I Decided Not To Be A Hermit - Atlanta Shooters Event
I Decided Not To Be A Hermit - Atlanta Shooters Event
Since moving to Atlanta, I’ve been, well… a bit of a hermit. I’ve never been particularly great at making friends, and truth be told, I enjoy my solitude. There’s something deeply comforting about being at home, surrounded by my books, a fresh cup of coffee, and the warm, familiar presence of my pets. My most comfortable chairs are perfectly arranged in various corners of my house, each strategically placed for reading, thinking, or simply existing without the pressure of social interaction. And, most importantly, at home, I don’t have to wear pants—an underrated luxury.
But as nice as that sounds, there’s an undeniable downside to self-imposed isolation: loneliness. After spending the better part of a year holed up in my own little world, I had to admit that my social life was practically nonexistent. I wasn’t just lacking friends—I was actively avoiding situations where I could make them. And while I love my books, coffee, and pets, they aren’t exactly great at engaging in meaningful conversation.
So, when 2025 rolled around, I made a decision. This year, I would step outside my comfort zone and push myself to be more social. Specifically, I set a goal to attend at least twelve photography events—one per month. If nothing else, it would force me to interact with other people, and, with any luck, I might even make a friend or two along the way.
Fast forward to January 25th. I was mindlessly scrolling through Instagram, as one does, when I saw that Atlanta Shooters was hosting a model and photographer meetup in downtown Atlanta. The only problem? It was starting in less than an hour. Normally, this would be the perfect excuse to pass it up—I wasn’t mentally prepared, I hadn’t planned ahead, and I wasn’t even sure if I was in the mood for socializing. But something in me hesitated. Before I could talk myself out of it, I messaged Tony, the organizer, to see if there was still room for one more photographer. To my surprise, he responded almost immediately with a simple “Yeah, come on down!”
Now I had a new problem. Not only did I have to get dressed immediately—a challenge in itself—but I also had to gather all my camera gear, which was currently scattered in various states of disarray around my house. Batteries? Who knew if I had any charged. Lenses? Probably still in my backpack from my last shoot (whenever that was). Memory cards? Hopefully not still sitting in my laptop.
What followed was a frantic, last-minute scramble to throw everything into my camera bag, hoping I wasn’t forgetting something crucial. Miraculously, I managed to get my act together and rush out the door in time for the 30-minute drive into the city.
I arrived on time—something of a small miracle in itself—and found a solid turnout of both photographers and models. The energy was great. People were chatting, setting up shots, and exchanging ideas. After a brief moment of awkward hesitation (should I introduce myself first? Wait for someone to talk to me?), I took a deep breath and did what I came there to do—I started shooting.
What followed was an unexpectedly fantastic evening. I met some incredibly talented photographers, learned a few new tricks, and had the chance to work with some amazing models. More importantly, I actually enjoyed myself. It turns out that even someone as socially resistant as me can have a good time in the right setting.
And you know what? I’m glad I went. Because at the end of the day, as much as I love being a hermit, there’s something to be said for stepping outside, engaging with the world, and creating something new.
Oh, and the photos? Well, just take a look for yourself.
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How To Survive The Next 4 Years
How To Survive The Next 4 Years
A lot of people, including myself, are wondering how to survive the next 4 years. The world feels a little heavy right now, doesn’t it? With all the news cycles buzzing and uncertainty in the air, it’s easy to feel overwhelmed—especially if you’re a creative, LGBTQ+, Trans, or someone who doesn’t quite fit into the narrow boxes that some would rather we all live in. But take a deep breath. You’re not alone, and you are stronger than any storm that rolls through.
Here’s a practical guide to surviving in the coming days. Think of it as your roadmap to keeping yourself intact while navigating dangerous terrain.
1. Stay Informed, Not Overwhelmed
Yes, it’s important to know what’s going on, but you don’t need to refresh social media every 15 minutes. Choose a couple of trusted, reliable news sources (think NPR, The Guardian, or your favorite independent journalists) and check in once or twice a day. Protect your mental health—it’s precious!
🛑 Pro Tip: If the news feels too much, follow some adorable animal accounts. A happy panda video never hurt anyone.
2. Build Your Community
There’s power in numbers! Whether you’re in a big city or a small town, find your people: artists, models, photographers, activists, or your favorite barista who makes the perfect chai latte. Your community can provide support, ideas, and a safe space to be yourself.
💡 Action Step: Host a potluck, attend a meetup, or join a meetup group for people in your niche. Creativity and solidarity grow stronger when shared.
