"And when you feel, feel it deep. When you breathe, breathe hard. When you laugh, laugh forever. And when you live, live it all." - October 5, 5:42 p.m.

Somthing I've recently experimented with is my photography. Just a click here and there. My inspiration always comes from wanting to feel the picture, rather then just see it.  The people in the photos feel, breathe, laugh, and live life - my photography is simply trying to capture the essence of who they are.

Emory and Gaia - Actors

Emory and Gaia are both actors - they're overly expressive personalities are a part of their every day lives. Why should their photo be any different?

Hannah - Dancer

Hannah's story was breath taking and beautiful. I had the honor of writing a story on dancer who struggled with an eating disorder since she was in 6th grade. The grace and poise within her I tried to convey within her photo.

miss you - December 8, 4:32 p.m.

                My little sister wants to do a family secret Santa again this year. After all it’s a family tradition. The only thing stopping me from wanting to go ahead with this is that we’re not a family any more.

                We’re fake.

                When my three sisters and I were born my parents came up with the plan to have all our names start with the letter “S”. Samantha, Savannah, Sophia, and Sandra. Four girls – you can only imagine what it’s like for my dad.

                Even with the consonance of our names none of us resemble each other in any way. Samantha (Sam) has always been the one to try taking the lead in trying something new. The athletic one; the one to rebel, the one to speak up, the one we lean on.

                Sandra (Sandy) is the youngest of the four. She flows in her own gust of wind and never looks back. The loud one; the random burst of spontaneous laugher, the smile.

                Which leaves Savannah (Anna) and I in the middle – two polar opposites stuck side by side. Designed to repel.  We’re both reserved in a sense that no one’s allowed to see behind our outer shells. The independent ones; the intellectual ones, the faithful ones. So similar, yet if I could remember the last time I told her “I love you” it’d be a lie.  

                Sam lives in Chicago now and Anna ‘s at college. Our family of six deteriorates to a family of four every time they leave after a holiday. Each time the alternative family of four comes back dinners become quieter, games nights lose humor, and traditions are dead.

                This isn’t my family – where are you? I miss you.

and so life truely does move on. Sunday 9:01 p.m.

   Tomorrows deadline.
    Five tape recorded interviews, two dead response emails, and one interview still wanting to be done later I sit at my computer.
    Nothing. 
    I am the managing editor for my high school newspaper and I am color coded. Every part of the day is timed out, every assignment is met, everything orangized. So here I sit, ready to finish my story of students entering the military next year.
    Again, nothing.
    This is how I write. Nearly every paragraph - somehow combined into one coherent piece - starts as its own 5-6 word incomplete sentence. Some may connect to other blips or phrases that pop into my head, but for the most part each sentence originates from a random burst of thought (I take them as I can). Over time those random bursts of originality all start to eventually evolve and morph into one another.
     Creativity when forced is a disaster.
     Tomorrows deadline. Wednesday a new one will be set. Things keep moving, my fingers keep typing, and some how life moves on.
     So tell me blank page, what will you look like tomorrow morning?