We moved in together.
Not because we were ready to – but the signs showed us we ought to. My toothbrush there. His shoes here. We kind of lived between two places. Until his lease ran up. “Let’s live together.” It made sense. Save some money on rent. Save up some money for a house. Why not?
Starting off smoothly, it was great. Someone to come home to, someone to cook with, and someone to say good night to… However the larger issues have come to the surface. As expected with any new roommate. Small things lead to big things. Reading between the lines. So many little arguments. So many misunderstandings. We recently had a serious talk. The best kind. Sifting through the real problems to get closer to the truth. It made us see each other better but opened a lot more questions than it answered. My life choices were beginning to morph and while his remained static. It wasn’t that our relationship was drifting just . . . not so precise as we had thought. Marriage. I often brought it up. A life decision that garners a coming of age which I felt socially pressured to acquire, but internally saw it only as a financial gain. Tax benefits. And as the days grew colder we slowly discovered an almost identical but different state of mind. The topic is on the table. Collecting dust.
Yesterday, we woke up to foggy weather. I loved it instantly. As I got ready for work, I knew I had to take pictures. He was already sporting a vibrant red turtleneck that morning. But I begged him to change his clothes to match the weather’s disposition. Knowing I wouldn’t walk out the door without resolving my goal, he willingly agreed to change.
He’s great. Yielding at my artistic whims.
The fog wasn’t as thick as I had hoped. From faraway it seemed like a dense cloud with no sign of distance. But as you approached, it just became a murky sky weaving in and out of the trees and the grass. Like an untouchable spirit longing to be received.
Our feet, drenched, from the early morning moisture was soiled with catches of grass blades as we walked through a nearby field. Posing him for photos was easy. “Stand here. Turn left. Look at me.” A routine we’ve developed as photographer and model. He knew to make the slight changes and wasn’t afraid to do as I had asked. No words. No complaints. We continued this dance for a bit until I asked him to photograph myself. It’s always a rather tricky maneuver for us. My expectations of what I will look like never quite make it in the photographs but somehow he delivers better. It’s like he sees a better side of me. We embraced the invisible vapor a bit more walking through paths of trees, hand in hand, viewing the waterdrops on withered leaves, and eventually time told us to go back to our lives.
As I reviewed the images that I had taken, I used Photoshop to merge the photos together. Looking at it, I laughed. My first reaction was that it reminded me of Korean lifestime tv show posters. The ones that make you cry hard because lost lovers or morose endings are the epitome of entertaining drama. Our faces look tired. We clearly weren’t ready to wake up. Our sad distant eyes and pursed lips looked so tragic. As if we had come to a certain crossroads in our lives that made us look away. I liked the silent tension. It suited us very well. We are entering the fog. Not bad. Not good. Just gray – and a little unclear.
I haven’t been camping in years but I’ve always enjoyed it. Coming to camp this past weekend, my mood was instantly lifted. I don’t know what happened to me but I was extremely happy the first night I was at the camp site. And my mood got even better when I swam at the lake. 
There’s nothing great in particular about this lake. Just a great deal of trees, sand, and sharp rocks within the murky waters. One of the more entertaining elements of the lake was all the small critters fluttering around. I had a chance to snap some photos of the dragonflies and the damselflies resting on some wood. They’re so tiny and fragile but just so complex in design. I got so lucky that they stayed still long enough for me to take several shots. 
As the afternoon continued to scorch heat onto everyone, my friends and I did not for one second hesitate to enter the depths of the lake. As soon as my sizzling sun burned body entered the water, I was in complete ecstasy. The cooling waves and the buoyancy of my body just hanging out was the exact kind of getaway that I needed. I spread my legs and arms and moved with ease across the body of blue water. Stroke after stroke I would just keep swimming without a sense of direction or purpose. When I got tired, I flipped over onto my back and gently kicked and pushed my limbs – just pressing on. Floating with the current. I didn’t recall the last thing that happened to me. I didn’t dwell on my inner emotions and fears. I didn’t think at all. Except every now and then about how the sun could really burn my face if I kept pointing it upward towards it. When the weekend passed, my boyfriend would later comment to me about it. “I never knew you were so good at swimming.” He said the evening we returned home. I remember laughing and saying I really enjoy being in the water. He then went on to ask why he wasn’t as good as I am. As I analyzed the difference in skill between us, I told him how often I swam as a kid, all the church camping trips I went to, all the summers I spent at the pool with my friends. I loved being in the water. I loved swimming. There’s something so great about how being in water takes away the gravity of your body. All the weight you bear is removed and you’re left with just a singular entity that just keeps moving. Nothing to hold you down. It didn’t occur to me how now as an adult that swimming was a source of happiness growing up. And I felt so incredibly fulfilled to have reconciled with that pastime activity to regain my strength and well being. 
I recently just got a new apartment and have begun the awful process of packing. Hours later, knee deep in knick knacks, paper, and tons of other junk, I found a few old paintings I had done in college. . It was never my thing to be into painting, I just did it because it was required. Years later, I’m stuck with useless work that will never see the light of day. Not wanting to waste the money I paid for the wood frames (those things get expensive!), I decided to give it a new purpose. SCRIMS! If you’re a photographer, I’m sure you have a million ways to diffuse light and have made your own make shift ones yourself. For that former Art student gone photographer, I definitely recommend this simple DIY. It shouldn’t cost you more than $20 total.
//Special Engagement Bonus// We did a paint powder photo session! I’ve always seen these ideas with other photographers so I was extremely lucky when Cristine came to me with the idea. It’s definitely not something you can do without a little bit of preparation. For first timers doing this, I recommend the following suggestions before you start.
A CERTAIN WORD 