop and open up Photoshop.

At 19-years-old, I’m far from having my life figured out, but I’m so many more steps closer to knowing what makes me happy and where I see myself in the future than I was when I first walked into U of M-Dearborn. I am optimistic, outgoing, determined, and eager to be involved with whatever is going on around me. I can strike up talks with people I’ve never met, and I’m not afraid of rejection like I used to be (I guess that is what happens when you have to hunt down and hound publicists to get them to grant you photo access).

I still have my shy moments and I don’t always speak around those that I am unfamiliar with, but being behind the camera has improved me as a person on so many different levels. I went into college with the intention of getting in and getting out with a degree. While I wanted to get involved, I was always so timid. When I did put myself out there, it was only minimally and it took a huge amount of effort. Now, I sit and share photos I took of the beautiful island of Catalina as a group I am leading prepares to go there to volunteer over spring break. If it wasn’t for the many interviews I have done with bands, I can tell you that I probably would have panicked and bombed the necessary interview for that leadership position.

It has been just over a year since I found exactly where I was my best, and for that year, my life has been on a constant upward climb. It’s weird for someone that truly hated life and could never find where they belonged to be able to say they are genuinely happy, but I am and it is all because of the simple decision to buy a camera a few years back. Even though I have upgraded my camera, and could use the money from selling my starter, there’s not a chance I’ll sell the one thing that has had the greatest impact on my life and the person I have grown to be.

For the time being, I live to see the world and share that world with the people I love with the photos I take along the way. After watching the progress I have made in terms of photography, I know for a fact that I can make my dreams come true because I am a sophomore in college and I am already living some of the things I used to dream of. My life is the perfect combination of all the things that used to keep me up at night and all the thoughts that would fill my head when I slept, and I’m thrilled to see where that will take me.

They Said

They said it was a stupid choice
They said I was wasting my brain

But how is it wasting to embrace your inner voice?

Doubtful a bit, I took the leap
Enrolled in classes and went along
Take a picture here, a picture there
Some pretty decent, but most nothing to keep

I wrote, I wrote till my fingers were stiff
Wrote about anything, anywhere
Notebooks, paper scraps, my laptop files filled

Never did I guess my camera and a pen
Would push me through a year in such an upward manner

They said it was a stupid choice
They said I was wasting my brain
I’m glad I never believed them then

Terrors in the Night

I had the most perfect dream last night. Everything fell into place. I felt happy. Happier than I’ve ever felt. A happiness I haven’t felt in nearly a year. It was great, it was perfect, and it seemed to last forever. To be honest, I thought it was real. That is…until I woke up. Then the perfect was gone, shattered. I woke up upset and confused. Why would that happen? Why would that of all dreams feel so perfect, so right? It’s not like it would ever happen and it’s not like I’m sure I’d ever want it to, but I guess my inner feelings are getting the better of my outer shell and I’ve really lost control of that. I don’t know what’s happening but I feel like I’m stuck in a battle. I don’t know what I want, but maybe I’m starting to figure out what I need. Either way, it hurts. It really does. And it makes me feel stupid. Stupider than I have ever felt before. I don’t get it. I was content and perfectly fine, but these last few weeks have proved otherwise. I try and try and try to talk it up that this is exactly what I want and I would have been crazy any other way but that dream proved me dead wrong and I don’t know. I don’t.

Writing, writing, and more writing: Story of my life.

Journalism journalism journalism. Since I started college, I feel like that’s all I think about. Written journalism, photojournalism, anything and everything journalism. Today we had a guest speaker that is a journalist in one of my (non journalism) classes. Everyone was oh so thrilled about that…but I honestly was. Writing is a passion of mine and it honestly seems like a dream job to write for a living. I feel like without writing, I would be so much less than what I am. I wouldn’t be as creative or expressive or opinionated. Writing is more that a hobby for me, it’s a lifestyle, and I hope one day I can use it to pay for my life as well. Okay just felt like writing (big surprise?) and journalism was the first thing that came to mind. Until later.