Dream… recklessly?

14 Jul 2010 Leave a Comment

by Natalie Rose in Current and Personal Events, Photographs

There has to be some manner of higher power out there– I know this because I bike.

When I was in 6th grade, my friend/neighbor Dru and I were biking to school one day– this day was only different from other days because we were running late. My school district was fairly small, so the middle school and the high school actually shared a parking lot. We were riding through said parking lot when I heard the bell ring, and being only concerned with my tardiness, sped up. Three high school girls were casually driving along, and with my view obstructed by a row of cars, I rode right in front of them.

I remember feeling frozen, straining for my fingers to reach for the brakes. I remember not being able to move, but I must’ve hit the brakes because I came to stop just as the high school girls slammed on their brakes. I remember gazing into their frightened faces, feeling guilty, and then looking down to see my leg nestled between my bike and their front bumper. My pants were covered in grease from the bike chain, but I was unharmed. This is what mercy feels like.

More than a decade later, I still find myself getting out of some close calls on my bicycle. It’s not usually because I’m late and there’s a blind spot in the parking lot, though. It’s usually because my head is in the clouds. “Oh… I hope that light I just went through was green…” It’s a terrible combination, I know, and I don’t have the same problem when I’m driving a car (I’m acutely aware of when I’m wielding a two ton death machine). But, chances are, on a bike, the only one I’m going to hurt is myself… and I’m reckless.

So I believe there must be some power higher than myself with far too much forgiveness for my reckless behavior– but only because I don’t believe in luck. (That’s what happens when you’re born on Friday the 13th. My mother used to be superstitious, and then I came along.) That, and, if there isn’t a power in the Universe that is wiser than me, we’re all fucked.

Is there such a thing as dreaming too much? I don’t sleep as much as I should and my night visions are consistently unpleasant, to say the least. So in my waking hours, I let my imagination off the leash– sometimes to my detriment. But if you don’t dream big, you’ll never reach for something big.

It’s always the same cliff. Whether I’m falling, jumping, letting go, getting pulled up, or being pushed, it’s always the same cliff and the same blue-green ocean below. And now I see myself, chasing my heart after pitching it into the wild blue yonder, suddenly terrified of what will happen to it if I don’t keep it close. Suddenly terrified to go on faith alone. I have to remember that there is no reward without risk. And if it ends up hurting, at least I’m still feeling. (As Ingrid Michaelson says, “Happy is the Heart that still feels Pain.”)

My life feels so full right now, and I know it’s just a matter of time before the dam bursts. I get suspicious when too many good things happen at once. It’s unusual, and overwhelming, and when overwhelmed I become extremely forgetful and distractable. Exactly what an avid daydreamer needs, eh?

Then there’s the fact that my job is so tedious I listen to music practically all day. Headphones might as well be a gateway drug for the daydreamer. Sometimes I genuinely worry that I’ll burrow so deep into my own mind that I won’t be able to find my way out.

There’s a t-shirt I bought in 6th grade that I still have. It was one of those rare occasions where I was given the opportunity to buy my own clothes, and I choose this blue t-shirt with a large smiley face on it and three fuzzy (in focus, not texture) little ones underneath it. It has the words, “Stay Focused” on it. Ah, delicious irony. I got it right after I chopped off all my hair and wore it everyday I could with baggy jeans and a baseball cap. I guess I’m still that same little tomboy, in some ways.

I need to remember to Stop Down. (I got this tattoo for a reason, didn’t I?)

Fall 2007: Senior in college, in my first photography class. I took color before black and white due to circumstance. It’s our second assignment, and I’m working on portrait I took of B standing by the pond at dawn. The odor of developer is still making me ill, but eventually it will become synonymous with bliss. The dark is calm and cool, albeit the slightest bit unsettling. I’ve done my test prints, determined the appropriate exposure time, and loaded my paper into the easel. I forget to stop down the aperture. An act that takes, literally, a fraction of a second. All I need to do is gently turn the lens on the enlarger two stops, but I forget, as I will continue to do for weeks to follow. A mistake that is guaranteed to ruin my print every time– with this sole exception. Instead of a ruined print, I get this:

(For reference, this is what it was supposed to look like.) I’m lucky– except I don’t believe in luck.

I learn the value of mistakes in photography and the necessity of stopping down. Eventually, I get the words “Stop Down” tattooed on my left wrist, over some regrettable scars, to remind me to stop down (and breathe) in every day life, lest I overexpose myself.

So what is this blog about anyway? Reality or Fantasy? I talk a lot about current events and politics, ranting about policy and hypocrisy. But I want it to be about dreaming of something better, about brighter visions and solutions. I dream of an American where we argue about policy, rather than meaningless labels and macho posturing. I dream of a day when representatives will care more about their constituents than their pocketbooks. I dream of the destruction of the electoral college, and the championing of the popular vote. I dream of universal health care, amnesty for immigrants, an employment non-discrimination act that protects transpeople, a gender spectrum rather than a binary– I dream of changing the world.

But when was the last time anything I imagined came to fruition? “You know we’d never do this in real life?” “That’s why we’re doing it in a fantasy.” Sometimes it seems as though the act of imaging it simultaneously wills the possibility out of existence.

That’s not to say that the alternatives can’t be wonderful, too. After all, my life is the furthest from anything I ever imagined for it, but I’m happy. I did manage to get out of the nest– now I live in a house full of lesbians and our cats. My current job pays minimum wage with no benefits, but I’m surrounded by photography all day. My best friend might be leaving the state in 12 days, but I know he genuinely cares about me– and it turns out he isn’t the only one. I’m in a mound of debt, but it’s all student loans and I do have a Bachelor’s to show for it, not to mention “the Bennington Experience” (which is an experience, let me tell you).

And when it comes to life, out-of-your-control, messy, mutable life, “all you’re really guaranteed is the experience.” And really, what more could I ask for?

Songs for Today:

“Over my Head” by The Fray