“When in doubt, don’t.” - Benjamin Franklin
I was in doubt.
Butterflies were raging in my stomach. It was dawning on me.
You’ve got no place to go.
No place to recharge, recoup, relax. Or, as the moose-killa-from-Wasilla would say: reload.
That wasn’t it, though, let’s face it, my living situation has been precarious-on-purpose for well over a year now.
I wasn’t doubting the moves I had made, my prior decisions. What good would that do? I was doubting something fundamentally deeper — whether I could make the necessary connections on a human level to make the trip worthwhile. If i can’t I’ll come back with some nice travel snaps, if I can, well, who knows…
See, anti-social is my default setting. I photograph largely to overcome that.
Usually I’m fairly comfortable on the street, shooting what I want, when I see it, but I’ve been off lately. A most recent human relationship has had me a little tweaked — it threw off my angry zen. I was realizing something… vague… that I was maybe, possibly, no, completely misreading something that seemed un-mis-readable. I’m completely baffled. A perfect example of the personal affecting the professional. Micro to the macro…
Full-fledged doubt. And, “when in doubt, don’t.”
So I did.
And that is how I met Julie.
I jumped in the van and just took off. Keep the forward momentum going, stave off the paralysis.
Damn, it’s early to have to be motivating yourself like this. I hit Santa Paula an hour later. Looks like a nice, sleepy little Main Street. Almost midnight, I turn in and sleep a fitful, doubting sleep.
Wake up. Same mindfuck, ’cause really, that’s what it is.
Tracked down my morning coffee, served up special by the awkward, but pretty, teenage barista and tried to focus on what I was doing. Focus, damn it. No good. Let’s try Ventura.
This is the same thing you’ve been doing day-in, day-out for a few years now. They’re just people, just like other people. So I just did what I always do when I’m a bit out-of-sorts — I got close.
And shot.
She was around 60-years-old, hot pink velour jumpsuit. Fresh from oral surgery and the death of her father from pancreatic cancer. Her hands were weathered, unadorned by jewelry except a single ring on her cigarette-holding hand, she was outside taking a break from grief-driven-impulse-thrift-store-shopping.
“Hey! Don’t take my picture…”
Oh, great. This is really gonna help the doubt — help me reconnect with humanity…
“… with this,” motioning to her cigarette. And smiled. Her four front teeth missing, the most welcoming smile in the world. Just what I needed.
Julie told me all of her current troubles and former triumphs over a couple of hours and a couple of glasses of cheap Chardonnay. They’re just people, just like other people. Different street, same thing.
The picture ain’t much, but…
“When in doubt, tell the truth.” - Mark Twain