I love photography. Not that digital, delete-it-if-your-hair-doesn't-look-scene-enough shit. I love real photography, pulling art from the stimuli around me, having to work hard for a really good picture. I buy five rolls of film at a time. I'm lucky if I get ten pictures that I consider decent. I'm lucky if I get two that I would consider good. I love black-and-white. I love color. I love books on photography. I love taking pictures of the disentigrating brick building in the ghetto of my city. I love taking pictures of my sister's smile. I love natural sunlight. I love the smell of film, the sound the container makes as I open or close it. I love f-stops, light meters, flashes, zoom lenses, the number of exposures I have left. I love going somewhere with the intent of taking pictures. I love developing film, I love the anticipation of getting pictures, I love looking at new pictures for the first time. I even love looking at bad pictures I've taken; I know what I can do better next time. I love photography. I love photography. I love photography.

I went out with my friend tonight. Not to the place aforementioned, but to another place similar, but more...family friendly? I have no clue what I'm saying, hahah. Any way, it was really...amazing, kind of. All we did was walk around and get coffee, but it was a beautiful, clear night, and there was an odd sense of community amongst the people walking around. Then this band started playing in this gazebo. And they were excellent. No lyrics, but it worked well for them. They had a violinist in addition to the usual band instruments, and they seemed to really enjoy themselves and the music they were creating. My friend and I layed down on the ground on our stomachs and listened to them, without talking to each other, for about forty-five minutes. It was one of those moments in time that, for some reason, you'll just remember for a long time. That music took me to places in my head. It was otherworldly, really. I wish I had gotten a band name or a place where I could've gotten some of their music. Sometimes, something makes you realize that you're just a small part in a much Bigger Picture. I am of the belief that that happened to me tonight.

Nothing makes me feel worse than being cooped up all day. I need to get out. Pronto. There's a beautiful place near where I live. It's kind of trendy and indie-centric, but it's a great place to shop, catch a show, eat a nice (vegetarian!) meal, and toss a frisbee around (it has a park). I think I'll call a friend up and see if she wants to go tomorrow. Not a Panic At The Disco fan. But. Since they cut their hair, stopped wearing the guyliner, put on some paisley pants, and started to listen to "Blonde on Blonde" and "Rubber Soul", I'm really enjoying their new CD. It's so different, and thus much much better, than their first. Definately check it out.

My life is not falling apart. I did not break up with a boyfriend, my best friend didn't steal my crush. I'm not failing any classes at school, I hardly ever fight with my mom, I have a well-paying job that I enjoy. I've never inflicted self-harm, I'm not addicted to drugs, alcohol, or sex. I have self respect. I have self respect. I have self respect. It's a beautiful day. I have a spring break's worth of beautiful days ahead of me. My theme song right now is not a depressing one, full of self-loathing and hatred. My theme song right now is "Skies So Blue" by The Rocket Summer, which, for me, is simply about being happy because the sky is blue and there's no reason to be sad. I want to lay down in the grass and smell the air. I want to sit on a tree branch and let my legs dangle. I want to pick flowers and give them to my mom. I want to walk barefoot through the local garden store. I want to play pattycake with my little sister, sitting on a lawn chair, sipping lemonade. I want quintessence.

This high school junior got in a car accident yesterday morning and died. He was the head of an extremely dedicated and close team. My friend was on the team and she's very upset, as is anyone who even remotely knew him. I never knew him, but from what I heard, he was smart, nice, funny, caring, and had everything going for him, as well as being the most important member of this team. It's just striking how one life can affect so many others. There is an upwards of fifty people who will immediately feel the affects of his death. People have lost a brother, a son, a team member, a class mate, and a friend. Everyone has the tickle of the thought "What if it was me?" in the back of their mind when they hear something like this. Even me, who never knew this guy. What if that had been me? What if, the next time I get in my car, I get in an accident? What would happen if I died? I wonder what an impact I've made on the people in my life.

Those ASPCA commercials always make me cry.

I have the day off, and here I spend it. I'm tired of homework, I'm tired of working six hours a weekend, I'm tired of community service, I'm tired of musical practice until 6:30 PM, and I'm tired of being tired. And stressed. All the freaking time. I think the problem with being "smart" and going to a "smart school" is that people expect a lot out of you. Especially when you get A's & B's at a "smart school". Of course I want to go to college. And I want to go to college out of state. But to do that, I have to get a scholarship. Which means standing out...A LOT. And it's very stressful. People expect me to just be this great awesome academic achievement. Most of the time I like that. I like that people think I'm intelligent. But it's also very difficult...to be one of the smartest kids in your grade at a smart school. Because I feel like I have to keep it up, or I'll dissappoint my friends, my family, and myself. Sometimes I wish I didn't have such high aspirations for myself, that I didn't feel I had to do my homework perfectly, that I could just blow off a test, that I could allow myself to slip from an 80 in French to a 78. But I can't. I know it will probably pay off later, but for now, it's difficult. Really...really...difficult. But then I do my homework, study for my test, pull the all-nighter...and it pays off. If I don't get into the college I want with financial aid though...was it all worth it? I wonder.

I've always fell for nice guys. Smart guys. Guys you can hold a really good conversation with. I always based my crush on the guy's mind and heart, not his looks. If he wasn't good looking and I had a crush on him, he became good looking to me. I always prided myself on this. But that's not the rule now. Whenever I see this guy, my heart starts pumping. My face gets red. God forbid our eyes should maybe meet, passing in the hallway. I'm on a high for about two hours. I have never talked to this boy. But I have the weirdest, most lust-driven crush on him. And apparently, through mutual friends, I found he finds me attractive too. I'm worried that if and when I do talk to him, we won't click that way. But I'll still have a crush on him. And all of my pride in liking a guy's mind and heart will fly out that window. Damn hormones.

Today was gorgeous. I sat outside during lunch and stared up at the sky. It was a deep blue with a few clouds scattered carelessly about. The sun was shining just enough to keep me warm, but not too hot. The wind blew crisp air into my lungs, and I just sat back and enjoyed it all. I think that if I can only appreciate the simple things in life, I can handle the complex.