I’ve been letting my photos speak for me for far too long now.

Wow, it has been almost a year since I have posted a personal blog here on RJ. How stupid of me to let so much time pass. So much has happened in the interim, things I won’t go into great detail about, as the past is the past and I have come to enjoy leaving it that way.

This was always my thing. I was the one who would wake up in the middle of the night in a panic to transcribe the most random thought, which to some could be seen as seemingly worthless, whereas I saw it as the possibility to start something beautiful. Now, I’ve become all about the photograph, and only the words my images conjure. I’m the girl with the camera, with the 365 day photo project, the iPhone with over 2,000 photos.

I used to be the girl with hundreds of notes on her blackberry of song lyrics, thoughts, ideas, blog starters. The notebooks with little to no notes, but words that came from the deepest corners of my mind as I’d sit and daydream, letting my mind wander and not wanting to stop it. I miss that. I miss having an extensive vocabulary, I’ve become lax, so lax in fact that already three times in this particular blog I’ve had to look up words I wanted to use just to make sure I was using them properly. I’m not that girl. I’m the grammar nazi, the plethora of useless knowledge, the one who uses complex words in place of simple ones and prides myself on knowing what they mean. I’ve started letting my photos do the talking. Presenting a photo and expecting the 1,000 words that are supposed to follow to just be assumed, instead of controlling them and putting them out there.

I guess I’m just growing up, changing, switching up the way I do things. Regardless, I’ve sat here for a little while sifting through these old blogs, some from as far back as two years ago. I miss the way I used to write, I feel like I used to have style and wit, and now that I’ve neglected it for so long I feel as though this is forced and I’ve said it a million times, forced writing is bad writing.

Anyone who knows me well knows what I wouldn’t admit about myself two years ago, so it was incredibly strange to read my old post So wait. He’s just not that into you? Even more so to read Life’s Tough, kid…Get a helmet. where I talked about how I was two and a half years away from graduating college. Now here I am, living in a house with three of my friends all in our senior year of college, sprinting toward the finish line. If I thought then that the real world was staring me in the face, I was sadly mistaken.

These past few years have been a stretch of one long, self learning process after the next, ones I wish I could have spent my time documenting by way of my writing, though there is no use in dwelling over the fact that I haven’t written any of it down at this point. What I have yet to learn in all of this is how to be both girls: the writer and the photographer. They are incredibly different, I feel, though they do share the common bond of creativity. I suppose it’s time to start merging one into the other, and hoping that they are able to make each other stronger and not lose themselves in the process.

 

For those of you new to this blog, my name here is RJ, and this is where I share things to think about.

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