What the hell. Open the shutter. Its one of a handful of ways i have to vent. Photography is like a deep soothing alcohol that doesn't give me hangovers and terrible shits in the morning that make me wonder whether or not to add wheat bread to my breakfast to soak up the remaining contents in my stomach. Soon i was bored of photography though. Id chased lightning and been published in magazines, id watched friend after friend develop into photographer themselves and get the gitty, love-filled orgasm flushes from obtaining a good photograph through their camera. What a great feeling it is. “You’re real good.” Someone tells me. “You should be on national geographic. Why are you working here?”

Now I bar tended and hopped on a train to earn a salary. Id be a liar if i said i wasn’t sick of this lifestyle. For Christs sake i have been 25 for 1 month and 5 days and the quarter of a century feels more like im at half a century. A midlife crisis? Not quite but something needs to shake. I don’t know what i am doing or where i am going, what to shoot for and who to love. I have people and things to turn to but nothing seems exciting anymore. I think we all come to a point in our lives where the tracks cross and you get so many trains running back and forth you don’t know which one is which. Welcome to my life. If the world is in my hands id like to observe it, lightly blow a breath of air on it to see how it reacts and set it down and share it with someone else. Then a voice tells me ‘That’s just for you Rocky. That’s your world.’ Suddenly I’m discombobulated, scattered and confused. What the hell do i do now? What i do with my life? Who do i show? I imagine a lot of 25 year old’s feel this way right? For some of us this is how its supposed to go. The age old question…Now what do i do?

I wish i could answer it for everyone, primarily myself. Who knows what to do. Live i guess? One time when i was a junior in high school i began writing a book called “Rhode Trip.” This book featured characters from my high school history class, the same class i wrote the very book in. I cant tell you one thing i learned in that class but i can tell you about the book i wrote in there. It was about me and a group of friends on an adventure to Rhode Island, in search of a friends stolen car. Every day i looked forward to the class as i pulled out my 100 plus page notebook to add on to what was going on next in the story. The friends and students who had been noted in my book grew eager to know their roll and constantly asked me what was happening during the journey of Rhode Trip. One day i got caught writing the story during a test by my teacher Mr. Smith. Smith asked why i wasn’t filling out my test answers. I told him i was jotting down notes which was a lie. After class he pulled me aside and told me he thought it was great i was writing stories and using my imagination but to stop doing it on his time. So i did and unfortunately i stopped on my own time as well. I never picked the story up again and what a great story it was. Looking back i dont know why i stopped. I just did. Later I stopped college on my own time which i now regret and i don’t really know why i didn’t stick through that either. I’ve stopped a lot of projects since then and the only reason why is somewhat just a head scratch. I start and i stop. From the upbeat point of view I’ve stopped these things to learn to live life both through devastating heartache and fruitful enterprise to become a better person. To the weak point of view I’ve failed to live up to much and am floating on unsuccessfully. Most days i have a little bit of each point of view on my plate to eat.

Fast forward to now and I’m standing in a field attempting one thing and avoiding another. Capturing lightning through my camera and getting struck by lightning. Those were the two factors of my current situation. When there was lightning in the clouds, sifting itself through the air and eventually finding a spot to shoot its way down to earth i was not going to leave. No way. Its adventurous and rewarding when you get that bolt. I’ve loved it and always have. And for most people they would think you can make a buck off it. Perhaps someday i will? For whatever reason its like pulling teeth to sell my pictures though. I know people love them and will buy them but i hate going through the process. I love sharing my images. I show people my website and i print out shots for people to see. Unless someone shells out cash and hands it to me its hard for me to sell anything. Thats when i come to a point where i question myself. Am i stopping myself from selling these like i stopped myself from writing Rhode Trip? Or do i just love photography so much going through the process of selling my work is something that makes it feel like work, something i dont want get in the way of my passion for it. Am i really a starving artist who doesnt even sell his work? Maybe photography is just my best friend. Something i don’t need money from, just something i love.

My dream is to be a journalist. To write and to photograph just like i am doing now. Except id like to actually get paid for journalism. In order to do so i have to make sure i won’t stop. I don’t want to start something I might love and hate at the same time, i also don’t want to stop it either like i have been. life is a start stop kinda thing for me. I need a few finishes in there as well. I know i am not the only one in this situation but i cant lean on that as an excuse as to why i haven’t gotten my life going. Sometimes some people treat their lives like a card game. They wait for a better hand because they’ve been dealt so poorly. Some took big chances and have won big others have lost big. Without a pile of chips in front of me to be the judge i still cant tell whether I’m ahead or not. One things certain. Im healthy, I’m young and I’m ready to chase my dream. It just depends on when i start.