Category Archives: Memory

2003: Year of Self Portraits

Looking through my old scanned negatives, looks like 2003 was a big year for me in the field of self portraits . . .

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Revisitation: The Emo Song

Originally published October 24th, 2011.

i am bored and feel like wasting time so i feel like posting the “song” i wrote while at work last week. ha ha. i was kinda hyper when i did this.

sick of double standards
but those walls are
only temporary.
one day we will be on the same side.
and you speak to me
as if i don’t belong,
and look at me like
your mistake.
why can’t our hands just match for once?

just let me ask you this one question:
(why can’t girls be emo?
cause we try,
and you just say we’re bitching) x2

just let me ask you this one question:
(why can’t girls be emo?
and please stop
using our vocals to back your up)x2

la la la la la la
you always act so trite…
one of these days
they’re gonna realize
your weakness is a facade.
and that facade
is gently crumbling
and you’re just another
whiny little boy.
[chorus 1]
just let me ask you this one question:
(why can’t girls be emo?
we can say
wa-ohhhhhh just as well) x2

…we can say wa-ohhhhhhhh just as well.

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High School is Awkward

All the “Merit” kids who were at the top 10% banquet senior year and some of our teachers (aka NERDS)

Last day of school EVER!

My graduation announcement.

Senior Night for Gymnastics

At some cross country meet.

THE BEACH

Soccer boys + me, last day of senior year.

Junior Prom (LOL . . . or LOWELL)

Utter classiness on the last day.

Post-senior summer. Typical.

Me and the geeks. Physics or Calculus.

I was the baby and all my friends graduated two years before me. Wah.

I HAD NO WAIST . . . and yet was called fat.

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Adrienne Got a Rat-Tail

May 2004: the beginning of the summer of “too many dudes” and a month where responsibility seemed a thing of the past while slowly creeping down on me. I was staring down the barrel of a move eight hours away and three years of law school. So I didn’t care.

And I also had my friends cut me a rat-tail.

My hair was, for me, luxurious. I was surprised at how shiny and how long and how perfect it was. It had even developed a bit of a natural wave. So of course I had to ruin it.

On the night of May 12th, 2004, I asked my friends not once, not twice, but thrice to cut me a rat-tail. And as promised/threatened, the third time I asked the scissors came out and they cut my hair in to a rat-tail that made me look somewhat like a lady George Washington. They tied a ribbon in a bow around the rat-tail and I skipped through the woods in a borrowed shirt (after all, hair covered mine) that said “PUSSY MASTER” in iron letters.

At 12:34 am on May 13th, 2004, I typed the following statement into my Livejournal: “i am drunk and just had my friends cut me a rat tail…OMG i have a fucking rat tail helllllo 1988.”

Amidst drama (I was accused of “coppin'” someone’s “steez”) and lack of rat-tail appropriate occasions, I planned to keep it for exactly one week. Then, I would cut it off and burn it surrounded by friends. However, a job interview was scheduled on the morning of the 20th and hampered that plan. For just under a week, the rat-tail lived and changed my world.

Oh my poor, poor hair.

However, the rat-rail had to die. I had to go on and spend my summer days as an administrative assistant and my summer nights drinking vodka and PBR while running from cicadas. I had to let it die and let that one last reckless summer spring from its ashes.

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The Greenhouse

When I started photography in college, our first class “field trip” in just about every photo class was to the greenhouse on campus. During the first week of class each semester, the plants and the heat (yes, even in the winter!) would be invaded by mobs of CKWCs (college kids with cameras). Let’s go back.

(Can you tell which pictures I took during my first semester as opposed to my second? Ha.)

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