Archive for the ‘personal’ Category

Day One Hundred Ninety Seven | Commute

Monday, July 27th, 2009

Day One Hundred Ninety Seven | Commute

This was my “commute”. Eight-something in the morning headed south toward the business district on one of the main roads, and this was the traffic I drove through. I remember the days back in Miami where driving just eight miles to work at this time took at least an hour to get through. Today: a 10-mile drive in less than twenty minutes.

I’ve gotten into a bit of a slump with my photography. I think it’s all the hard-core photo people I’ve been meeting, photo students who do this 24/7, etc. I just wish I could devote not some of my day, but all of my day to photography. But, I’ve got to work, and the sort of work I get is web development.

Maybe I need to start giving myself photography homework to do. if I give myself some goals and expectations and hurdles, maybe I can take my skills to the next level. And maybe I need to quit shooting photos while driving, too.

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One Hundred Eighty Six | Since I Moved

Thursday, July 16th, 2009

One Hundred Eighty Six | Since I Moved

Did a lot of walking today. I dropped my car off at Firestone so that they could diagnose the suspension issues I’ve been having ever since I hit a huge pothole of sorts over a year ago, and walked back home. Later in the day, I walked to my parents’ house. All in all, a little over 3 miles of walking. The 100 degree weather didn’t make it very pleasant, though.

Finding out that I’ve got two about-to-explode bald tires and two brakes so worn it’s time to replace them, in addition to the suspension damage didn’t help lift my spirits. That’s some $600 (not including the suspension) of important repair work, and I’ve got literally no money left anymore.

I might have a six-month contract coming up. If that works out, then I just have to survive until then. And surviving until then is going to be tough, and impossible without plunging my credit even further down the hole (because I’ve crunched all the numbers, and the only way I can make it is by paying only my mortgage and utilities…)

Everything has been piles of shit since I moved to Orlando, and I cannot wait to get the hell out of here.

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Day One Hundred Seventy Two | Put Off

Thursday, July 2nd, 2009

Day One Hundred Seventy Two |

My portfolio. I worked on my portfolio today. And I’m making progress. I hope to have it essentially finished by the time the weekend is over. In other words, by my standards, I’ve got a pretty fun weekend ahead of me.

And yet I still feel something’s missing. I’ve still got nothing but weak connections (at best) with people, and the more I bury myself in work, the more I’m just putting this off. Once I finish the portfolio and get some more work, though, I can’t keep putting this issue off.

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Day One Hundred Forty Three | Calling

Wednesday, June 3rd, 2009

Day One Hundred Forty Three | Calling 

Today, I overcame a hurdle and made a decisive shift in direction. I finally fixed all the back-end server crap—backups, domain transfers, fresh installations, and so forth—that I needed in order to finally be able to build out my portfolio site.

I also stopped working for the guy who’d been sub-contracting me out, and decided not to take on any more pure development work. If it’s design, I’ll do it, because design, not development, is my calling.

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Day Ninety Four | 1999-2009

Wednesday, April 15th, 2009

I’m spent.

All I ate all day today was a veggie burger, and I’ve been doing coding work and listening to drum and bass so long that my head is spinning. I just got off the phone with one of my few friends, and she could hear the haggard, defeated person I am in my voice.

The little freelance work I’ve been doing, I haven’t been paid for yet, because the guy I’m working for hasn’t gotten paid yet, because the clients aren’t doing so well, naturally, because of the recession. So, I’m working for money that I don’t know when I will get, and I’ve got enough cash to pay this month’s mortgage. Then, I’m officially out of money. Getting my portfolio finished has never been as important as it is now.

This June it will have been ten years since I graduated high school, and even if I wanted to go (and I definitely don’t), right now I can’t even afford the tickets to my 10-year reunion. It’s definitely nowhere near where I thought I’d be in life when I was 18 and just beginning to piss all over my potential.

I’m 28, I own the bank owns my home me, I’m dead broke, without a real job, still trying to finish a Bachelors degree, farther from getting hitched getting laid than I’ve ever been in my life, and I haven’t made any sort of dent in this world. Were I an F-student fucking around and smoking weed all day (like the people I ended up hanging out with a few years after high school), the state I’m in wouldn’t be entirely unimaginable at 18. But, I was always beyond the top 1% in everything I ever did, I was one of the elite nerds with the towering IQs and GPAs and SAT scores and I sacrificed my entire social life for my studies, and…

And here I am, ten years later, and spent.

