83

We have officially graduated. There will be pictures to come, but not as many as I'd like. Something about our back-and-forth travels have made us horrible about taking pictures.

I've realized that much of the past two years has gone undocumented. There are scribbles of it in my journals, shareable moments on my blogs and scattered pictures (mostly thanks to my mom). I look at the two years of our relationship that came before our long distance and wonder if it was just the New Relationship Bloom that hadn't yet rubbed off. There are, without exaggeration, at least 100 pictures of us, taken by me while I held the camera at arms' length.

I've been wondering lately if this is really a problem. As I've gotten more interested in photography, I've started looking hard at the real value of a picture: what it meant in the beginning, when the process was so expensive, and then moving on to now when we take pictures of everything all the time without consequence. We take ten of one thing, then immediately select the best.

I've tried to be more frugal with my picture taking, and in a way I'm excited that we'll be relying on our memories and storytelling ability to share our history. I've tried to take less pictures that will one day make me look at them, move them under the glare of a light and think, "Why was this saved? Why must this be seen more than once?" (I have a high school photo album full of this.)

So as we move through the future, as we look at things we want so badly for others to see, I'm excited to find how I really feel about pictures and find a way to share the moments we missed pictures of. I'm excited to find the artistic moments that are more than a snapshot of the Eiffel Tower, more than a beautiful lavender garden, more than us sipping a coffee or sitting on a sofa.

These feelings grew stronger at Joe's graduation, when I sat between two people that must have spent the last month memorizing the information in their camera's user manual. I felt false, fraudulent and embarrassed with my Nikon around my neck while they chatted about ISOs and proper lighting, how much they spent to buy a lens just so that they could zoom into the stage. I felt like I was a part of it, the desire to buy large lenses to feel like a photographer, to show people across the room that I could seem like I knew what I was doing.

It took 20 minutes of them conversing about lens specs and expenses to admit that they knew nothing about photography. A man at their church had told them what to buy, what setting to use. I sat quietly, embarrassed. I promised myself that this summer, I would read the manual. I would find the good photography sites. I would learn myself good and keep it to myself. Then, maybe, Joe and I will have some pictures of each other, a nice family album and learn how to make prints that can hang on our wall and mean something–even if only to us two.

111

There are pieces of my life that are slipping into place. My plans for the summer are rounding out. My to-do list is color coded; full of wedding things and nonfiction reading; not filled with enough Joe and certainly not finished.

Item number one on the to-do list: Developing pictures
I got a Holga camera a little over a year ago, to give me something to play with while in St. Louis. Then I remembered that I was not getting paid over the summer, so I didn't have money for more film or developing the four rolls that I got with the camera.

I've finally taken those four rolls to Jack's Camera Shop to be developed. One of the rolls wasn't wrapped up tight, and the woman was afraid that there would be blurring. I assured her that this would not matter, since the Holga is known and loved for is mechanical flaws that add character to the photos.

I then asked her not to judge me for the number of pictures I took with the lens cap on. Driving through (rather, being a passenger while Joe drove) St. Louis that summer, I didn't think much about the lens cap. I just pointed and clicked, then realized my error days later.

In about a week, I'll see how I did with the first go at the Holga. Joe and I are hoping to use it in France, along with his 35 mm, to create some great wall art when we get back to the States.

As for developing my picture-taking skills, I'm still toying with the idea of buying a nice Nikon. I've promised myself that I will not splurge with a new one. A friend mentioned that he wanted to sell his camera, which was originally $600. I just sold the video camera I used for my online speech class last summer for $75 (thanks, Jack's!). If he can give me an amazing deal on his camera, I will put that $75 toward it and scrape by with no grocery shopping.

Joe was against the purchase at first, but I'm convinced that it's a skill more and more PR practitioners (and journalists) will need to have in the changing/integrating world of our profession. Having the summer and a year in France to read about photography and sharpen my skills, maybe even create a few photo essays, could be a huge help when it's job-getting time.

Item number two: JOBS
This is going better than expected, too. I know that if I want to make good money, I could find temporary factory work or waitress at a few restaurants everyday. This just doesn't seem feasible with a wedding and the move, though. So instead, I'm trying to dig up some jobs that will together amount to "full-time" money, but more importantly, key experience.

 So far, I've heard that my editor for the Wapak Daily News will "need some help." I have some sort of job there, but I have no idea what that means or when I will know. I'm forcing myself to be okay with that and not e-mail him everyday.

I'm also building a Web site and blog for my dad, which is a project that I want to keep as a sort of surprise until it's ready. I think it'll be really fun for us to create posts and work on it from now until, well, forever.

Then, I thought of another possibility. When I went home for Spring Break and did loads of wedding shopping,  we stopped in at Vino Bellissimo, which now has a site. I got really excited about going up twice a week for all of their wine tastings.

I got even more excited about all of the potential this has when it comes to utilizing social media tools and "engaging with the public," like my professors have been raving about. I decided that I had nothing to lose, so I e-mailed them.

I explained that I was graduating and would love to put my creative skills to use for them, developing their Web presence a bit (learning along the way, admittedly) and doing an public relations work that I could. I said that I was passionate about wine, going to France and eager to learn more about it–not quite begging, but very clear that working for them would make my day.

They responded positively, asking when I'd be back and saying they never know what they may need. Fingers crossed, I'll be putting these hard-earned degrees into practice. Now, anyone need a French tutor?

camera envy

Look at it. I mean, how can I not? It's huge. It's crisp and fast and able to take more than one picture every five seconds. I look at the pictures of France that fill travel guides and calendars. I think of my point and shoot that would slow and freeze and die on the top of every hill and in front of every house that I wanted to capture.

I look at the pictures this baby can handle... and I know that they'll breathe. They'll be shown to loved ones with the scent of the street market and the feel of the light shower or morning sun still sticking to them. They'll have depth. They'll catch things that I didn't even know were there.

I found a refurbished camera on Amazon, a steal. I'm holding out, hoping it will still be there when someone older and more responsible tells me it's okay to invest in her.

Joe was not that person. It's funny. We always joke that I'll handle the finances. I'll keep us on a budget. Then I get so excited about a real purchase, and he reminds me that no, I shouldn't. It's not a good idea.

I'm still not convinced.