Bobo.

Our fat lab with hip problems and dorito feet. She loved her butt itched and any edible substance (including non-edible ones).
She was born in 1999, and accordingly named Taylor (it was either that or LeoDiCaprio).
She loved food, my dad, other dog orifices, and taking dumps in the ocean.

Love you Bobes.
I would write more about you except I think if you were literate, you would probably be one of few words... Unless those words were HUNGRY, FOOD or DINNER at which, you would be probably be quite colloquial.
Wherever you are, I hope you and Beana are catching up.

Love,
Me

DIM350.

I'm in a new class, and it's made me create.
And that's always good news.

These shots are actually old.
But they're refreshed. Or recycled. Or reused. Or whatever floats your boat.

A New Look.

I changed things around, I got jealous that eveyone's was better.
And, this, was the result.

Someone actually suggested I should name my blog Dogs and Skies a while ago.
Look! I can admit when a good idea's not mine!

But, I do like dogs and skies.

So there that is.

Don't let the new jam completely disorient you. I'm still the hardworking, underachieving participant of art I always was!

love,
tc

Monterey.

Yeah, so posting-wise I have been utterly blowing it.
Clearly.

But here are four (generally mismanaged, as promised) images from my birthday weekend in Monterey.

On the Heels of The Journey Next.

This is how I overexpose Wyoming!



...more over-exposed, ill-cropped and generally mismanaged images to come.

Backed Up.

I have done a poor job of documenting my life this past month.

Or at least, I have done a poor job of documenting my documentation of life, on this blog. (?)

The short version? Nevada doesn't know what a vegetarian is. Utah's flats are flooded in June. Wyoming's clouds will chase you. Nebraska thinks flash floods, are No Big Deal. Iowa will make you want to move there. Illinois harvests traffic, and Indiana harbors friends and fireflies.

Suffice.

Week From Hell.



But here's Linnea talking on the phone, while Alex packs the attic.

More images from that day are to come, but first I have to survive the week.
It's unlikely.

Life Update... Evacuation.

The easy way out.
i.e. heading to the beach, when the mountains are on fire.

Or, maybe, it's just the smart way out.


As my house was in the evacuation zone, I am now, quite content and cool in San Pedro, with one small box of valuables, and two of my favorite people.

Hope the winds die down.

60 hours and 2,345 miles Later...

Did you know 21 year olds can RENT CARS?
I feel like this changes everything.






I TOTALLY made it to Canada. Wooo!

Cigarettes and Oatmeal.

This is Reanna.
She is my friend, and I am hers (despite all the reasons not to be-for we really do find interest in the most different things.)

Taking pictures of her, was harder than taking pictures of a Vampire.
You'd think the lens gave her severe internal pain, for all of her groaning.

I would expect this behavior out of someone like, 100 shades less attractive than she is.

Silly.




Regardless, a contrasty portrait of a friend will have to make due.

My Playlist.

First Breath after Coma.
Death and Transfiguration.
A Poor Man's Memory.
The Birth and Death of the Day.

Clouds and Canines.

I am sure of very little.
Especially during this time of uncertainty, doubt, skepticism and disregard.

However I am sure of two things.

I love taking pictures of Dogs and Skies.

It could have something to do with the fact that dogs and epic stratocumulus cloud formations really make me feel great inside.
It could have something to do with the fact that it takes little to no effort to photograph either of these things well.
It could have something to do with the fact that clouds never try too hard, and dogs never ask to see their image on the screen afterward.

Or, it could have something to do with the fact that I identify with both.

After all, if you ask my roommate what my three wishes would entail, she would very likely answer this (in no particular order):

1.Original score by John Williams including original theme that symbolizes my life (enter cello and piano medley).
2.The ability to defy science by sitting on clouds.
3.The right to one day, in a heaven of clouds that smell faintly of water perfume and home, be able to sit with every dog I have ever loved, pet, played with, cared for and met.

I guess somewhere in between those wishes is world peace, and a solution to world famine.
But say those were, I don't know, taken already.
Then these would DEFINITELY be strongly considered.


And lucky me, Dogs and Skies have filled my life the last two days.

Seven hours, two friends, and one hardrive later...

Okay, so I maybe spent an inappropriate amount of time on this component.
And by inappropriate time, maybe I mean seven and a half hours.
And by seven and a half hours, maybe I mean eight.

It was a pretty straight forward assignment- put images in a flash component that makes the flash file look like a book with turning pages, I mean essentially dragging and dropping.


I still don't have an acceptable excuse as to why it took so long.

Anyways, here's the book in all its glory.

DIM352 continued.

Our current assignment involves shooting the weather.

I find this a great excuse to wear my rainboots.




On a similar note, it only took three years in the still program to learn quicktime!

Jalama (again).

Apparently I am unwilling to explore further than Lompoc.

And while tarps weren't involved (well, technically), time lapses definitely were.

Wacom Tablet.

Guess who finally installed the software for her 21st birthday Gift!



I know what you're thinking, but seriously, give me a break.

A plastic pen and digital paper is not necessarily a medium I am familiar with.




Oh, and this tablet's The Shit.
In case you were wondering.

Life Update #10... DIM352

The class I am currently in involves establishing a blog, and posting different elements of the assignments on that blog.

So, part of this blog project (or blogject, if you will) is posting chosen pages of the Inspiration Journal we are creating in the class:








I find myself looking for more ways to create in this class.
And if you've ever had Chris Orwig, you know what I mean.

Somehow he makes you feel like you are totally capable of taking over the world by means of artistic creation.

I'm into it.

Life Update #9...Pink Pants makes a Visit.

Tarp Trunks.

Crancy Pants.

RANNA!

Pretty like Chealeada.

