a few dark thoughts

Saturday again. I'm writing this from work right now, my last day of work at the photo store. I've been wanting to write more lately, but the best I can summon at the moment is a handful of disjointed thoughts.

- My job in the photography studio is going well. Of course, things go really well when I don't screw up. Yesterday, during a long day of work, I tossed a few important papers into the trash. I wasn't thinking about it. I was done with the papers, and was trying to eliminate clutter. This morning my photographer boss called me (here at work, at my other job) to ask where the papers were. I didn't know right off, and gave him a couple of places to look. He couldn't find them. I cringed over the phone as I suggested they might be in the garbage can in the kitchen, where I had tossed a few things yesterday in a flurry of activity. Of course they were there. Dripping with tomato juice, plastered with potato peels. He was angry. I felt terrible.

(Maybe this is the kind of mistake that will be funny to look back on in a year or so.)

I wonder, will be possible for me to not feel terrible for the rest of the day about this error? I'm still learning how to make mistakes responsibly. How to take ownership of my errors without beating myself up. Self-flagellation is the pattern I'm used to. Learning how to thoughtfully accept the mistake and move on does not come easily.

- A client of mine emailed me last week to ask if I could take a photo of a watercolor painting he wants to incorporate into a brochure we're developing. He emailed me just after I realized that I must stop accepting new projects -- my work hours are completely absurd. I wrote back and explained that I was overcommitted and wouldn't have time for at least the next couple of weeks to take a photo of the art. I suggested that he find another solution. He replied by pushing back harder, suggesting that the photography project wouldn't take very long -- maybe he could bring it by one of my part-time jobs on my lunch break so I could just fire off a quick shot or two while he waited?

Alas, there is no faster way to enrage me than to disregard my shaky grasp on my boundaries. I have stomped all over my own life with muddy shoes these past few weeks, rearranging my days and nights in order to accommodate the needs of my clients. I find it very frustrating when I finally work up the courage to say "no" and receive only push-back.

I'm not going to shoot the photo. (It's become a principle thing.)

- My relationship with my parents has never been better. Last week my mom and dad sent me one of those silly song cards, the kind that play a really loud, corny song when you open it. The audio track on the card was Gloria Estefan's "Conga," and I almost jumped out of my skin when I opened it -- the song was so loud. Mom's handwritten message inside offered congratulations for all the developments in my photography life over the past few months, congratulations on the new job in the photography studio. Then it said something like, "Just remember, when you get famous, please don't take pictures of us when we're dead" (a reference to Annie Leibovitz's tendency to photograph loved ones on their deathbed). That's just quality photographic humor.

Lately I have found myself calling my mom first when something good happens. She is a wonderful cheerleader for her kids. I have never been so grateful for her support.

- Tomorrow is my first day off in a while. It feels like forever since I've been totally irresponsible for a day (it's really only been three weeks) I plan to celebrate by turning my phone off completely! And of course I may be sacking out on the couch and catching up on Season 1 DVDs of Friday Night Lights, to which I have become completely addicted. Go Panthers!