Heck of a view.

Long story short, I ended up on the 8th floor of a dorm building across the quad from my own from 11pm to 6am. The view from up there was so beautiful, I had to take a photo.

Here, kids, take pictures of these clothespins.

I feel super-corny -- my own work inspired me to write a little bit, like back in the day. I'll share it with you, as long as you promise not to make fun of me on the Internet.

The sun dangles by a thread. It's hovering, hovering overhead.

Like a surreal contraption of nature, bringing light to all corners of the earth,

effortlessly.

You think you're just another speck on the face of the planet. 

Just like everyone else. Small, unable to make a change. 

But if you see yourself as a skyscraper at sunset, 

and your shadow casts over miles and miles of land,

Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

"Come back already!"

Today, RIT held a rally to gather caring students and faculty to sign a banner in George's honor. I had just gotten out of my photo arts class during the middle of the rally, so I ventured over there to add my own words of hope and encouragement. (I signed mine with my initials; it's the green one in the center of the panorama.)

George, where are you...?

 The sun may have set on this day of searching, but we refuse to give up hope. You can bet your gosh darn bottom dollar that we will pour every ounce of energy we can into finding you, dude. Don't worry. RIT cares. I don't even know you, but I care. Stay safe.

I saw a wrench on a couch.

I took a picture of it.

I was drawn in by the lighting and the monochromatic appeal; it made something ordinary take on such a dismal appearance. For those of you that know me, you understand quite well how much I love things that look out of the ordinary. 

MISSING.

An RIT student, George Delany, was reported missing from the Rochester NY area last weekend. I know my blog gets a significant amount of traffic, so I can only hope this post will help get the word out and eventually bring him home.

"George Delany, 21, of Frederick, Md., was last seen in the town of Chili – where he lives off campus with other students – on Saturday, March 12.

According to New York State Police, Delany left his home, saying he would be right back. Delany’s vehicle was found on Sunday, March 13 on Ward Road in the town of Wayland, Steuben County (south of Rochester).

Delany, a third-year student in the College of Liberal Arts, is a white male, approximately 5’10” tall with sandy-reddish hair. He weighs approximately 150 pounds. He was last seen wearing a brown, light-weight jacket. Anyone with information is asked to call State Police at 585-398-4100."


http://www.facebook.com/pages/Students-Finding-George-DeLany/208997139116203

More studio time.

My friend/floor mate Brendan (also featured in Crutch Rifles) wanted a good picture of himself with his treasured guitar. Being the photo enthusiast that I am, I offered to take him to the studios and give it a shot (pun intended). We locked ourselves in there for two hours and collaborated on ideas for lighting and poses. This is what we achieved:

To view the rest of the final edits, click here!

Sleeping in cardboard boxes.

     I had to take some self-portraits for my Photo Arts class at RIT. The sunset created such beautiful and warm light, and I was excited to see what kind of photos I could get. By the time I had all my equipment ready and outside, the sunlight had run away across campus. So, of course, I chased it, yelling for it to come back to me. But it gave me the cold shoulder, leaving me in a dreary grey atmosphere to which I have become unfortunately accustomed. However, as I made it to the academic side of campus, I saw a peculiar setup next to the infamous tiger statue across from the Eastman Building: a few students from the Alpha Phi Omega fraternity were standing in front of what looked like a cardboard box fort. A young man standing among them held a cardboard sign that read "Warm bed? You're better off than 770,000 Americans tonight." My heart leapt. Those of you that know me understand that I have a warm place in my heart for the homeless, and I'm working on getting a bill in Senate passed, S. 1765: Hate Crimes Against the Homeless Statistics Act of 2009. Seeing other people taking a stand for the homeless excited me more than words can describe. Camera and tripod in hand, I approached the man holding the sign and asked, "What are you doing and how can I help?"

     It turns out these students, to raise awareness for the homeless, are sleeping outside on the ground in cardboard boxes for an entire week and are collecting donations for Rochester's local House of Mercy. I was so excited to hear this; they even let me crawl into their awesome "fort". So, as you can see, I've pledged to help these students in their cause by using my passion for photography. 

Dedication at its finest.

The blue tarp overhead created beautiful lighting. That fort was actually quite cozy!

If you'd like to help us in this cause, donations will be gladly accepted!

The House of  Mercy

725 Hudson Avenue

Rochester, NY 14621

585.546.2580

Light Writing.

