postscript

my eyes are open. even in the dark.

(i love you.)

My (official) 30th year

(Originally written during the last week of July, 2009)

(re-edited June 20, 2010)

Oftentimes, I forget that I’ll be officially turning 30 next week. I grew up with the thought that your time in a tummy was already 1 year when you’re born (they do this in some parts of Asia and my mum was in the habit of telling me I was a year older than everyone else thought). So, technically, I’m 30. But to most people, I’m still 29.

(Snip: I’ve now been “officially” 30 for almost a month – this post was obviously started a bit ago.)

I find it funny that the only way I seem to remember my birthday is from reminders of others – particularly the nearer it gets. In June, I was very much aware my birthday would be in a month’s time. Two days prior to the actual date? Nada. The day of? I was reminded by a phone call at midnight from several friends as they placed the call on speaker sang to me. There I was, with one of my friends helping him practice taking flash photographs in darkness and, after the call, all I could really think about was this: What exactly was different about me NOW? Did I feel older? Look older? Had I learned anything that I didn’t already know one minute prior to the midnight chime?

Not really. I still had the same thoughts, same opinions, same friends, same family, same desires. Except one.

I really enjoy getting older. I always look forward to the extra year and sometimes think about what my life will be like in 2 years time. In 5. In 10. It isn’t often that I take “The Future” into account. I have always looked at my life as it was in the current frame of space and time since I was a teenager (perhaps this is why I think I can deal with harsher things with a bit more immediacy than some? Who knows.).

But sometimes, I do look ahead. I’ve been told by some that this can be a good exercise in evaluating where one would like their life to go. I try to find the appeal in this. I like not knowing. I like not writing an ending before a beginning. I don’t pretend to know how to shape the future even though I’m well aware what I do today will affect tomorrow. THAT I most certainly can think about to no end. But that’s about as far as I think my mind feels comfortable going.

That being said, my attempt at thinking of “The Future” comes in the form of a list (I like these). Given all the things I’ve experienced, there’s obviously much more I’d like to do. I worry sometimes that I’ll get to be a certain age and realize I’ve not done everything I’ve wanted to do or that I’ve really gone through life having done not much at all.

30 Things During My 30th Year:

1. Sky dive
2. Complete the first 5 chapters of a photoessay book
3. Graduate (and never, EVER return to an academic setting as a student)
4. Make two of my favourite short stories I’ve written into a short film. In progress!
5. Purge every single one of my belongings that I can live without.
6. Pay off the only credit card I have in my name (I’m so close!).
7. Inspire and educate others. Of every age.
8. Be an even better do-er. (How does one type that word correctly?)
9. Be better about communicating to my family.
10. Reach out to my siblings I’ve never met.
11. Finish my family tree. It would give me more insight into the most secretive people I’ve ever encountered.
12. Be more in touch with how and who I was 25 years ago (children truly hold the secret that adults yearn to know).
13. Understand people less in the beginning and allow them to show me who they are (this one sounds awkward, I know).
14. Finish the songs I’ve been working on for the past decade. And record them. Officially.
15. Edit all my (creative) writing pieces and self-publish them. Finally.
16. Get reacquainted with past mentors. Acquire new ones if need be.
17. Write more handwritten letters. And send them.
18. Send a message in a bottle.
19. Make a time capsule that represents my 30th year of life and open it on my 60th.
20. Most of the emotional sides of me (including my minds. Yes, plural) are like a house with a locked door. And I swallowed the key. Its gotten better over the past few years. I’d like that to progress to the top of the peak this year.
21. Drive to a secluded field. Lie down on a blanket. Look up at the stars all night. And just be.
22. New places to travel (for just this year): South Africa, the middle of America, Tierra del Fuego (for some reason, to me, it seems like the edge of the earth), Haiti. A visit back to “La Isla” and a visit back to my New Orleans.
23. Send one letter to each person in my life that means the most to me. And tell them why.
24. I’m blunt with a lot of things. Though I don’t like hurting people’s feelings because of it. I’m working…understanding that as an outcome.
25. Develop the most kick ass digital workflow for all my work both offline and online.
26. Paint more and archive every single one of my doodles. Feel less ashamed of how childish they look.
27. I’ve lost a lot of people in my life in a physical sense (death). I feel guilty because I feel they may not have known how important they were to me. I’m trying to be mindful of everything I say, how I say it, and why. But I must show love more often, especially to those who really deserve it.
28. Work on knowing my limits by understanding my weaknesses and embracing my strengths.
29. Learn how to accept a compliment. And not feel awkward nor guilty about responding with a thank you.
30. Re-examine the importance of quitting something that isn’t worth it.

