and not finish them.
maybe i will someday.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Monday, December 3, 2007
home
is in fact where the heart is. i realized today that i have been avoiding growing up not only by pining for my childhood, but by also treating my dwelling as a waystation, or a storage unit. "you're an island", i say to myself in the words of woddy allen's annie hall. i didnt clean up my closet. i didnt clean anything. it would be cleaned of course, just not by me. i wouldn't cook or eat meals here, just slept, showered, changed. i get to do my laundry, cook my food, make this place my home. if my home is a safe, warm, inviting place then perhaps my mind will settle in as well. to feel comfortable to open my home, i may discover that it is safe to open myself. all i need to do is chose it and make it happen. i am a new person with new possibilities. so there.
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Interesting day
I woke up pretty late today since I didn't have to work, then ate lunch with the older brother of a friend I've had since I was 2. So, practically, I grew up with this guy. But he was always the scary older dude. It was weird to hang out with him. He even asked me which was my favorite of the two brothers. I was pretty intimidated by both when I was little since they were both such meanies to my friend. Anyway, it was a nice lunch. We caught up, yada yada. Next I came back to my place and chilled for a while. I was pretty tired all day for some reason, maybe because I slept more last night than I have in quite some time. Been burnin' the midnight oil, I have. I finally got a hold of Lisa, after finding out that I wasn't going to see a movie with my college friend, Jayr. Went to Lisa's to chill for a bit and plyed some Wii. Lindsay, Lisa, Laine, Ari and myself were trying to figure out what to do. Bowling was a serious contender, but we ended up driving to the park, Polaroid camera, frisbee, and fake Nerf football in tow. It was a fabulous time. We even played M.A.S.H. I'm apparently marrying my boss, living in a mansion, working as a photographer, honeymooning in Venice, and driving a Jetta. Not bad, eh? The girls were pushing to go get tattoos after the park, but I don't have one nor do I have any clue what I would get. They started mentioning their "animals" (i.e. Lindsay the Lionhearted Lion and Laine the Merciful Bear). I started wondering which animal I would be. At first I thought of an owl, like Sally the Wise Owl, but that's probably kinda lame. I could also be an elephant, like Sally the Rememberful. That was my dilemma, which I'd like to solve. Then maybe I'll have my tat. Anyways, I went home in lieu of tattoo adventure and ran at the J. I can now run a 10 minute mile for 3 miles almost non-stop (ran it non-stop once!!). I'm sore, but I feel good. Hurray. Good day.
Sunday, May 27, 2007
The last few days.
Wow, what a whirlwind. I've been up 'til 6, 4, 5 AM. Driving up to Plano every night to hang out with some pups that didn't give a shit whether I slept or not. I've seen new friends and old friends and been in a 24-hour art show. Twice. I've felt horrible sadness and lonliness and longing. I've felt exhilaration and happiness. Been awake at 8 AM to be amazed at what it feels like to be surprised and alive. Capoeira. I've declared my vision for my future to an old friend and knew it would happen. I've sang, I've danced. I'd like to thank the pups for interrupting my comfort. At the time I wanted to throw them against the wall, but they helped me out of my survival zone. That sounds weird and I don't even know what it means. I feel exhausted, and absolutely here and living. It's going to hurt, it's going to be great, it's going to be exciting, and it's going to be for the rest of my life.
Friday, May 11, 2007
Monday, April 23, 2007
Day One: Mission Old Folks Home
My first day on the job went pretty well. Very eventful. First, I drove my Gammy to the liquor store to get a bottle of sherry. She ended up buying TWO bottles of sherry and a bottle of wine for yours truly to which I said, "Thanks, Gammy! You really didn't have to do that," to which SHE responded, "What are grandmother's for?" and we giggled heartily. 
Once we returned to the complex, we adjourned to the "winery", or room where the Folks can grab some cheese and crackers and a couple of glasses of wine. I'm told that some of the residents are limited to two glasses "for obvious reasons". I guess alcoholism doesn't just get rid of itself after all. The last time I went to the Winery, which gave me the idea for this project in the first place, I was struck by the energy of the place. They have a woman playing the piano at the front of the room, and people will just bust out singing as loudly as they can. She mostly plays old standard tunes, but there is this man, Ferguson, who has the mot beautful rag-timey voice ever and he always sings the loudest. He's kind of the star. I really want to take his picture someday but I'm shy. This other man, Max, sits with Gammy, Ira, and I. 
