My new (temporary) home.

       My brother Alex and I go to college in Rochester, NY together. This year we got our first apartments (YAY!). However, I can't move into mine across the street in a different complex until Thursday. So, for now, I'll be crashing on his couch. After the four-and-a-half hour drive and the complete move-in plus shopping and laundry, I'm a little sweaty.

Everything is everywhere, but this couch is so comfy. 

"You'll get fined for doing that."

      Alex and I asked our high school physics teacher to go on an adventure with us before we left for Rochester for the new school year. We decided to cross the Nicholson bridge in Nicholson, PA and find the windmills--excuse me: air turbines--in Waymart, PA. It was a rainy day, but it was a good one.

Hello Nicholson bridge.

Atop the bridge.

Every photographer needs to do something stupid and life-threatening for a mediocre shot.
Standing in front of an oncoming train is my contribution to this effort.

A creepy man invited us into his lodge and showed us his moose.
That's my old physics teacher, whom Alex and I endearingly refer to as "Wizard Dustman".

Yeah, we trespassed. We were told it was illegal to go anywhere near the air turbines and we would get fined if we were caught. But, whatever.

I love puppies Part III.

      My friend Kristina and I decided to have an adventure. We went to the local animal shelter and took some dogs for a well-deserved walk. Each had its own special and adorable and entertaining personality, and I tried my best to capture each one with my camera.

I love puppies Part II.

      Here's the finished video for which I was asked to photograph puppies.

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Glory on a bun Part II x 5,000.

The heavens are smiling down upon them.

      So, yeah, remember "Glory on a bun"? This is Magnificence wrapped in Delight surrounded by and topped with Decadence (aka hot dogs cooked in bacon grease, wrapped in cheese, and topped with bacon bits and cradled in bacon strips)... on a bun.

So.
Yeah.

Bam.
   

This isn't okay.

      This is one of those posts that I feel like I should be writing in a notebook and then tucking away forever where no one else's eyes will see it, even mine. I don't want this to seem like a desperate cry for help and attention, because it's not. This is my outlet. I deal with my thoughts  and emotions by putting them out into the hands of friends and strangers because, well, that's how I like to deal with them. I make myself this publicly vulnerable because it's the extreme opposite of bottling it up inside my head and chest.

      Depression is a battle, that's a given. "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger", right? Well, this is killing me.

      Imagine an athlete. He wakes up in the morning for a run six days a week. He eats well, and he pushes himself. He's in the go-getter mindset that helps him stay focused and motivated mentally and physically. Finally, the day comes for him to run a marathon. He feels well prepared for this strenuous activity; he takes every ounce of pain in stride. His feet hurt and bleed, his chest feels tight and heavy, his muscles ache, but he keeps going. He has a goal. He pushes himself to the absolute limit, because he knows it will be so rewarding in the end. At times he wants to give in to the pain and slow down or even stop, but no, he keeps running. He needs to keep running.

      I am in a mental and emotional marathon right now, except I was not prepared for it and I see no finish line on the horizon. I have no goal to look forward to; I have little motivation. This is in no way a rewarding or fulfilling process. I'm getting nothing out of it but more pain and confusion. 

      I feel so much less colorful inside, like all of the vibrance I used to thrive on has just faded like a sidewalk chalk drawing on a rainy day. The worst part is I don't know what to do about it. It's not like being out of shape and then struggling to eat better and become more active -- doing something difficult to achieve something worthwhile. No, what I'm going through right now is just a struggle to stay afloat for no real reason at all other than that I have a beautiful life to live. Now when I say "beautiful", I don't mean flawless or happy. To me, anything that's beautiful has something off about it; it's not perfect, because perfection is boring. My life is beautiful because of the people in it. It's beautiful because of all of the curves it has; up and down and twists and kinks. It has thin brittle parts and wide unfaltering parts. I love it for what it is, especially because it is mine. However it does confuse me, like when my dogs constantly stare up and me and whimper to the point where I exclaim "What?! What do you want from me? Just tell me!"

Just tell me. Make me stronger. Show me a finish line.

Squiggly hot dogs.

      My brother Alex's girlfriend found this method of pasta/hot dog cooking and kindly shared it with me. So Alex and I tried it... and I suggest you do as well. Now.

Somebody's everything.

      I went on vacation to Atlantic City, New Jersey with my dear friend Caity (mentioned in "Knock On Wood" and "A Day At the Lake"). We found much entertainment in visiting the bustling boardwalk, where people of all types traipsed alongside us. One particular evening, a homely, gangly middle aged man asked me if I could spare any change. I immediately reached into my camera bag where I kept my cash and pulled out all of my change plus two singles and placed it into his cupped hands. He grinned and asked me my name, to which I hesitantly obliged.

"Krista," he said, "I'll remember you."

      Two dollars and forty-some cents I gave to him. I'll never know for what he used it, and I can't say that I truly care. But two dollars and forty-some cents was his everything at that moment.

      His ocean-blue eyes locked with mine as he genuinely thanked me and complimented my hair. Then we began to go our separate ways.

"Merry Christmas!" he said and waved.

I waved back.

"Merry Christmas!"