if only you knew (me).

Apparently, I started this post in January. And all I could do was title it. Its funny that I thought it to be so important at the time. But now, I don’t even remember what it was about..

Shoot how you write

I was just told/advised/given the best possible phrase I could hear.

“Shoot how you write”

So, I’m trying to understand.

Shoot how you write. Shoot how you write. Shoot how you write. Shoot how you write. Shoot how you write. Shoot how you write. Shoot how you write. Shoot how you write. Shoot how you write. Shoot how you write. Shoot how you write. Shoot how you write. Shoot how you write. Shoot how you write. Shoot how you write. Shoot how you write. Shoot how you write. Shoot how you write. Shoot how you write. Shoot how you write.

Precedence

Recently, I’ve been thinking a lot about the way my life has changed over the years. How different have I become? How have my priorities changed? Are my goals different? Am I any closer to achieving them?

I’m not sure if this has anything to do with me being in my 30s. There’s been a few times where the thought has occured to me that I’m afraid I’ll come to the end of my life (whenever that may be) and find that I haven’t done everything I’ve wanted to do that I could have done. How many of these things are just mere wishes versus an actual emotional need?

There are several people I’ve known throughout my life that know I am prone to disappearing. That I’m prone to want to disappear and leave no trace that I was ever here nor there – sometimes I have a strong desire to disappear and leave no clue as to where I’ve gone. I go back and forth – a debate inside my head – about whether I would ever feel at peace anywhere I went. It tends to tell me that being at peace and feeling “at home” is a mental space versus a physical need to belong somewhere; to be able to plant one’s own two feet solidly in one place; to be constantly surrounded by familiarity.

That seems “normal” to me. But it also seems like something I’m uncomfortable with.

Does it have to do with maybe not fully knowing what I want from my own life or where I want my own life to be?

Maybe. Though I think it has more to do with my mind not being idle. There’s so much I want from my own life; so much I want to experience; so much I want to be. The very idea of answering the question “what do you want to be when you grow up?” makes me feel dizzy because I know I would never, and have never, had just one answer.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about taking 2 months off from school in order to travel and roadtrip throughout the deep south. To work on picture stories. To document. To live. To have my body and my mind live at a speed to which I’m accustomed to.

Loneliness and How She Came to Be.

I have no idea what it means to be lonely.

Am I being honest? Or am I just thinking something I wish were true?

It seems a simple concept. State of being. A need (a wanting?) of something that cannot be readily met or someone that isn’t there who used to be.

I have conversations with friends sometimes about what loneliness feels like to them. A lot of them respond in the same way. Some say they’re lonely for something specific. Others say they’re lonely for anything. They’ll say “I hate being single.” Or “I really wish I was with someone.”

Me? The thought doesn’t seem to cross my mind. At all. If it happens, neat. If not, I don’t feel upset or sad about it. Does it mean I’m just independent? Or does it mean I’m closed off? Both?

Is missing something or someone the same as loneliness? Or are they just connected?

Oftentimes, when I think about these types of feelings, I wonder whether I grew up poorly and detached from certain human emotions.

Its easy for me to feel some. I feel love often (whether it be for someone, something, an idea, etc). I can feel anger easily (not necessarily often). I can feel need. Jealousy. Happiness. Crazy. But when I think about loneliness, I don’t think I know how that should feel. Did this come from growing up with my father? A man so disconnected from people and the complete range of human emotions, it should be criminal.

