Ch ch ch chaaaanges

Hideyho, friends. It has been an insane month, which is why I haven't written. Like at all. Because I was dealing with the madness. All the madness.

So much madness.

As of last Thursday, I am officially an unemployed person. For reasons which I can't even get into and to which I've come to terms. It wasn't easy, let me tell you what. I really struggled with this for a while and I felt my toes dipping into the pool of depression, which I don't think is unreasonable. Anyone would get sad and scared and feel a bit lost when making a huge life change and also face the possibility of not supporting oneself.

I don't think it's unreasonable to avoid homelessness. That's really all I ask.

Not that my friends and fam would actually let me be literally homeless. But you get what I mean.

And I was grieving the job I worked so hard to fit in to for the past two years. You work so hard to make yourself one way and when it turns out that it's not actually possible to change yourself, it's a bit of a hard fall. Sometimes you can't make yourself fit if you just don't fit.

And I've decided that's okay. The bottom dollar is that it's not just about my happiness or following my dreams or whatever, which are important and which I'm going to do, but if I'm not the person for the job, then I won't succeed. I can't set myself up to fail anymore and so I won't. I'll follow my passion and work my ass off to do so and hopefully the money follows.

And that passion is photography. And writing and any creative endeavors I find, of course. But it's all about the photography. I think, I know, I have a talent for it and it's work that I do well because I love doing it. It makes me truly happy.

So I am looking for some steady employment in the mean time, but the end goal is professional photographer.

I can do it all, from weddings to engagement sessions to family, baby, and pet portraits, to business photography like head shots and real estate photography. Because I'm just starting out, my rates are reasonable and I'll work with you to find an affordable package for your budget.

Tell your friends! I'll need YOUR help to make it as a photographer and I'm counting on your support, friends. I've appreciated you guys so much over the years and I know you're in my corner.

There's a link to my photo site in the top navigation (expect a more dynamic site as I start to make money) or you can find it here. Also, please go like my photography facebook page! And you can still find me on Twitter @andygirl.

I'll be blogging more here as well, at least that's the plan, and you can still find me at Spocket Ink.

Health and happiness and some shit like that

Lots has been happening the last month and year and, well, my whole life really and it's really had me considering the importance/non-importance of health and happiness and how those things really shape our (my) daily lives.

This is going to be one of those rambly long posts, the kind of writing that ambles about in the woods not really searching for a destination, but is really only looking at the trees and how tall they are and my gosh bark is crazy when you think about it and why are pine needles so different than leaves and squirrels are incredibly cute assholes.

Ahem.

Just like that.

As a follow up from my last post, I finally got in to see my primary care doctor at Kaiser and I can see why he's so hard to get an appointment with; the guy is a great doctor, just what you want in a doctor: firm but kind, asks lots of questions and actually listens to your answers and works to figure out how to make your feel better and/or ease your fears. I don't know the last time I had such a good experience with a doctor.

And he also addressed Dr. Bitchface and how she called me fat. He actually pulled out a chart and showed me where I fall on the scale of overall health and weight and showed me where most people are (Scary Land) and where I am (Not too bad at all). He encouraged me to exercise more, but said I'm actually in good shape and he's not worried about me.



Huge sigh of relief.

It's amazing how one person's, one expert's, opinion or reassurances can change your whole self perception. it's amazing how hearing you're doing a good job or you're not fucking up your life completely can make you feel better, can make getting through the rough shit easier.

Anyway, he ran a full blood panel and I go back in a couple weeks for imaging to see if I have any cysts or growths and then I follow up with him. Here's hoping.

It seems obvious that health and happiness go hand in hand, but I don't think most of us live that way. One is usually sacrificed for the other and it's rare that most people have even one. I always preach about balance and all that, but it doesn't always happen. I know that yoga or dance, etc., make me both physically and mentally happy, but when I can't afford classes, it's easier to just skip and say, "soon."

So what's more important? I'm not saying we just give up and I certainly try to find ways to exercise or whatever, but it's hard when you scrape by to do just what you live and the best things to be healthy and well.

And most of us don't live our dream lives, don't have the dream jobs and the dream houses and all those other accoutrements we pictured for ourselves. There's something to be said for being responsible and holding down that shitty job and smiling through the stress and paying rent on that crappy apartment, because that's adulthood and that's responsibility and that's just life.

I have nothing but respect for those who do what they have to. My dad always did and I'd like to think I do too.

