The number one thing that keeps pushing me harder than anything else?

The thought that if I keep throwing myself at this wall, eventually, something good will happen?

Is that I know if I can keep pursuing positivity and new opportunities that eventually, I will have to break down the wall…and on the other side of that wall is everything I want, right now in time.

It’s a home with Mike. Where we wake up (most mornings) next to each other. I cook us meals. He practices in the basement while I edit photos in the office. We let Logan run free around the house in his Ramones tee and then throw on his jean jacket harness to go for a walk.

That we are both creative, and happy. Financially stable and free to do whatever it is we want. Because fucking christ, we are adults.

I want a home that is organized for once. And decorated with art and horror movie posters, and a jolly roger flag outside where we grow our own vegetables and spices. I want to decorate for Halloween and Christmas, and have parties for both of those holidays. I want a place for touring bands to come crash, and a have hot shower and free meal.

I feel like I am 12 years old waiting to grow up and have these things. That sounds stupid and weird because I’m 26 and according to the world and society, I should. And fuck it. I should. I’m angry. Scared. Hopeful. Hopeless. But really, this is all just a motivator.

By all means, I should have been fucking successful now. I pushed myself harder than most 14 year old’s did. I worked every day after school, I went to shows on the weekend. I worked two jobs at some point during the summer where I was pushing 60+ hours a week. I was an RA in college and drove home at least once a month to work my other job. When I came back to Philly, I stayed involved in as much as possible, shooting shows, managing bands, working park-time (25-32 hours/week), plus 15 credits a semester.

I have never NOT worked hard. I was supposed to be in charge of something by now. Of something important. But you know what, I definitely let my anxiety stand in the way of me and success, and I’m the only one to blame for that.

Day by day I’m trying my fucking best to keep moving forward. But I’m tired of being lucky that I haveA job. I’ve been grateful for that since I was 14. But, what I’m most tired of? Is when people tell me that this economy is too risky to do something that youwantto do. And you know what? FUCK YOU. Look at Mike Lerner (shoots huge celebrities - Works closely with the Biebs), Mitch Wotjcik (toured with TWY, has a book coming out with them, just moved to Philly and is traveling with bands), Ryan Mackfall (who is an incredible director and photographer, who runs his own company, and travels all over the UK and the US working with bands), Jen May (mainly a wedding photographer, who lives in CA, and travels all the time, even went to Cambodia and taught photography and now has a traveling exhibit), Jaime (who runs Lo Fidelity Music Group and ran her first huge festival in Raleigh), or any of the promoters who started from the ground up (The guys at R5, Joe Pulito, Mike Ziemer, etc).

It can fucking be done. I watch artists every day on tumblr alone that thrive. They are amazing and talented, and are doing such great things. And for those that create art, or furniture, or jewelry/accessories/clothes and sell it on etsy or otherwise, FUCKING GOOD FOR YOU.

This year I have accomplished more in my photographic career then I have since I started considering this as a real life goal. I shot one of my favorite bands, my work has appeared online and in-print, Polar Bear Club’s manager contacted me to use my work in an Australian Magazine, I have done two weddings and have two more coming up, I shot and interviewed Protest the Hero for Hails and Horns, and will be shooting Warped Tour for AMP. I have also have had the opportunity to shoot lots of bigger bands, I’ve done head shots for friends. I went to an open house for WHCC alone, as well as attended a photography class on lighting. Plus! I have even sold a print on Etsy of The Wonder Years.

All of this because these thoughts keep consuming me and I keep obsessing over what color walls I want in my new house, or what furniture, or what type of dog we will have, or what the artwork on our walls will look like. Or the fact that I get to wake up and surround myself with the things I love every day. And that maybe there’s a chance of happiness, if I can make it that far.

I just broke down and wrote this because I am making a list to go to Produce Junction (a farmers market type deal, but not really), and I asked my mom if there was anything she needed from Target or PJ, she didn’t get shitty with me, perse, but it was like as if the question I was asking her was a burden on her life and I was interrupting the super important moment of her making breakfast at 1 in the afternoon, and it’s like I just can’t do this anymore.

I miss my grandfather in moments like this, more than anything. Supportive no matter what and it fucking kills to know I’ve waited this long to push for something good, but he thought I was talented regardless. He had pictures of me and of my work in his house, and I wish he was here now so that I could tell him how much that meant, and how much I loved him for it, and how much he is the driving factor in so much of this. I miss having a family….If i ever even had one. Mike is my family now. And my grandparents. Hopefully my cousins. But definitely Mike.

Fuck man. Life is hard and it sucks. But as always [must.remain.positive]. moving forward.