I'm incredibly tired, and therefore probably should not be writing this blog. I may look back at this tomorrow and realize that I sound stupid and then delete it. Maybe.
Today I went with a friend to lunch. We had a good time, and a lot of good laughs, especially about comparing marital experiences. That's always fun. I love being able to laugh with someone else who understands the ins and outs of being married. At lunch her two-old-daughter covered her clothes with melted chocolate ice cream. I found it quite funny, and laughed at her. (Because I'm nice like that) After lunch we pretended like I was interested in renting an apartment in these new, trendy apartments near the mall. They are totally chic...and we were dying to know what they looked like on the inside. So we visited those new trendy metro apartments, and got a tour. I would totally live there if Joel and I were younger, and if we didn't have a crazy, active Border collie. Before we went home, she had to run into a store and pick up an item really quickly. I waited in the car with her two daughters (ages 2 and 4). While we were waiting, I taught the older one how to make fart noises with her mouth and the palms of her hands. I know I probably shouldn't have, but I'm bad like that sometimes. Let me tell you, that was one of the funniest things I've witnessed in a couple of months. Her daughter caught on quickly, and proceeded to show her mom when she came back to the car, and then continued making juicy fart noises and then laughing hysterically the whole entire way home. Her mother thanked me and reminded me that payback would be sweet when Joel and I have kids. (I agree it probably will, but it was totally worth it) We all laughed as she continuously made those nice juicy fart noises and by the time I got home, my sides hurt so bad that I could hardly breathe, and wiped several tears from my eyes. My point in saying all this is that I'm glad for friendship. I'm glad to have friends where you can be yourself, and you can love each other for who they are, despite the obnoxious things they may do (like teach their children to make fart noises). It's good to have friends.
And one totally random thought to mention - When is it that you can say that you are a "professional photographer"? I would love to say that I am a professional photographer, but I don't feel like one, nor do I consider myself to be one, perhaps maybe an amateur, but not professional. But at what point do you cross the line between amateur and professional? I don't know. But I have a personal goal to become a Professional Photographer. But how will I know when I get there?? Hmm...
1 comment:
When you get paid for what you do you are a professional. I believe you qualify. So once you can call yourself a professional it becomes a question of whether or not you are any good. Michelle - you are! I get paid for my paintings but I don't consider myself a professional because I'm not yet following my dream completely. I still cling to my day job for dear life. I have few allusions about my own level of talent...but you, you are great. Get your work published. Magazines like New Mexico Magazine or Cowboys and Indians have lots of contests, it would be great to see you enter. Also, the one time I felt closest to following my passion was when I had work accepted into the New Mexico "Fine Arts" exhibit. By the way - I have to say again that I love the black and white photo witht he chair. Really, I really love it, it calls my name....
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