Friday morning, I was buzzing with energy—The kind of electric, can't-sit-still excitement that only happens when something big is about to go down. The Dallas International Guitar Festival was finally here, and my camera was fully charged, ready for whatever magic the day had in store. I left the house early, making a quick pit stop at Walgreens. The night before, I’d bought everything I needed to create my own business cards—And today was the first time I’d be handing them out. A small act, maybe, but for me? A huge leap. It felt like I was finally putting myself out there, promoting not just what I do, but what I love. The skies were gray, but I wasn’t worried. I figured I had plenty of time to get to the venue, cards in hand, before the rain hit. Spoiler alert: I was wrong. As I pulled up to Dallas Market Hall, it started to sprinkle. I thought, “If I move fast enough, I can make it inside without getting soaked.” Wishful thinking. I made it to the security tent when—Boom! The sky opened up like a waterfall. It poured so hard, it felt like the rain gods had unleashed a full-blown storm just for fun. But in the chaos, something beautiful happened. A kind stranger with an umbrella noticed my drenched, camera-bag-carrying self and offered to walk me to the entrance. Just like that, I was reminded that good people still exist—And that not even a downpour could wash away my excitement. Once inside, the rain shuffled plans around. Bands were moved indoors, time slots were all over the place, and the echoey acoustics made filming a nightmare. But despite the curveballs, there was still something magical about being there. Even soggy and slightly disoriented, I felt proud—Of the moment, the cards in my pocket, and the boldness it took just to show up. This Friday was one for the books. After a rain-soaked Friday full of surprises and soaked sneakers, Saturday arrived with clear skies and a promise of better things. The sun was out, the weather was perfect, and the bands were finally back outside where they belonged. You could feel it in the air—That electric buzz of excitement that only live music and good weather can create. And me? I was glowing right along with it. But this wasn’t just another day at the Dallas International Guitar Festival. This day was special. My mom and her boyfriend were coming to see me in my element—Camera in hand, surrounded by amps and guitars, doing what I love most. There’s something deeply powerful about being seen doing what lights you up inside. It’s vulnerable, but it’s also incredibly rewarding. The morning began with me helping out at the booth, keeping busy and soaking in the energy building around the grounds. Before long, I made my way outside to catch my good friend Rockin’ Robert Tomberlin as he took the stage for his set. Things didn’t go exactly as planned—The sound system had technical issues that ate up most of his time. But in true Robert fashion, he turned it into a moment of connection, calling out friends in the crowd, thanking them for their support. To my surprise, I was one of those people he mentioned. Slightly embarrassed but touched, I shrank into the crowd, trying to blend in—But also silently beaming. It meant a lot. Once the music finally kicked in, the rhythm of the day swept over me, and I got lost in it. When my mom arrived, I lit up all over again. I couldn’t wait to show her everything—The energy, the talent, the joy of it all. I practically dragged her from one end of the venue to the other, wanting her to see every spark of what made this place feel like home to me. Her smiling face, watching me work and capturing moments on camera, filled me with a pride I can’t quite put into words. It was more than just support—It was understanding. She saw me. Sunday brought that same vibrant energy, but with a new twist: my boyfriend was coming for the first time. When he arrived, I could tell it was a bit overwhelming at first. There’s a lot to take in — guitars for days, music pouring out from every direction, and me in full-on excited mode trying to drag him everywhere at once. But as we wandered, the awe started to settle into appreciation. I watched his face light up with every performance, every interaction, every wild and wonderful detail. He was experiencing my world — and loving it. It was like I got to fall in love with the festival all over again through his eyes. We walked hand in hand, laughed between sets, and I got to share the heart of what I do with someone I care deeply about. Even though he couldn’t stay as long as I would’ve liked, just having him there was enough. It meant everything. And so, with tired feet, a full heart, and memory cards packed with moments frozen in time, I wrapped up the final day of the festival knowing I had captured more than just photos — I had captured a piece of myself in the process. The weekend reminded me not only of why I do what I do… but who I am when I’m doing it.
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