3. Protect Your Privacy Like a Pro
We love a good selfie, but we also love staying safe. Be mindful of what you post online, especially about activism or other sensitive topics. Encrypt your messages, lock your devices, and maybe give that “Password123” password a glow-up.
🔒 Quick Fix: Try secure apps like Signal for private chats, install a VPN on ALL your devices, beware of apps that track activity like ALL META APPS, and set up two-factor authentication on your accounts.
4. Stock Up on Essentials
We’re not saying you need a bunker, but having a little stash of essentials never hurts. Think snacks, first aid kits, backup chargers, and a secret stash of your favorite chocolate.
🛒 Shopping List:
- Non-perishable food (and treats!)
- First aid basics
- A notebook and pen (for doodling or deep thoughts)
5. Keep Creating
Your art, your voice, your creativity—it matters now more than ever. Oppression thrives on silence, and your creations can be a form of resistance. Write that poem, paint that masterpiece, or snap that photo. Share it with the world or keep it close—your choice, your power.
🎨 Challenge: Dedicate 15 minutes a day to your craft. No pressure, just play.
6. Be Ready to Dash
Okay, this one’s serious—but stay prepared. Have a plan in case things get a little too real. Know your rights, your escape routes, and who to call for help.
🚪 Pro Tip: Keep important documents (like passports and IDs) in a safe, easy-to-grab spot. Maybe throw in a portable charger and some cash, too.
7. Take Care of Your Mind and Body
You can’t pour from an empty cup, so take time to rest, recharge, and stay strong. Yoga, journaling, a walk in the park, or rewatching your favorite comfort show (Schitt’s Creek, anyone?)—whatever keeps you grounded.
🧘 Idea: Try five minutes of deep breathing each day. Seriously, it works wonders.
8. Believe in Yourself (and the Future)
You are not powerless. History has shown us that even in the darkest times, love and creativity can light the way. The road ahead might be bumpy, but your journey is worth it. Stay fabulous, stay strong, and keep showing up.
💖 Remember: You are part of a long legacy of people who’ve made it through tough times. You’ve got this.
Together, We Shine
No matter what the future holds, you’re not in this alone. Your voice, your art, your very existence—these are acts of courage and beauty. Let’s stick together, lift each other up, and show the world just how unstoppable we are.
How I Got Started In Photography
How I Got Started In Photography
I often find myself reflecting on how I got started in photography and am struck by the sheer chaos of it all. Many photographers I know have these beautifully linear origin stories—passions kindled in childhood, steadily nurtured over the years. But my path has been anything but straightforward.
My earliest memories of photography date back to the 8th grade. My parents owned a Canon AE-1, and I would often "borrow" it, sneaking off with some film to document school field trips. To say my photos were unremarkable would be kind. Most were littered with specks of dust because I was oddly fascinated with taking the lenses on and off without realizing I was inviting debris into the camera each time. Despite my lack of skill, I enjoyed the process—the tactile satisfaction of loading film, the anticipation of developing photos. It became a casual hobby I pursued sporadically through high school. Then, somewhere along the way, I stopped. I can’t pinpoint why, but by the time I graduated, the camera was left behind, and for the next 14 years, so was photography.
It wasn’t until 2014 that I picked up a camera again. At the time, I was married to a wedding photographer, and our relationship was unraveling. In a desperate attempt to salvage it, I turned to photography, hoping to bridge the growing distance between us. It didn’t save my marriage, but it reignited something in me. The more I learned, the more I fell in love with capturing moments and crafting images. Initially, I wasn’t very skilled—most of my pictures were candid snapshots taken while wandering around Olympia, Washington. But even then, I was drawn to the idea of photographing people, of creating something meaningful and evocative.
During that period, I was heavily active on Tumblr, marveling at the stunning imagery that filled my feed. I aspired to create work that could stand among those pieces, but I had no idea where to begin. Finding models was intimidating, and my lack of technical knowledge left me feeling out of my depth.
Everything changed in January 2016, after I moved to Los Angeles. My friend and roommate, Sydney, graciously agreed to model for me. It was my first real photoshoot with a person as the central subject, and I was both excited and terrified. Armed with a Canon 70D and a basic set of umbrella lights, I fumbled through the session, improvising everything from lighting to poses. Despite my inexperience, a few of the images turned out surprisingly well, and I was thrilled.
That shoot was a turning point. I began to understand how critical trust and collaboration are in the dynamic between a photographer and their subject. Sydney’s patience and willingness to let me learn through trial and error taught me lessons I still carry with me today. Though we’ve since lost touch, I’m deeply grateful for her trust during that early stage of my journey. Wherever she is now, I hope she’s safe, happy, and thriving.
