I’ve sold 10 of my fruit and body prints so far. Officially, I’ve made a small profit, with the money being used to pay off the debt incurred from the purchase of much photo gear.

When Dan did my reading two years ago, he mentioned that I see colours differently from other people, and that I should try making money off my art.

Back then, I was far from considering myself an “artist”. I used my camera to express myself in capturing memories, not in delivering messages. At the first Emergence Exposition, Nisha would introduce me to people as a photographer. I would add the word amateur as a prefix, but Nisha would correct me and say aspiring. I suppose I’m more inclined to agree with her now. Being able to support myself like this (albeit in a small way) makes a big difference.

The best part of the entire process though, is meeting people. Not just meeting people I ask to model for me, but when I’m delivering prints as well. I get to see where they’re going to hang the pictures, and I get to meet their kids, their parents, their pets, their friends.

Most recently, it was Tiana, who has two dogs, a cat, and a husband. I didn’t get to meet Brent (or the cat) but I’m sure the opportunity will present itself at some time in the future.

I drove home from class tonight with the windows down and the music cranked. It’s not the songs, it’s not the singing, it’s not the speed, it’s the air that affects you. That smell.

The Operation by Charlotte Gainsbourg is the ultimate night-time driving track when you’re feeling single and electrified.¹ The baseline drives you.

i want to explore you
i’m gonna get under your skin
so you can feel me running through your veins

i want to examine
every inch of your frame
the pressure points that cause your joy and pain

When I got home, I showered, got into in my PJs, took Dolly in my arms, and stood out on the patio. I wanted her to feel what I was feeling under that night sky. She clung to my arms, but didn’t make a sound. It was unlike her, because any time Dolly gets picked up she immediately begins purring. The night was too much for her.

I think it’s too much for me sometimes.

For now, I’ll live vicariously through Maggie. Except I won’t be getting drunk on Sparks (the orange kind), I won’t be going dancing, I’ll just keep running into my crushes at every turn, and I’ll keep meeting the asshole, idiot guys they go out with. And like Maggie, I’ll refuse to be that guy. The one who talks shit about other guys, the one who flosses his cash money, the one who drives fast to prove he’s got a dick.

Yes, I’m breaking my post order because of Maggie. It’s like she made me write this. I would totally hoolahoop and make Dragon Ball Z poses with her. I just found out that I don’t know how to spell hoolahoop. Hula hoop. There we go.

Maybe this dry spell is making me loopy.

I think I’ll sleep with the windows open tonight.

1. This song won’t be up for long; I’m taking it down in a couple days. [↑]

I love this dress.

I love the colours. I love the palette. I love the stripes. I love how they go from thick to thin.

I love how she wears it. I love how it hugs her body. I love how it leads the eye along her curves.

I love how I love this dress.

John figured out that I don’t forgive people because my memory is too good.

And it’s true. Not only do I remember experiences, but emotions. It’s like I can relive every moment I’ve been hurt down to the smallest detail¹. The pain remains strong and salient, years after the incidents have passed.

While time may heal wounds for most, it doesn’t for me. I’m generally fine with this, since I believe that it should be actions and apologies that breed forgiveness, not time.

It’s only hard when I want to forgive someone, but I can’t.

1. This works with the other extreme too; for me, being happy is just as vivid. [↑]