     Broken down into Latin terms, photography literally means "light writing". My friend Nailea (who also appears in my previous post Fried Chicken, Seagulls, and a Bathrobe) and I took advantage of this literal wonder. While sitting in her bedroom at 3 in the morning, we combined our creativity and sheer skill to provide you with this visual delight.

I also forced her to model for me, since I just love taking portraits and all.

So uh, mom, I got a tattoo...

Philippians 1:3-4

I thank my God every time I remember you. 

In all my prayers for you, I always pray with joy.

The good old days of freakishly simple editing tools.

     Tonight, I sat down in my bedroom in Scranton with my dial up Internet connection and patiently edited this self-portrait using only the Windows Photo Gallery "fix" and Paint. I upped the brightness, contrast, and saturation full strength, set the color temperature all the way down, then just added the other effects and copyright info using Paint.
     I've become spoiled with Lightroom™ and lightning-fast Internet at RIT, so I thought I'd just bring myself back to the nostalgic days of the anticipated unknown.

Darlene the sea monkey. ♥

     I took this photo a while ago, but I decided it was blog material. This is Darlene, my first sea monkey. RIT doesn't allow pets other than fish in the dorms, and since I can't seem to keep a fish alive no matter how much I feed it, sing to it, love it, and take care of it, I decided to buy $5 sea monkeys at Wal-Mart. I followed the directions to a T, and when I saw microscopic babies squirming around that stupid cheap tank... I can honestly say I've never been prouder. I watched the little dots get bigger and bigger, until one day, I saw only one lonely speck swimming about the plastic tank. I was devastated. But I didn't let that keep me from giving my one sea monkey the most love possible. After much deliberation, I named her Darlene Jehoshaphat. When it came time to go back to Scranton for Christmas break, I was determined to bring her with me. I held her in the car for the 4-hour ride back, constantly holding the tank to the light to check on her. She swam happily in adorable loop-dee-loops and squiggly patterns, each time bringing a smile to my face and a glow in my heart.
     When I got home, I kept Darlene on my bedroom dresser and kept the blinds open so she wouldn't be alone in the dark when I wasn't there to keep her company. As I set the tank down on the dresser, the water sloshed around, kicking up the remains of the other poor little brine shrimp, almost bringing me to tears. I looked at happy little D.J. and said "I love you! I'll take care of you and make sure you're happy and loved at all times, don't you worry."
     A few days later, I was gazing at D.J. and watched her swirl among the specks in the water.
Wait.
Specks?
I didn't move the tank, did I?
     I took the little useless magnifying glass that came with the sea monkey kit and looked closer. What I saw made my heart leap: little squiggles moving around in careful circles. I cannot even describe to you how happy I felt seeing brand new baby sea monkeys in my shrimpy family. My jaw dropped and then pulled back up into a grin. I made a noise of elation and ran into the kitchen to tell my parents that little Darlene had babies. (They know I'm crazy, so they gave me that "Oh really? That's nice" response as I jumped up and down like a little girl.)
     As I type this closing paragraph, I'm watching seven little sea monkeys squiggling around in their upgraded dollar-store cage (shown in the photo above, back in the day when Darlene was flyin' solo). I have an upcoming spring break, and I'm debating whether or not to leave them here or take them home. I'm nervous about spilling one of them out, and I know they'll be fine here if I feed them before I leave. I think they're big kids. They can do it. They grow up so fast! I love all of you, my little shrimp angels. I'll never let you down. ♥

Crutch Rifles.

I, being incredibly accident prone, own three pairs of crutches. I keep one pair in my dorm room, just in case. They were recently needed, but not for me, and not for an injury... on the contrary, they were used to defend freedom as we know it here at RIT. They made excellent intimidating rifles, which proved to be quite hilarious while gallivanting about the underground tunnels.

To see the complete collection of this documentation of fascination, 
click HERE. Now.

Then and Now.

One assignment I had in my photo arts class at RIT was to take a self-portrait on the first and last day of the 10-week term. Looking at these photos side by side is difficult because the difference behind my eyes is so obvious and intense, at least to me. Over those ten weeks, my life took a complete spiral downward -- I lost my mommy, my happiness, and my appetite.

○  ○  ○

The photo on the left represents my wonder and excitement for what the bright and unpredictable world holds for me. I posed as to not look completely relaxed, but not on-edge either. I held a curious expression gazing up at the sunlight, indirectly facing the wind, representing my eagerness and trepidation at the same time.