::::::::::

The below is part of an assignment.
I chose a scale, for no particular reason other than the fact I liked its color, and it looked kind of like an object Pixar might animate.

We were supposed to put the chosen object in various places that it would not normally reside.
Such as:



or:



or:


or:


or even:


Pink Pants accompanied me on this Scaled adventure...and was very cautious about staying out of the shot.


Damnit RANNA!

A Lighter Update.

So, I think art is important.

I think most people think it is important.


Mainly, because it is wonderful, in all forms.


That's why a Secretary of the Arts is so important.

Many civilizations and governments around the world have some sort of ambassador for art and culture... I think it's high time for our government to put down their cowboy boots, and pick up some artistic enlightenment...Indeed.

So please, please, please use the 10 seconds it would take you to pick your nose and sign this online petition for a new Secretary of the Arts.

All You Need is Love.

Or so John Lennon said.


Was he wrong?
Ignorant?
Un-realistic?

I don't think he was, either.


I think he knew about Love.

Not the love made out of pink hearts, and x's and o's.
Not the love capitalized by Valentine's Day.
But Love.
The love you feel for your spouse.
For your parents.
For your friends.
For your sister.
For your partner.

Whatever.
It's love.

If you are lucky, you will find this love.


So why do people feel at liberty to beat down, judge, and forbid the love of others?

I am still reaming about November.

By the success of Prop 8, California lost something huge (yes, we gained something huge also.)


But man, did I lose faith in humans that day.
Man, did I lose faith in men. in women. in whatever god they claimed to worship. in Californians. in Americans.



Yeah, I'm getting political on this blog.
Here it is, all the shit laid neatly on this page, in this link, in this small space.

Here is the sound-off that some will judge, and some will celebrate (I am at liberty to do this, as I am not concerned with the jobs I won't get because I let my opinions meddle with my work.)

This is my life. These are my opinions.

And if I lose even a reader over my feelings toward this, then fuck em.
I won't lose sleep over it.


How can someone, ANYONE claim that the definition of marriage makes homosexual marriages un-constitutional. Huh? How can they? What is this?
Really?

Definitions get changed all the time.
Our Constitution gets amended.

That's the deal.

We are constantly changing our environment to better suit the "rights" of all. Slavery, women's rights, isn't equal rights ACROSS THE BOARD the next step in the great efforts of human kind?


So who are you to deem ANYONE un-worthy of what you have.
Who are you?
You think because God deems it un-worthy?
Is that why?

Because if it is, well...

Well I guess there's nothing I can say to that.

If you hide behind your religion, just to feel better about those different from you,

If you use your religion to justify discrimination,

than there's no getting through to you.


Your hatred, or maybe just your lack of understanding, has already overcome your love.


And even though, I sit here, two months later, disappointed, hurt and offended by the ignorant decisions you've made, based on high-priced mormon propaganda,

even though you must be different from me in every single way,

I would never, never hope for any of YOUR rights to be taken away.
Your right to hope.
Your right to marry.
Your right to love.



This is my sister.
She is not the reason I am so disgusted by Propostion 8.
Though she is one of the reasons.

Her love is real,
and I am sure,
there is someone out there,
who judges her for that.

Life Update #8

I do not understand people who do not like to drive.

Granted, this is very likely going against every sustainable, hippie minded thing I believe in, however- Driving- The act of going from one place to another (that preferably lasts more than an hour) is highly satisfying for me.

No explanation.

Maybe it's the excitement of getting to Point B.
Or leaving Point A.

Maybe it's just the excitement of doing nothing, but still doing something.

I like it for its quiet.
Or for its music.
Or for its Books on Tape.
Or for its clarity.
Or for its hum.

I enjoy it.





Pee. Ess.
Happy Christmas!(Or to be all PC about it... Happy Holidays!) And have a safe, safe, safe New Year!

Life Update #7

It just took me 25 dollars to fill up my Jeep.

wtf?

Life Update #6- Camoflauge.

Fall Turns to Winter (Even in California).

Life Update #5.

New(ish) Additions.



I love them both... though one's breath is distinctly better than the others.

Life Update #4 (Technically).

Lots of driving, good thing California is beautiful.



Oh, and that Politicumpkin? That one on the right? With the neat Obama sign? Yeah, it definitely does say "Vote 9.04.08."

I think the alliteration between Nine and November got to me.
Oops.
You know what I mean.

A Late Update.

Political Chaos + Halloween2008 = Politicumpkins.

Life Update #3.

Mid Californians.
Cold Suns Set.

With cold hands.
Slow heaters.
And cold car seats.


Shoot, it even smelled cold.

Life Update #2.

So I promised to give life updates once in a while when I had decided to slow down this blog about a month ago...

However, instead of life updates, it has mostly turned into Neighbor Kid Updates.

I can't help it.
We hang out with them nearly everyday.

Today was no different as we spent nearly every hour with at least one of the three.

Ojai, Ventura, Santa Barbara.

Man... moving up eight blocks is going to be a lot harder than we thought.






And Edwin had his game in Ojai (which he won by the way), though it seems Alex was still a little frazzled by the time the game ended.





P.S.
I'm heartbroken over Paul Newman. Heart. Broken.

Life Update.

We have three neighbor kids.
They play.
They whine.
And occasionally cry.

They laugh.
They draw.
And usually skateboard.

They secretly like Harry Potter.
Believe mightily in aliens.
And usually have stinky feet.


Tonight, we went to the beach with the intention of light painting, however, because they are boys, no older than 12, who realized that the liquid inside of glow-sticks is TOTALLY AWESOME AND QUITE LIKELY TOXIC AND THEREFOR EVEN MORE AWESOME, the night quickly turned into a who-could-glow-better contest that eventually ended in tears.

