When I was a kid, I was really obsessed with cameras and taking photos. Out of the all the cameras I used from 110 to 120 to 35mm, Polaroid was my favorite, since it provided such instant gratification (patience never has been, nor ever will be, my strong suit). I had to redo my laptop last weekend because it was on the verge of crashing, (thanks to Dan, my network admin), I backed everything up on my external hard drive, which houses my entire life in digital photos and scans, before wiping my laptop clean. It never takes long to get distracted on that thing and get lost in the past – every photo provoking some sort of thought or distinct feeling about a particular moment in time.
I thought I’d share one of my favorite collections . . . I remember taking these and my parents helping me spell out the words while I insisted on painstakingly labeling everything in my little 5 year old chicken scratch. The picture of me was especially important – I wanted it so badly to complete the series and show who the photographer was behind those riveting stills.
My eyes are red from crying in the final shot, I had just finished with an evening temper tantrum, probably not wanting to go to bed. To distract me and quiet me down, one of my parents (probably my dad who always gave in to me first, my mom had rock solid patience when it came to waiting out my tantrums, trying to teach me I only got attention when I was behaving appropriately) broke down this night and finally agreed to take my self-portrait before sending me off to bed.
At least that’s how I will always remember it going down . . .

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