My photography professor and I don't exactly get along. Among other things, she's called me into the hall and asked if I needed to be on medicine or go to counseling. Not because I was sad or depressed, but because she thought I was so defiant there must be something psychologically wrong with me. I can be stubborn but I asked every kid in the class if they thought I was defiant and the general response was, "Are you kidding me? There is no way your actions could be interpreted as belligerent." So, in conclusion, we are not comrades.

Last week, the class was asked to bring in our proof sheets so the professor could point out the most promising images. She chose a particular image near the end of the roll, one of Felicia and Jonathan's three-year-old, Katherine. She went on to say that she also really liked what I was experimenting with in the last few shots, those images after Katherine.

Now let's travel back in time to the moment I photographed Katherine. After taking a few shots, she wanted to take pictures too. I placed her little finger on the button and let her haphazardly snap away.

Those artsy last photos on the roll were taken by a three-year-old.


Hmm . . . today I had a excellent embarrassing experience.

For my photo project, I'm required to take pictures of subjects sitting by a window. I thought, "Espresso News has windows. Espresso News has coffee. Espresso News, I will go." I recruited Bonnie to be the stunning blonde, deep in thought about world hunger and the plight of Ethiopian widows. You know, pictures Facebook style.

It is impossible to shoot without feeling (and looking) totally lame. I mean, come on. Taking pictures in a coffee shop? By a window? With a book? Just add an engagement ring and a Taylor t-shirt and I'd be a Caedmon's Call fan, circa 1997.

Therefore, many jokes of questionable taste were exchanged to highlight the lameness of the situation. Bonnie has worn me down to this base affect, especially in the area of being The Obnoxious Dirty Man. The man that grunts, "I'll clean up your table," 'clean up' meaning some sort of sexual act and 'table' meaning you. Now, for those of you who don't know, I am not The Obnoxious Dirty Man in real life. I don't hit on males. Most of the time, I don't even make eye contact. I'm practically a 10-year-old girl when it comes to the subject.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a guy walking towards the stairs. No other details were noted. His only qualification for the upcoming joke was that he was male. In my best Obnoxious Dirty Man voice, I turned in his direction and said "I'll take you picture, if you know what I mean." The comment was only meant as a joke for Bonnie's enjoyment. As you might have guessed by now, he heard me. And turned back around and looked at me. And was actually college-age and attractive.

I've got to work on my inside voice.