Photography has never been a linear journey for me—it’s been a series of stops, starts, and unexpected turns. But those moments of chaos and discovery have shaped me, and I wouldn’t trade them for anything.
[ngg src="galleries" ids="45" display="tile"]I wish these photos had survived in better quality, but alas I didn't save RAW files back then. I didn't even save photos back then; instead, I relied on Facebook to keep my photos. A mistake to be sure, as both these photos were compressed saved images from my no longer active Facebook page.
We Made It Through...
We made it through day one.
For anyone who’s followed me even briefly, it’s no secret that I am not a fan of Trump. His first term was a particularly challenging time for me. I struggled to understand how anyone could support him, especially those who identified as “Christian.” I couldn’t wrap my head around the excuses made for his actions or the unwavering loyalty of many, including most of my immediate family.
During those four years, I fell into an exhausting cycle. Every morning, I’d wake up and immediately check Twitter to see what unhinged thing he had said, done, or posted overnight. I tracked his every move, staying hyper-informed in an attempt to prepare for the worst.
This constant vigilance wasn’t new to me—it’s a habit rooted in my upbringing. Growing up in a volatile environment taught me to think 12 steps ahead, overanalyzing and preparing for worst-case scenarios as a way to protect myself. But Trump’s presidency exacerbated those tendencies, and it took a toll on me.
When he lost the election four years ago, I felt an immense sense of relief. Biden wasn’t my first choice, but his presidency offered something I desperately needed: a reprieve. For the first time in years, I could breathe, even if just a little.
But here we are again. Trump is back. And this time, he’s accompanied by Zuckerburg, Musk, and a broader wave of propaganda and harmful agendas. I’ve decided to approach the next four years differently for the sake of my peace.
One small change I’m making is removing all Meta products from my phone. While I’m keeping my accounts, I’ll only be accessing Facebook, Instagram, and Threads from my desktop. Meta no longer has permission to track me through my phone. Moving forward, most of my updates and content will be shared here on my website—a space I control, free from algorithms and corporate agendas.
Now, some might say, “Adam, what does this have to do with photography?” And they’d be right—it doesn’t. But photography is just one part of who I am. Like everyone, I have layers. I refuse to box myself into one topic or persona. My blog is my space to share whatever’s on my mind, no matter how chaotic. If writers like John Scalzi can build a platform by being their authentic selves, why can’t I?
So, here’s my commitment: I’m going to handle these next four years differently. Trump stole my peace once; I won’t let him do it again. I’ll protect my mental health, focus on what matters, and support my chosen family and friends along the way.
Stay vigilant. Look out for each other. Protect your peace.
Good luck to us all.
The Last Photoshoot of 2024
The Last Photoshoot of 2024
As 2024 came to a close, I managed to squeeze in one final photoshoot to wrap up the year on a creative high note. It felt like a perfect opportunity to work with people I admired, so I reached out to Gabrielle, my friend, model, and muse. She’s someone I’ve collaborated with on countless occasions and can always count on to bring magic to the lens. I also invited Sammi, a talented model I’d worked with earlier in March, but hadn’t had the chance to reconnect with since. Thankfully, she was excited to join, and the timing couldn’t have been better.
Finding the right space for this shoot was surprisingly easy, thanks to platforms like Peerspace. With just a few clicks, I booked a charming and affordable studio in Orlando, Florida. It had the perfect blend of character and warmth, setting the tone for what I hoped would be an unforgettable session.
Our time was limited—just a couple of hours to make the most of the space—so once Gabrielle and Sammi arrived, we got straight to work. Despite the time crunch, I’m thrilled with how the photos turned out. Of course, not every shot is destined to be a masterpiece, but we captured more gems than misses, and that’s always a win in my book.
If I could go back and change one thing, it would have been to book an extra hour. I had 2-3 rolls of film sitting in my bag, untouched, as we focused entirely on digital photography. I kept thinking about how different the energy of film feels—its rawness, its imperfections, its soul. It’s a lesson I’ll take into my next shoot: prioritize film first and let digital take the backseat, or maybe skip it altogether.
For now, though, I’m happy to share a few of my favorite images from this session. If you’d like to see the full set, head over to my Patreon for an exclusive look. Here’s to more creativity, more connections, and more stories to tell in 2025!
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A Rough Start to 2025
A Rough Start to 2025
There’s a joke circulating online that goes something like this: “I’d like to cancel my subscription to 2025. My 7-day free trial was a disaster.” And honestly, I get it. It seems like everyone has their own reasons for why the year might not be off to the smoothest start. Mine? I got sick.
