On Finding My Voice

When I look at some of my first blog posts, I cringe. They sound so forced, and like I'm writing for a dreaded English assingment. I didn't quite grasp that this is my blog. I can write what, when, and how I want. This conecpt has taken me a while to grasp. Sometimes I can still feel its pull on me. The feeling that I have to write, even if it isn't something I want to do. And the resulting product is a sad piece of something resembling writing. It doesn't have any heart in it. Nor does it flow, or even make sense.

I've discovered much of the same thing with my camera. Taking pictures is a wonderful escape for me. It is amazing how I can remove myself from the situation, so I can see it merely as an observer. And then being able to come right back in and capture the heart and soul. I've found that when I take out the camera because I feel like I should, or I'm supposed to, the pictures don't say anything.

They are just snapshots. They don't tell a story, or have any feeling behind them. And then I've lost the magic and beauty of photography.

It is a fine line to walk: getting practice and continuing to improve, while not forcing myself to do something I am not feeling. Some practice is just going to come out life-less because of its very nature. But finding a way to practice in a way that helps me improve is an art in and of itself. So, yes, I am still working on that.

I guess this is my way of explaining why I've been silent for a while. But it feels nice to be back. I'm just glad I notlonger feel the need to detail every minute of my not-so-thrilling life.