We've adopted them as our temporary little brothers, and it will be a shame to have to leave them one day.

Covering All My Bases.

Dear {Universe},
Dear {Energy, God, Brahma, Allah, Buddha, Hercules, Hades and Hera}
Dear {Sky, Heaven and Earth}
Dear {Good Night of Dylan Thomas}
and {Moon in the Meadow, Light of the Tunnel, and Peaceful Sleep}


Take Care of Her.
Love her. Pet her. Kiss her.

Sneak her on the bed. And on the couch.
Throw the ball. And keep throwing the ball.
Until you can't anymore.
Scratch behind her ears.
And her butt.

Let her kiss your face.
But never touch her feet.

Find the one white hair at the end of her tail.
And watch her left ear stand straight.

Listen to her whisper in her sleep.
And bark in her awake.

Keep her away from the rose bushes.

Lay with her on the floor.
Even if it's hairy.

She loves the laser.
Use it every time the sun sets.

And let her chase her reflections.

She'll learn to open your door,
so find a new way to lock it.

She'll eat the Junebugs,
so try and find them first.

She'll chase the squirrels,
so don't let them fall.

She prefers the Kong over the tennis ball.
So try not to lose it.

Her belly is sensitive, so be careful.

She is unsure around strangers,
so always introduce gently.

She will never learn to not pee on the lawn.
So get some tough sod.

She'll always hate the mailman.
So get a tough mailman.

She will give you more love,
than you will ever learn to return.
But try anyway.

Keep her distracted, happy...
And full.



Dear {Insert Belief Here}
She will ask for nothing more from You than love... and well, food.

I'll miss her asking me.
Because there is a hurt where there used to be a warmth.







My Baby.
I love you.
And miss you.
I have a mean, withered soul, my Bean-a Girl.
A cold heart, and a dry eye for all but you.
Tonight, I know tears, and hurt.

I love you.
I'll miss your sneaky butt, and the way you used to stare.

Love,
Me

A Temporary Leave of Absence.

Dear World,

(Photography world, and otherwise) Within one very hectic 10 hour period, I have come to many conclusions.
Without disclosing too much info or sentiment (for we all know I am not one for either) I would like to say, that I have come to a pretty interesting decree -that my images have never, not once, ever, been All They Could Be.

My focus is now shifting.

2007 was a rough year, and while 2008 may have been soiled with some residual disappointment, I had promised myself to make 2008 the year of Change.

My photography has not Changed, really.
It has not grown.
Morphed.
Inspired.
Or really improved in many ways.

Sometimes, my images are aesthetically pleasing.
I don't call it luck, or even sometimes, skill.
Really, what I'll call it, is an amazing 35mm lens that rarely moves from its home at 1.4.

So, what this ends in (or at least pauses at) is a break from this blog.

It seems right.
A digital sabbatical of sorts. (As various commitments prevent me from taking a real one.)

I think that if I focus more on taking pictures that are good, instead of taking pictures that are good for my blog, I will improve as a Trainer of Light (in-Training).
Also, by saying this, and getting these thoughts into the world, I hope to make it more real- like when drug addicts get "Sober Since 2007" tattooed on their fore-arm.

I mean, I have a lot on the horizon... Antarctica, Kenya, and possibly Copenhagen.
These are my fun thoughts, my happy thoughts that could make me fly, if that was an option.
These countries, and these efforts will be one half of my focus. The other half will be designated to legitimately learning the art of photography, and to getting comfortable with all those pockets of photography that make me feel so awkward.


I'll post pictures of my life sometimes, because digital snooping is naturally, a fun time.

But otherwise, it's Goodbye for now.


I will leave you with this picture.
Because I like dogs, and because several times throughout the day, I think about spending time with them.
It is not a particularly good picture.
In fact, due to the newest restrictions on multi-tasked driving, this is probably an illegal picture.
But I like it.





Oh, and p.s., if you have gotten to the end of this, Good For You.
I find that the majority of people I know have the attention span of fruit-flies... Maybe you're unique.

Or maybe you're just curious.

Dogs, Skies and one Dad with a Guitar.

A few of my favorite things.

This is Shmarshmellow...

...my 12 year old neighbor turned shooting assistant.


He goes by Marcelo (to strangers) Celo (to his brother) Marshmellow (to his classmates) or Shmarshmellow (only to me).

If you're ever looking for him, check our front porch.
Because chances are he is there, knocking on our door, or practicing his kick flip.




This is shortly before Eckelkamp and McLoone came to sabotage the show.

McLooney...

... as Jason Schwartzman.

Not as the Joker.
...psh.






And it's okay if you don't like it, because chances are someone who may or may not have been asked to butter his stomach will.

Dogs and Skies.

i was still photographing.

Invasion.

Oh, and P.S., I speak in riddles now.



Hope everyone's break (those that have this 3 week long pretend summer vacation) has been going just so great, and happy, and beautiful.
No, this is not sarcasm.
It's genuine hope.

Sunday Morning.

Blinds are closed. Lights are off.

Enter Edwin. My nine year old neighbor, who occasionally comes up to my window to chat.
The blinds are closed, mind you.

Edwin: Teresa?

Teresa: (Groggy) Yeah Edwin.

Edwin: Hey, so did you hear that Devon broke your purple watergun yesterday?

Teresa: Yeah. I heard.

Edwin: Lucas said, you said, that Devon didn't have to pay for it, and now Lucas can keep it... Did you say that?

Teresa: Yep.

Edwin: Craaaaaap. I wanted it.

Teresa: Hey.

Edwin: Oh... Crud.

(silence)

Edwin: So, what are you doing?

