A few years ago I laughed at drone enthusiasts, what with their spinning blades chopping into the frame. I can't get the .gif of the DJI phantom crashing into that wedding couple out of my head. All ridiculousness aside, I can't believe aerial photography is now accessible to us, the lowly regulars. It's still ripe for overuse, but at least the technology has caught up enough that its not blatantly obvious when you cut in some prosumer quality drone footage into an edit. Its a powerful way to shoot landscapes and achieve any possible perspective on a shoot.

My wife and I drove down the Pacific Coast Highway as our honeymoon trip. I took a ton of pictures, but in Big Sur I spotted a remote pilot buzzing over the coastline and peaking over the tops of redwoods. He had this pseudo-psychotic permagrin on his face, a lot like that old Soundgarden video. I understand why, as now I am aching to revisit the PCH from above. 

I used to bring quite a bit of equipment with me when traveling, but the biggest problem I ran into was that it just wasn't fun enough to use. The weight dragged me down, plus the added anxiety of having your life's work contained in a backpack that can be misplaced or stolen. I spent more time worrying than shooting. I can count on zero hands the amount of times I woke up early enough to catch a sunrise. In the past week alone, I've caught 3 and am more cognizant of the weather and sun / cloud cover than ever before. The amount of ground one can cover in a short 20~min flight is astounding.

The biggest lesson I learned from flying (aside from the pilot/HAM radio alphabet) is to stop worrying so much and find a method to work that brings you joy. It's impossible to argue with the result. 

A few years ago I documented a crosswalk painting public art installation in my neighborhood designed by the very talented Aaron Perezette. His wife Sharon contacted me to help document a large scale sculpture installation at the newly opened Midtown Park. This afforded me the chance for one truly sweat-inducing (not fond of heights) crane shot.

I love the playful nature of Sharon Engelstein's work, so I tried to make this as fun as possible.

I moved back to Houston in 2012. I truly missed going to MLB games, it made no difference to me that my beloved 'Stros were rebuilding. In my first year of college I had a lot to figure out, but I still remember sitting in the rec center alone watching my team get clobbered 4x in a row by the White Sox. That team had all the dinosaurs of my youth, the Killer B's and a Roger Clemens that refused to die. 

I screamed in tandem at the TV along with my North TX roommate when the Rangers crapped out a few years later. In my defense, it was ideologically easier to root for the Rangers when the Astros were still in the NL. I had no job in 2012, so I regularly went to the nearly empty day games in Minute Maid. I so enjoyed being able to get in to the park for a couple bucks that the team record was irrelevant. The strangest part is that I don't recall ever seeing them lose in person, and the only player I knew by name was a young(er) Jose Altuve. I didn't understand the move to the American League or the strategic differences with having a dedicated DH spot. I was just glad to never see the Braves or Cardinals again. The new ownership brought back the H-star logo, reminding me of all the hats my dad bought for me in the cavernous Astrodome, where it felt like we were always playing the Pirates. The train conductor motif uniforms (circa '05 WS) were an all time low for the franchise IMO, overplaying the playful (deliberate) idiosyncrasies of Enron Field against my city's starring role in winning the space race vs. those pesky Russians. 

In 2015, I was accepted into a graduate business program and took a sweet day job. An intense longing sensation grew within me, unable to find the time to take in a four hour game. I followed more closely as the team slowly replaced unknowns with smart draft picks, and wouldn't you know it we beat the damn Yankees in a (wild) Wild Card game. Then followed one brutal 200 hit inning verses the Royals, Correa giveth and Correa taketh away. Those Royals went on to win the WS and I wondered if it could ever happen in Houston.

This semester, I was able to scale back my hours significantly, taking only a single online class. There was finally time for baseball, and I couldn't have picked a better time to free up my schedule. The past two years have been a real grind for me personally, and I'm celebrating my own victory. I watched countless videos of people celebrating at Minute Maid last night and was moved to actual tears. What a time to be alive!

Harvey was the single most devastating event to hit Houston in my limited years on this earth. I was here for the '94 floods, Ike, (skipped Allison & Rita in college), Memorial Day, Tax Day. I've still never seen so much of the city under water (and much of it is still under water). I held my breath as they released Addicks and Barker reservoirs into Buffalo Bayou (seen below), Downtown saw a lot of water. Everywhere did really. I took as many pictures as I could before my camera shut off prematurely from getting a little too wet. As much as it pained me to see my city destroyed by biblical flooding, the local news put out some of the most enthralling 80 hours of television I've ever seen. Thankfully I had power to tune in. Texas forever.