Thursday, February 16, 2012

The Lens > Big Giant Brain

I just realized that I have been squelching my child’s dreams… actually both children really… but more prevalently my daughter’s because she’s older and mere steps away from adulthood.

My daughter has a Big. Giant. Brain.  She scored 1550 on her SAT’s in 7th grade!  At 15, she is currently a student at John Hopkins University, taking college credit courses, all thanks to her “BigGiantBrain.” So what does she want to do with her life? What’s her passion? 


Well, let me backstep a bit.  In a perfect world, where she could craft her own successful career, she'd be a photographer.  Of anything.  Photo Journalism. Portraiture. Crime scenes. Nature.  I don't even think she draws the line at the photostand where one snaps pictures of people dressed up in Civil War garb. Yet, she has already decided that getting a degree in photography is a waste of time.  "You have to be the best of the best to make that happen, Mom."  Hmmm... did I say that at one time or another?  Gosh! I hope I didn't, but I know I did plant the seed of practicality over passion.

So, my daughter has been exploring more "sensible" options.  On her "respectable vocation list" is advertising and the FBI. Hmmm… those sound like good and reasonable choices for someone who has a Big Giant Brain. So I’ve been suggesting schools best suited to those degrees.

But what if inside her Big Giant Brain is a Big Giant Talented Photographer????  

Seriously, she takes photos and within two hours, she has 200 likes on Facebook.  And they aren’t stupid duckface photos, but just random stuff she decides to photograph.  She has a cheapy little, tourist-grade digital camera that she takes everywhere.  Yet her eye for… well, everything, enables her to capture images that are amazing.  

The other day, it snowed.  Crap snow, cuz it didn’t amount to anything, and my daughter and I were just pulling into the driveway during the flurries.  My vehicle hadn’t even come to a complete stop in the driveway before BabyGirl was out the door and snapping away… focusing on worthy subjects I just can’t see… in the fricken cold.  And girlfriend doesn’t do ANYTHING voluntarily that would bring about the slightest amount of discomfort.

Yet there she was; like a butterfly with a camera. Hovering. Focusing. Absorbing. Temperature meant nothing because these shots were… survival… the only chance. 

I felt the passionate vibe; it’s IN her… There’s a time when a mom should be a realist, and there’s a time when a mom should be cheerleader… 

Go Bailey! Go!

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