Teresa: Sleeping!

Edwin: Oh...Okay, well-

Teresa: I'm sleeping Edwin. Come back later.

Edwin: Uuughhhhh... (Trails off as he walks away.)

History Lesson.

In July 2005, my sister was new to Long Beach.
Now this may be hard to believe for anyone who knows my sister,
but she hated it.
She thought it was stinky and dirty and lame,
and while I still keep all of these opinions,
her opinion has since changed.
(Such is the effect of love and alcohol).

So a few weeks ago, I found a bag of stuff that I used to use to heal my home-sickness when I first moved to Santa Barbara (also in 2005).

Crumpled at the bottom was a note from her, from that July in 2005 (on purple Lisa Frank stationary mind you, and if you are not familiar with Lisa Frank, chances are you were not a girl in the nineties... because I will tell you what, neon, rainbow animals were The Shit.)

I digress.

On this Lisa Frank, dalmatian speckled paper was one of the best things I have ever received from my sister. And while I will not share the whole thing with you (I have become much more open in the last six months, but I dare not push the line), I will share my favorite bit.

"I wanted you to know that I AM stupid because no matter what I say or do you are more important to me than anybody I know... Everybody."


It makes me feel warm and snuggle-bug inside... like the feeling of warm blankets and tea when you're sick.
Because it reminds me of THAT girl. That girl who before LB, LaVerne and Ripples, was a big, beautiful fish, in the small pond that was San Jose.
The girl who was heartbroken, unhappy, and loved midnight Slurpee's.
Who took me to school, early in the morn, as grumpy as ever,
and then picked me up halfway through the day... in full support of my ditching.

A less wise Teresa, would say she misses that girl.

But I don't anymore.
I acknowledge time, and the effect it has on people, and their relationships.
I respect the change that has taken place, for better or worse, in both of us.

726 and the delight that is this place has helped me appreciate this.
Refusing to sit in her shadow, and carry her pedestal around, has helped me see this.
Becoming my own person, has helped me live this.

Most likely, she'll call this blog "dramatic", "rude", or better yet "guilt-ridden".


What she doesn't realize, as she sits and reads this (most likely with her special someone in tow) is that guilt is just another word for, "what someone does for love."

So open your eyes, because as much as you think you are seeing, you aren't seeing nearly enough.

Don't bring me a gift.
Bring me your understanding.
I love you, I will always love you.

We are sisters, and on our most distant day, we are closer than most sisters out there.
I won't forget that.

Bye Bye Bre(!!!)

I'll miss your face and all the amazing weirdness you bring to the table! (I of course am referring to cheese infused bratwursts and bacon infused chocolate).

Alabama better have some bomb camping because come 21, I will be on my way!












Oh, and get a blog already. The time has come.


Miss you!

The Neighbor Kids.

Alex and I have spent almost 70 dollars on water guns.

Yeah. It's serious business.

The Sister Chronicles.

Watch Sarah's face.
She slowly loses interest in my story, and diverts her attention to better things...I mean, better people. I mean better person.

Peggy.

My grandfather died on Memorial Day, 2007.

For the anniversary of her loss, my grandmother made a rhubarb pie and told me not to photograph her wrinkles.

She's more beautiful than she knows.

Toby.

He might have two teeth left.

Bad breath.

And a bad attitude.


But when I am down, I think of him, and how when he first entered my life, I was 9, scared of the dark, and all about my high top converse.

And now, 11 years later, he sees less, smells more, and still gets excited when I come home.

Tobes.
Toblerone.
Boo.
Toby Nairobi.

Elephant.

"But where did he get his business card from?"

"His wallet..."



For the record, mean is spelled M-I-K-E-A-N-D-M-A-T-T.





There was just nothing magical about Matt's light.

The Result.

After nearly a year of avoiding it, I returned to the studio this week for an assignment.

And it wasn't until I battled checkout, fought with c-stands, and pulled my hair out over my travelites, did I remember why I love the studio.

And yes, this is a one light set-up.
And I can almost hear every Still Photo student grabbing at their heart, gasping for air. No Fill Light! No Background Light! Look at that Ratio! Look at that Black without Detail! What kind of Pro Photo Student are you?

I am one who is deliberately ignoring you.



So at last, I give you, the most incredible twins of all time.

A Preview.

A Mother's Day Platter.

Yes, it is meat and cheese.
No, I did not participate in its consumption.
But none the less...


Happy Mother's Day from the Castro's!

Love you mama.

From day to night, today is your day.
love you.

I-Phone Portraits.

Indiana + I-Phone = Mike McCreepy

The Man.

My roommate, Alexandra, just celebrated a successful night.
By successful, I mean successful.

Mr. Robert Swan has walked both the North and South pole, has studied beside Jacque Cousteau and has several times been acknowledged by Queen Elizabeth.
He is a Man of Change.
He is a Man of Humor.
But most of all, he is a Man of Inspiration.
And tonight, he gave the Lecture of all Lectures at SBCC.

It was a great night cap.

So, to you, Robert Swan.
My name is Teresa.
And you, dear Mr. Swan, are The Man.















Thank You for tonight.
It fixed my day.

Nephele.

Sometimes I am so busy looking ahead, or over my shoulder, that I forget to look up.


Today, I looked up.

D.A.W.G.

This is Jackson Browne.
When I volunteer at the Dog Adoption and Welfare Group, I usually head for him first.

He is very tolerant of my puppy voice, and my tendency to hug his entire head while burying my face in all the glory that is his precious, slobbery, face.


He then continues to slobber on my pants, and stretch across my lap where he knows he will get the optimum amount of attention.


All in all, Jackson Browne is my happy thought for Friday.

teresacastro.com

So I've reached the light at the end of the long tunnel that is my website.

