forever

thoughts,
buzzing,
always,
in her mind.
she had to write them down,
to capture them before they flew away,
lost with the others

moments in time,
she would see them,
notice them,
want to hold on to them-
to the moment,
to the memory--
forever

so she began to write and take pictures. she finally discovered a way to tangibly mold the many feelings and emotions stirring in her fifteen year old mind. she became fascinated with her aunt's words and images, and she soon created a blog of her own. little did she know that "eye to eye" would become a part of her, a part she would always cherish. the walls of her small southern town were torn down as she made friends across the country and across the world through her blog. the world of blogging introduced a sense of self-worth and confidence in her, and it carried her through her high school years. she is now forever grateful.

Words cannot describe the emotion filling me as I write my closing post for "Eye to Eye." I am forever indebted to the wonderfully talented people I have met and learned from through this blog. The constant support, comments, encouragement that many of you have given me from the beginning have been invaluable throughout my growing up process. I smile every time I think of my first posts and how much my writing and photography styles have evolved since-- and I have every one of you to thank for it. I largely regret not having been present in this space for so long. Who knew senior year could be so time consuming? Despite my absence here, I have thought of my fellow bloggers constantly, and I still read your blogs regularly. I could never express my awe of the talent of all you bloggers— your endless creativity has been my example all these years. I will carry the acceptance, warmth and true friendship that you all have shown me throughout the rest of my life. Thank you forever for taking in the shy and small-town girl you knew as "suzyQ" and being so influential in her development as a young adult. Because you all believed in me, I am who I am today.

I am closing this place so dear to me because it has finally completed its purpose of fostering my high school years. As I am upon graduation and then entering college in the fall, I feel it's time to say good-bye to "Eye to Eye." I will be back in the blogging world one day-- I promise. I could never leave this special atmosphere forever. In the meantime, please check for my occasional posts on Shutter Sisters!

I have cherished this experience so greatly, and you all will always have a warm and fuzzy place in my heart. I love all of you, and I thank you forever and ever and ever.

xo
Suzanna

The Rush

She’s there,
On the tip of a steep cliff,
Playfully dangling her toes off the edge.
She could take five comfortable steps back,
And be safe again-
But she’s tired of safe.

For she craves the fall.
She craves the wind rushing around her,
Filling her lungs
and bringing goose bumps to her arms.
Although she loves the soft landing behind her,
It is the thrill she seeks,
Knowing that as soon as the cliff beneath her crumbles,
Her life begins.

Her life-
Her own.
The cliff of her childhood will soon be gone,
And she sits,
Looking over the edge,
Seeing the rush of the fall-
The rush of her life,
And she is tempted to jump,
To leap into the possibilities almost in reach of her dangling toes.
Who will I meet?
Where will I be?
What will I become?
The constant itch of these questions lies in her bones,
For she knows she must wait for answers.
Wait.
Wait.

And soon-
She remembers her soft landing,
It is not quite finished yet.
She goes back to basking in her final moments in the comfort,
In the familiar…

But her strive for the wind,
for the fall,
for the rush,
is always in the back of her mind.
She’s ready for her new life to begin.

**cross-posted at Shutter Sisters

cling

to family, she clings.

family held her together-

through harsh eyes,

judging voices,

and distant friends-

it was always constant,

stable.

without family, she thought,

i will shatter.

one day, though,

it stumbled-

was no longer sturdy.

and yet,

still she stood.

she was stronger than she thought.

growing old

he's engaged in normal conversation,
like every visit they share.
they've come regularly since days of bare feet and braids,
since days of excited footsteps pattering on tile.
now they sit,
texting on their phones as he talks to the tops of their heads.
they nod and say the right things,
always leaving him with an emptiness-
he sees his age in their eyes.
they go through the ritual of playing their latest piano pieces,
his most cherished part of their visits...
for as soon as he hears the nocturne on the out-of-tune keys,

he's a dashing young man clad in a starched uniform,
with gleaming war medals clinking as he walks.
the room is filled with respectful eyes
watching him sip a cocktail while conducting business in murmured words.

then, the front doors open,
and she steps in.
heads turn, and he puts down his drink to take in her presence.
her eyes sparkle as she locks a gaze with him.
she crosses the room,
places her warm hand over his,
and smiles.