○  ○  ○

This morning I woke up at 6:30, slipped into some drab clothes topped with the sweater my mom gave me for Christmas, and took the picture on the right. I found the remains of my mom's Valentine on the table where I left them; someone had put the candies back into the heart-shaped boxes and neatly placed them in the center of the table. After opening them up, I was compelled to represent my misplaced heart with one of the heart boxes. I think my face blatantly reveals how tired and depressed I have become over the past month.  I look thinner, less interested, duller. For the past week I've been scared to sleep more than three or four hours a night in fear of dreaming about her, since that's what's been happening whenever I sleep six hours or more. I sat in front of the white board with the birthday list, garbage plate poster, and Batman drawing to show how out-of-place I feel in the world, like I belong in another realm or something.

Needless to say, I think the me on the left has learned a lot. The excitement for the future has turned into reality of the twists life can take at any given second. 

♥ Happy Valentine's Day. ♥

      My mom always bought me those little heart candies for Valentine's Day and left them on the kitchen table for me to take to school in the morning. So, this year I thought I'd return the favor. I left a few of the hearts word-side-up; the ones that remind me of her. They say XOXO, U GO GIRL, I ♥ YOU, YOU ROCK, and LOVE YOU. The big red hearts with water drops in them represent the countless painful tears I have shed over the past month and two days since I first found out I would never get to hug and kiss her again. 

♥ | kiss kiss | hug ♥ hug | love love | ♥

Back to the studios.

I had to give one of my classmates an "extreme makeover", so I decided to kidnap her. Last night I went to Wal-Mart for duct tape and fifty feet of heavy-duty rope for the shoot, so to entertain myself and the other girls with me, I yanked up my hood and put my hair in front of my face. When I approached the register, I shook slightly and talked in a monotone voice. After paying, I grabbed my rope and duct tape and awkwardly scampered toward the exit. Huzzah for pretending to be a sketchy murderer. But just look at these results!

In this photo: Jessica Schaeffers. Check out her blog! http://deedeephotography.blogspot.com/

Hear ye, hear ye...

On this day of 6 February 2011,
I, Krista May Carpenetti,
ate half of a buffalo chicken sandwich... real food....
and did not get sick.

I haven't been able to eat more than 500 calories' worth of food for over a week now. My body just rejects food within minutes every time I try to eat. Today, however, was different. I was hungry. I ate. I succeeded.

Best day ever? I think so.

Today I woke to three texts from three different people:

"Good morning beautiful <3 :)"

"Your beautiful :]"

and "Don't forget your surprise... U can come into the lounge now :)"

Already beaming, I jump out of bed and start toward the lounge. My friend Jess meets me outside the door and tells me to close my eyes. We walk inside and I open my eyes to a bunch of friends and a Ben & Jerry's Peppermint Shtick ice cream cake with balloons tied to every chair.

It's not even my birthday.

A different kind of footprint.

I got out of class this morning and saw a student slowly whirring by in his power chair through the slush and snow, leaving two parallel lines trailing behind him amidst countless footprints. Walking in the opposite direction, I followed the lines he left... the only perfectly traceable sign of someone traveling down the walkway. They were so distinct. While the hundreds of shoe sole imprints overlapped and slushed together, these "footprints" sliced through all of them effortlessly. I thought it was beautiful.

Shame on me.

     I was scrolling through the most recent posts dealing with my intense emotions about the loss of my dear mother, and I realized that in every single photo, and every word I wrote about them, I failed to represent the one thing that actually kept me on solid ground throughout this entire chapter in my life.
                     G o d .
     I have loved Him as long as I can remember. My mother told me all about Him when I was four years old, and on that same day I accepted Him as best I could with my new and naïve mind. When I was eleven, I was baptized at my own will, having a better understanding of how awesome His power in my life really was. Years passed, and my relationship with Him only grew stronger. He has led me through joyous and unbearable times alike, and today He leads me through the darkest, most painful, confusing, sickening time in my small amount of years. Despite all of those adjectives I just used, I am still as madly in love with the Lord as I was in the midst of my happiest days. Nothing, I mean literally nothing, can shake my love and trust in Him, and what I always thought has now been proven to the extreme.
     In dedication to this unconditionally loving Heavenly Father, I am posting this picture of a wooden cross that was in my mother's hands at her viewing along with my trusty and much-loved Bible. They both mean a great deal to me, and what/who they represent will always keep me feeling warm, strong, and more loved than ever before.