Study Break Sunset

Self-explanatory.

"So...you take the 21 often?"

Photo by Carrie-Lynn Unger Photography

I was always one to fall in love quickly. I never thought someone could love me faster.

One year ago today, I sat down in my seat near the back of the bus with my heavy backpack and camera bag covering my feet. My navy coat was slightly too small to keep buttoned when I sat. My hair was uncombed and unstyled, which was why I chose to wear a hat that was too trendy and youthful for my age. I was also sick with strep throat and had lost my voice.

Two or three stops later, a young man in a dark, thick flannel shirt sat across from me. He had sandy tufts of hair poking from underneath a backwards, tan-coloured military-style cap. His face was rough with thick stubble matching his hair. He looked as weary as I was. He put his ear buds in and closed his eyes. Then he looked up.

His eyes were kind.

I know his eyes were kind because he caught me staring at him, and rather than looking away he half-smiled. I looked away apologetically, but his eyes said I didn't need to. So without a verbal invitation, I glanced at the man again. It didn't last long and I stared down at my phone, too bashful to peak again.

The crowd on the bus grew larger, nearly reaching capacity, I'm sure. People were standing from the front door to the back seats. A man in his 50s sitting nearby stood up, for reasons I do not know, blocking my view of the man across the aisle. I was relieved I didn't have to pretend I wasn't gawking at him once a minute. The older man started talking loudly on his phone, which was followed by failed attempts to close the opened emergency exit on the ceiling.

I ignored the man and scrolled through Twitter on my phone when I heard a loud bang.

The human wall had finally shut the emergency exit, startling everyone at the back of the bus, including myself and the man with the kind eyes. We both looked up and our gaze caught for a while before he smirked and rolled his eyes at the older gentleman. I looked down sheepishly.

My stop was next and I didn't think I would see the young man again. I gathered my heavy bags, heaved them onto my sore shoulders and made my way toward the door. An arm stretched out in front of me, the hand attached to it holding a piece of paper folded to the size of a toonie. The hand belonged to the man sitting across from me. I felt my eyebrows furrow in confusion.

Extending his arm further and looking at my eyes, the man convinced me this was no mistake. The note was for me. I hesitantly took it and walked off the bus straight into the entrance of my apartment building. I unfolded the paper. In faint pencil, a phone number had been written in the corner. After five minutes of debating whether or not I should message the stranger, I did. 

A lot has happened since that day. I fell in love all too quickly. I found a face with a smile that brings out a new life in me. I've found acceptance in another person in a world that has always judged. I found out there was a spirit just as (if not more) kind behind the kind eyes.

James and I are now engaged. Our love for each other grew fast and viciously, and continues to. We may have known each other for a short time, but through that time I have grown confident I want to spend the rest of my life beside my fellow passenger.

Cabin Night

We spent a night away from the city for the last long weekend of summer. It was freeing, yet saddening all at once.

A trip to where the sky kissed the sea

I had a surprise day off this weekend (I work every weekend), so James and I took a trip to one of his favourite spots from his childhood near Victoria Beach, Manitoba. It quickly became one of my favourites, too.

We drove out on a misty morning, but the sun absorbed the low clouds back into the sky as the day went by. We traveled along a curve, and the fog and clouds came back and lingered for a few hours. We hiked through the forest to sand cliffs and gazed upon the lake, which faded into the sky. We settled in and watched the fog drift, lift, and fall back down again. We walked to a pier and ate treats from a small bakery.

I needed this day to recharge. I feel refreshed and cleansed. I'm also thankful for days, like this one, where I get to fall more in love with the person I get to spend the rest of my life with.

I've picked up my camera again — this time, for me

I started taking intentionally crooked pictures of the sunset when I was 14. I took pictures of my Converse high-tops, and pictures of vegetation in my suburban yard. I took pictures of my sister, my dog, my CD collection. I took pictures of everything.

I upgraded to my first DSLR in high school. The Internet was my teacher and I learned about lenses and external flashes. I joined photography club where I learned about aperture, shutter speed, and ISO. Camera math and science were the only types of math and science I enjoyed. I dabbled into image manipulation and learned to create weird art from pictures I had taken. 

Paris, France. Spring 2011.

The first time I was shamed for taking a photo was on the school Europe trip. I had fallen behind our group in Paris as I was focused on getting a crisp shot of the detail of a historic apartment block. One of our chaperones turned around and yelled at me. I missed many shots on that trip as I was always hurried along at the back of the group.

I started to take my passion public. I set up a Facebook page offering my services to anyone who would want them. I did graduation, engagement, and family shoots. I was a second shooter at two weddings. This is when photography stopped being fun.