with her beside him,
his youth could never be taken away...

the nocturne ends.
the children resume their mechanical conversations
until his granddaughter, their mother, picks them up.
as soon as she arrives,
they softly kiss his cheek and rush out the door.
she walks across the room,
sits next to him,
places her warm hand over his,
and smiles.
she has her grandmother's eyes,
he thinks as they sparkle back at him.
and for now,

he feels young again

***
cross-posted at Shutter Sisters

limbo

she sits

with her toes in the sand,
sea water rushing over the tops of her feet,
and sunshine warming her skin...

and yet her mind is elsewhere.
on one shoulder sits Past,
on the other, Future.
her mind travels between the two,
trying and failing to find common ground.
Past lovingly twirls her hair and brushes her cheek
while reminding her of warm memories long forgotten.
Future giggles in her ear with the excitement of what is to come...

and she can't choose.
she looks back at the girl she was with freckles and an uneven bob,
then forward at college applications sitting on her desk at home;
and she doesn't know where to go-
how to move on to resumes and scholarships
when the little girl with dolls in tow is grabbing her hand and pulling her back.

and then a seagull flies by,
and she is in reality once more.
Past and Future have gone,
and for the moment,
she focuses back on the present,
forgetting the visitors on her shoulder...

until their absence is no more,
and they return to their constant home in her mind.

a part of

when in france,
she was a stranger,
an outsider.
she didn't belong there
with these people who were all a part of a heritage,
a background.
she was a smudge on the beautiful culture,
not contributing anything-
a tourist,
a foreigner...

she was eating in a quiet cafe,
wishing she could become one with these people
who so interested her.
these people with loose hair and an unmatched zest for life.
she desperately wanted to mesh with them,
to blend with them,
to fit in seamlessly,
but she failed.

it was then that she glanced over in a dark corner of the cafe
and noticed a lonely piano...
her tour guide urged her,
to go.
to play.

and after much head shaking and hustled refusals,
she made her way
with blushed cheeks and shaky knees
to the dark corner.
and as she set down,
she felt the music bleed out of her soul,
the most beautiful music she had ever created.
she poured her love of the country,
her desire to be of the people,
and her yearning to possess the energy around her,
into every chord.

and as she looked around,
they noticed her...
these people who inspired her,
these people whom she wanted so badly to connect with.
and for the first time since her arrival,

she was one of them,
a part of their beautiful culture,

she was finally at home.

summer supper table

(part of my Unfocused photo series)

clinging forks
constant chirps of sleepy crickets
dim candlelight outlining faces of loved ones
feet casually propped on porch chairs,
draped in beach towels airing dry
fresh vegetables on each plate
low,
soft,
and kind conversation
drifting through the air
t-shirts, shorts, and bare feet are worn by all

summer is its best at the supper table

light

the church she had attended her entire life
with her parents and grandparents
who had also been going their whole lives
was a beautiful church-
stained glass full of piercing color
against soft white brick
welcomed any weary visitor.
she would sit in church on sundays,
her view from the choir loft before her,
and she would take in the light filling the room.
the light radiating from warm smiles looking up from the pews,
the light surrounding the melodic mixture of loving voices,
and the light pouring in from the stained glass that took her breath away.
her church was a church of the purest light...

and then one day,
tragedy struck the shining church-
waves of red, orange, and yellow fitfully attacked the soft white brick
and destroyed the precious sanctuary...
she stood outside and watched
as the brave men in heavy suits fought the relentless waves,
as the smoke became suffocating to all those around.
she saw the lines of sadness draw tight across her grandfather's face
as he watched his lifelong home burn.

she couldn't understand why her church of light was falling,
why the purity of her church was being smoldered by ash.
she was angry, hurt, and confused...

but then,
as she looked closer,
she realized the light was still there-
could never go away.

because as she looked past the wailing trucks,
the relentless waves of orange,
and the lingering smog,
the stained glass windows were still there,
still pouring out the most beautiful light from the piercing colors,
untouched by the hateful waves.
and her hopelessness disappeared...

because she knew that this church full of light would never stop shining,
and that they all would rise from the ashes still gleaming-



and they did.