Or maybe those things are easier if one just feels a little fulfilled by their work, feels accomplishment, feels appreciated and valued in what they do regardless if what they do is what they want or not. Just knowing you're important and valauable is enough to feel a little satisfaction.

But is that really happiness? Where does happiness come in? In this world of pleasures and art and beauty are we not the least bit deserving of some happiness? How do we make time for joy? Is that only a privilege of the rich? How else does one pursue their dreams if they don't have the resources to fund them?



Or maybe that's only the life of Europeans. Maybe I have to live in Italy or Montmartre to have la belle vie.

I'd love nothing more than to abandon the 8 to 5, live that bohemian life, to spend my days making art, taking photos and painting and writing, traveling, eating and loving. But who can afford to do that?

They say money can't buy happiness, but it sure affords the time to pursue it. But maybe if I could afford all the time, I wouldn't appreciate what little there is.

Now, don't misunderstand. I've had my fair share of bold moves in the search for joy and I've had and do have joy, happiness, love. Hell, I quit my job and moved to another state without a job and without knowing more than 3 people there. And there are days when I get homesick and I question my decisions. Don't we all? But every move I've made, I've made for me and so that's gotta be good.




And this has been a big year too. Over a year ago, I wandered into a bar where I didn't know a soul, planted myself on a barstool, made new friends who would then introduce me to Eminem. I can't believe it's been a year. He and I are coming up on our anniversary in a couple weeks, counting of course from the night I took him home and not from our first date. Guess which came first?

Sometimes I think my whole purpose in life is to debunk ideas of appropriate female sexual behavior.

Anyway, we're coming up on a year and we're talking about getting a place together in the fall (damned budgets and leases) and I can say with absolute conviction that he makes me happy. Maybe that makes me a bad feminist or a bad therapy patient or something. Yes, no one else can *make* us happy, sure; we have to make ourselves happy. Blah blah blah. I can probably go back and link up all the posts where I've written just that.

But he does. He does. So there. Suck it, psychology.

There are a million little things that he does that make me happy. His existence in the world makes me happy. It makes me happy that he loves me and it makes me happy to love him. He appreciates me and who I am and that makes me happy too.



Is this scary as shit? Fuck yes. Do I feel totally safe with him and therefore even more scared than one would think? Am I worried that it will all come crashing down and this huge bundle of happiness we have will all blow away? Absofuckinglutely. But the scariest things always feel the best, don't they? Hell yes they do. That's what's so awesome about it.

Because I'm happy and so it's worth it. Happiness. Funny thing, that.

And despite my doctor's lack of worry about my weight, the fact remains that I'm carrying more weight than I ever have and I'm pretty sure it's because I'm happy and in love. Literally fat and happy, if you will.

I can accept being curvier if I get love. Maybe I could also have a life full of art too? Is that asking too much?

My Doctors Always Suck, otherwise entitled Why I Hate Kaiser

I've met people who like Kaiser Permanente. They're real people out there in the world and they don't hate their healthcare. Weird, I know.

Backstory. I have yet to have a great experience with a doctor.

Wait. That's a lie. I have had one great experience with an ear, nose, throat specialist who, after my 6th sinus infection in a row, told me I have a deviated septum and changed my life with a little invention called saline. He also told me to not let any doctor bully me into surgery and that it was my choice and surgery doesn't always fix things and to do my research first. And then I asked him to marry me.

And it goes without saying that I have had nothing but wonderful experiences with Planned Parenthood, though you only see a nurse, but that nurse and the staff are all welcoming, wonderful people who listen to your needs and see you as a human being.

And then there was that time in Marseille when I got horrific food poisoning and a doctor came to my hotel room, examined me nicely, gave me magic pills that made me better, and never charged me a thing. Go France!

Other than that, doctors have been not great pour moi. I have friends and family in the medical field and I have to assume they're nice and talented and treat their patients well, but that just hasn't been my personal experience with my own doctors. If I tell you all my stories, this post would be a tome, so I won't.

Suffice to say, I hate going to the doctor and do so reluctantly and only when necessary. I am all about health, but have figured out the hard way that the only way to be healthy is to be my own advocate and, often, to treat myself.

Cut to this morning. No, wait, I should back up. I have had chronic UTIs, otherwise knowns as bladder infections, for the last year. I try to treat naturally with water and cranberry juice and good hygiene, but I keep getting them. Last October, I got a vicious one and had to go to a Kaiser clinic because my primary doc is always booked up and they did urinalysis, confirmed the infection, and treated me with antibiotics.