Instead of saying “I love you” at the end of our conversations, he says “lots of love”.

Now that I think of it, I cannot remember a time where he’s ever said “I love you.” At least, not to me.

When someone isn’t near me that I wish was, I feel I miss them. Am I lonely for them? How is that defined? What does it include?

I find that the closest thing I feel close to loneliness might be when I haven’t spent enough time with myself. I get so caught up in a working mode, whether it be projects for school, developing my side projects for my own business, or my actual day job, it is incredibly easy for me to forget I’m a person. It was such a problem that I had to set alerts on my computer’s calendar to go off ever few hours to remind myself to take a break. Before that? I could work for two days straight and get completely lost as to what day it was. Its then that I realize “shit, I need to spend some me-time otherwise I’ll start acting like that other girl I used to be years ago.”

Crazy.

So, what does it feel like to be lonely? Is it better that I don’t feel that? Or is it a bad thing that I might be missing a human emotion that so many others around me seem to be feeling?

Revisiting

While organizing posts from years back (some of you might remember my other site before this one), I came across one that I had to re-read. Back then, I had written it in response to some thoughts about who I am as a person and who I wanted to be. They were realizations that came to me after (re)watching specific films that I’ve always held close by – for moments when I’m feeling just a little less strong.

It’s been five years since I wrote that blurb. It seemed a bit more than circumstance or convenience that I come across it again after so many months of struggling with that very same question: “Who do I want to be?” and “Am I right where I planned to be?”

I don’t believe in luck (which is not to say I don’t respect other people’s thoughts on it because I certainly do). I think people generally make (or should make) their own luck. I don’t think I believe in things like fate either. I don’t believe that there exists something or someone pulling strings and leading me into situations predestined. Everything is purposeful. I’m not where I am by accident. I’m not where I am because of a mistake. Every choice, whether thought out or no, was a choice I made. And those that I’ve yet to make will be made the same way.

But I do know this: I’m very much here. Not through fate or destiny but through active choices. Were they smart ones? Who knows. Should I have made different choices? Maybe. But maybe not. I can’t really control that and don’t think I would want to if I could. I’m here because I want to be.

And who I am right now? I’m just fine.

Who’s the boss of me?

During my late teens to early 20s, one of the biggest concerns I had was what I would do in the professional world. I was just entering college and figuring out what I wanted my life’s career to be was overwhelming. It didn’t feel like it should have been. Besides, up until then, I’d been so good and figuring out other people and, most of all, me. I had me figured out but it seemed that I didn’t have me as part of the world quite ironed out yet.

I graduated college. With a lot of pieces of paper that, in the end, don’t really seem to mean much other than people thought I was smart. People thought I was creative. People thought I had a lot to offer other people (not just companies). But, I gave them money (well, some. The rest, I’d imagine, came from the government. Thanks, Clinton! Well, and Bush, a little. But I still hate you.) and what they gave me were accolades and official sheets of paper. And a really long graduation ceremony complete with a military lovefest (which I didn’t stand up and applaud for).

So, where the hell was my place?

I tried the nonprofit thing as that’s where most of my training and all of my knowledge went towards. Helping people, being aware, and being present. But something struck me about nonprofits and other institutions that fell into social work. I wanted to change things. Permanently. I didn’t want to simply apply a bandage.

I tried the corporate thing after the nonprofit thing barely paid the bills (I had some serious shit back then as far as debt is concerned). I was grossly underpaid for what I did and the services I provided. If I was lucky, I’d get an $800 check. Every month.

The corporate thing lasted 5 years. And it was horrible. I was slowly becoming what I absolutely hated doing – creating a need that wasn’t really there to begin with. And people paid me. A lot. I loved most of the people I worked with. But the micromanagement, the policies, the supervisors, and the environment brought up ethical questions for me every day I came home. And I worked lawyer hours. Literally.

