Lightning strikes Lake Michigan offshore of the Chicago skyline as seen from Whihala Beach in Whiting, Ind., Thursday, May 3, 2012.

This past October, I found myself on the stage of a local theater, having a one-on-one production meeting with the director of a show I was lighting there. Set pieces, still in various stages of completion, became the walls of our impromptu meeting room. We canvassed the stage together and discussed specific lighting cues planned for different moments in the script.

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Maple trees with brilliant red and orange leaves stand along a roadside in Shabbona, Ill., Friday, October 12, 2012.

I’ve always had a very deep appreciation for beauty in nature. I’m constantly taking mental notes of the colors in beautiful sunsets or landscapes, and putting them to use later when creating color palettes for lighting designs in the theatre. There’s nothing like finding creative inspiration in the world that exists every day around you, not having to look very far to find that perfect color combination or hue.

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Paris Jackson, daughter of the late pop singer Michael Jackson, signs autographs for fans gathered outside the singer’s boyhood home at 2300 Jackson Street in Gary, Ind.,. Wednesday, August 29, 2012. Michael Jackson would have turned 54 on Wednesday.

Since the evening of June 25, 2009, the day pop singer Michael Jackson passed away, I have lost count of the number of times I’ve journeyed to 2300 Jackson Street in Gary, Indiana, to document events at the singer’s boyhood home. Some of them were held to commemorate the day of his passing, while others (as with today’s) celebrated the day of his birth.

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Fireworks explode in the sky over Monroe Harbor and Lake Michigan near Navy Pier in Chicago, Ill., Wednesday, July 4, 2012.

Ask anyone who’s known me beyond my recently-accepted adulthood, and they’ll confirm the early existence of my strong entrepreneurial spirit. A fine example of this comes from the summers I spent mowing lawns with my Auntie JoDee between my sixth and eighth grade years. Starting in the spring time, every Saturday morning, I’d pedal my Huffy to her house a block away and fuel up the silver Craftsman grass annihilator. My aunt and I would make quick work of not only her front and back yards, but those of two other homes on Olcott Ave. As compensation, I’d receive anywhere from 10 to 20 dollars, which was a decent chunk of weekly change at age 12.

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