Last night my hard drive array was corrupted by a driver update. To my horror my backup drive refused to restore the files I had copied over the night before. The resulting hours I spent ensuring my files were safe and intact, there were many moments during which I attempted to reassure myself that the files lost were only data, and that I still had my life, my mind.
Even during my feeble attempts at a 5-minute situation-induced conversion to a non-materialistic mindset I was cataloging; my photos, my videos, my films, my life's work thus far, and imagining a world without them. On recovery of the entirety of my works I have come to the conclusion that this photo journal has become an larger part of my life and myself than previously tolled. I admittedly had to hold back tears when I saw the first thumbnails of my "Samsung Edited" folder, I was in the only lab still open that night and didn't have official access to the computer; copying files over to a good friend's borrowed hard drive.
I don't know what these photographs mean, what odd purpose they are serving, what desires of my subconscious they placate. But flipping through close to a year's worth of my captured moments, ideas, and designs there is no doubt in my mind that the innocent beginnings of this journal have evolved into a crucial tool in expressing the wide range of terrors, joys, curiosities, and wonders that make up my life as a human being me.
Even during my feeble attempts at a 5-minute situation-induced conversion to a non-materialistic mindset I was cataloging; my photos, my videos, my films, my life's work thus far, and imagining a world without them. On recovery of the entirety of my works I have come to the conclusion that this photo journal has become an larger part of my life and myself than previously tolled. I admittedly had to hold back tears when I saw the first thumbnails of my "Samsung Edited" folder, I was in the only lab still open that night and didn't have official access to the computer; copying files over to a good friend's borrowed hard drive.
I don't know what these photographs mean, what odd purpose they are serving, what desires of my subconscious they placate. But flipping through close to a year's worth of my captured moments, ideas, and designs there is no doubt in my mind that the innocent beginnings of this journal have evolved into a crucial tool in expressing the wide range of terrors, joys, curiosities, and wonders that make up my life as a human being me.
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