Everyday I change my mind, but two things stay constant: my love for tennis and my love for photography. Why can't I have both? There is not a moment where I do not wish I brought my treasured D70s to Italy. There is not a moment where I am not taking pictures with my eyes. I store it all, take it all in, but I need to have my camera in my hand again.
I drew something, little ridiculous though, for the first time in months, and I felt SO relieved to see that I can still do it. I don't know what I was thinking letting art slip from my life. Sometimes, I want to know why I even feel like I can't have both. For some reason, I feel like I need to give up art to get tennis, or I need to give up tennis to get art, but shouldn't the two passions of mine go hand-in-hand? I'm going to push both when I get home. I'm going to find people, places, things to photograph, and I'm going to take time most everyday to pick up a racket and trust my instincts.
There is something I should stop doing though--looking at wedding photos. Growing up, I dreamed of a big wedding. I mean I know what time of year, what colors, what kind of dress, what kind of cake(s), I know the time of day I want it, I know who I want to cook my food and make my cake, I know who I want to photograph it, I know I want a band for a few songs then a crazy DJ, I know the Tennessee VOLS will play a huge role in the date of my wedding, I know I want the guys in khakis, not tuxes, and I know where I want the wedding. But, after Scott, I stopped wanting a wedding at all; I decided I wanted to elope--if even get married. I guess I had an issue with knowing every detail of what I wanted, except the main piece of the puzzle--I didn't know what man I wanted. Scott and I used to sit and watch bride shows over and over and over again... wedding show after wedding show. We looked at rings and dresses. He knows everything I want, and no one else does. It's like after him, after our relationship ended, I couldn't share the details with anyone else, and I didn't want to, not even to my friends. It seemed/still sometimes seems like a fallacy, unreal, untouchable; it seems like it's behind glass casing and I lost the key to open the little door. I'm scared. It was so secure with him, too secure for the person I am now, but I was a different person with Scott. I was OK with marrying him. I was OK with never being with anyone else--even though I wanted to alter who he truly was--until I changed, I matured, I grew tired and he... didn't. I know I'm only 20, but every other woman in my family has gotten married young, had kids young, but I'm not there, and I don't know if I can be there, again. My mom asks me about the guy I'm with now, she asks if I love him, and I can't answer her and tell her I won't answer, because I'm finally having fun; I'm finally happy with someone; most of all, I finally don't feel the need to alter someone. After M destroyed my heart, after I fell for him too fast, I knew I didn't want to feel like that again--like I was on a dead end path.
I felt like Scott and I could end, no problem--that doesn't mean I didn't think I would marry him; he was my first love, y'all. I felt like M and I could end, no problem. But, Mom, for the first time in my life, I don't think it's going to end; I haven't had that thought run through my wild mind once.
So, I sit here thinking of the things I need to do, want to do, and the things I should stop looking at... I realize the scariest part of all... I just may be secure enough with someone to be beyond content, happy. And, just as scary, I may just be ready to let it happen.
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