*Go here to see my documented experience of my church fire

it endures

in young age,
he would lead,
she would follow close behind.
she would lean against his firm shoulder,
feeling secure underneath his sure stature.
he would take care of all duties non-domestic;
she would flawlessly cover the domestic ones.
he would strongly make the major decisions for the family,
always backed by her encouraging words,
and filled with plenty of her input, of course.
he was the leader of dinner conversations,
adding in witty and charming comments and making her laugh adoringly.
he took care of her-
she was safe in his arms.

in older age,
she leads,
holding out her hand for him to follow behind.
she masterfully handles all household duties
and makes all decisions-
without a complaint.
she leads all dinner discussions,
carefully repeating important comments to his silent ear.
she takes care of him-
he is safe in her arms...

and although she is now his caretaker,
she still leans against his sure shoulder;
he still grabs her hand with love.
he still makes charming comments,
and she still laughs adoringly.
a proud love still shines in her eyes...

because she'll always be safe in his arms.

unfocused

taking pictures,
she's frustrated.
she sees the moment,
knows what she wants to capture,
but never turning it out quite right...

the lighting is rough,
the focus is all wrong.
all she wants is to portray life-
the life she loves.
the life that is hers.

she soon begins to realize
that these failed pictures,
these pictures that could never amount to anything-
are real.
the blur of the lens

is everything she has been searching for.

I'm starting a project, "Unfocused: A Photo Series," because the unfocused, minimal quality, imperfect and outcast pictures are... who I am.

This is real. This is me. Won't you come along?

*Click the Unfocused tab in the left column for my growing collection

life

as she walked down the streets,
she breathed,
taking in all the smells around her...
the smells of dying cigarettes,
fresh bread,
sweets and perfumes.

she opened her eyes,
seeing the slow,
wonderful pace of the people around her,
the simple enjoyment of everyday life,
the humble, hard-working spirit ingrained into the society.

she perked her ears,
and heard the sounds of children laughing,
of melodic sentences in French tongue,
and of musical smatterings mixing together from musicians housed on different street corners.

and as she lingered slowly,
she felt an urge.
an urge to stay...
to appreciate life,
to grab hold of the rich culture,
to open herself up to the sincere happiness of these people.


and she began to live...

France brought her to life.

she stares

as arms constantly reach across her,
scheduling this and scheduling that,
she stares.

she stares at the blur of a life passing her by.
at piano lessons, tennis practices, and dance recitals.
at essays, tests, and meetings.
she stares.

as if she is sitting in the passenger seat,
gazing out the window
and growing yet another day older,
she stares.

but then something happens...
glimmers of light begin to pierce the black and white.
her purpose and blooming future become clear once more.
the arms reaching across her now pull her into an embrace,
and warmth and love fill her soul once more.

and then she stares no longer...

for she sees.

her dress

she wore this dress in college.
it's still his favorite dress...

her thin, sunned legs dance across the floor.
she smiles and freckles glisten across her face.
her manicured nails wave as she socializes across the room.
her grace, class, and poise are undeniable.
her fox trot is flawless.
all eyes follow her laugh,
her perfect laugh.
the chandelier lights dance across her shining dress.

she makes her way toward the dark end of the room.
he, her stern grandfather, sits alone.
the light follows her kind walk.

and with a sparkle in her eyes, she asks him to dance.
he sets down his cane,
takes one last sip of his lonesome cocktail,
and joins her.
and then all eyes are on the lucky man.

because as she leads him in a flawless fox trot,

he smiles.
and with her shine,

he is glowing.

the lonely

independent, she is.
the quietness of being alone draws her in.
the stillness, it comforts her,
beckoning her to come...
to push others away.

but the stillness becomes painful,
deafening.
with tears streaming down her face,
she realizes this world she has created is...
lonely.
the lonely consumes her,
sending chills down her spine.
the lonely rings in her ears like a siren.

the lonely is calling her no more.

Those girls on the roof

(Caroline, Elizabeth, Taylar)

Here's a post about those girls on the roof from my Shuttersisters post...



Elizabeth is the filler of awkward moments. the lover of all things preppy. my hallmark movie companion. the funny video maker. the sharer of my love for cooking... and eating, most importantly. my trampoline jumping buddy. the cutest cheerleader on the squad. my school night sleepover accomplice. the feeder of gossip on our neighborhood walks. my competitor in bubble gum chewing contests during drama class. the master of making weird (always loud) noises in the cafeteria during lunch. my fellow domestic of the group. the sixth member of our family. the "sheltered" one. my best friend since ninth grade who knows every single thing about me.the one we are all going to miss so much when she graduates in a few months...

