Photographers must also be comedians.

I am not into this kind of photography...

It's over saturated, over exposes, and overdone!  The pouty face, the cold eyes.  I know this girl.  this is the opposite of her personality. It just feels like its trying too hard.

In my portraits I want their personality to shine.  Doesn't she look sincere?  Thats because she is!  See she is my friend and she was genuinely smiling because I had made her laugh.  

Which brings me to this idea that photographers have to be comedians to get good portraits. 

Because when you make them laugh you get faces like this. 

Or like this. 

Portrait photography without personality is just flat.  These shots are some of my favorites because they show exactly what they should.  Erin is simple and genuine, Holly is edgy, and Brittney is still a little kid inside.  

Dandelions

Because I was a weird child, I refused to make a wish on dandelions when I was a little kid.  Why?  Because my dad told me that Dandelions were weeds, at about the same time that we learned in my science class that some plants have built in ways to travel through the wind to spread their seed....like dandelions.  

I put two and two together and thought that by blowing on dandelions you are spreading weed seeds!  Then I imagined that the way that this idea of making a wish on these weed flowers was started by a creepy man who wanted to sneakily make all little children blow their wishes on weeds and spread them like wildfire.

Is that wierd?

"children!  Blow on the dandelions and all of your wishes will come true!"

"Okay creepy man whatever you say"

...and the rest was history

Mallory Nutt

I was flattered when my friend Mallory Nutt asked me to take her headshots for a play she was auditioning for.  Mallory and I talked about how it's so easy in college to lose sight of things that you love to do because we get so busy with school, and jobs, and activities.  Sometimes you have to fuel that other part of you that is not all about resumes and finding jobs.  Its okay to take pictures and be in plays for fun. That is what keeps us sane.  So I took pictures for Mallory, and Mallory used my photos for her play audition, and we were both better off for it. 

I am not afraid of heights, but I am afraid of Vampires.

Do you ever have fears that you know are ridiculous, but couldn't explain?  I have a few which I am sure are due to an over active imagination. 

1. The squirrels at SMU. 

Okay, seriously do you just walk under them scampering in the trees and not think what if they fell out and bit you like the attacking bunny in Monty Python??  No?  Well I do, and its terrifying!

2.  Vampires.

It all started with count Dracula in Sesame Street, a few bad dreams, and the rest is history.   To this day I sleep with the covers pulled tightly up to my neck because my little girl mind rationalized that if I covered my neck the vampires couldn't get me.  Now they're everywhere!  vampire shows, books, music.  I don't care if they are nice vampires, they still suck blood, and they are still terrifying.

3.  Cotton.

This is not really a fear so much as a pet peeve.  The worst is when you open a new medicine bottle and there is that super fluffy non-contained cotton, and you have to pull it out past the shards of aluminum that covered the top of the bottle.  I would go on but its too painful.  I refuse to even open them, thankfully I don't live alone so it isn't really a problem yet.  I shudder at the thought of having to do it alone.

The Curious Case of Bejamin Button

This weekend while visiting my grandparents, for fall break and recovering from illness, I watched "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button" with my grandma.  The movie is about a boy that is born looking physically old and becomes younger with age.  The movie goes through Benjamin's whole life from his strange childhood being looked after by a woman who was a caretaker for an old folks home and took him in after he was abandoned on her doorstep.  

Being a hopeless romantic, I loved the magical story of Benjamin falling in love, and the chain of events that lead him away and then back to her.  The movie reminded me a lot of the movie, Forest Gump.  It had a narrator, the whole movie was a flashback, and told lots of mini stories.

Overall I thought that the movie was sweet, and worth watching, although really long.  The perfect movie to watch on a rainy day when you are a little under the weather.

Wait what?

I am writing a paper about Salmonella for my CF class, and discovered that Salmonella was discovered by a scientist named David E. Salmon.

Salmon

Salmonella

Salmon

Salmonella

Wait what?

Continuing the Quest, Shop 2: The Pearl Cup

The Pearl Cup is located on Henderson, I saw it mentioned in D Magazine as one of the best lattes in Dallas and figured it was worth a try.  
When I arrived my first impression was that it was a complete turnaround from The Crooked Tree.  With a mod cement floor, stainless steel sign, and sleek lined furniture The Pearl Cup was definitely a modern hangout.  This would be a great place to hang and study, with free wifi, caffeine, and chairs that weren't so comfy that they make you fall asleep, what more could you ask for??
The menu offered some light bites like hummus and pita, or paninis, as well as a full bakery case featuring coffee shop classics like black and white cookies.  I was mostly interested in the coffee though, so I went up to the barista and asked what the signature drink was.  He told me about their award winning Pearl Latte, and I was in.  I just wish I knew how he did it!  It was smooth and creamy with just the right touch of sweet.  