Venice Beach, California (taken with a disposable camera). Summer 2011. 

I found myself competing with strangers, as well as my friends who had also taken an interest in looking at the world through a viewfinder. They, too, began offering their talents and got more gigs than I did. With practice they became better than me, and I found my favourite hobby had become a chore that also made me feel like I wasn't good enough to do what I loved. 

In university, I joined another photography club. We got together and learned from each other's work, went on mini field trips, and built friendships. We learned how to process film in the school's darkroom. Taking pictures was fun again. 

Rushing River, Ontario (35mm film). Summer 2014.

As time went on and homework piled up, I stopped going to photo club. I put down my camera and it collected dust until I needed it for a trip, or until I reluctantly agreed to take a friend's portraits. 

MGMT at the Burton Cummings Theatre (35mm film). 2013. 

That's how photography has been for the last two years for me. I've hated it. I hate competing. I hate the pressure of producing perfect pictures for pay. I hate that the talented artists around me are likely judging my work. 

After a healthy break, I picked my up my camera again this week. I carried it around with me for a day, and took pictures of my surroundings and loved ones. I preserved candid memories with smiles that you'll never see in a posed shoot. I found beauty in a cat chewing on a shoe. I realized I could still find joy in turning some dials and pressing a button to freeze a moment and write it to a memory card. And that joy is why my camera will be my friend again. 

My future niece and sister-in-law. June 2015. 

I know it will be a slow transition, but I hope my camera will be by my side more often. I hope I'll remember to sling it over my shoulder before I walk out the door. I hope I don't get bogged down in the technicalities of the shots, but rather the moments I'm trying to hold on to. And I hope to never take a photo on someone else's terms ever again. 

My fiancé and I. June 2015.

CreComm: year one in review

September
I knew what was coming. The best and worst year of my life. I was excited to be pushed beyond my limits; to learn the secrets of the trade; to make new friends. We were thrown right into big assignments, strict deadlines, and a busy schedule.

A handsome young man, James, gave his number to me on a bus ride home. I texted the number and we went on a few dates, which then turned into spending every evening together doing homework. He quickly became my closest friend, then asked me to be his girlfriend.

I had to reduce the amount of shifts I had at work because school became so busy. This broke my heart because I love my job.

October
My new boyfriend dropped the L-Bomb ("I love you"). I freaked out. Two weeks later I returned the sentiment.

I received personal praise for an assignment from one of my instructors. After losing confidence in my writing skills, this gave me some more hope.

We covered the mayoral election at school, and I got to work election night from the comfort of my own workplace. It was fast-paced and fun and I was reassured working in a newsroom is what I want to do for life.

November
This month was a blur. I was running out of material and money for my blog (which used to be about thrifting).

I met my James' parents for the first time and fell in love with them.

I missed seeing my own parents.

I was an intern news editor at The Projector. It was a lot of fun, but maybe I'll stick to reporting for now.

December
I cried a lot. I was stressed about school. I'm always scared I won't hand things in on time, or do well on exams, but I always do and this was no exception.

I totalled my beloved CRV. A concussion from the crash stopped me from working some shifts over the holidays, which upset me because this was the time to make money to catch up on bills.

I got to go home for Christmas. It was nice to see family.

January
Going back to school was great. I liked the routine. I was scared of making new friends this time around though, since we were put into different sections. But I made some of the best friends ever — for life.

I wasn't doing well personally.

I wrote a blog post that received a lot of attention.

I realized James was the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.


February
I turned 22.

James and I went on a short road trip to Minneapolis for the long weekend.

I was on the radio to discuss struggles with body image, stemming from my popular blog post mentioned above. It helped me realize I could help people with my own experience.






March
I finally had wheels again, thanks to my parents. A beautiful, little burgundy Ford Focus. I felt free and independent again.

I won the Eric and Jack Wells Award for journalism excellence.

James and I got engaged. We are getting married in 2016.



April
My cat developed an aural hematoma. I couldn't afford surgery. So we put him on medication and the doctor said it should clear up in a month.

I came home to a crying and bloody cat, and a blood-splattered hallway. His ear had burst. One vet
said I needed to do another unaffordable surgery. Two others said it would heal itself. So far, it is indeed healing itself and he now has an adorable floppy ear.

Classes are about to end. I'm so excited for summer, no homework, and sunshine. I am sad I won't see my friends/classmates everyday. I love them, and they make life exciting.

I'm so grateful for all my instructors have taught me, all the guidance they have given me, and all the fun they've provided for my classmates and I. I will forever be indebted to them.