Caroline is the instigator of all snide comments. the provider of constant laughing when we're all together. the dangerous driver. the best advice giver i know. the dave matthews band junkie. the paranoid beauty queen. the philosopher. my friend since birth... literally (i'll always be one week older than you, though...) my fellow lover of photography. the girl with the sarcastic but incredibly loving personality all in one. my summer camp buddy all through grade school (she hated every minute of camp life). my fellow indulger of good food. the one who shares my dreams of traveling the world... together. the stealer of the sheets in the middle of the night (she usually ends up with a bed to herself). my soul sister since first grade. the sharer of all my elementary memories. my sweet caroline...

Taylar is my opponent in our "battles of the wits." she is the one who really gets me. the eccentric, gorgeous girl of our group. the girl who can create hilarious comments on command. she is my fellow anticipator of the future. the girl who always knows exactly what is on my mind.. and vice versa. the one who can make me laugh in the pit of my stomach for hours. the holder of millions of inside jokes since middle school. my slightly liberal/slightly conservative political equal. the creator of deep discussions that can last forever. the funky, cool girl. the A+ girl who makes the rest of us slightly jealous. the "go with the flow" one. the girl who shares in my obsession with food (okay, we are all in love with eating). the one who laughs at my (mostly) lame jokes. the one who holds the record for partaking in the most "heart to heart" conversations. the music connoisseur...

these are my three best friends. and all together, we have a bond that will stretch longer than high school as we go our separate ways...

a bond that will last our whole lives.

excitement

Hey everyone! I know I have been MIA around here lately, but I think I just went into hibernation after all this snowy winter mess without even realizing it... I have been a little busy in my absence, however.

Go here to find out why. I'm so blessed to be given this opportunity (thanks to my fabulous aunt) .
I love all of you, and thank goodness I'm back.

xoxo

Family Table

Remember my Family Table posts? Well here is one dedicated to my sweet grandmother.

she's the bedtime enforcer. the piano teacher. the Bible verse reciter. the storyteller to multiple grandchildren snuggled in her bed. the nap lover. on any given winter night, you can find her snoozing in her fireside rocking chair next to my grandfather who will most likely be watching the news or a basketball game. the best pimento cheese maker. the spoiler of my grandfather. she's a self proclaimed cheerleader for all of her grandchildren and children, but most of all, her husband. the compulsive picker-upper of all things out of order. the die-hard recycler and re user. the woman who can still be freezing cold sitting next to a furnace. the nightly Mentholatum applier under her nose and on her lips. the hater of dry skin, especially when it comes to her piano playing hands. Sara Lee Coffee Cake's most loyal customer. the fashionista. the hummer of old southern hymns. the owner of a bedroom slipper filled closet... many worn by her granddaughters when she "can't stand to look at those bare, cold feet anymore." the caller of "lamb chop" to all those she loves. the leaver of red lipstick stains on her cocktail glasses full of grapefruit juice. the baby lover. she's the harmonizer of every song ever sung... even "Happy Birthday." the preparer of her world famous breakfast casserole, always present on Christmas morning. the adorer of smocked dresses and big bows for all her youngest granddaughters. the biggest reason Christmas is always so special in our family. the cancer survivor, carrying on each day with inspiring strength.

my grandmother is... my hero.

bright eyes

these bright eyes belong to a special girl...

a girl who dances around on her tip toes,
who speaks so excitedly that her words come out in a completely happy jumble.
the daddy's girl,
whose sweet cheeks remain in an almost constant smile,
the one who calls me "Fuzanna," (instead of Suzanna), melting my heart every time.
the dog lover and cat chaser,
whose head tilts to the side as she tells stories with an always animated tone.
the baby of my mom's side of the family with one of the biggest hearts.
the happiest little girl i know...

the single most person i want to be when i grow up.

Livvy

I had to write a short story for my Creative Writing class a few weeks ago. We were to write a character study... a descriptive story of a fictional character who changes because of the plot (can't you tell this is a great class?)

