I spent the formidable years of my life growing up in close proximity to the beach, where my heart still lies unless someone has picked it up, until my parents moved us into the country where the public schools had "Take Your Tractor to School Day". I never had a tractor, nor did I ever go to public school, so I never knew what I wasn't missing out on in the first place.
At the tenderly ripe age of 22 I was lured to the bright lights of Las Vegas with promises of jobs and $300 a month rent. I would be rolling in dough, they said. I would have to beat the ladies off with sticks, they said. They lied. Or, they never said things like that at all and I'm making it all up. I assure you this isn't the case. But it might be.
Fast forward one year later and you'll find me moving back to Virginia. (And, please, do find me if you can move forward through time, because you're someone I probably want to know.) Why would I leave the city of sin, you ask? Because of a girl. Ah, love. Clearly, that didn't work out.
I've spent the last four years studying photography in the hell that is Nashville, TN. Actually, it's not so bad, once you get passed the conservatism, the lack of good public transportation, and the blatant love of the Confederacy. But it's too far from the coastline for me.
So the next chapter of my life will see me moving to our nation's capital at the end of June to pursue a career in photography. If you've read all of this then kudos to you! Send me a message. Please tell me what kudos are. I have no idea. But it's a funny word. Kudos. Kudos. Kudos.