I struggled.
And fought.


But now I have a website, and that's pretty neat.


So please, feel free to browse (the whole 26 images that are up).
Or you can send me a message via the contact form under "Contact" on the site, if you so please.


Or you can do neither, and be totally lame.

And Then, Barnabus Fellinix Died.

Plans Changed.
And a great Saturday night emerged.
And with it, Sage, Willow and a Full Moon transpired.

A Full Moon, A New Start.



Yes, yes I know they are out of focus.
And no, no this is not me trying to pretend they're not.

This is simply me without a tripod, so back up.

Because California is Beautiful.

And Because this is what I get to look at.
And Because I can.

To You, Vast Universe of the Unknown.

Dear Universe,

I am perfectly comfortable with the fact that my idea of Life After College is still a little foggy.

I am secure enough to know, that whether it be volunteering in Cambodia, researching sea lions in Monterey, or shooting fashion in New York, I will be Happy.


Three years from now, it's possible you throw me a curveball that sends me running for shelter, cowering from even the thought of dealing with my struggles.
It's possible, that three years from now, I am exactly where I pictured myself to be, and instead of being happy, I could just be bored.


But that's the great thing about you, Universe.
Things will unfold, how they will unfold.
I will not call it fate, or destiny.

Just the reliable fact that what will happen, will happen.
No matter the path of myself, or those I love.


And don't worry Universe.
I am responsible enough to see the liability of a loan. To see the risk I took when I signed for that loan for a school I can't afford.
I am repsonsible enough to see that by taking out this loan, I signed up for fifty years of steady payments, and therefor, steady paychecks.

I am twenty.
And now adopting a path of my own.
And I'll get severely bushwacked, and beat up.
I'll trip over all the rocks, and roll down the steep hills.

But you can be damn sure that I will see you at the end of that path with a smile and a paid off loan.

And maybe some cool stories about the African kids, and the retouching jobs, and the life I sought on the way.


P.S. I think Georgia is pretty damn cool.

Blue (Da Ba Dee).

So maybe I failed at the Harbor Shoot Off.

But Mike did NOT.

The entire time, I photographed nothing but reflections.
Which could be some sort of analogy for life.
But isn't. So don't try.


And as the day progressed, I learned...

That Leica cameras larger than your head, do, actually function.

That to ride a bike backwards, sobriety is often required.

That Mike totally shoots Nikon and secretly Hearts it.

And that no time is a bad time for Mother Mary neck tattoos.

(for you sister!)

To Stella Luna.

Dear 1998 Jeep Cherokee Sport,

I heart you.
The way you try so hard every morning to start up... the way you only sometimes fail.
The way you made that loud death noise for a bit, only to move on to better, more interesting noises. These things only make my heart grow fonder.

I love the way everyone's windows only intermittently work... Except mine. Mine always works.

I love the way the driver's seat wobbles, and the passenger's seatbelt only occasionally works. What a great excuse to keep people out!


I absolutely adore the blue writing on the side panels. Nothing says nineties like blue cursive.

I was the shit in 1998!
You exclaim.

Sport!
You yell.

Ah, blue cursive, how mod you are.


And remember that one time I backed into that wall?
And that other time I let your tags expire and now have to appear in front of a judge?


And how you swallow other people's CD's?

Phil Collins? Nine Inch Nails?
You laugh at even the thought of getting them back.

And what about all those times we evaded tickets? How Great You Are.



I love that your trunk converts into a bed, a moving truck, a storage space and sometimes a refuge.



And I love the Window.

Oh how you engage me, Window of the Passenger Side.
Never are you boring.

Will you be up?
Will you be down?
Will you be neither?
And so what if I have to drive with three blankets! So What?
My rubber-banded pencils only temporarily elude you, Jeep.


So Jeep, I say this.

Give me four more years.
It's a steep request. This I know.

But four more years.
I know you are pushing 150,000.
I know.

But think of the fun you'll miss.

Sincerely,
Teresa





We're just so fancy!

Welcome! To the House of Battle!

Middle-Shelf Battles brought to you by the residents of Unit B. (We miss you Unit A!)










You're Up, Sempel.

What Now Boba Fett?

Wednesday Work Day brought all sorts of things to fruition.

Including the inception of Star Wars Party Attire.
We're into it.

p.a.s.t.

One is in Carson.

The other in Long Beach (or maybe San Pedro).

One is in San Jose.

And none of them are in Santa Barbara.


I miss you.
And when you read this, know that I wish that instead of being spread across California, we were sitting in our exclusive world, on our couches, with the dogs and maybe some movies.

I miss you, I love you and am thinking of all of you.





...because as the youngest, I never ride shotgun.

December 3rd, 1997

I found my journals from 1997.

I was 10, and in the fifth grade.
So naturally, most of the journals describe the magic of Hanson, and how Zac Hanson is just so Dreamy and Fine and wouldn't it be great if I was going out with him and Oh My God our birthday's are both on the 22nd, it's totally a sign, obviously we are meant to be together, unless Ryan Phillippe or Leo DiCaprio show interest because they are so Dreamy and Fine too.

Eeek.




However in my fifth grade class journal, we were asked to define "Life".

This is how I defined it:



"12.03.1997
Life is...

Life is Death. Because your only living for a little while and then you die. But somebody takes your place so it's like your recycling.
Somebody dies. Somebody lives."

Well... I had my moments.

Sally slipped on a Pancake.

The SEMPELS Came to Town This Weekend.:



"Just the other day, Sally Slipped on a Pancake.

When out of nowhere Lord Poo appeared before me and demanded tribute.