Here is Livvy. I hope you enjoy the story of a girl that has lived in my mind and heart for years.

Livvy was fourteen that spring. She had golden brown hair that hung in shoulder-length braids down her tanned arms. Freckles were sprinkled across her nose, and a dimple was asymmetrically placed on her left cheek. She loved to walk along the crackled road at Nunnally Farms, her home, and greet her cows every day. She had followed her grandfather out to the pasture almost every morning since she could walk, helping him with the daily cattle duties. Annie, the oldest cow, was her absolute favorite, and Annie sure loved Livvy as well. Livvy would always run her fingers up and down Annie’s silky back and whisper secrets into her ears. Livvy was the happiest when she was sitting near her cows, her baseball cap donned, her bare feet hardened by the gravel, and a casual breeze gently swaying her braids in the air. Livvy detested the daily piano lessons upon which her grandmother insisted. Her grandmother was the most beautiful piano player in the world as far as Livvy was concerned, but she just didn’t seem to share the same talent. The dirt between her fingernails and the hair in her eyes were always scolded by her grandmother as each lesson progressed, and Livvy could never keep her interest going the whole time. Livvy’s favorite way to spend a spring or summer night was snuggled in between her grandparents in the big bed. Her grandfather’s loud snores always made her smile, and her grandmother’s arms around her made her feel like the luckiest girl in the world. Livvy loved to ride in the passenger seat of the old pick-up truck as her grandfather drove around the farm. She knew she would never forget the smell of her home, especially when she would lean her head out the window and inhale every memory it held for her. Livvy was an innocent girl who grew up slowly, surrounded by the love of her family and the love of the farm. Unlike most of her peers, Livvy was going to be a child as long as the world would allow…

Until that summer when everything changed… the summer when Livvy’s mother came back into her life.

Livvy’s mother, Stella, left her with her grandparents when she was a newborn. Rebellious Stella was in her early twenties at the time and had gotten pregnant from one of her many one night stands. Knowing that her drug problems and unemployment would never be enough for motherhood, she left Livvy with her parents and never came back to Nunnally Farms. Her disappearance left her parents with an empty hole in their lives, a hole that had begun to form as soon as Stella started to turn away from their conservative beliefs when she was in high school. Livvy was their saving grace, though. The happiness brought from the smile in her bright blue eyes overshadowed much of the despair in their lives.

