There are two great loves in my life right now – both of which have been more or less relegated to a figurative side car while I get other stuff done. You know – important stuff. The whole supposed four year plan of getting a degree, finding internships to keep myself occupied and experienced along the way, figuring out what it means to be a functioning human being in our topsy-turvy society…

But the more I lose myself to the tedium – the academia, the meager paychecks, the incessant prattling on about finding something to drive a career – the more I wish I could just shut down and have all the time in the world for those two great loves. The more I wish I could just give an entitled little snap of the fingers and make it so all my time could just be sent snapping pictures and writing stories. Not even necessarily informative stories – narratives. The kind of story that won’t tell you up front the details behind the photo of the decaying building I’ve got sitting above this wall of text. When I write about it, you won’t know the company parking bulldozers nearby, trying to break it down to make space for yet another office building in this already dreary town. You won’t find dates for demolition, researched names and locales, interviews with public figures…

…what you will find will mostly be fabricated. Some story about a family milling back and forth through these doors, back when the paint wasn’t peeling. Something about a father with a fondness for old sitcoms taped over each other on battered VHS tapes – listening to some Full House (not Fuller) rerun while he works, hammer in hand, nails between his lips. A kid that peers through the dust lined – but intact – window, watching his dad lit by the glow of that old screen and hazy sunlight. 

It’s not real. None of it is. But I think I’ve got a damn good chance of fooling you. The picture’s already got your eyes. All that’s left is for the words to catch your heart. 

As always, stay tuned.