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Day Eighty Six | I-95, From Florida to New York

Tuesday, April 7th, 2009

I’m almost purely logical, which is why I find it odd that I sometimes have superstitious beliefs; they defy logic, and I know that they’re nonsense—and yet I can’t make them disappear.

One example is, I’ve had this reoccurring dream that has also spilled into reality through gut feelings and flashes of false memory. In it, I’m in a metropolitan city up north that could be New York or Chicago or Seattle or Toronto; that sort of city. I feel like this is where I am supposed to be, and everything is right in the world for me. I’ve made some kind of name for myself as an artist, I’ve got a comfortable level of income, I’ve got good friends, and I’m joining them for coffee. It’s icy cold, and crisp, and I can see nothing but buildings and sky above me.

Sometimes, I have flashes of memory from this alternate life that exists in that dream, or sudden pangs of feelings I cannot identify because I do not normally have feelings. And it’s as if I’m supposed to get to the point where these false memories become real, as if this is where I’m supposed to be.

And sometimes I think it’s as if I have chosen the wrong path, and that correct path has been calling me. In my senior year of high school, I got into two separate universities in New York (one with a full-ride scholarship, too) and declined both because I didn’t have the balls to leave my friends and family for uncharted territory.

I had those dreams well before my decision to stay in Florida. At the time I thought that by going to New York City, I would be making a hasty life decision at the behest of some crazy dream in my head. Logic kept me in Florida, and I’m not so sure about following logic anymore.

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Day Fifty Nine | Personal Day

Wednesday, March 11th, 2009

Today I took a sort of personal day, inasmuch as those exist when you’re doing freelance working. I’m planning on eight- to ten-hour coding marathons over the next two days of the week, so I could get away with a so-called day off.

I mostly sat around reading up on finances, on life, being healthy, etc. to prepare for the next push in my quest to change my life over the course of 2009. In the first month, I started this Project 365, and lost my job; in the second, I started doing freelance work, and cut back my expenses further than I thought I could, and in doing so realized I didn’t need much of what I spent money on.

And during this third month, I’m taking stock of that which is really important to me, and treating it like a corporate Mission Statement. That is to say, every action I take from here on out must speak to my mission. That mission, which I understand will evolve over time, is, as of March 2009, the following:

To have a sound mind, healthy body, enviable reputation, and long-term human connections. By creating. Through art.


Also posted for your convenience at, complete with tasty RSS feed.

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Day Fifty Five | Quiet

Saturday, March 7th, 2009

I shot this on the way back home during the early evening, while at a stop light. I was at Starbucks getting some work done, after which I had a little off time with the same girl mentioned in this earlier Project 365 post. I think a yuppie-like love of interior design makes up the bulk of what we connect over. We went to a furniture place to peruse overpriced furniture neither of us would ever buy for our respective dwellings.

Being a straight man who enjoys fixing up and decorating his home, I suppose, is the exclusive purview of young, suburbanite married men; and without a girl in the picture, it hinders one’s ability to get one in the picture. So, I shall not delude myself: the girl in question was never anywhere near being in the picture.

At the core, I am solitary, and sparse, and I live a relatively quiet life that is punctuated by the interactions I have with a dwindling supply of acquaintences and friends and family. I think that’s reflected in my photographs. Note that I am working to change all this.

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Day Twenty One | Illuminated

Sunday, February 1st, 2009

Day Twenty One. This might not have looked exactly like this in person, but it looked like this to me. And I can’t stop staring at this photo, even now.

It’s been a rough trip to the bottom, and I think I’m almost there. I’ve been failed and I’ve failed others, and I’m clearer now about my surroundings than I’ve been since my job evaporated and I became a statistic, so to speak.

Two weeks of haze, of stupor, of aimlessness, and reality has set in. Thank you, universe. My path has been illuminated.

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Day Thirteen | I’m Waking Up

Saturday, January 24th, 2009

Day Thirteen. I’ve been in a daze for some time, never all there, kind of foggy. Going from a fixed schedule to freelance in the blink of an eye didn’t help, either. Today, though, I was with it.

I’m waking up, and I’m seeing a little clearer now. I’ve been talking to people who weren’t a part of my life in years, sometimes to great effect—an old friend I was recently reacquainted led me to a freelance gig that came at just the right moment.

Things aren’t black and white, and I’m coming to realize this.