Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder

I’m sick of girls just seeing me as a piece of meat, only focusing on my looks. Why can’t they look past my beautiful, deep, hazel eyes and see who I am on the inside? I can’t help walking down the street without getting as many catcalls as Kate Upton. Seriously people, I’m a human being, not a piece of eye candy only there for you to gawk at. When I meet a lady for the first time and she catches a glance of my eyes, I have to turn my head or she will get lost in them and completely forget where she is. Try holding a conversation with someone who only stares at your well-rounded pair.

They say eyes are the windows to your soul, but I think they are more like curtains. When you stare longingly into someone’s eyes, all you are seeing is what color they are. It’s no different than looking at your dog’s eyes. You can’t actually see into an eye with your own eye, the iris and pupil does a great job of stopping your glare at the door. What happens when you look deeper into the eye in search for the soul? This.

The actual inside of my eyeballs

Not so sexy anymore, huh? (I don’t know, those veins get my blood going) These are from a trip to eye doc in November. I asked if he could email them to me and he responded that no one had ever asked for the photos before - their loss. If you were wondering, my macula's are perfect and so is the optic nerve.

When someone says beauty is only skin deep, believe them. It’s true.

32

Father Time recently burdened me with another year. 32. Fuck. I’m finally feeling old. My free-ranging youth when anything was possible is over. Economist, forester and nuclear engineer (yes, I was thisclose to joining the Navy and becoming a nuclear engineer) have all fallen by the wayside. I moved from one hopeful profession to the next. I want to be a writer! But I fail to write (seems ironic in a blog). I want to be a photographer! But I fail to practice and learn the techniques. I want to be great at something! But I fail to put in the effort.

At this stage of my life, I don’t know who I am (other than lazy). After how many years of doing the same thing does it become apparent that’s just who I am? I’ve written many times how I feel like I can do great things, but my actions betray that feeling. Talk doesn’t get anyone anywhere; actions are what are left in the end. Dreaming of greatness never made anyone great. Hard work, skill and a little luck pull the greatness out of us.

My 31^st year came and went, but what did I accomplish? The biggest success was finding a new group of friends that pulled me away from drinking alone. I had people to go to concerts with, I had new couches to crash on; I had a new home base. But you can’t live on friends alone (plus they can get grouchy if you continually ask to stay at their house or don’t ask and just pass out there).

Greatness?

I look back on last year and see months littered with wasted opportunities. I had an article published in a magazine (work related) and took photographs I wouldn’t have seen in previous years, but the follow-up is lacking. There is no push to use the article as a springboard to more articles in a variety of publications. Photos on Flickr are static, never growing to reach new audiences or finding new outlets.

I keep dabbling around the edges, tiptoeing towards my dreams, never decisively heading in any direction. What will I be remembered for? Having promise, but never fulfilling it? A non-descript guy who blended into the background (other than on Swanky Saturday)?

I am blessed with fantastic and dear friends, but I want to find success personally. Will my 32^nd year be any different (If past results are indicative of the future, probably not)? I know I sound dour on my life, but all is not lost. Maybe this is the year I put my shit together and better myself. Maybe I use that new tripod I bought and grow as a photographer. Maybe I begin to post blogs once a week and better understand how to write. Maybe I quit my job and become a nuclear engineer.

When people are having a drink at my funeral (it’ll be an open bar), I hope they have more to say than that asshole spent so many nights on my couch, I should’ve charged him rent. Here’s to 32!

My 10 Favorite Photos From 2014

2014 was a heckuva year filled with road trips, snow, friends and bluegrass. I witnessed many amazing things and I did my best to capture those sights with my camera. My camera is still a mysterious beast to me, but I'm learning. Here's to a great 2014 and excitement for continued growth through the lens.

This photo was taken at Grand Portage State Park in Minnesota after a suggestion from the girls working at Grand Portage National Monument. They were surprised anyone was actually traveling around Lake Superior in December, but said I had to check out High Falls on the Pigeon River. I stood in awe as the roar of the falls incased in ice echoed around the canyon. A giddy smile was plastered on my face as I went from viewing platform to viewing platform, trying to find the best angle. Changing the setting to black and white on my camera made the falls even more powerful. I can still feel the falls.

Visiting the Apostle Island Ice Caves has been on my list of things to do for a few years, but 2014 granted me the first shot to traverse up to the Bayfield peninsula. My friend Jo and I headed up after deciding the best time to see the ice caves was in late afternoon as the sun went down. We were not disappointed. It was cold as hell, but the shapes and colors kept me pulling me along, stoking my inner hearth. 

As I skimmed a recent Backpacker Magazine, I came across a section on how to take a photo of your tent with the carpet of stars overhead. When the opportunity arose to test those tips, the only one I remembered was to try and get the Milky Way in the shot. I played around for hours in the cold, trying to find the right settings while Lake Superior gently lapped the shore a few feet away. The stars stretched to eternity above. I look forward to taking a better shot than this in 2015!

Another photo from the Ice Caves. This one was taken the following morning with not a soul around except for my photo friend Jo. The wind chill of -30 may have had something to do with it. The vagaries of ice can be so interesting. The warm reds and oranges of the previous night were replaced with cool blues. The gaping maw of ice sucked many a people in, including me.

Walking at dawn along the cloudy Outer Banks in North Carolina created a bleak scene. A fellow lonely beach walker picked up shells washed in from the Diamond Shoals. Hurricane Bertha sat offshore, kicking up the waves, increasing the power of the Atlantic.

Working for the Ice Age Trail Alliance enables me to travel the state, working with a diverse group of volunteers doing anything from clear trees with a chainsaw, building a rock wall or dressing up for Swanky Saturday. This day found me working along the Mecan River with Gary and Roger, chiseling the stringers for a 32 foot long bridge. It was a beautiful day to learn from Gary and help the Trail.

Another photo from the Ice Age Trail, this time from Springfield Hill in Dane County. This area was called "Gorillas in the Mist." A fitting moniker I'd say. Black and white became a stronger presence in my photos in 2014 and this one stands out. 

I spent over an hour darting around Bond Falls in Michigan, attempting to capture the mighty cascades. I played around with the settings on my camera whenever an idea on how to improve the shot popped into my head. This photo doesn't really feel like a photo, but more like a painting. It was a fun day.

Growing up in Eau Claire, I read about the Blue Hills Felsenmeer in the paper and put it in my bucket list. I jumped at the chance to explore it last summer. The thickly green forest opened up to a sea of rocks, devoid of green except for this one tree, somehow anchoring its roots in the talus field. Note the person in the upper left hand corner. The Felsenmeer (not a true felsenmeer because of the steepness of the slopes) is not an easy place to visit, but the vista is worth it.

Now, this may not be a very good photo, but the weird colors and lack of focus seem to work. The naked man ran across the stage during Horseshoes and Hand Grenades set at Boats and Bluegrass. The band didn't miss a beat. 

For the rest of my favorite photos from 2014, click over to my Flickr page.