So, yesterday I came down with another infection. Not wanting to fuck around and, after talking to a friend in the medical field and learning that sometimes chronic UTIs can be a sign of a kidney infection, I got an appoint for this morning, but with a new Kaiser doc because, again, my doc is always booked up.

I got there early, peed in the little cup, and waited to meet this new doctor and find out what's the deal. This doctor, she, well, she was awful. She went into the room with all these preconceived notions of who I am and how I take care of myself and didn't listen to a word I said. She looked at me like I was making up my symptoms, which is especially insulting because my mother is a true hypochondriac, and told me that it probably wasn't a real infection all these times and I probably just don't eat well.

And then she went on a rant about how Americans eat and I just can't eat all that processed food and that's why I'm overweight (!) and that the bad food inflamed my bladder and made me think I had an infection.

All the while, I'm trying to explain to her that, while I'm not perfect, I do try to eat well and I always read ingredients because of my food allergies, and I gained weight this year because my exercise changed, etc etc etc.

And she didn't hear one word I said. I tried asking her about my kidneys but she wouldn't hear it. She looked at me like I was this fat slob who overate and didn't watch what I ate and I deserved to be getting this symptoms and I'm pretty dumb to think it's a real infection. She also told me that the doctor I'd seen in October overreacted and I didn't have much (!) of an infection and I probably didn't need antibiotics.

I explained that if that were true, I'd be upset because I try to not take antibiotics if I don't need them and why would a doctor say I had an infection when I didn't?

She said I didn't have an infection this time and I was fine. I told her I drank a ton of cranberry juice yesterday and maybe the infection has cleared up already. Again, she wouldn't hear it, just kept telling me how passionate she is about eating well and health and told me she just cares about me and wants me to be healthy.

I finally talked her into at least doing a blood panel to look for food allergens, because I've been trying to get a Kaiser doctor to do that for a year as well and because it was the only reason she'd concede to be why I keep having these symptoms. And I won't get the results for a week. And then I was sent on my merry way, still having symptoms, and feeling the most judged and the most unheard and unseen I've felt in a long time.

First of all, even if food can cause those symptoms, it's an awfully large assumption to make without talking to me and letting me explain my eating habits. She just assumed I didn't know what I eat when the exact opposite is true. I do a ton of research on what I eat because eating is so perilous for me already. Yes, sometimes I eat bad foods and, yes, I eat too much even of good foods. But I am not unaware of what I eat.

Second, even if food is the cause of my symptoms, looking at me like I'm a horrible, stupid, and naive person is not her job. It's her job to help me figure out the problem and solve it. Instead she basically told me I was too fat and couldn't take care of myself.

Never mind that I'm not fat. I gained 25 pounds this year, sure, but before that I was a good weight and I've already lost five pounds and I'm working hard to find my exercise routine as an adult that doesn't have 5 dance classes a week. I'm not unaware of my weight gain and I've never struggled with my weight before now. I'm just older and figuring things out and a little compassion would be great. But she just assumed she knew who I am and how I live.

Third, what if it isn't food? She just refused to entertain any other options. What if it is a kidney infection and what if it continues untreated? I don't know what it is and it isn't really my job to find out because I didn't go to medical school. And it is her job! But I don't think she ever planned on exploring what was my issue. She is obviously on a crusade for health food, which isn't inherently a bad thing, but if I came in with cancer warning signs, would she send me on my way and tell me to eat more tomatoes? At some point, a doctor who works in traditional medicine has to actually practice tradition medicine!

Yes, wellness is important. Of course it is. Yes, I need to lose weight. I'm working on it. Yes, we all need to know what we're eating, but I do! If all I needed was a nutritionist, why am I paying insurance premiums to get shuffled between doctors and get told I'm a stupid, fat, American and not worth listening to? Why ever see a doctor at all?

That said, I'm at this very moment trying to get into my primary doctor. Because I think I should get a second opinion. Also, because I still feel sick and she didn't give me any guidance whatsoever on how to feel better! And I feel like I spent my entire morning and paid $20 to have a highly paid professional tell me how bad a person I am.

If I don't get in today, I am canceling my insurance. What good is it? What the hell am I paying for? If I just wanted to be berated, I'd befriend Jillian Michaels.

I guess, at the end of the day, I just wanted to be heard. I am my own advocate. I do take my health seriously. I do know how to listen to my body. And I just wanted my doctor to give me the chance to explain that.

I just wanted to not be treated like I'm my mother, a drug addict hypochondriac who, by the way, is always able to bully doctors into whatever pills she wants and whatever diagnosis she has in mind. Hell, maybe my mom is on to something there.