Fortunately I was wearing my garlic and had a crucifix handy so those evil vampire bastards couldn't touch me.

Unfortunately, Snow White was left weapon-less.

Luckily, David spilled the beans- literally, and kept the secret safe. They were kidney beans in case you were wondering.

Thank God that there are still people like Sylvia Brown in this world!"









When you laugh that hard, you forget to take pictures.

Game Night.

So what if we are in our twenties?
Show me where it says we have to act our age.
Show me.









WALKER! WALKER!... Oh wait, no it's Him!

Take Cover!

(Alex runs down Hall)

You girls having a slumber party, or just Causing Trouble?

(Blinds him with Million Candle Power Flashlight)



No Trouble.

Bye (Exclamation Mark Exclamation Mark Exclamation Mark)

Ireland's over, and it's weird.

Part of it being over is clearing out my computer of anything that has to do with green pastures, shamrocks, or beer.

So I found these pictures, and as I thought more about it, I realized there is an epic battle going on in my head.

Part of me celebrates this Trip's success and along with it, its completion.

But part of me will miss the security of being constantly distracted by something so completely separate from everything in real life.
I think I will miss wasting gas, by booking it to Ventura where I will be late, invaluable, and probably boring.
I think I will miss being made fun of, and making fun in return.
I think I might miss contributing as little as possible, and then expecting as much as possible in return.

I'll miss it.
And I wish I had some iconic image to paste here, to resemble closure of this year long journey and all the neat mess that came with it.
Because maybe I did enjoy myself.
Maybe I actually got to know a few people I like, and whether I will ever see them again, is quite frankly, irrelevant.

Because I learned that if enough time is invested into anything, awards will be reaped... (or awards will be "Teresa'd" for those who know my name.)



So, bye Ireland. It was fun.

And, bye Ireland Group. We had our moments.

Bye, year long distraction. Don't worry. I'll find a new one.

Bye, pretty drive to Ventura. I'll miss feeling like the drive is too long on the way to class, but too short on the way home.

Bye(!!!)

Re-Visiting.

I found this today.
Amidst a whirlwind Black and White Conversion Party.
(And by party, I really mean, me).

And I realized wow, what a great way to disguise the fact that the sky is TOTALLY blown out.



And then I collected every incorrectly exposed image I could find, and converted them all to Black and White.
I was non-surprisingly disappointed.

None the less.
The Burren, Ireland.
Sunset.
With two people who shall remain nameless.
(And by nameless I mean Mike and Bre.)

Details.

I reserve love for very few.

My parents.
My sister.
My grandmother.
My family.


Ask my roommate.
And maybe she'll tell you I'm a fool, and my heart may quite possibly be made out of stone.


But there are some things that melt my cold, stone, frozen tundra of a heart.


Three things, in fact.
And I don't spend nearly as much time with them as I'd like.

Reanna Joy.

So I have this friend who's THE shit.

We sit and take care of our lives while talking on Skype.
Though by taking care of our lives, I mean NOT taking care of our lives, because chances are we are procrastinating whatever we are SUPPOSED to be doing by talking on Skype.


These talks usually last until the next day.
Which is when we realize the sun has risen, and we still have yet to complete any of the tasks we got on the computer to do in the first place.

Totally NOT stonked... but the next best thing.


This is what 2 am multi-tasking looks like:

Right Turns from Here On Out.

okay?

The Weekend.

... was a weekend of firsts.
Of lasts.
Of new friends.
Old friends.
And new old friends.

The weekend was a learning experience.
A new experience.
And a valuable experience.

It was filled with family.
AND friends.
And therefor, rarities.

Thank you.
To all that came and supported.
To all that didn't come, but supported anyway.
To all that showed interest, even when it was feigned.
And to all that deemed me worthy enough to drive four hours for an 18 minute presentation.
I love you.


Thank you.
To all that went to Ireland with me.
I'm sorry for lots of things.
But my experiences were unforgettable.
And I like most of you more than you know.
(Ask again, maybe I'll answer this time.)

Thank you.
To Joe and Paul.
I mean it when I say,
You Changed the Way I Photograph.
It took two years at Brooks to find my way.
And I have a long way ahead.
But you two have helped me find it.



Over the weekend
I shot less than I should.
Laughed more than I knew possible.
And got to spend time with the few people I hold so dear.













The next image is Copyrighted Alexandra Sempel.
Hehehe.

Beach, Booze, Bro's and Bre's Bratwurst

We have plans.
And then change them.
We (Bre) grills chemical Bratwursts.
And then decides they are definitely not edible.
We find bro's.
And then listen to jam sessions.
We almost run out of gas.
And then instead run out of coolant.
We almost get towed.
And then don't.
We drive on precariously narrow roads.
And then trespass.
We run on fields of green.
And then pretend its Ireland... Part 2.
We drink until there's nothing left.
And then watch as our tent is taken by the wind.
We laugh.
And then complain about laugh cramps.
We stoke a fire. Put on every layer we brought. Play some games.
And then fall asleep in a tent that instead of standing erect, as it should, lays flat, in surrender to the wind.

Fun times at Jamala. I mean Jalama.



















Oh, and apparently we light paint.
Whilst intoxicated.
On the beach.
In the cold.
With two green glowsticks, and eight layers of clothes.

JEB.

We got a little visit from a little Jeremiah.
He in fact, was not a bullfrog.

goodbye.

pismo beach, ca. 3.07.08

The Guilt Factor.

So I got to spend some time in San Jose recently.
And my dad, being the Guilt King he is, had something to say about his "tulip tree".

Dad: "This is the last time we will see it bloom in a while, you know"

Me: "Yeah, I know. It's so pretty."

Dad: "Have you taken any pictures of it?"

