I’ve worked twelve hours today, smoked the better part of a pack, consumed a good 10 ounces of bourbon, 2 beers and some eighteen year old Caol Ila scotch whiskey. Now I’ve smoked a good one and am listening to “Sometimes” by Langhorne Slim off of his self titled album.

I realize, after conversation with my friend Orangutan, that I just don’t really care. I won’t elaborate on this. I just won’t. I will however say that it doesn’t really matter and I have to seek my own happiness. I can’t let myself be held back by the ghosts of my own wanton ways. I do of course mean (of a cruel or violent action) deliberate and unprovoked and not sexually immodest or promiscuous.. This comes from the dictionary. I can’t live my life by someone else’ wants.

Also, I really do have a tendency to make snap judgments about people, leaving them with the burden of proof that they aren’t who I assumed them to be. It’s a weakness of mine. More often than not things turn out fine in the end and honestly, I am often right. This said, it’s not fair and it often causes me to accuse people of things or of being a certain way that I don’t like. It really isn’t fair.

Second. I’m changing the way I do business. I’m opening myself up. I’m not gonna be such a stingy bastard anymore. I’m going to stop fixating on things so much and open myself to new possibilities.

And you know what? I’m actually kinda excited about it and I think I might like this. Heck, I like her. For a long time I wasn’t sure but once I got my head out of my ass… which it’s been there for a very, very long time. That’s not to say I don’t still care about maybe. I do but man, you gotta move on. I mean, it ain’t happenin’. Know what I mean? And I let myself get sucked into that for so long and so blindly that I’ve shut out other people that are really awesome.

So no more. It’s done. I can’t wait for Thursday. That’s all I’m sayin’. I really can’t.

I have that urge sometimes. Mostly it coincides with a low point in my mental status. I’m manic depressive so I get these crazy lows sometimes. When this happens I get really confused about everything. I mean, life everything. I start thinking about why I’m doing the things I’m doing. What’s the point? I mean, I’m just gonna die someday so who cares if I went to school, read this book or that, etc. I mean, why do I have a job? Why do I pay my rent? I think about these things and get sad. I get sad because if there’s no point, then what’s the point? I’m not making sense.

I had coffee with a dear friend who I want to more than friends with but at the moment we’re just friends and all but that’s okay because I’d just like to have this person in my life and that’s what really matters.

Rambling again.

We had coffee and we started talking about all of this. We’re both having serious issues with school. She hates it and wants to quit. I hate it and am wondering why I started again. I mean, I’m always bitching about freedom. Freedom from societal expectations, freedom from my boss and work. All sorts of freedoms. I mean, what I really want is to live in the woods in a little house that I’ve built, growing most of my own food and taking photos when I feel like it. I want to be able to sit with a mug of tea on a fall afternoon, watching to sunset as the air gets slightly hazy, enjoying the view and the moment. Not having to listen to cars and planes. Not having to stress about work the next day, or paying the rent. Or school. Or anything. I want to be free. But is this possible? Where does school play into this? Do I need an education? If I die before I finish school, will I have missed out? I mean, would it have been worth the delay on seeking my own happiness?

So I guess the question now is, do I just get in the car and drive away? Leaving all of the stress, responsibility and expectations behind? Is that possible or will I just get somewhere else and discover that I get trapped in the same situation? Is it possible to escape? Will it always be like this?

But what is happiness anyway? I guess for me it’s a sunset, my toes in the grass, and a woman I love next to me. That about sums it up. Oh yeah, and not having to be somewhere. I’m so tired of always having to be somewhere. Why are people always in such a fucking rush? What’s the huge hurry? You’re gonna die either way. Who cares if you made it wherever on time? What’s on time anyway? Made up. That’s what. When you’re dead no one is gonna be like, “Oh he was a good guy, always on time for work.” Fuck that. Who cares if you were? I’m more concerned with, “He was an alright guy.” Or… “That guy was happy.” “He didn’t let shit get in the way of happy. Of having a good time.” I mean, I go to work 40 hours a week. That’s 160 hours a month. 1,920 a year. I spend more time at work than I do awake at home. What is that? For what? So I can have this laptop I’m typing on? Who gives a fuck? Time is limited man. Life is limited. Get out and see the sunshine. I only have one life, why waste any of it?

I mean, will the job and school make me happier? What I really want doesn’t involve them. If I won the lottery tomorrow I wouldn’t buy a whole bunch of stuff. I’d buy some land and setup a trust that would support the modest things I would need living in the middle of nowhere taking photos of the beautiful things I find. That would make me happy.

Anyhow, I’m just way jacked on coffee right now and am rambling after a wonderful time having coffee with a wonderful girl that won’t date me right now and maybe not ever and we talked about life and what it all means and everything. Lo Fidelity style. I’m SO Rob.

And I’m gonna photograph the whole thing.

And publish said photographs as a book.

Now, you may be asking the same thing my friend did. What makes my book of photos different from every other book of photos from Scotland? I mean, there are a lot of them. I don’t want to make a book of travel photos. I don’t want to make a book of oh-look-at-the-pretty-castles photos either. I want a true, book long photo essay. I want it to really explore the life, culture, people, landscape, architecture of Scotland. I want the reader to really feel as though they’ve lived there. I know that I still need a more specific focus for what I would be shooting. I’ll get there. All I know for now is that I don’t want your usual travel photography.