Is...how you say...freezing!

It's been colder than Santa's balls here in Portland the last few weeks. I assume Santa's balls are cold on account of the North Pole being pretty chilly and he doesn't look like he gets much action. So, as you can imagine, pretty damn cold.

We've gotten a little snow here and there, though nothing to brag about, but it's mostly been just damn cold and clear and icy and foggy. Most Portlanders would kill me for saying this, but I can't wait for the rain to come back. But that will warm things up a bit! Yikes it's cold out there.

So last weekend, Eminem and I drove a good three hours out of Portland to a cabin his folks have and then I promptly started to get a cold, which made me, per usual, a cranky, dramatic pain in the ass. But, my man handled it like a champ. As he always does. Which is why I love him.

But, even though I was getting sick, I refused to drive all that way just to watch football and movies and eat enough gluten free cookies to last me through the apocalypse, so I drug our freezing asses outside and we walked around a frozen lake and I got some great photos out of it. Totally worth losing my nose to frostbite, but that's what committed photographers are all about.



Then I came home to a week from hell. Between this cold that threatened to be the flu and feeling some immense stress from work and then some other shit which I just can't talk about, it was hard. Super hard yo.

Then a friend told me (so, you know, a very reliable source) that historically, that's the most depressing week of the year. Something to do with it being fucking freezing and everyone's stressed from coming off the holidays, blah blah blah. So that made me feel better.

And Saturday I got to go to my very first Trail Blazer's game. And even though they lost and even though I thought I might get into a LA girl throw down more than a few times (because that's how California girls do it. so don't fuck with us.), I had fun!

Still, even though it was freezing all night, a great reward for trudging along in the cold to do something with your guy that he genuinely loves is always cuddling with a human radiotor that makes you tea and breakfast in the morning. In case you missed it, my boyfriend is a human radiator. The man emits heat that could cure a hypothermia victim. Hospitals should keep him on standby.

As one parting thought, I've never liked the term "pussy whipped" for what I hope are obvious reasons. It's a horrible term. But I now own apparel for pretty much all of my boyfriend's favorite sports teams (except the Pats. because I'll always be a Niners girl).

So you tell me who's whipped.

So this one time, I went to India...

Did you miss me? The reason I was gone for so long, my friends, was because I was in India! What? Yes, yes it's true. I had the amazing opportunity to accompany my aunt on a trip to the Golden Triangle in India. Why? For fun. Just to be tourists. Because why the hell not? Because it's INDIA!

I truly had an incredible time. I took well over a thousand photos, which I guarantee will take me a year to get through and edit and upload. I ate a ton of good food, none of which made me sick, bee tee double you, contrary to what everyone told me (because, you know, I didn't eat food off the street like an idiot).

And I saw people, animals, palaces, mosques, temples, forts, and experienced a new place which I won't even attempt to do justice because travel to a place so different to what you've experienced is really the only way to best understand it. And I have a thousand stories to tell, which I don't even know where to start telling. Also: tiger safari. Tiger. Fucking. Safari. Enough said.

For now, here's a small sampling of photos I took. Many, many, many more to come.

Lost Gift Cards, Elections Make People Assholes, and Other Fun Tales

I haven't blogged in far too long. So instead of regaling you with every damn thing that's happened, I present you with a series of tales from the last month.

Ahem.



Lost Gift Cards

An as always lovely family member gifted me with 100 smackers from spafinder (dot) com for my birthday back in September and, because I'm much too busy to do lovely things for myself like getting MASSages, they've been sitting on my desk for the last million days.

I had a free day today, so I finally got my ass in gear and made an appointment last week at a spa. I gave them my credit card to hold my appointment and then didn't think anything of it until this morning when I went to grab my gift cards.

Gone. Like, gone. Like, I tore apart my apartment and they were nowhere to be found. Fucking fuckity fuck fuck. The spa was very understanding that I'd be late and I pretty much sobbed all the way to my appointment, telling myself that I didn't want to do it and I couldn't afford it, but I didn't exactly have a choice. I really didn't have a choice. If I canceled, they'd still charge my card, so my choices were to get a massage that I couldn't afford or to pay for a massage I didn't get. Luckily, I'm not dumb so I got the massage.

And it was lovely. Seriously, insanely wonderful. It's ironic, but there's nothing like a massage to ease all your tensions created by getting a massage you can't afford.