The last time anyone had ever heard from Stella was five years ago, when she begged her parents to wire her some money, which they did in hopes of renewing contact with her. However, after that, she never called again.

~~~

It was a beautiful summer day when Stella drove up to the farm in her old blue convertible. Livvy was feeding Annie in her favorite spot and enjoying the smooth breeze that was in the air. Her grandparents had gone to a neighbor’s house, so she figured she would get some chores done while they were absent. She was contemplating an afternoon swim in the lake when she heard the screeching noise of a run-down motor coming up the driveway. All she could see of the person driving at first was a cigarette hanging out the window, but then she saw the familiar face. The face she had only seen in pictures, but the face that had been etched into her heart for as long as she could remember. She ran to her mother with forgiveness pouring out of her soul. Their embrace seemed to last forever, and tears shone in both of their eyes…

Livvy soon learned that her mother was dying. Cancer had spread throughout her body, and she had only months to live. Upon learning of her condition, Stella knew she could only do one thing with the rest of her days- she had to be the mother she never was. And that is exactly what she did for the last two months of her life.

Before meeting her mother, Livvy was a quiet girl who had lived a sheltered life on her beloved farm. Stella, however, introduced Livvy to the world around her. She taught her how to dream of the future and be excited about the changes taking place around her. She took her shopping and on day trips to the city. She told Livvy stories about love and about the horrible mistakes she had made in her life. The most important lesson Stella taught Livvy, though, was the lesson of pure grace. The grace that welcomed Stella back to the farm as though she had never left. The grace that gave them both a relationship together they had never even imagined. And the grace that presented them each with a new enthusiasm for life.

Livvy aged a few years watching her mother die that summer. This was the first time she realized life was not fair, and that people were always walking in and out of it. She had never grieved so much as she did for her mother, and she had to learn how to rise from tragedy, something many people don’t grasp all their lives. Livvy also experienced thankfulness for her grandparents and for the time she spent with Stella. Her mother’s death helped her to appreciate the wonderful life around her, and allowed her to form exciting aspirations outside her simple life on the farm.

Her mother helped her become the person she was meant to be.

I'm Thankful Day 3

Yes, I know Thanksgiving is over, but I have just barely skimmed the top layer of my overflowing gratitude lately. I hope each of your Thanksgivings was as wonderful as mine. And today, as I enter back into the real world, I can't get enough of this scene below me.

Thanksgiving at the farm...

the mixture of scents from the numerous family members entering into the house. the smiles on faces as long lost relatives are seen once again. the smell of Uncle Billy's pride and joy (his smoked turkey) traveling through the air. canned cranberry sauce atop crystal dishware. my grandmother's meticulously decorated dinner table. little munchkins running around, so happy to see their "bestest cousins." watching the hustle and bustle around the house in the bright blue eyes of my captivated two year old cousin. the men arriving in camouflage, just finishing up a successful dove hunt. the smoky smell of fire drifting from the roaring fireplace. rivalry football games exploding from the t.v. in the living room. gathering hands around the big table while my grandfather blesses the food... adding in a few jokes at the end, of course. oversized portions of casseroles filling each plate. still sitting at the kiddie table as I become the designated cheek wiper for the little ones. many slowly leave the table while the dinner is wrapping up, but i always stay and listen to casual chatter between the remaining adults. much too full bellies sitting around crinkled napkins and cleaned plates. complete happiness and peace grinning across my face from ear to ear.

i love my family. and for them, i am the most thankful.

I'm Thankful Day 2

Today I am thankful for these sleepy eyes that see right into my heart. I am thankful for this scruffy chin that rests on my knee when attention is sought. I am thankful for these velvety ears that never complain about the uncountable number of soap operas they have had to hear. I am thankful for this golden tail that doesn't seem to mind when accidentally stepped upon by the busy people in this house.

I am so thankful for this good 'ole boy. He's a special one, that's for sure.

I'm Thankful Day 1

As Thanksgiving is nearing, I am getting my mind into thankful mode around here. I'm going to be posting little regular posts about what makes me overflow with thankfulness for the next couple of weeks...



Today I am thankful for this little buddy and the way his cool facade disappears as he tucks himself in my parents' bed each night...







Even though he refuses to pick up the bath mat when he gets out of the shower, even though I am the one who has to gather up his strewn belongings across the house and bring them back to his room, even though he blares his cool music way too loud when I am trying to study...

I am so thankful. His crooked smile and tendency to nestle his head on my shoulder while we watch t.v. seems to do the trick.

I love you baby boy.

Family Time

(the last time we were all together... 4th of July fireworks)

the sound of voices heard all around
the clinging of silverware across the table
listening to the memories of a time long ago
raving over the delicately prepared meal
sitting back when every ounce of food is gone, tummies full
