Creative... ness?

I'm having a hard time believing that it's Christmas next week. Even though I take pictures of little kids in their Christmas dresses all day long, in my mind, Christmas is still months away - these people are just crazy early and well prepared. Of course, my mind does not always work properly, as has been seen, heard about, and demonstrated time and again. In my mind, Christmas equals snow. Even though I moved to Portland to escape the snow, the snow means that Christmas is here. I walked by Trader Joe's the other day and smelled the Christmas wreaths only to think to myself "god, they're early about that shit this year." Yeah, a little not with it.

As I walked home tonight, I realized that I've never thought of myself as an artist or a creative type. My walk down the trendy part of town was accentuated by the odd, drunken footsteps of my own feet that would not work properly. The soft scrape of my jeans that were so waterlogged that they were falling off my ass marked one footstep while the other had the soft scrape plus a loud 'thunk!' of my shoe falling off my right foot every step. The only sound on one of the trendiest streets in town is my own drunk ass stumbling home. Classy. I told a friend tonight that I may not feel temperature in my feet, but the moment they stop working is the moment they're too cold. I hit that about 3 hours ago. I somehow made it home, stumbling like the drunk ass I was. I'm not sure why this whole debacle made me think about the fact that I've never thought of myself as creative, but it sure did. I think it was the fact that I'm such a loser I could never be considered cool.

I've been asked to put up more photos.. I'm not sure what I think about that other than the fact that they better be damn good photos. Do I have any of those? In my opinion, anyone could have taken the photos that I have, they're snapshots of life as I see it, not anything special. I'm currently working as a photographer, but it's almost a joke because there is virtually no creative aspect to it - people want good pictures of their kids in their holiday gear, not a creative shot that I may have decided might look good but they don't fully understand. My photos, much like my writing, I have decided, is a window into who I am that many people never get to see. It's not that I'm ashamed of it, necessarily, but rather that I'm just not sure about that side of me - it's part of me, not something I work at or organize, but rather some I am compelled to do. I can go months without taking a single photograph, and then one day feel pulled to wander outside and get some good shots. Writing is much the same way, most of my poems or stories are jotted down on scrap paper that I may have had handy at the time, not in a notebook organized and ready to view. My school notebooks hold a large number of my writings as well as my photos, thrown in, jotted down, and promptly forgotten until I randomly run across them again. I often wonder if I'll look back at them and chastise myself for never actually taking the time to organize them.

Let's be honest though, I'm not really the organizing type. I have a memory problem, for god's sake, I can't remember my own organization system. This can be evidenced most often by my panties. I have three bins, one for t-shirts, one for socks and one for underwear. That system lasts maybe two weeks before I have to pull panties out of the sock bin and socks out of the t-shirt bin. This usually happens around laundry time, which is few and far between due to the high cost of laundry (high cost is measured in the amount of quarters necessary per load, not the actual dollar amount). Instead, laundry is piled into two loads and shoved in the largest washer I can find. It is then moved to the dryer, which never dries clothes to my satisfaction and I end up hanging it around my 400 square foot apartment, looking like a homeless woman airing out her goods.

So, I may take the Egyptian up and post more pictures, I may post shit I've written. I'm not really sure how to go about being the creative type. I know Kaci would love it, she steals photos off my damn walls. Actual walls, not Facebook. I would call her a jerk, but I'm oddly flattered.

I'm rambling nonsense at 1:36 in the morning of my first day off in months. I should go to sleep, but I'm a little too drunk still for that shit. On to the book anyone? The awesome thing about a memory problem is that 20 books becomes a library since you can't remember the plot of any of them. It's a surprise every time! Sort of like the Crackerjack box. While I'm spewing nonsense, I figured it was time to explain my title. Barefoot comes from the fact that I hate shoes, I can't stand the bastards. Punk is simply the nickname my father gave me when I was young, not in the common sense of 'you punk' but just as it is. Punk. Sometimes reverted to 'punkinhead' or 'punky'. But never in the modern sense that holds connotations about the person, just punk. Therefore Barefoot Punk describes me best, wandering through life, milling about smartly (as I have often been accused of doing) and keeping the attitude that I frequently have, trying not to get down.

Brain? What Brain?

This week is finals week. So of course that means I have the first two consecutive postings in over six months. That's just how it works with me, I'm a procrastinator. Let me tell you a little about the last week for me.... I've slowly been losing my frickin mind.

I've worked 52 hours in the last week. Count 'em, 52. I'm working as a photographer, trying to tell children sit on their ass while their parents yell or criticize them constantly and to look pretty while doing it. Ill behaved kids are bad, bitchy and rude parents are worse. Seriously, can't you see the mob in the waiting room? I can't fix ugly, lady, you're not going to like these pictures no matter what I do or how many I take. Some of the people I see in there are contradictions in themselves. An 'alternative' family who hates the man and professes to thinking corporations are the root of all evil came in the other day. Seriously? Isn't just entering the studio a contradiction to your core beliefs? But who am I to say that, I'm just a lemming pushing a button, right? WRONG! Assholes I have years of experience, and despite working for the root of all evil, I'm a human being that would enjoy some basic respect. Human decency, I've decided, has gone from the world. Not to mention effective parenting.

So while working all these hours, I've been attempting to get graduate work done. This has been especially hard, considering I've already decided I'm not coming back next semester. I'm not a quitter, so I hate the fact that I'm pulling out of the program, but I'm just not happy and I have zero time, I'm running myself ragged and I'm not getting much out of life. No bueno. I don't like that. So, I'm going to start living life a little, work to pay rent and bills, have a little fun in the mean time. Just as an example of my craziness, I got home from work the other night and decided to have some spaghetti O's. I turned on the stove, I kept walking over to stir them... and after stirring them twice, I got up, walked to the kitchen and realized that there was nothing on the stove that I had just turned on.... the pot was still on the counter, sitting there cold, with a spoon. I'm awesome. There was just no excuse good enough for that one.

Can you say.... NUTTY?

My Favorites

Have I mentioned I'm a loser? It's been a month since my last posting. I swear to god I thought it had only been a week. I feel like life is just passing me by and every now and then I turn around and wave at what should have been life. UGH! Anyway.

Life is... life. What do you even say about it? Once again, I'm procrastinating and avoiding homework. Surprising, right? I think what I want to do is put up some of my favorite photos that I've taken. Just for shits. Take a gander.