I still can't find those damn gift cards. I've now cleaned my whole house and there are only there potential reasons they went missing:

1. I threw them away. Which I find highly unlikely. I just don't see myself doing that.
2. They were abducted by aliens with a lot of tension in their backs. Totally possible.
3. Maintenance at my apartment stole them. Unlikely, but unless they were stolen by aliens, it's the most rational answer I can think of.

It's just money, I know, but I feel like I'm out 200 bucks. $100 that I couldn't afford today and $100 that is probably being spent in a day spa on Venus. Damn Venutians. 

The Saga of the Pet Bed

A month or so ago, I spotted this fluffy, cushy, gray pet bed on sale at the grocery store. Hobbes doesn't have any pet beds, mostly because he prefers to sleep on the bed with me, but with Eminem over a lot, the bed is getting quite full. And I do have this storage basket at the end of my bed, which is perfect for a pet bed and Hobbes could sleep there and feel like he's still on the bed. Plus the gray looks so pretty against my bedspread. 

Ahhhh if life every worked out so perfectly. 

I put Hobbes on it and he jumped off it like it was made of lava. How dare I endanger my cat so! I put catnip on it. No dice. I covered it in treats, which he nimbly grabbed one by one without putting more than one paw on the bed at all times. 

Them Eminem came over and gently patted the bed and told Hobbes to get on it. And the damn cat did. Because that's how much he loves my boyfriend. Luckily for me, it didn't last long and Hobbes wouldn't lie down. 

I tried it with Hobbes again last week, by just patting the bed and telling him to get on it. It worked for a few minutes and he even lay down for a bit, but jumped down the minute I left. He's refused to get on it since. 

I give up. I totally give up. 

Elections Make People Assholes

I'm going to assume you all know that I'm an Obama girl. If you read my Sprocket Ink posts at all, you know I'm a fan of the O man and, thus, was totally celebrating his win last week. As many others were! And many others were not. I totally get that. Had Romney won, I'd have been super pouty and devastated. Such is human nature. 

So of course, Facebook was rife with both sides of that election night coin, as was to be expected. I was all, "Victory!" and "GoooooBAMA!" And others were all like, "It's the end of the world and we're all gonna die!" Or something like that. I'm paraphrasing. 

And I have to say that I love that! That is the fun and power of an election. Emotions run high and people get all passionate. That's politics, baby and I lurve it. 

I did unfriend someone on facebook that night and, I have to say, I don't regret it. It's not what you'd expect either and I'm only sharing this story because of what I learned about myself because of it. 

My friend posted on facebook something to the effect of how shameful it is how we're all behaving, gloating and complaining and it's just an election and how can we possibly put so much trust in power in the hands of one man and we're acting like idiots (this is from memory, mind you). And she told us all to shut up.

And I was mildly offended. But I thought, This girl is my friend and I've known her for years and I'm going to share my perspective and she'll be gracious about it. 

So I wrote (again, from memory) something like, This is how it goes for elections. For me, this is a win and so I'm celebrating. I'm sorry some might see that as gloating, but that's how it goes. 

I honestly think I wrote more than that, but I can't remember. And she replied (and this I remember verbatim): With all due respect, Andrea, that speaks volumes. 

And then my brain exploded. 

I was just so offended, so furious. I didn't care what her politics were or who she voted for or if she thought I was crazy for my politics. But her pride, her condescension, her self-righteousness struck me as offensive. How nice to be so much better than the rest of us! To not behave like idiots over something so trivial as an election. Pathetic little peons. 

That's what I felt she was saying, dripping with condescension  I stared at the "friend" button on her facebook page for some time. I knew it was childish to unfriend someone, something I've never done because of something so seemingly trivial, but was moved to do so instinctually. After too long, I finally did press it and then click that I was sure that I wanted to remove that person as a friend. 

It was a pretty powerful move for something that took such little time, but I knew almost instantly that it's what I wanted. I can't be friends with someone who thinks she (or he) is so much better than I or so much better than everyone else, who can't forgive human nature, who has to tell her friends to shut up when she doesn't approve of them. 

Only inclusive people get to be in my life, people who can accept that we all have differences, even if we fight tooth and nail over them, because that's what is great about friendships, and life, and people, and this country. The dialog, the fight, the celebrating and the sorrow, it's all part of this life and it's how we make it better. 

No, I will not shut up, thanks. Not today. 

A Good Man is Hard to Find

I really wanted to end this with a happy story. Eminem and I went though a little rough patch recently, had a little hiccup, and I honestly didn't know how to deal with it at first, because I've never been to that point in a relationship. Usually, I just get dumped. 