Plus my feet were effing killing me. A pesky little bone disorder I could have lived comfortably with suddenly was in desperate need of surgery. Fantastic.

Why was I doing this again? I kept telling myself it was a means to an end. I’d save up what I needed, peace out, bounce, and start the necessary steps to get to where I needed/wanted to be. I was saving money. But it wasn’t getting me closer to my goal. I found I barely remembered my life’s goals. The more time passed by, the more lost I felt.

When I was younger, I had multiple passions. I liked photos. I liked writing. I liked playing music. I liked helping people. After some very long nights of talking, crying, and trying to remember, I figured it out. I could do all these things. Together. So, I told myself, just a couple more years. Just a couple more years. I can go back to school, quit, and do this shit right.

Fast forward. I end up in Austin, Texas with the reasoning that I would attend the graduate photojournalism program at University of Texas, Austin. Here lies one of the best photojournalism schools in the nation. So, I’d wait out the year to become a resident, apply, and I’m on my way.

Sort of. I can’t stand Texas. Austin was tight as hell but I kept feeling that I didn’t belong there. In all seriousness, I love almost everything about Austin and the rest of Southern states (yes, I’m serious) but something felt off. I’m sure it had something to do with the fact that I was still in the corporate environment – and it was worse in Austin. Ethical questions became concerns became employees making regular calls to HR in the hopes of removing frustrating management from our midst.

One day, I get a call from a visual journalism school in southern California. I think on it for a couple of weeks, fill out paperwork, got an acceptance letter, checked the money I had saved, and quit my job the day after x-mas. Fuck it. A week later, my car, my best friend, my cats, and myself arrived on the beach in southern California. I took several deep breaths, cried heavily when I entered my nutshell sized living quarters (which I’ve since come to grips with and loving it a little more every day), and started a gradual freak out. Thankfully, the freaking my shit out dissipated after some thinking and perspective.

So, now comes the really difficult part. I came to the realization that I don’t play well with others when the others feel they’re in a position to tell me what to do and how to do my job. Especially, when its a job I’m not particularly fond of. Other things learned?

1. I’ve done self-employment before. It wasn’t great then. But it’ll be better this time. Freelance is where the boss of me will always be just me.

2. Network. It seems like a lot of work in my field depends on connections – who you know. Names get dropped and needs get created.

3. Patience. Things take time. I’m very driven and often find that I must get things done now. But I also know that my best work emerges when I make the time for it to do so. I have to be patient, thorough, and give myself the time I need to do what I need.

4. Self-motivation. I’m a highly motivated sorta gal when it comes to getting things done as long as they meld with things I really want. There must be a balance between the two for me to be honest enough to say/think: “Ok. Imma rock this bitch.” Even though there are a ton of small jobs within my field out there, I need to be mindful and pick the right projects. I need to understand and be aware of my limits and what I’m willing to deal with.

Passing on education

I am TOTALLY diggin’ the Thelonious Monk Institute of Jazz (located in New Orleans, Louisiana – woot!) for two reasons. #1: Well, cmon. Monk was bad ass. And #2: The institute is responsible for passing on jazz education from jazz masters to the next generation of gifted musicians much in the style Monk had done in the 50′s and 60′s. And the best part? Its college level AND tuition free. 

I firmly believe education should be completely tuition free everywhere and to think that there’s an institution of THIS caliber that can do it successfully is out-fucking-standing. Naish.

“What’s the longest-distance relationship you maintain (or ever have)?”

We don't keep in touch anymore as our relationship ended more than a handful of years ago. We both met in Puerto Rico. I had moved to Seattle, Wa for my last year of high school while he moved to South Carolina for his first year of college. We maintained the long distance relationship for almost a year and had been dating a year previous to that while still in Puerto Rico. Afterwards, he moved up to Washington and we continued the relationship for probably another 5-6 years. So, the one year apart didn't kill it. What killed it was us both being complete dumb asses in our own, individual ways.