365 in 2011

Seven years ago I undertook a 365 self-portrait project, wherein I would take a photo of myself every day and log a little journal entry to go with it. Bearing in mind, this was long, looong before I had an iPhone, so all these pictures were taken with my little pocket-sized camera and its ten second timer.

Just today I stumbled over it and I thought... hey.  I took some interesting pictures. I wrote a couple decent stories. I kinda wanna share them. 

Join me, Dearest Patrons, as I take us back to 2011, when I was a fresh-faced 27 year old living that freelancer life with her new husband in their Portland rental apartment. 

1/365 - January 1, 2011

Taken in the kitchen of Fabienne D., Matt's mom, while we visit England for two weeks. 

My problem last year was that I had no true hobbies. As soon as I would find one, I would immediately turn it into another new money-making industry for myself until I would burn out on it and all the pleasure would be replaced with the stress of making product to sell. Sculpting and painting both fell victim to this. I have so much trouble justifying making something unless it's to be consumed by the public in some manner or another. 

But this year? 

I'm doing a 365. A private 365. Well, I'll mark the photos as either "private" or "friends", depending on how I feel in the moment. But, you know, it's not "public". 2009 and 2010 have been weird ("weird", verging on "bad") years for me as far as interacting with the people who follow my work. I've pulled back a lot. I've censored. I've tiptoed, expecting every piece I share to bring on another wave of vitriol and hate as strangers project their own agendas and interpretations onto my work. It's worn me down. It's made me sad. 

Yes, this is self-indulgent. I just want to do it. I want to have a selfish hobby that is not for public consumption and see how it develops over the course of the year. Maybe on December 31ist, 2011, if some kind of narrative emerges from my pictures and writings, I could funnel all of this into a little book. (I supposed it's impossible for me to take on any project without looking at capitalizing on the content later) But for the next 12 months? 

This is my selfish hobby.

2/365 - January 2, 2011

One drink too many tonight. 

Updating between trips to the throw-up room.

3/365 - January  3, 2011

Our final day in England.

Two weeks went by faster than anything. Two weeks of soaking up family love and full nights' sleeps and eating delicious home-cooked meals. Oh god. Do we really have to go? 

Matt misses his family so much when he's in the states. It's something I have a hard time relating to, since I've done so much to distance myself from my own blood relatives. It's been over a year now that I blocked my mom's number and didn't give her our address when we moved. 

But then I visit Matt's and I understand why people keep in contact with their family, why they turn to each other for support, why they sacrifice for each other. 

Fabienne has already been calling me her "other daughter" for years now and it makes me want to cry. I love them and they love me right back. They're my family.

4/365 - January  4, 2011

Taken in a super reflective wall right next to our gate at the London Heathrow airport while we waited to board. 

Writing this while waiting to board our final flight home (#3) in the San Francisco airport. 

Our flight out to England was so easy, it was like sliding through butter. This trip home is karmically making up for it by being, Matt and I agree, the most terrible collective airport experience of our lives. Making every single one of our connecting flights, from London to Philadelphia to San Francisco and eventually Portland, has been so shockingly backwards that it kind of feels like we're in one of those existential nightmare plays, like Waiting for Godot or something by Kafka (though I'm only going on popular opinion with that last one, since I haven't read anything by him. Since, y'know, I don't enjoy existential nightmares)

The system has failed, friends. The system has failed.

5/365 - January 5, 2011

Our first morning back! We went out to breakfast at Petite Provence after four hours of sleep. 

I'm... really tired. Possibly getting sick after having breathed all that airplane oxygen? Or maybe just straight up jetlagged. Maybe both. At the same time.

(Photo by Matt)