And at the end of the day, with all my shitty past relationships, I don't know that I would appreciate him as much as I do without having been treated so poorly in the past or had my heart broken too many times. Being wounded so often certainly made me scared to stick with it, of course, but he's worth it. The fear of losing him makes me want to work at being good to him just as he's trying to be good to me. 

I told him, half crying, half laughing, that I wouldn't let him go easily. I've dated all the other men in the world. All of them. And he's the only good one. 

I just knew in my gutty gut that he's the best guy I've ever known and so I'd figure it out, we'd figure it out. And we did. We're great. Stronger than we were before, I think, which feels fucking phenomenal and I can't express how fucking happy he makes me. We're both learning how to be with each other and I appreciate every minute. 

He's one in a million, that guy. 

Check check...is this thing on?

Wellll helloooo there. It's been a gazillion years since we last had a little chit chat. I apologize, I do, but I've just been so durn busy! And I meant to write last weekend. I have a whole catchup to give you plus another Mormon Girl/Atheist Girl post plus adoption craps.

But that was not to be.

Last Sunday was like the perfect day to get everything done. I slept in with the boyfriend, went grocery shopping, cleaned my whole house (except laundry), started painting drawers to a dresser I painted a few weekends ago, and settled in to write.

THEN! dun dun duuuuuuuun...my computer stopped charging suddenly. And this comp is on its last legs, like seriously. Like there might be a little duct tape holding parts together. But I have to coax this baby along until at least next year. Right now all my money is going into this India trip in December so I cannot purchase a new baby right now.

So, hoping it wasn't anything more serious than a dead charger, I left the thing backing up (just in case) and hoofed it to downtown PDX to get a new power adapter. The only annoyance was that the Portland marathon was that day, but parking a little far meant I got my fat ass (more on that later) moving anyway. Anywayyyyyyy, long story short (too late), it was just the charger. The battery is fairly shot too, but I'm not buying a whole new battery for this dying comp so I just have to leave it plugged in for like always.

But! I forgot to mention that I also left wetly painted drawers outside on my porch to dry. And as I got home, I see my hideous asshole upstairs neighbors on their porch grilling. And what did I find all over my drawers? Grill grossness and porch grossness that they'd swept off right onto my stuff. And they knew I'd been painting. So, like any mature non-passive-aggressive person would do, I shouted, "ASSSHOLES!" up at the porch and tried to clean up my drawers and bring them inside.

I would like to state for the record that should they meet their untimely deaths while I live below them, I didn't do it. I am not a killer. But I might celebrate inside just a little.

This is what apartment living does to a person.

So needless to say I was too tired and stressed to do any writing after that.

And the weekend before was my other cousin's wedding. Yes, my cousins (the three of us are like sisters) got married within a couple months of each other. Which, despite being expensive, worked out for me because I was sort of off the hook. I had to go by myself (because Eminem was in Vegas, the brat) and was so dreading all the relatives going, "So are you next? Where's your boyfriend?" And while they did ask about my boyfriend, because they're all weddinged out, they were like, "You're not next right? Tell us you won't get married soon." Awesome.

Here are some photos I took. I was not the photographer and didn't even take my camera because it's getting serviced, but my aunt had no idea how to use her new point and shoot, so I took it off her hands. Some of these tured out great. It was a nice, little camera!



But I will be shooting a wedding next weekend! Like for strangers, a real wedding gig. It's very exciting and I can't wait to share all the photos with you guys.

Speaking of, when I started this blog and when I started my flickr page, I never had any intentions of working as a photographer. It was just my art and my hobby. But now I think I need to rebrand to something more professional and use my real name. This is scary, especially because of the whole stalker situation I had a couple years back, but I think it's necessary. Thoughts? It means I'd connect this blog with my photography pages and I'd be exposing my real name in this forum.


And the new name (from Crazy Lady Photography) is.....drum roll please.....

Double A Photography

Because my last name starts with an A. What do you think?


I probably won't be starting a new blog just for my photography, but I'm thinking I may do a photography facebook page. What do you guys think? Too much? Not enough? I'll also be working on a logo.

Eek! So much to do!

Aaaaaaaaand....

Halloween is coming up and it's FALL! I love Fall. I love leaves and the weather gets brisk and I can burn pumpkin spice candles. What are you going as for Halloween? I'm not telling what my costume will be, but I'll share photos after! You all know I love making my own costumes and I'm making Eminem dress up with me. It's gonna be awesome!