He is the sweetest man ever. He's very gentle and softspoken, with a bit of a lisp. He is so impressed that Gammy knows all of the songs played on the piano, that they play a little game of Name That Tune every time. He was telling me today about how much he misses his wife, and how they spent 55 beautiful years together. He told me that their idea of a perfect date was going dancing, then to an Italian restaurant for pizza. She died almost two years ago, in October.
Ira, my Gammy's boyfriend, was a really famous photographer (he took the famous picture of Sophia Loren staring at Jayne Mansfield's cleavage).
He was giving me pointers the whole time.
He thought that cookie looked like a mad face.
There was some slight drama, however, when I was approached by one of a group of ladies that seem to be the equivalent of "Mean Girls". Gossip is actually a big deal here, according to Gammy. I was just singing along with Ferguson, when this woman calls to me and I'm thinking she is going to ask for me to take her picture, but she lets me know that I "really should ask permission before I take people's picture". What a Debbie Downer. So, more later.
Once we returned to the complex, we adjourned to the "winery", or room where the Folks can grab some cheese and crackers and a couple of glasses of wine. I'm told that some of the residents are limited to two glasses "for obvious reasons". I guess alcoholism doesn't just get rid of itself after all. The last time I went to the Winery, which gave me the idea for this project in the first place, I was struck by the energy of the place. They have a woman playing the piano at the front of the room, and people will just bust out singing as loudly as they can. She mostly plays old standard tunes, but there is this man, Ferguson, who has the mot beautful rag-timey voice ever and he always sings the loudest. He's kind of the star. I really want to take his picture someday but I'm shy. This other man, Max, sits with Gammy, Ira, and I. 
He is the sweetest man ever. He's very gentle and softspoken, with a bit of a lisp. He is so impressed that Gammy knows all of the songs played on the piano, that they play a little game of Name That Tune every time. He was telling me today about how much he misses his wife, and how they spent 55 beautiful years together. He told me that their idea of a perfect date was going dancing, then to an Italian restaurant for pizza. She died almost two years ago, in October.
Ira, my Gammy's boyfriend, was a really famous photographer (he took the famous picture of Sophia Loren staring at Jayne Mansfield's cleavage). 
He was giving me pointers the whole time.
He thought that cookie looked like a mad face.
There was some slight drama, however, when I was approached by one of a group of ladies that seem to be the equivalent of "Mean Girls". Gossip is actually a big deal here, according to Gammy. I was just singing along with Ferguson, when this woman calls to me and I'm thinking she is going to ask for me to take her picture, but she lets me know that I "really should ask permission before I take people's picture". What a Debbie Downer. So, more later.
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Mission Old Folks Home?
I had an idea, and it came out of my fingertips like so:
*Photography Project: April 2007/ Sally Glass
Active Living for Independent Seniors. With all the restrictions that accompany late age; emotional, mental, physical, financial, how do the seniors in our community and the world deal? What are the psychological effects of getting older in this day and age? Does the government help? Do children help? Do Independent Centers for the Active Elderly help? Thanks to modern science, life spans are longer and good health can maintain to a very late point in life. However, how does the fear of impending death arise in those 70, 80, 90 + year olds?
Through my photographs and related research, I want to illustrate the energy that still exists within the aging community, as well as perhaps expose a nerve that must always be dealt with as one gets to "that age". In a place where the person you sit with at dinner could expire tomorrow, how does one cope? What are the natural reactions for someone who knowingly inhabits the last place they ever will? Inspired by Lauren Greenfield's work on THIN, I hope to document and capture these residents in their element, and by listening to their stories revisit the lives well lived and find out how they deal with a certain fate with uncertain time limits. I will visit the center several times a week to do this.
Meh? Me?
*Photography Project: April 2007/ Sally Glass
Active Living for Independent Seniors. With all the restrictions that accompany late age; emotional, mental, physical, financial, how do the seniors in our community and the world deal? What are the psychological effects of getting older in this day and age? Does the government help? Do children help? Do Independent Centers for the Active Elderly help? Thanks to modern science, life spans are longer and good health can maintain to a very late point in life. However, how does the fear of impending death arise in those 70, 80, 90 + year olds?
Through my photographs and related research, I want to illustrate the energy that still exists within the aging community, as well as perhaps expose a nerve that must always be dealt with as one gets to "that age". In a place where the person you sit with at dinner could expire tomorrow, how does one cope? What are the natural reactions for someone who knowingly inhabits the last place they ever will? Inspired by Lauren Greenfield's work on THIN, I hope to document and capture these residents in their element, and by listening to their stories revisit the lives well lived and find out how they deal with a certain fate with uncertain time limits. I will visit the center several times a week to do this.
Meh? Me?
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