staying at the table long after each plate is cleaned, just to enjoy the casual conversation
gathering up the sleepy-eyed children and taking them to their final destinations of the night
falling asleep with a genuine smile etched on my face and grandparents on either side...

I am missing family time at the farm right about now. Thank goodness that in a couple of weeks, we will be packing our minivan and heading up there. Sorry I have been gone for so long... I am sure you all remember the lovely stresses of high school :)

Thanksgiving, can you please hurry up?

A corny pun and self analyses

This fall I am turning over a new leaf (ha ha)...

I am realizing more and more that my life has begun to diminish to little more than my AP class, schoolwork, and busy schedules. I have barely gotten to enjoy the beauty of my favorite season so far, and that fact is what saddens me the most.

So what have I done to fix this little issue?
Well after promptly completing all my school stuff, I donned my scarf and boots and stepped outside. I crunched atop the newly fallen leaves with the deepest satisfaction I have had in weeks. Stress completely flew out the window and peace... peace set right in. I am going to set aside time to do this as often as possible. To just sit and absorb the crisp air, neighborhood noises, and take advantage of the most easily accessible beauty right here at home.

Sometimes, all I need is a little nature. Isn't it funny how all we have to do is step right outside sometimes to find all the focus we have been looking for?

May you get to step outside just once this week... and turn over a new leaf this beautiful season.

and a totally unrelated picture that makes me smile every time...

Picture Summer

I know fall has just begun, but with my absence, my Picture Summer (with Tracey Clark) photos never made it up here.

I hope this helps you remember the beautiful summer past, and look forward to the fall ahead.
Have a great week.

-suzyQ

my girls.

(taken with my tripod and self-timer)

we are best friends.
slumber buddies.
late night cookie dough eaters.
self proclaimed stand-up comedians.
closet sharers.
advice givers.
middle of the night cover stealers.

we... are sisters.

(August Break #4)

she's there

she's always there
taking a break from the piano and grandmotherly duties
to grab a chair
and be there for him-
his cheerleader,
every day
always
she's there

(August Break #3... to learn more about my lovely grandmother, stay tuned for another Family Table post soon)

Summer under the water

Here's a part of summer that I can't get enough of.
(August Break #2)

August Break

I am starting my August Break today (see left column for info...)

I probably won't be consistent with it because I want to continue with my Family Table Series, but it will be a nice project to fall back on. My summer is winding down, and I am just trying to enjoy every minute of it. Hope yours is wonderful as well!

those people at the table (#1)

at the head sits my grandfather, the farmer. the chocolate milkshake maker. the spoiler. the one whose snores make you smile in the middle of the night while snug between him and my grandmother. the one with the dirty jeans. the one with the worn-out, big, comfy chair in the living room. the one who makes the big batch of peaches 'n milk that's out on the counter every summer morning before he leaves for his early morning cattle duties. the one who can tell a joke over and over, and it gets funnier every time. the elvis presley junkie. the truck driver. the TV King (I am known as the TV Queen). the one who says "how's my firstborn?" every time he sees me. the sweet tea addict. the die-hard Republican. the basketball/tennis coach. the one who has taught most of his grandchildren how to properly dive into the swimming pool- no matter how long it took (he once stood by the side of our neighborhood pool with me for hours until my dive put Michael Phelps to shame.) the one who runs the entire beach every day when we take our family vacation...(yes this is my grandfather we are talking about). my encourager. the one with the most comfortable lap in the world. the old-fashioned Southern boy. the lover of my sweet grandmother. the one who has always caught me since toddler years with strong arms as I run and jump in his arms, and still does.

This is my Big Daddy. Not only is he the head of the table, he is the head of our family.


(for the next few posts, I will be telling you about each of these amazing people at the table- my family. I hope you begin to love 'em as much as I do.)

In the quiet shadows...

she listens...
to the tune of her loved ones, hearing the music she adores.
the music of their voices harmonized together, the familiar warmth of their bodies close by.
she listens...
to the very happiness that defines her.

she listens.

The latest

Lately, I kinda have been substituting my big 'ole Canon for my little bitty camera phone. It is so easy to grab and instantly snap the moment before me... and since the quality of picture is much less, it forces me to really capture the essence of the life surrounding me. Sure, my cellphone pictures aren't the prettiest pictures in the world, but they are close to my heart. They really illustrate what is going on around me- the real stuff, no fancy equipment to beautify it.

No, I am definitely not putting up my SLR for good... it is just fun to play around with something new. I actually am shooting every day now- I was always "too busy" to do so before.

Go here here and here for more cellphone picture love. (you can also go to my link in the left panel)

These are my favorites so far:

One

Hello my dear readers! Today, June 27th, marks the one year anniversary of my blog. Can you believe it? Thank you all for your constant love, support, and sweet words. This transitional phase in my life from childhood to adulthood has been much easier for me- being able to express my thoughts in this space. Developing this place has definitely been one of the best decisions I have ever made; look at all the blog friends I have made! I thank and love you all.



