2012 in Pictures

Being the daughter of a photographer, I have photos that document everything: naked bums, tears, chickenpox, awkward bang lengths, dubious 90's fashion, sisters, prom, every Christmas present unwrapping event...... even photos of the first production I was in at UBC: meaning, either my mom or dad snapped pictures from the audience with the flash ON as I was PERFORMING.

 I am a self-professed and oft-accused photojunkie myself. Perpetuating the stereotype, I love taking pictures of food. Meals that have been prepared with love, scarfed down in an instant, immortalized forever. In those moments when I don't have Nikki with me, and end up not capturing the vibrancy or joy or what have you on film... sometimes it haunts me. Sometimes I feel that much more enveloped in love when I know that there will be proof later to look back on.

 This all being said, 2012 was probably the year in my adult life that I have documented the least. Chalk it up to the events of last year, or learning how to be more in the present moment, but I really don't have very much. So in this year in pictoral review, there may be some gaps here or there; big pockets of time missing.

We'll see. In any case, I'm betting there will be lots in 2013 to photograph.

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In 2012, it was cold,

Looking Back, Looking Forward

Dear 2012,

    Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.

You are over. You are done. I survived you. Not only did I survive you, but-- truly, really-- I Lady Lazarus-ed you; I arose from the ashes of some serious heartache and became more Me and more grateful than I have ever, ever been.

There was a point when I wanted to (and many times, did) scream expletives at you and rail my tiny fists against your dim sky. Where some OJ Simpson around your uncooperative neck would have satisfied my despair. It was a very narrow corridor I paced inside my heart; horizons so far away.

Old perspective: "Take THAT, 2012!"