Me: "No I haven't gotten the-"

Dad: "Oh right, you don't take pictures. I forgot."

So here it is, dad. Your tulip tree in all its glory.

Running Away.

From Day to Night, I drive with two people I like (it's rare).
And instead of keeping her eye on the road, she keeps her eye on the prize. Smart Girl.




This is how I prepare for the 14th by the way...
The Lobero. Seven PM. Be there or be...ware.
I'm witty!

My Cox Internet Bill. YES.

My Security Code is better than your Security Code.

Handstands.

If ever you feel inclined to entertain house-guests by performing handstands in the hall, please refrain.




You may just find yourself at the hospital at 4 a.m. with a fractured finger and a bruised ego.

Latitude 35, Longitude 120.

When night comes, so does quiet.






It's an improvement.

Citrus.

Last time I was in San Jose, I convinced my mom to help me pick fruit in my grandma's backyard.

When it came down to it, my mom picked the fruit, while I laughed and took pictures.
It was a beautiful day.



Losing the Battle with the Orange Picker:



VICTORY:

Love.

It's an odd feeling to be so close to people who feel the real thing.

Bloom.

My dad's flowers, which are supposed to bloom months from now, bloomed in the middle of a frost in January.

The answer, I am sure, is global warming.

But they remind me of happiness.
And all the things that keep me tethered to my life in San Jose.
Like my family.
And my dogs.
My Toby.
And my little house with the dead grass and red porch that happily sits in the shade of the million dollar homes that consume our block.

i wish i could be more poetic about it.

I Miss My Home.

thats all.

You're Trippin'.

We Change Perspective ("Belle, you've never been so ugly"):



We Gut Laugh ("You hit your head on Jemaine!"):



We Dwell in Confusion ("But what ARE circles of confusion?")



We Take Pictures: ("But its soo heavy...Maybe your arms are too short.")

Oh Two Oh Nine Oh Eight... Weird Day.

Eight Reasons We're Friends:














Secret Codes: (Hint: Rice Milk plus Cinnamon and FRUIT equals Thumbs Up)

San Hosay.

This is my family.
2 Days Here Is Never Enough.

Welcome to the Status Quo.

2 Lectures on Card Readers,
1 Invisible Segway,
2 Plug-In Downloads,
1 Hour,
and 1 delayed AV show later...

I learned how to upload CR2's.
And thus completed my first day with my 5D.

But I'm tired now, and want to hang out with my sister, so this is the only picture I will post today.




Thanks guys.
I owe you dinner... But not veal burgers.

My New 5D.

There's a lot I don't know.
Like why time goes slower when you're doing math.
Or goes faster when you're playing a game.
I don't know why Mercury in Retrograde makes communication difficult.
Or why my car has trouble starting up.

But there are some things I do know.
I know that self-confidence is hard to come by, and easy to lose.
I know that people smile when they are happy, excited, scared, or insecure.
I know that my room will NOT clean itself.
I know that ignoring a problem will not make it go away.
And I know that knowing this, will not make it go away either.
I know that magnet word battles provide a fun time,
and that Nutritional Yeast, truly is, a Magical Powder.
I know that secrets don't make friends,
But I also know that some secrets you have to keep in order to have friends.
I know that I am sorry for lots of things,
and that I over apologize for lots of things too.
I know that my rent is due today,
That I get to see my family in 12 hours,
And that 2008 will not be the year of tolerance, but instead, it will be the year of change.

No, I don't know much. But I know that my new camera will be in my small little fingers' grasp within a week, and that is enough for now.

Visitor.

There's this guy who comes around sometimes. He is so far passed smart that you can't help but be 3 miles behind his logic.
Nothing makes sense to my head.
I think that's the genius part.

I feign busy-ness so I can listen.

This is what I hear:

"Oyster Rockefellers are a joke."

"Global Warming and Astro-Physics- more or less the same thing."

"Your 12th dimensional frequency body is controlled by this and that."

"It's trippy... when I come in on multiple voice channels, you gotta like whomp it all."

"012808"

"Woodrow Wanker was a Wilson."


"I'm not crazy, just misunderstood. It was implied 1.5 million years ago. Back when the ice age breached their equinox. Don't vilify me."

"Miss Bear, drink the Tejava."

Photos will come in the future... First I have to get enough courage to shoot the only person in the world who has me convinced alien hybrids walk the earth.

Today my Rainboots Went...

So I bought these amazing, ugly rainboots a few days ago.

And today they went to the edge.

My roomie and I had a makeshift picnic on a cliff on the mesa.
We like to live on the edge...

Amazing.

My roommate woke me up this morning with vegan banana cashew pancakes and tea.

I KNOW you're jealous she's not your roommate.

Brrrrrrr!

It snowed in Santa Barbara today.
This afternoon we played in it.

As mid-state Californians, this is big for us.











We ended the day with color.

My Space.

I would never call my bedroom my sanctuary.
Mainly because I am not that person.

But I have to say, my new entirely white room makes me see far more shades of gray than ever before.

Tiny Tots.

For the most part, I was a big hit at the Tiny Tots Preschool in Co. Kildare, Ireland.
They thought my camera was fly,
my flash a riot,
my accent a hoot,
and my shoes, just plain fancy.

But there were a few who trusted me just about as far as they could throw me...

SKEPTICAL.



SHOWOFF.


OUT FOR BLOOD.





DOGHOUSE.



PEEK.

Dear Reiltin,

Two and a half weeks is not enough time to introduce, learn and know someone.
It is however, a long enough time to like someone.
Your home provided comfort for me.
It provided clean fun.
Interaction.
New experiences.
Lots of chickens.
Even more family.
And strong tea.


