When I wake up in the mornings I look pretty terrible. It usually takes me a few minutes to get my bearings, drink my coffee and generally get my day started. Some mornings are rougher than others. Recently they’ve been harder than most; mainly because I write best and most clearly at night. I think last night I finally went to sleep around 4:30 and tonight I’m already well passed the midnight hour. But as I’m learning with Caleb, babies don’t know the concept of sleeping in, and things get started in my house between 6:30 and 7. Everyday. And work is still there waiting for me. And my students are still showing up for class. And Caleb still needs fairly constant attention. Sleep or no sleep, it is what it is. And I need to keep writing because I need to finish this dissertation. I need to begin building our life for my son. For myself. For our family.
These photographs are from a photoshoot I did with my dear friend Alana. At the time it was kind of a joke. She woke me up at 7, drove me to the studio and took these before I was allowed to drink coffee. I am fairly certain that in some countries this is classified as torture. These were portraits for a photography class she was taking and we both thought it would be hilarious to capture me in this pre-dawn state. The further I get away from them though, the less they are funny and the more they are me.
This is me.
No make up.
No sleep.
No coffee.
Raw.
And yet, I think there’s something innately beautiful about this state. As terrible as I look, I think these pictures are one of the few times I’ve let down my guard enough to show my real self.
Just plain me.
Strange thing is, I like it.
I like the unguarded, simple me that comes through in these images. She’s a person with worries and burdens to be sure, but she’s not so worried about hiding them, or finding out what’s next on her to do list, or planning the next big thing.
She’s just there.
Being her.
This she that’s me.
I’m going to keep her around for a while.
Let’s see what happens.
Here’s to Alabama being relevant as our coast line faces one of the worst environmental disasters of our time.
“If a person keeps thinking, ‘How old am I going to be?’ and thinking about the age” — she raised her voice — “that’s the worst thing you can do. You don’t have to think about how old you are. You have to think about how many things you want to do and how to do it and keep on doing it.” She clapped her hands and added: “Otherwise, you know what I think? I am going to live to be 200 years old. So I hope all of you do have the same fortune. I would hate to be alone.”
– Alicia Alonso, 89
