climb on, so ill.

Nate Kingery, my older sister's boyfriend, tackles a trad climbing route in Giant City.
Shot a while ago, but I like it.

oh dem blues.

sunsets and car crashes.

hey genna. stop shooting sunsets/rises.

...anyway. downloaded the trial version of lightroom. so far I like it.

the way we were.

With the exception of a few others (which I selfishly won't name here, preferring to keep them as much on the down-low as possible), Giant City is one of my favorite places in Jackson County. I love the quiet, the color, the smell of the trees, which is always wonderful, regardless of whether the air is dry or more along the lines of what would be expected in the Amazon. Often it's a good place to think as well as exercise, and I rarely come away without having at least one view or moment that stops me and makes me reflect on...well, lots of things.

This time, what stopped me wasn't anything of nature.

Climbing the water tower at Giant City can be an interesting social experience. Graffiti is updated there regularly, but doesn't usually catch my eye for more than a glance and maybe a laugh. I'm not looking to call anybody for a good time, after all, and I've always been pretty cynical about the initials joined by a sloppy heart.

But this was different. This, in its simplicity, caught me off-guard.

We've all been in the mood to link our initials with another's, in that giddy spot where we just know the relationship will last forever.

But haven't we also all been here? Whether it's an ex best friend or an ex boyfriend (probably making us glad we never grabbed a marker and scrawled on public property)? I know I have. Quite frankly, it sucks. You go to all the places you used to go together, either wallowing in memories or trying to rewrite them. Sometimes it hurts enough that you have to get it out somehow, away from your head and your heart. So maybe that's when you you grab a Sharpie and leave your mark among the others, circling it to stand out among the phone numbers and "I was here"'s. And whether you hope they see it or not, it feels good to get it out of your system.

While I don't necessarily encourage graffiti, I do encourage letting the things that hurt out, in whatever way that means. Write a song, or listen to one. Run until your feet hurt and your head is empty again. Paint, even if it looks like the handiwork of a kindergardener. It helps.

Bailey, whoever and wherever you are:  I hope you patched things up with your friend.

And if you haven't yet, if things haven't worked out right, I hope you realize it's never too late.

it's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life.

I feel like I haven't updated recently, though I guess it was just this past weekend.

Anyway, here's one of my sunrise shots from last week. This is more for me than anyone else.

It's funny how sitting by a lake by yourself where the only voices are birds can make things feel alright again. Can make you feel alive and ready to show the world what you've got and be at peace all at once.

baa-ram-ewe.

This guy was totally biting the bullet. It's just shampoo, sheep, it's not that bad. 

I won't be around during the actual Clay County fair...this is about all that was going on.

can't stop the music.

From a story about the Performance Rights Act, a potential tax radio stations may have to pay to play music.

building with writer's blocks.