You will be missed by many more people than I, who got to know you a whole lot better than I did.
I may have only lived in Fontstown for a couple weeks, but I know this is true... Fontstown can never be the same without you.

I wish you could have seen more of my pictures.
My poor shooting resulted in me never wanting to look through what I did capture.
The following may not be the best images, but they are images I would show you if given the chance.

The Old Man is Snoring...

It's raining.
It's pouring.
I stepped in a puddle, and feared I might drown.

The rain whispers comfort for me.

My dad calls me crazy.
He hates gray skies.

Californians call me silly.
They demand blue skies.

HE calls me foolish.
Irritability is brought on with such skies.

But I like it.

Even though it makes hair frizzy.
Even though it makes wearing sandals difficult.
Even though it makes the bottom of my pants chronically damp.
Even though it makes mud (which gets tracked into my new house).
Even though it sometimes gives us false hope of new beginnings.
Even though the world thinks I am unwise for enjoying it so much.

I like it.
And wouldn't mind a few more weeks of it.

So cover up California, because I am wishing for rain.

P.S. I would put a real witty picture of me in sandals in a puddle here, if I could. So take this time to visualize one... For we all know the status of my camera.

Goodbye, all of my favorite Things.

I Never Realized How Much My Camera Contributed To My Identity Until It Left Me.

i say "left" because "stolen" sounds too final. Welcome to InDenial.



Along with my camera, my hard drive has also left me.


I found these sad, rejected pictures on my desktop. They were, at one time rejected due to having an entire hard drive, packed with what I thought were superior pictures to these.
Times have changed.









Personally, I like being on the outside looking in. Less commitment that way.
There will be some who disagree.

Bad Week.

Things I Do Not Like:

Thievery.

Packing.

Arguing.

Sleep.

Things I Do Like:

New Apartment.

White Walls, White Bed, White Floor, White.

Talking on Skype with my Friend.

No One, by Alicia Keys.

Camden and Leigh.

45 Seconds from Home.

8 Minutes from Kirk.

11 Seconds from Home Depot.

4 Hours from Santa Barbara.

Family + Disneyland = Fun (or Famneyland, if you will)

July 2007

GOING, GOING, GONE

If you know my dad, you know he makes faces.





"__________ MOUNTAIN" HINT. RHYMES WITH FPLASH


Pre-Drop




Post-Drop



JUNGLE CRUISE ENJOYMENT

Lollipops.

This is Juan.
He lives in San Pancho, Mexico.
While shy, he will warm up to someone who has lollipops to offer.
I had lollipops to offer.
Though seeing as how I don't speak Spanish, he was still skeptical.
I don't blame him.

No es tu culpa, Juanito.

Mi Padre.

For being such a tough guy, he sure puts up with a lot.

Alexandra.

There are only a few sure fire ways to excite her.

1. Friends.
2. Environmental Responsibility.
3. Harry Potter and/or The Lord of the Rings.
4. Eating raw.
5. New apartment we are about to move into.

I like my friend, Alex.

Boo. Bobo. Bean

Bratty.
Brainy.
Beautiful.
Bubbly.
Boisterous.
Bad-Breathed.
Big.
Bitches.

My dogs are love.

Pre-Thanks Prep

While usually this might entail savage cleaning, toilet scrubbing, turkey baking and somewhat hostile table setting, this year was as calm as a caper.










On a side note:

Dad: Where's the cheeseball?

Sarah: On my plate... I mean, what cheeseball? Its okay, I only ate out the center because I didn't know if you wanted to serve it to the guests.


Yes. This would be one reason why I love my family.

Fontstown.

Amidst several chickens, dozens of cows, a plethora of siblings, and green grass as far as the eye can see, I sit. I am staying with a woman, Reiltin, who is as kind as she is welcoming, humorous as she is a good cook, and as frank as she is down to earth. Her home is comfortable and warm, and her children (there are many) have welcomed me into their life deeper then I ever anticipated. This home, on this farm, is surrounded with love, and support. I like that the meal leftovers are fed to the chickens, that the sitting room fire is lit every night, that re-runs of Greys Anatomy are not only watched, but followed, and that socks never leave my feet.
I like that thousands of miles away from my real home, these people are warm enough to make me feel like I am home, if only for a week.

I'm comfy.
That's all.

They Came In White

The Hill of Tara
On September 22nd and 23rd of 2007, hundreds of natives, families, celebrities and foreigners gathered in celebration (and protest) at the Hill of Tara. Clad in white, friends, family and a few k-9 companions celebrated the life of the hill by organizing into a "human harp" while being aerially captured by famous photographer, John Quigley. Organized by Quigley, the event was used to raise awareness for the campaign to re-route the M-3 motorway which, if completed, will cross the sacred grounds.

The Hill

Martha Rose watches the event from one of the taller hills. While Rose realizes a road will help with traffic flow and increase mobility, she acknowledges the sanctity of the grounds and appreciates the spirit of the sacred place.

One of the younger participants, while clad in white, takes advantage of the steep but cushion-y hills.

A mother shows her children where they will be standing in the harp.
Sean, 48 took part in the harp with his wife, Yvonne and two children. They traveled to the Hill from Carlow.
Brian, 2, holds his father, Sean's hand.

Aoife, 7 participated in the even with her brother, Brian and parents, Sean and Yvonne.
With the best seat in the house, Niemh Stillorgan waits atop the shoulders of her father, Bill Stillorgan.Stuart Townsend, 34 took time from Hollywood to help organize and show support for the event. Supposedly he's famous or something.
A young girl races to keep up with her parents, who are watching the event from afar.

The End of The Rainbow

Blooging

Blooging: (bloog~ing)
n. What happens when Teresa succumbs to Web Logging.