Well, would you look at that.
Apparently, I still have a blog.
I’d love to tell you that I intentionally took some time away because I was busy living a beautifully balanced, deeply fulfilling life and simply didn’t have time to sit down and write about it.
That would be a lie.
I just… forgot to blog.
In my defense, life has been doing what life does around here—which is apparently throwing seventeen things at me at once and then standing back to see what happens.
So, where have I been?
Still in Florida. Still working on my MFA in photography. Still taking entirely too many pictures. Still officiating weddings. Still raising kids. Still rearranging random objects on black backdrops at questionable hours because apparently that’s what graduate school looks like. And still regularly finding myself in situations where I think, This could only happen to me.
Photography has probably taken up the biggest chunk of my brain lately.
School has pushed me in ways I wasn’t expecting. I’m not just thinking about whether a photograph is technically good anymore. I’m thinking about what it means, what it says, what happened five minutes before the shutter clicked, and what the viewer imagines happened five minutes after.
I’ve spent weeks photographing things like toothbrushes, wedding rings, pocket watches, old hairbrushes, straight razors, children’s toys, and family heirlooms.
And somehow, I’ve made myself cry over half of them.
Totally normal hobby.
One of the biggest projects I’ve been working on is Milestones: For JazzLynn—a series built around all the moments she should have had. First days. Birthdays. Learning to ride a bike. Growing up. Falling in love. Getting married.
There are no people in the photographs.
That’s the point.
It’s probably one of the hardest things I’ve ever photographed, but it’s also become one of the things I’m proudest of creating. Somewhere along the way, photography stopped being just a way for me to preserve what is and became a way for me to talk about what isn’t.
Then, because apparently one emotionally complicated photography project wasn’t enough, I started another one called Found Family.
That one builds an entire fictional family’s history from unrelated vintage objects and heirlooms. A woman’s hairbrush and ring. A man’s shaving brush and pocket watch. Sewing supplies. Old Bibles. Pipes. Toys. Things that never actually belonged together—but once they’re photographed together, your brain starts inventing people who never existed.
Which I absolutely love.
And apparently I’ve also entered my “submit the picture and see what happens” era, because at the moment I have work entered—or headed into—not one, not two, but four different competitions and exhibitions.
There’s a county fair.
A state fair.
My college art competition.
And The Independent Photographer, an international online photography competition.
Four.
At the same time.
Who am I?
There was definitely a version of me who would’ve stared at the submit button for three days, convinced myself everybody else’s work was better, and quietly closed the browser.
She’s still in there, by the way.
I just click Submit before she gets a vote now.
And honestly? That’s probably one of the biggest changes photography school has made in me.
I’m learning that I don’t have to know whether I’m good enough before I put my work somewhere. I don’t have to wait until I’m completely confident. I don’t even have to believe I’m going to win.
Sometimes I just have to let the work leave my computer and exist somewhere other people can see it.
That’s terrifying.
It’s also pretty freaking cool.
And apparently photography is contagious.
Quincy has now started creating his own photography series, because I guess watching Mom spend hours setting up scenes, crawling around on the ground with a camera, and obsessing over which photo is slightly better than another looked like fun.
His series is called Rise of the Penguin King, and yes, it is every bit as serious as that title suggests.
He came up with his own idea, created the scenes, and made his own photographs—and I even had prints made for him. Watching him get excited about creating something that’s completely his has been one of my favorite little side effects of going back to school for photography.
I spend a lot of time wondering whether I’m doing any of this right.
Then I look over and see one of my kids picking up a camera and realizing he can use it to tell his own stories, too.
Maybe that’s one answer.
Meanwhile, Simply Seen by Sina has been growing into something that finally feels like me.
Photography. Officiating. Stories. People. Moments.
Photographed. Celebrated. Remembered.
For a long time, I think I felt like I needed to choose one thing and become that. Photographer. Minister. Student. Mom. Writer. Whatever.
Turns out, I don’t particularly want to.
I like the weird collection.
Speaking of weird collections, Florida continues to provide excellent supporting characters.
We’ve had snakes.
We’ve had alligators.
We’ve had tree frogs that I absolutely considered kidnapping and raising as my own.
And most recently, I’ve apparently acquired neighborhood vultures.
One afternoon my gator friend spent his time watching me while I mowed grass and performed what can only be described as a completely unsolicited Morgan Wallen concert.
There was singing.
There was dancing.
There was choreography.
There was a gator staring at me like I was the weird one.
Sir.
Let’s not judge each other.
Somewhere in all of this, I’m also raising two boys, attempting to keep a household functioning, doing graduate-school assignments, growing a business, experimenting with my hair like I’m having a very mild midlife crisis, and occasionally remembering that laundry exists.
So no, I didn’t intentionally abandon the blog.
Life just got loud.
But maybe that’s exactly when I should be writing.
Because when I look back at the posts I’ve written over time, it’s never the perfectly organized parts of life that matter most. It’s the ridiculous little stories. The things that hurt. The things that changed me. The things that made me laugh so hard I had to tell somebody.
And there have been a lot of those lately.
So apparently, I still have a blog.
And apparently, I have quite a bit to say.
Who knew?
— Sina
