"Wow."

Is wanting to be 'wowed' by my wedding photos too much to ask?

I feel like, in my years of being a wedding photographer (ha, yeah, seriously, so many years, so many weddings) I have looked at literally tens of thousands of wedding images by hundreds of different photographers.

And I've stopped seeing anything particularly new or exciting.

Granted, every time I look at anything shot by Jonathan Canlas, I get this ache in my heart that longs for him to shoot my wedding, but my poor father would have a heart attack if I told him I wanted to spend six grand on wedding photos, so I quietly put that dream on the shelf a long time ago. It's okay, I don't mind. There have got to be some decent and relatively well-priced film shooters out there, right...?

Why film, you ask?
The feel.
The look.
The demand it has on a photographer to know his/her craft, dangit.

It's not a DEAL BREAKER. If I can find a photographer who makes me think, "Hey, those are actually really great," who shoots digital, so be it.

But somewhere, DEEP DOWN, I really want my wedding shot on film. There's something so incredibly romantic about film that I just can't help but want for my wedding.

Wait, wait, wait, you think. Um... why is this crazy talking about wedding photos? She doesn't even have a boyfriend.

Yeah, yeah, I know. But I'm a girl. A MORMON girl. A Mormon girl who goes to BYU. Yeah. And I also happen to have some stake in the wedding industry. So I look at wedding photos. A ridiculous amount. It kind of consumes my life, truth be told. Have you SEEN my wedding pinboard? Yeah. That's just the tip of the iceberg.

I don't know why I'm so bothered by this. Or why I'm even bothering to think about it. It's probably going to be at least three years until I get married... (Mission + year-long dating.)

Anyway, today was good. I got new tires, and aced a quiz on reading that I admittedly did not even do. Ha! Yeah. However, Excel is leeching my life force right out of my body. My entire brain hurts... Is this what thinking feels like? Tomorrow night and Saturday are gonna be fuuuuuuuuuun!

Frustration.

Okay, so, I'm just going to spew out frustrations. Most of these things aren't personal, so don't take them personally.

I'm so freaking tired of being tired but not being able to sleep. It's just been the last couple of days, I've had insomnia like never before. I have no idea what the problem is. I've also developed a ridiculously annoying case of Restless Leg Syndrome, seriously in the past week. No clue what's up with that either.

I'm sick of this stupid weather. For the love of all that is holy, just be summer already. I'm seriously going f**king insane.

I'm tired of relationships.

I'm tired of people saying they'll do something and then not doing it.

I'm REALLY tired of iTunes giving me grief. Granted, it's just been within the past hour or so, but this is effing ridiculous. I've uninstalled and reinstalled like five times. And don't tell me it wasn't installed correctly, because it was installed the only way it can be, you stupid computer.

And AVG? Don't only scan 3% of my computer in an hour when I have you set to high priority, AKA just scan my damn computer and do it now.

I don't care that I don't live in the UK, I want to watch this video without having to download sketchy programs that may or may not have ruined my computer.

I'm so sick of 'photographers'. Oh my GOSH, just because you can take a picture at a wedding does not make you a wedding photographer.

And don't get me started on people who parade their relationships all over Facebook like everybody wants to know that your 8th boyfriend makes you realize that "you didn't know it could be this good." Oh please, you've said that about every guy you've dated and then as soon as they broke up with you for the third time you started calling them the biggest douchebags on the planet.

I'm so tired of being the only one who makes any effort in a relationship, of any sort. I should not have to text you three or four times over a span of four hours to get a simple yes or no answer out of you when your last text was less than a minute before the first reply I sent to it. I mean, please. If you don't want to talk to me, or be my friend, or date me, just tell me. I'm so sick of being dragged along out of pity.

And I'm especially tired of being the only one who seems to care about said relationships, especially one in particular. Again, if you don't want to be my friend, or my boyfriend, or whatever, please, STOP LETTING ME THINK YOU GIVE A $H!T. I'd like to say I've had about enough of being the handtowel (you know, just gets used, and you never notice it until it isn't there, and then you get mad at it for not being there, as if it's the handtowel's fault) but the truth is, I'm too insecure to let even the shambliest of relationships go. I care way too much about people, and it drives me crazy, because it usually results in my being a doormat, or a handtowel, or some other unappreciated object.

I mean, when I say I almost completely blew off life and came to visit you 300 miles away from where I live, don't immediately respond with "Where would you sleep though?" Ugh, gosh, buzz kill. Here I am, trying to tell you that I miss you like crazy, enough to blow like a hundred bucks on you, and you don't even say, "That would've been fun, I would've loved to see you."?

Here, will you pull this knife out of my heart?

[Really AVG? You've been at 84% for half an hour now. This is getting beyond absurd.]

Why is it that the few people who DO actually initiate contact, just bug me? Like, come on, you're 21 years old, you're a big boy, you're going to have to figure out this whole dating thing BY YOURSELF. I'm not the freaking Dater's Almanac for crying out loud.

I'm tired of getting asked the same questions by the same people. Look, I promise that if something were to change, I would tell you. No, I don't have a plan, don't act like that's the most heinous crime on the planet.

I am going (*&$#$(*%#*&)#%)(*& insane.

Moving.

On the whole, I don't particularly mind moving. I like moving into a new place and making it mine and whatnot. What I hate is moving out. It's such a pain, like, seriously, especially for lazy people like me. I'm relatively organized, at least in a system that I understand, but it's just frustrating.
I don't want to stuff my life into a bunch of boxes and tear apart what I built for myself.
It's like laundry, or showering. I don't really want to do it, but as soon as I do it, I feel much better. Okay, it's actually nothing like those two. Because I don't feel better after packing. I just feel lonely. Empty. And I'm always the last one to leave, so I usually have some abandonment in there.
Yes, I know, this post is depressing and unhappy, but I'm a little on the depressed and unhappy side. First night without Brandon = weird and lonely. Even when we weren't doing particularly anything, we still were together, enjoying each others' company. And it is so obvious to me that without him I have no social life, besides my horses, that it kills me.
I have so much going on this weekend. I have work from 9-4 (yeah, like a real job!) then I boogie back to Provo to shower and get ready to drive to Layton for the workshop with JAKE GARN (he's this photographer I completely idolize). After I soak up some of his genius, I get to drive home and pack... Yay... I'm going to try and get as much packing done as I can so that when I actually have to move I don't have much to deal with. There's just so much stuff. I have so much stuff, it's astonishing to me. I'll probably have to do laundry in there somewhere, then my parents are coming to pick up my big stuff and come to the barn to meet my best friends in the universe. Somewhere after the barn, I'm going to come home and finally do my last bits of homework, write pleading letters to my professors apologizing and begging them to pass me, and get as much of my to-do list done as I can. Then comes Sunday, which is going to REALLY be crappy without Brandon. It makes me hurt just thinking about it.
Then comes a week of... what? Working... cleaning... packing the last scraps of life I have at my place... Selling back textbooks... Trying to shake my feeling of constant icky that settled on me months and months ago. Heck, maybe even years and years ago.
Sigh. Here we go.