Pictorial Existence

Documenting a new chapter of life.

Permalink 1/20/12 Day 4: Jesse
Permalink 1/19/12 Day 3 Lunch
Permalink 1/18/12 Day 2 View across Eagle Lake from the carriage road. When I first came to College of the Atlantic way back in 2004 (I can’t believe it has been so long),  I was fresh out of high school in Florida, and didn’t have a clue what real winter was.  I thought winter meant having to put away the flip flops and wear a sweatshirt for a month around Christmastime.  Lucky for me, two friends who lived in the same dorm as me, Phoebe and Meggie, embraced winter and forced me to get up out of my attempted hibernation in the safe warmth of the dorms and go explore with them outside.   Every time I pass by Eagle Lake I think about my first snowshoeing trip, which was one of my adventures facilitated by Phoebe and Meggie.  We went across the lake and up the side of one of the Bubble Mountains.  After about an hour into that first trip I realized I couldn’t feel my thighs.  I learned a very valuable lesson that day.  Carharts can be worn as winter pants, but not without long underwear.  Layering was such a foreign concept to me at the time.  After that trip in January I realized how important it really is for both safety and comfort.  
Permalink I am starting a blog to document my new life in Maine.  Every weekday I will upload a photo observation.   Day 1: Attila asleep on my bed. I recently moved from Kentucky, where I lived with 4 of my friends in a large house.  In Bowling Green I lived in the same room, a very comfortable room, for three and a half years.  The apartment I moved into here is a one bedroom without any furniture, save a bed on my floor that I get to share with an 85 pound dog.  Since the apartment was rented to me unfurnished I was very lucky one of my friends had an extra twin mattress.  If not for their generosity I would be sleeping on a therm-a-rest in my sleeping bag.  Not having an furniture means most of my belongings are still in their original containers from the move.  This means trash bags, suitcases, and plastic bins everywhere in my apartment, holding all the things that used to have a place of permanence in my old room.  Because of this I feel like I’m still in transit; just visiting.   Last night the wind kicked up around 9pm; I could feel air rushing up from the floor boards next to my bed and the window panes were rattling something fierce.  I am so glad I was able to bring Attila, my Great Pyrenees Mountain Dog, here with me.  She is my constant companion (and also a great foot warmer).  Living alone after being surrounded by other humans for so long has been a shock to the system.  In Kentucky I would rarely come home to an empty house.  It’s so foreign to be in my bedroom and not hear the friendly voices that used to float up the stairwell in the afternoon or to come home from shooting late at night to a dark house.  Now it’s just me in the living room, no roommates up studying to chat with.  It’s doesn’t feel right to come home to this darkness.  Even though the apartment I inhabit is so much smaller than the old place; sometimes when I first come in the door it gives me the impression of cavern, the only sounds heard are the echos of my own movements.   I’m sure with time this will become home, but for now it’s still alien and cold.