Verdict:  Best latte in Dallas hands down, cool hangout, not far from SMU.  I will definitely be coming back.

Stinky

Stinky is my little brother.  His real name is Will, I honestly don't know how this nickname came to be, bit for as long as he or I can remember I have called him stinky.  

I came to a terrifying realization recently as I was visiting my grandmothers house.  I have not seen my little brother since Christmas, but he was at my grandparent's house this summer and she measured him on the door where we have all been measured since 1990.   When I last saw my Stinky he was at least and inch or two shorter than me.  When I looked at the door I saw to my horror that he was THREE inches taller than me.  THREE.  Are you doing the math here?  That means that in less than a year he has grown FOUR inches.  FOUR.  

My whole little family is growing up.  It's happening fast.  Really fast.  I have to get used to it whether I like it or not.  

This picture is my favorite picture of him I have ever taken.  He is a ham, but I caught him before he knew I had the camera out.  This is the way I know him, love him and miss him.

The Crooked Tree, Shop One in the Search for the Perfect Coffee House

Part photography project, part Seattle girl looking for good coffee, I decided that I was no longer satisfied with the overly roasty flavors of Starbucks, or the watered down beverages at java city.  I listened to the buss around campus and heard more than one person talking about The Crooked Tree.  
The Crooked Tree is in Uptown, right off of McKinney on Routh.  Right in the middle of a residential street, this house-gone-coffee shop blends right into the quaint Uptown neighborhood.  When I walked in the place was full of funky artwork, students on their MacBooks, and eclectic antique furniture.  I walked up to the barista and asked what their signature drink was.  She told me about their Dolce Inverno, which was vanilla soymilk steeped in earl grey tea and then steamed with a couple pumps of vanilla syrup.  Sure, it wasn't coffee but it sounded good.  

I walked around and took pictures while the barista made my drink.  I recognized a few people from SMU there, so maybe its not the best place to hide out to do homework.  Overall, the atmosphere was comfortable, the prices were fair, and my drink was delicious, I will definitely be going back.

Home is Where Your House is

Moving is somewhat of a curse word in some homes. In mine it’s a way of life. My parents grew up moving, their parents grew up moving, and I was raised the same way. To never feel connected to places, but rather to people. 
Texas, California, Singapore, Australia, Boston, Washington, the story of my life. There are people all over the world who have moved far more than I have. I know, some of them are my best friends. It seems that something dies inside when you have to leave people that many times; when you are forced to become a part of a community where no one knows who you are. I've seen it happen, from distance, of course. I have told friends many times that life is all about perspective. Do you see an opportunity or a horrible situation? I saw an opportunity. 

My life has been one of fresh starts, world travel, and the constant promise of uncertainty. Knowing that I would live in one place for four years initially made me feel trapped. In my community high school students tended to have a lot of connections based on the fact that they lived there their entire lives. I, on the other hand, didn’t know anyone; I knew I would never have a history in a community. My pre-school teacher would never become my employer; my teachers would never have known…anyone in my family. I had two options: one, give up; two, learn to self-advocate at the age of 14. I became immersed in the community, making connections whenever possible. I volunteered my baby-sitting services to the moms of the other boys on my little brother’s baseball team. I donated cakes to local auctions. I volunteered for anything that caught my interest. It didn’t take long at all before I no longer had to seek opportunities. Soon I was being requested to volunteer at functions to raise money for a local restaurant that caters to the homeless community; I was invited to attend a mission trip to Tijuana; I was asked to be the photo editor of the yearbook by a teacher who is notorious for not even knowing her students names. 
I realized then that simply living in one place doesn’t really entitle a person to anything, and neither does knowing a lot of people. Only after earning respect does one gain success. 

I have a clear bias that moving is a way of life that forces a person to be a self-advocate. It forces families to stick together, in the periods of time when you are all each other have. As well as causing you to realize that the connections you make with others are really all that you leave behind. 

What I wonder is what it is like to live in one place your whole life? Does it create a feeling of freedom in knowing what to expect from your life? Or might a person feel trapped by the expectations of the community that raised them?