It all began when my wife, Leslie, brought something home—a nasty bug that took her down first. For a few days, I held out hope that my immune system would hold strong against whatever storm she unleashed into our house. But by Wednesday, the cracks in my defenses started showing. I imagined myself as a general in a fantasy epic, yelling "HOLD THE LINE!" to my immune cells like Aragorn rallying the troops. Unfortunately, my immune system wasn’t as cooperative as the Rohirrim, and by midweek, my metaphorical walls came crashing down like Helm’s Deep in The Lord of the Rings.
To make matters worse, the timing of my downfall couldn’t have been less ideal. Georgia was forecasted to get snow on Friday—a rare treat here—and I love snow. Growing up in Utah, I spent countless winters skiing on mountain slopes, but it’s been well over a decade since I last saw snow in person. So even though I was sick, I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of excitement at the thought of snowflakes falling again.
Thursday, though, was pure misery. Feverish and alternating between freezing cold and burning up, I couldn’t do much more than just exist. It was one of those days where the best you can hope for is getting to bedtime without falling apart completely.
But Friday morning brought a glimmer of hope—literally. I woke up around 8 a.m., still feeling awful, but determined to drag myself downstairs to see the snow. And there it was, falling softly outside, blanketing the world in white. For the first time in years, I felt that childhood joy of watching snow transform the ordinary into something magical.
Now, here’s the twist: my wife, Leslie, had never seen snow before in her entire life. Growing up in Florida, her winters were all palm trees and sand, with no snowflakes in sight. She’s not a fan of the cold, either, so I assumed she’d take one look outside and retreat under a pile of blankets. But to my surprise, she came downstairs, bundled up in layers, and declared she was ready to experience snow for the first time.
Despite both of us still being sick, we ventured outside together. Leslie built her very first snowman (a tiny one, but adorable nonetheless), made a snow angel, tossed a few snowballs, and even remembered the golden rule of snow: don’t eat the yellow stuff. She was completely enchanted, and to my delight, she announced that she loved snow and wanted to see more of it in the future. For someone who grew up dreaming of beaches, this was a huge win.
The snow didn’t last long, though. By Sunday, most of it had melted, leaving behind patches of ice and a neighborhood dripping like it was caught in a rainstorm. The bright sunlight and warming temperatures were quickly erasing the winter wonderland. But for a brief, fleeting moment, we had snow.
Speaking of snow, here is a VERY old video of my brother and I having a snow adventure of our own at Snowbird Ski Resort. This was long before I changed my name to Adam, so please excuse the reference to the dead name.
Flying A Drone Into Fireworks
Flying A Drone Into Fireworks
Have you ever wondered what it would be like flying a drone into fireworks?
We’re only a few days into 2025, and I have to admit—I’m feeling uneasy about what lies ahead. This year carries an ominous weight that’s hard to shake, and though I’m doing my best to stay hopeful, it’s a battle against a creeping sense of dread. There are plenty of reasons I could list for this feeling. I’m worried about my 9-to-5 and what the future holds for me there. I’m anxious about the state of politics and the uncertain direction of America. I’m deeply frustrated by the way some religious institutions continue to groom, manipulate, and exploit their members—all while enjoying tax-exempt status.
To put it simply, I’m worried. But even in the face of that worry, I’m determined to hold onto hope and find moments of joy. So, as 2025 began, I decided to kick it off with something fun, something a little wild. On New Year’s Eve, I had one simple request:
I wanted to fly my drone into a bunch of fireworks.
Midnight came and went, and while I didn’t get to pull it off at the stroke of the new year, later that night in front of my in-laws’ house, I finally had my chance. I launched my drone into the air, right into a cascade of bright, exploding fireworks. Watching the bursts of light and color unfold through the drone’s lens was exhilarating—like capturing a front-row seat to chaos and beauty combined.
I haven’t had time to edit the footage yet, but for now, enjoy this unfiltered, raw video. Here’s to holding onto hope, even when the skies feel heavy, and chasing those moments that make it all worthwhile.
My 2025 Bingo Card
My 2025 Bingo Card
At the start of 2025, I decided to create a bingo card for the year.
Every time something wild or unexpected happens, I always say,
“Well, I didn’t have that on my bingo card!”—even though I’ve never actually had one. So this year, I made it official.
Filling out the squares was no easy task. I wanted a mix of realistic goals, fun possibilities, and completely outlandish scenarios. They’re all scattered across the card in no particular order, but one of the more intriguing entries I added was “The Downfall of Social Media.” Now, it feels like I’m getting closer to marking that one off.
