Week 20

TJ is here visiting for the weekend before he moves to Florida next week, and we went to the National Aquarium today with Katie!

This week's film:

• 2 rolls of expired Fujicolor Press 800
• Taken on a Canon EOS 630 with a Canon 50mm f/1.2L
• Hand-developed in Jobo C-41, scanned with Epson Perfection V500

Week 19

Arieyl and Natalie are home from college and today sort of marked the beginning of our summer.

We went out to Great Falls and I took a disposable for the afternoon since we were going to be rock climbing around water. This was my first time with a disposable and I actually ended up liking the results.

This week's film:

• 1 no-name disposable camera
• Hand developed in Jobo C-41, scanned with Epson Perfection V500

Week 18

The beautiful Sonia Polyzos came home from school last week before heading back out for a month and she and I managed to shoot together before she left.

It's been almost an entire year since Sonia and I shot together back at Forest Haven with Jake, and she is even more gorgeous than before.

I also shot a roll of medium format slides and my E-6 chemicals will be arriving this week so I'll have those developed and uploaded in a few days :)

This week's film:

• One roll of expired Kodak Color Plus 200
• Shot on a Canon EOS 630 with a Canon 50mm f/1.2L and a Canon 24-70mm f/2.8L
• Hand developed in Jobo C-41, scanned with Epson Perfection V500

I'm at this point in my life that I would think just about everyone meets more than once. You ask yourself, "I am x number of years old, and what do I have to show for it?"

At that point, you have to ask yourself, "What do I wish I had to show for it?" I think that's where most people lose focus and end up back in the same spot they started in. Most people don't really know what they want in life. They know they want more than they have, but so few people know themselves well enough to know what they want well enough to go out and make it happen.

I'm asking myself what the people around me have accomplished and if I'd be happy with their lives. I look at my parents and ask myself what they have accomplished. They run a highly successful, self-sustained family business. They have lots of nice things and no time to appreciate any of them. I don't want that kind of life. I have an immense amount of respect for my parents not only in what they do to get what they want, but what they have established for myself and my brothers, but I couldn't imagine working 9-5 every day to buy a nice house or nice cars or nice things.


I have been an extremely material person my entire life. I was the baby of my family and, with all due respect to everyone, I have always been pretty spoiled. I asked for something and I usually got it. I was never unappreciative, but I knew from a young age that my parents had the money for the things I wanted. As I've grown older, I take less advantage of the people around me. I earn what I get and I work for what I have, but with age, my desire for the tangible has decreased exponentially.

This is my promise to myself that I will never fall into that cycle. I will never take part on the full-time job to pay the bills lifestyle. I don't want to have bills because I don't want to have things. I want the necessities; food, shelter, clothing, and not a whole lot else, not tangible at least.

I want to spend my life traveling. I want to spend every dollar I ever make on photography and seeing the world. I don't want a home. I don't want somewhere to settle down; perhaps someplace to rest, but I never want to stop. I want to buy an RV and travel the country, I want to step foot on every continent before I die. What the hell is the point of living in a tiny, familiar box? I see no appeal in staying rooted in any one place.

This house will grow old and weary. The cars will stop running and all of our things will one day be useless. In owning lots of things, we have succeeded in thriving in a single spot, but anyone can do that. By traveling, by coming back with stories to tell, I will not have thrived in one place, but everywhere.