DRY Ink

So I had this anniversary recently.

Maybe you’ve heard?

And it was incredible.

Driving down to New Orleans in this

Shooting a trash the dress session ending with this

Wandering around Magazine street, shopping and snapping some of the best pictures of my life.
Like this one

Yeah, I have no idea who he is, but he had an accent.

And this one

But just when I think I have this whole photography thing down, I get the proofs from Becky and I’m blown away by real talent.

Seriously, she is incredible. Go check them all out, and oogle what I have to live up to if I ever am going to be a ‘real’ photographer.

I can’t wait to wall paper my house with them all.

Dear Katrina,

I’m just not ready. I’m not ready for all the news reports, the constant coverage and the land blasting of your memories.

I’m not ready, even though it’s been 4 years. I still can’t deal with you. I know I should. Believe me, I know. But I just can’t. I tried, really I did. I even made an appointment for PTSD counseling this year. But when I finally worked up the nerve to go, it turned out to be with a friend I went to grad school with. I just didn’t have the strength to reschedule. It was easier to get wrapped up in life and forget about you in the day to day grind again.

I’ve even tried digging through the mental wreckage myself. It’s not like I’m not qualified. I should be able to do this, or at least get the process started. But every time I do, I end up crying big, huge rain puddle tears. We both know how much I hate to cry. It just leaves my face all puffy and my nose snotty. That among others, is the reason I rarely cried during your little visit. Well that and there just wasn’t time. It’s always so much easier when there’s not time.

I know I need to deal with you soon, that I shouldn’t let another year pass. Even now writing this, I am realizing that I have battled with my eating disorder two out of the past four years in August. Hmmm, curious I’ve never put that together before now. But the raw truth is, most days I don’t think about you. So it’s just easier to forget the dark shadow that has taken up residence in the back corner of my already over loaded brain.

So this isn’t my usual post telling you to eff off, and everyone to quit talking about you, especially if they weren’t there. This year is a promise, a promise that I will deal with you before your next anniversary. That I will not let you have another year of my life, while you blacken that tiny corner in the farthest recesses of my mind. How ever small it is, you don’t deserve it. And so I will deal with you, but just not tomorrow. I will not even acknowledge you tomorrow. I will allow myself and therefore deny you, tomorrow. It’s the least I can do for both of us.

Sincerely,
Erika

PS: I still think you are a whore.

This town has been positively electric this week, culminating in last night’s game. This is the first time this city has rallied together around something, since Katrina. We really needed this.

Watching the Tigers march down the field in that 4th quarter drive was better than Christmas. Hopefully this march will continue until we arrive at the national championship. Oh yea, and it was really nice of the media darlings USC to shoot themselves in the foot for us too.

Geaux Tigers!

At 9:38 am two years ago today, Katrina breached New Orleans’ levees, changing everything.

Can you please stop churning out Katrina/post Katrina series, specials, reality shows and the lot? I am just not fucking ready, and really think you have no right.

all the best,

Erika