One thing I’ve had difficulty coming to terms with is you can’t stop people from coming and going. Eventually, everyone you know and love will meet the same fate. Those pearly gates above and the light on top sounds the best most confronting conclusion to ones life — however extraordinary. What a crazy thing to believe. Yet, in times of destress, it allures everyone. My grandma is not well — not the least bit and while we may have some of the best doctors assisting her in the battle against cancer, I’m scared — terrified as she is.
I’ve had too many thoughts in my mind the past couple days. Questions to myself and motives mainly. Did I see her enough? Was I the model grandson? How well will the surgery go? Why me? And most frequently, “Why us?” In the moments my aunt told me the prognosis, I felt every heart string pulled at full tension. Disbelief as I utter to her, “Are you serious?” As quickly as surprise and disbelief came, my grief came faster and with heavy emotions.
I teared up. My aunt could see my face turn pale. The words from her stung like that of the never ending torn in an otherwise field of roses. Time became still. I could not hold back and so I walked away and into the backyard. I cried so hard as the tears cascaded down more and more. I did not take the news very well to say the least. To love is not just to say the four letter word. How much grief you have says a thousand more.
We are all hurting and with heavy heart. This is it.
It’s 1 AM and I cannot for the life of me sleep. It’s awful and I’m just so bothered by how work is affecting me, I feel like I’m drowning. Problem after problem. Bullshit on top of bullshit. This totally fucking sucks. As my friend told me over the phone repeatedly, “Don’t kill yourself over it”. She’s probably on to something. I tend to let work-life consume me.
It’s the serpent at sea and I’m only on a small raft. How did everything get so complicated all of a sudden? Roll with the punches as many would say, right? I would press reset if there was some magic button to start over. The thought of that seems so alluring ever since this whole year started.
What a mess. Is it terrible to know I have a lot going for me, but have the nuances of life negatively impacting my life? Life’s a bitch. Now if only I would fall asleep already. Later world.
About 2 years ago, one of my close friends asked me to model for a photoshoot. She’s an amazing photographer and hasn’t shot any men — yet. I’m known to dress very fashionably so naturally, I was picked. By my math, I’ve spent a stupid amount of money on designer clothes over the years — about 6 figures worth. Should I feel bad about it? Maybe? Nah. This suit feels like a million bucks — made of the finest fabric from Italy no less. I’ve more or less stopped shopping, but my closet is a masterpiece of its own.
I’ve made up various excuses in those two years why I’m not willing to be photographed. Her favorite is:
Her: Danny, would you model for my photos?
Me: I can’t. The Native Americans believed a picture takes away a part of your soul. I think it’s true.
After being reminded how fucking old I’m getting and inching towards 30, I finally gave in and agreed. Quite honestly, I didn’t know what to expect. It was surprisingly new and refreshing being the camera’s center of attention. We did two looks: one in a suit and the other a greaser-rocker look.
After several hours and even getting kicked out of a building, we had hundreds of very fashiony shots. The photos are being edited and I can’t wait to see the final result. Here’s a sneak peek.
Is it pretentious to say I’m going to have all the photos printed into a hardcover book? It’ll be a nice keepsake when I’m past 40 and my spoiled kids wanna have a laugh at their dad. Fuck. Yes. Later world.