Last year I attempted to start a 365 Photo Project. And failed. I blamed it on not really knowing how my camera works, which was partly true, but it was mostly because I was just lazy about the whole thing. I would forget to bring my camera certain places and feel shy about pulling it out in other situations and my photos, if I took them at all, tended to be last minute affairs right before bed. Oh, how can I arrange these oranges to look artistic and representative of my day? sort of bullshit, and so I gave up all together and decided to fuss around with my camera some more and get a feel for it and stop being such a pansy about recording memories, dammit.
So now it’s a year later and I know a little more about my camera and I’m less nervous about taking photos and I’m ready to start this again. August has always been my favorite month (probably because of my birthday, but I think I’d still enjoy it even if it wasn’t my birth month) and this year August is jam packed (as it was last year as well). We leave for Seattle on Wednesday night and Saturday we’ll watch our lovely friends Brette & Wiley tie the knot. The day after the wedding we fly to New York (New Jersey, really, as Alaska doesn’t fly to either of the NYC airports) to visit my brother and his girlfriend in their new home of Brooklyn, as well as to see some friends of mine from my San Francisco days. While we’re in New York I’ll celebrate my 29th birthday and the day we fly home we’ll celebrate our one year anniversary. So August is awesome, is what I’m trying to say, and what better month to start a photo project than a month in which I’ll be taking a ton of pictures.
So, without further ado, Day 1:
I have been to three different hair salons this past year and each time I leave feeling dissatisfied. That actually might be too strong a description about how I felt when I left, but it definitely wasn’t happiness. No one seemed to understand what I was asking for and so every time I would have to find a new stylist. Saturday I finally tired of the whole thing and came downstairs with the hair cutting scissors my mom left behind. “Want to cut my bangs?” I asked Wes. He looked at me and asked if I trusted him, which was sort of a stupid question considering I’d asked him, but I appreciate him asking. I knew he’d do a good job making sure it was even because I’ve seen him hang all the pictures and shelves and he won’t stop until that shit is level.
The finished product came out exactly how I wanted it. By far the best haircut I’ve had on the island.