Broken

I am really afraid to write at this point, because so many people in my immediate life are effected by it, but I have to write.  This is who I am.  I am already giving up a lot of myself to accomplish a lot of things for a lot of people, but I have to keep a little bit of myself, somewhere.  Nothing lasts forever, so when this next wave of people give up on me, because I'm me, I can just keep being me in this little world I've created for myself, but have to do it now with less of myself.  I just want to make it to that unattainable place that I have forgotten exists because I'm busy doing other people's things.  I have a half hour here and there.  I try to take advantage of that.

The brewpub is officially open.  This weekend was stupid.  I did get a day off on Thursday, which was spent in San Diego at White Labs, where we get our yeast.  That was my beautiful little getaway, demanded by my head brewer, before the St. Pat's grand opening melee.  The whole time my mind was focused on feeling like I was doing something wrong because I ditched my kitchen on a day I should've been working, but I enjoyed learning about yeast and where ours came from.  Returning, I got a message from the kitchen boss and discovered that my mentor brewer had checked himself into the hospital, so I was responsible for things that I wasn't completely comfortable with on our big weekend.  We rushed home and I went straight to work.  Her parents had come out from AZ to watch the kids so she could come out and enjoy what I've been investing my time in.  I was working.  I had a mild nervous breakdown Saturday evening, but no one gives a shit about that.

On said Thursday, after finally being able to invest in a professional lens because of my tax return, the mirror on my camera straight up fell off.  Icing.  Fresh off a 70 hour week that would finally put my family in a comfortable spot, temporarily, my livelihood broke.  That's probably difficult for most people to understand, because in my immediate reality I'm not really a photographer anymore, but I've had a camera strapped to my back my entire adult life.  My camera is my life.  I may not have the opportunity, time, or willing participants to accomplish what I want with it, but it is my fucking world.  Gone.  Most camera repairs are incredibly pricy, especially with items as delicate as the mirror, but I can't afford a new camera.  Unless I continue to work these absurd hours all summer and never see my family, I won't be able to afford a repair, so I'm kind of stuck, but I guess that's my life now.

I had noticed a flaw in my camera performance for a while.  There were serious focusing problems.  I had though that the pro lens would alleviate that, but it actually became noticeably worse.  While we were down there I really began to notice that what I was seeing through the viewfinder was not what I was getting on the sensor.  Once that happens, everything begins to unravel pretty quick.  Clearly, this has been gradually falling apart for a while.  My life.

I'll just keep working.

Noting my father's life I found that no one really gives a shit about you; they only really care about what you do for them.  He worked his ass off my entire life and has nothing to show for it.  I turned to my creative drive to have a product to show for it.  My creative drive, while having been painfully neglected, is now gone.

I'll just keep working.

That seemed to go well for my father.

Just keep swimming.

Fuck everything.