I am off to celebrate...


P.S. Check out my new "cell phone photography" and twitter account in the left corner. Sooo fun.

-suzyQ

Lightning bug love

Catching lightning bugs with my sweet cousins just before dark... that's what I am loving about my summer.

What are you loving about yours?

Sees

Okay, okay. I am going to be completely honest... Auto-focus is mostly on cruise control for me, and I usually tweak my photos' coloring on my editing program. However easy it may seem, it is all to recreate the "beauty that I find in the ordinary every day".

So when my highly intellectual cousin questioned my beloved art of photography, I told him that exact statement above.
"Photography is the lazy man's art," he said, "anyone can press a button, and then edit it to make it look perfect. I wouldn't say you have to be talented to do that..."

Little did he know, but those words deeply bothered me for quite some time. Am I really an artist? Is photography really an art? How am I special if anybody can make a pretty picture?
It sure took me a long time to answer the thousands of questions in my head, but I finally did it. And here is my answer:

Photography is much more than a pretty picture. It's true- anyone can do that. Photography, however, is the magic found in an exchange of good mornings, the soft sheets woken up to every day, an afternoon drive to soccer practice, a child's playdate, carefully drawn sidewalk chalk murals on the driveway, the touch of a loved one, an overpacked minivan headed to the beach, the irony of an out of place conversation ...

A true photographer is different because

a true photographer sees.

**To answer some questions:
I do almost always shoot on manual modes (mostly Av) , and I sometimes use manual focus, but auto-focus is the most common because when I see something I want to capture, it is the best to use because I don't want the moment to go by.

Forever

She was a sweet girl.
She would walk barefoot in the dirt, then wash her hands as her mama called her in for supper.
She loved to catch lightning bugs, and loved babies.
She and her sister would make Barbie houses out of old video tapes and play for hours.
She called her little brother her baby boy, just as if he were her child.
Her American Dolls slept with her every night, had a reserved seat at the dinner table, and were showered with kisses and baby powder.
She had a five star restaurant in her back yard where she sold countless meals to her siblings through the window of her playhouse.
She would swing in the backyard before dance class, careful not to rip her pink tights.
She loved to read, and Nancy Drew was always on her bedside table.
The Dixie Chicks were her favorite band; following closely behind was Shania Twain.
Hopping on the four-wheeler with her grandaddy and riding around the farm made her feel very special.
She loved to dance, and always wished her hair was long enough to put in a proper "ballet bun."
She could spend hours in the pool, until her little fingers and toes resembled raisins.
She was very sensitive, her feelings were hurt easily.
While watching PG-13 movies with her grandparents and eating butter popcorn and chocolate milkshakes, she felt like a grown-up.
Red was her favorite color.
She loved college football games, even though she would be very upset when the poor referees were "booed" by the crowd.
She was determined to read the whole Bible through in a few weeks, and very disappointed in herself when that deadline was not nearly met.
Being with her family was the best thing in the world.
She loved to sing, and believed she was the next Britney Spears. Her parents were glad when that dream never came true..
She watched every episode of Full House at least twenty times each, and countless freckles resided on her cheeks.
She grew up slow, and would cry when she thought time was moving too fast.


The sweet girl now waits... for that blink-of-an-eye moment when it will all be gone. Her childhood-

forever.

Coming back to life

(my friend Caroline)

I felt it... as soon as I smelled that good ole smell, and felt that fresh air on my cheeks after walking out of the school building... I felt it.

summer is bringing me back to life.

The late nights of cramming for exams the next day, alarm clocks, the numerous empty coffee mugs surrounding me- exam week is over...

and summer is here!

Hallelujah.

Spring has got me going wild...

...I have even stepped up to videos. Wow, I love this time of year.

*Yes, that is me playing the piano... Another one of well-kept secrets from you guys.

Her Hands

(my mother, my sister, and me back in the day)

I remember waking up on lazy sunny mornings and hopping in the cozy bed with her. I would slip under her arm and sit there, holding her hands. The most beautiful hands. I would trace my fingers up and down, memorizing every feature- her wedding rings (I considered them rare jewels), her reddish-pink polish, the freckles sprinkled everywhere, the feel of her slick nails freshly manicured...

I still look at those hands, and they still are the most beautiful hands in the world. And sometimes, I even hop in her cozy bed on a lazy morning, just for old time's sake.

Happy Mother's Day, Mama. I love you.

Bliss

Ohh this spring weather. It is enough to make me quit school all together and camp out in my back yard for the rest of my life. I am in bliss.

Hope your spring is fabulous as well.

Sam

My best friend.
My therapist to listen to all my problems.
My pillow.
My warmth on chilly nights.
My laughter.
The root of an unclean house.
My protector on dark nights when I am home alone.
The addition to our family Christmas cards.
My portrait model that never whines or complains about smiling too much.
My spoiled rotten baby.

Sammy, I love you ole boy. You make Mama proud.