The Disposable

The Grill - Athens, GA

I’ve been lugging around a disposable camera for the past few months. It is a clunky, sensitive, and altogether inconvenient way to capture life. But there is something I respect about The Disposable in our instant day and age. It delays gratification. You have no idea if a shot is majesty or travesty until weeks after you’ve taken it. In some respects, then, The Disposable paints a more accurate portrait of post-grad life than digital technology. There is a lag between cause and effect. You can’t just snap your fingers and have a job, a graduate school acceptance, a future plan. You snap the shutter 27 times, and hope that after the film is developed, perhaps one of those 27 exposures will result in a proper image.

Besides, it doesn’t break when you drop it on concrete. How very practical.

Advertisements

Birthday cakes and writing weights.

DSC_0324

Snoopy’s nose knows.

We celebrated my dad’s birthday last night, and the man acted like a giddy little boy. He tore open the box of an iPad Mini and was transfixed for hours. He was, I might add, severely lacking in his ability to take selfies.

Attack of the cake gobbler? Not amused.

iPad giving and cake gobbling? Sibling Two was not amused.

In other news, I am writing my teaching initiative and personal statement to teach abroad. You would think that after writing hundreds of pages of history papers in college that I would be somewhat in touch with words. False. I am only now realizing how hard writing is when it is personal.

When I am churning out a history paper I am hundreds of years removed from my subjects. These people have come and gone, in the process leaving enough of a mark on time that I am thinking about them – indeed, losing sleep over them – 150 years later. Their deeds are done. But when I am faced with writing about myself, that comfortable barrier of time is removed. I have to concern myself with making a mark on my own time. And that thur is a little weighty, ya dig?