Georgie

Georgie is my big brother.  He is about three years older than me, a foot taller than me, and I used to make fun of him for not going on the big roller coasters with me because he was scared.  Now he is an Airborne Ranger, and second Lieutenant in the Army, and I am VP education for Alpha Chi Omega.  The tables have turned.  

I was the crazy one when we were little kids.  I was always performing for the family, and making up weird games, even warding off neighborhood bullies.  Then somehow we were all grown up and I was standing on the sidelines with my mom watching him jump out of a blackhawk helicopter at his Airborne Ranger graduation.  

Georgie may be refferred to as Lieutenant Kane now.  He may be off in foreign countries in situations I can't imagine.  But to me, he will always be my Georgie. 

Little Drew

I am just one of those people who has to take care of everyone.  There I said it.  I accept it, and I'm not ashamed. 

I started baby-sitting at a very young age mostly because my little brother is seven years younger than me, and I learned very quickly how to take care of a baby.  By the age of thirteen I was baby-sitting for multiple families, and to the glorious point when your have more than one job and can say no to the family with the stinky children.  

But there is a magical moment in every babysitters career, when you meet your regulars.  For me it was in high school, I was fifteen, and met them at my little brother's baseball game.  

From the first time I baby-sat for the Smith's I knew that they would be my regulars.  I played with them got them to bed on time, and had the house put back together before the parents got home, and complimented me profusely, boosting my fifteen year old ego.  

 I baby-sat for the Smith's every couple weeks all through high school, and became quite attached.  I found that I would look forward to seeing them, and they would look forward to me baby-sitting as well.  I saw a turning point suddenly when I realized that I was the only babysitter that the Smith's would allow.  The youngest child, Drew, would have a meltdown around anyone else.  I had been around the Smith's so much that I hadn't noticed how the way I talked to Drew hadn't changed in the four years I had been babysitting for them.  I assumed that the way he would go from being fine, to inconsolable at the snap of your fingers.  I didn't notice until I baby-sat another little girl that was the same age as Drew, and halfway through our game of veggie tales and fairies go to the candy store it hit me that this little girl was speaking in full elaborate sentences far beyond Drew's vocabulary.  

This is exactly at this moment that the awkwardness of being a babysitter sets in.  You are attached to these kids, and they are attached to you, but you are an employed caretaker. You are not a parent, and have no authority in the way that they are to be raised.  So what do you do when you realize that there is something wrong with a child you are babysitting?   Especially when you suspect something as life changing as autism.  

I did some research.  I did a lot of thinking.  I decided that I couldn't let it go, and I had to have a talk with Mr. and Mrs. Smith.  I was nervous when I arrived at the house that day.  But to my relief, Mrs. Smith ushered me in and told me where they would be going as usual and then broke the news about Drew.

She had been taking him to a speech therapist, who told Mrs. Smith that Drew had no issues speaking, he had issues communicating, because he was autistic.

While I was relieved that I didn't have to say it myself. The whole situation left me thinking. As a babysitter you are invited into someone's home to take care of their children. They trust you to keep their children safe, until they return. But does it go beyond that? Is it my place as a babysitter to alert the parents of sensitive health issues I recognize? Or inappropriate behavior the kids have exhibited?  Or do we just stay out of it and make sure they get to bed on time

Game Day as I see it...

Make cupcakes not war!

Cupcake shoes!
Cupcake backpacks!
Cupcake jewelry!
Giant cupcakes!
Cupcake weddings!
Cupcake clothes!
cupcake perfume!
Baby cupcake beanies!
Cupcake band-aids!
Cupcake tats!

It all started about five years ago.  I had my first internship at one of the many cupcake bakeries cropping up all over the country at the age of fifteen.  Within a year that bakery I worked at expanded to three stores and all were packed with customers.  Different magazines came every weekend to write articles about cupcake weddings, or "The best cupcake in Seattle."  

Now I work at a new bakery that features cupcakes everyday, trying to get their piece of the cupcake craze.  What I wonder, is how much longer is this cupcake stuff going to last?  It's everywhere!  People are eating cupcakes, wearing cupcakes, even tatting themselves with cupcakes!  This food trend has lasted for five years, at some point are people going to get tired of it?  And if they do, what's next! This has been on my mind recently as one of my dreams is to own a bakery of my own, and I would love to hop on the next food trend wagon.  Only time will tell what comes next!

Just for fun, this cupcake related clip always cracks me up.