In 2024, we witnessed the spectacular implosion of Twitter (or X, as Musk insists on calling it). Under Musk’s leadership, the platform saw its value plummet by over 80%, and user engagement dropped by around 30%. By the end of the year, it was clear the platform was teetering on the brink of financial ruin, with hundreds of thousands of users jumping ship.
Fast forward to January 2025, and Zuckerberg announced some controversial changes for Meta platforms. Let’s just say his plans and alliances—particularly his apparent pandering to figures like Trump—haven’t exactly won over the public. While the fallout hasn’t been as dramatic as Twitter’s (yet), the steady stream of users leaving Meta platforms is hard to ignore. I wouldn’t be surprised if this year brings a full-scale exodus, mirroring the collapse we saw with Twitter.
Personally, I’ve already started to distance myself from Meta. I made my final Facebook post in 2024 and deleted the app entirely. These days, I’m reluctant to share on Instagram or Threads because of Meta’s practice of using user content to train AI. Instead, I’ve been exploring alternatives like BlueSky and posting more frequently on Patreon.
What’s next for social media? Will these platforms truly collapse, or will they reinvent themselves yet again? I don’t have the answers, but one thing’s for sure: I’m keeping a close eye on my bingo card, and I think I’m getting close to crossing off that square.
Santa Comes Home After A Long Night
Santa Comes Home After A Long Night
Last year, I got a chance to do something really special—a photoshoot with a friend I’ve known since my senior year of high school. She called me out of the blue and asked if I’d be interested in coming back to North Carolina to shoot her and a few of her burlesque sisters. Of course, I said yes. I mean, how could I not?
I was equal parts excited and nervous. It’s been years since we’d worked on anything together, and this was definitely new territory for me. But I love a creative challenge, so we made it happen.
When the day finally rolled around, it felt like stepping into a whirlwind of nostalgia and artistic energy. These women brought such an amazing vibe—confidence, humor, and so much personality. I couldn’t stop clicking my camera; every moment felt like magic.
By the end of the shoot, I had so many photos. Even now, months later, I’m still finding hidden gems I missed the first few times I went through them. That’s one of my favorite things about photography—there’s always something new to discover when you revisit your work.
But the real twist came from another photographer who joined us that day. Out of nowhere, he pulled out a Santa suit he’d brought along and offered to use himself as a prop. Honestly, none of us saw it coming, but it was perfect.
That’s when inspiration struck: What if we turned Santa into the star of the shoot? Picture this—Santa, exhausted from a long Christmas Eve of delivering gifts, coming home to his “reward.” The idea was too good to pass up.
We jumped right in, and the results were hilarious, cheeky, and surprisingly glamorous. I still crack a smile every time I look at those photos. They’re a mix of festive fun and the kind of burlesque elegance that only these performers could pull off.
This shoot was such a great reminder of why I love doing what I do. It wasn’t just about the photos; it was about the energy, the collaboration, and the unexpected magic that happens when you lean into the moment.
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The Winter Solstice
The Winter Solstice
Yesterday marked the Winter Solstice, the day with the least amount of sunlight and the most darkness of the year. For anyone unfamiliar, it’s a moment that holds deep significance in many cultures, both past and present. It’s often seen as a time to set intentions for the year ahead, gather around fires with loved ones, enjoy good food, and, most importantly, to rest. For many, the Solstice feels like the true end of the year—a closing of the season and the start of the gradual return to light.
For much of my life, I didn’t know anything about the Winter Solstice. Growing up Mormon, my understanding of the world was shaped almost entirely by that framework, leaving little room for
exploration of other traditions. It was about a decade ago that I first encountered the Solstice, and its themes and rituals resonated deeply with me. Over the years, it has become increasingly meaningful, a quiet yet profound cornerstone in my personal journey.
Yesterday, I spent the morning gathering materials for what I can only describe as an offering of sorts, placed in my backyard. It was born from a mix of creativity and inspiration, and I’m pleased with how it turned out. While I don’t worship or follow any specific deity, I like to think the universe received it with goodwill.
The rest of the day—and much of the night—was spent by the fire. There’s something grounding about watching the flames dance, feeling the warmth, and letting the smoke cleanse away lingering burdens. Even now, as I sit writing this, I’m wrapped in the hoodie I wore last night. The comforting scent of smoke lingers on the fabric, a subtle reminder of the embers that burned into the night.
As is often the case during moments of reflection, my camera accompanied me, becoming part of my observance. When the sun set and the light faded, I captured a self-portrait—a visual memento of the day. I quite like how it turned out, and it feels like a fitting way to mark the occasion.
To those of you who celebrate the Winter Solstice, I hope it was a day of peace and renewal for you. And as we step into the coming year, may it bring light, blessings, and growth for us all.