Living in the inbetween

We don't live in a world with black and white answers. We have no rule book to follow. We have no true direction to follow but the feeling in our gut, whatever makes our heart beat or the alarms that sometimes sound in our head. With no one being that is truly in charge of us but ourselves who is to tell what is wrong but ourselves? The trouble is that we often find ourselves, as I have found myself, in our own conflict of interest against our own thoughts and beliefs. So, if we are fighting the world around us and then live our daily lives internally conflicted, where do we go-who do we go to? It's always nice to have friends around, to talk things through with. Additionally, we truly learn, compare and contrast from every person that we come in contact with and every situation that we encounter. I recently traveled to the south of Spain and the northern part of Morocco where I met people that challenged me. I was challenged morally, physically, mentally, emotionally, my tolerance, my patience. Challenge=Life. You will undoubtedly suffer, but I am discovering that if you allow yourself to, if you approach life with an open heart and an open mind you can undoubtedly discover bliss as well. And here I am in what would religiously be referred to as the purgatory, the middle ground, this earth. Where I sometimes feel so vulnerable and so lost. However I'm holding on because I want to discover more moments of bliss.

What do I truly want?

Why do we write?
Do we write for ourselves?
If so, why do I feel the need for other people to read what I write? (Despite a certain permanent fear of rejection that often prevents me from posting in the moment and postponing it until the point of it either being forgotten or too far from the initial date that it becomes irrelevant.)
Am I looking for acceptance? Affirmation? "My weakness I feel I must finally show." -Mumford and Sons. "Awake my soul" just came on my spotify.
I have a love/hate relationship with technology.
I am conflicted in many ways... and I say that with an implied meaning of multiple aspects of life. On a note back to technology. I acknowledge that I am addicted. I acknowledge that my eyes have twitched, my head has hurt, my back has ached and my stomach has gotten queazy all from staring at a virtual screen and a social networking site for more hours than my physical body could/should handle. I have stayed in all day only to find that I have wasted a day at my computer. Getting lost in the virtual world.
It is hard to be a photographer and edit as well as upload and promote my photos. Do I want to be famous? Must I follow others notions of acceptance in order to succeed? Must I edit every picture in order to be seen as good? What is "good?" I suppose that is relative. I want to be good. Hell, I want to be great. I sometimes don't write because I don't want to get lost in myself. After all, what do I know? Not very much. I would often rather spend my time learning through what other people know, reading. My words, don't feel worthy. I don't value my own experiences.
I think that facebook has made me a droid. I think that it has made all of us droids. I don't know if the creators knew the effect that it would have on every user's life. What is the point? A replacement of e-mail? A friend zone? A platform for discussion? A place that epitomizes our right to freedom of expression... more or less?
I often think to myself, what will happen when I die? What will I leave behind? What kind of legacy? And I often fear that with all of my life's work of photographs on hard drives, if earth was to be attacked I would have nothing to show. I would be left, dirty on the floor, with nothing but memories of images. WHY do I photograph in such abundance? In such an addictive, meticulous manner?
"That's just who she is," my friends say when we discuss my photographic habits.

My cousin Jo-Carol said in one of her songs, "And when all is done we leave behind a body of work to reflect our mind." 

Admittedly I am jealous of those that receive attention in the public eye for their photographs. I feel so lost sometimes. It often promotes my internal drive and a little competition is healthy, right? Even if the other competitor is oblivious?  

Happy Birthday my dear brother.

Today is a joyous day for it is the 19th birthday of my brother Alexander. I have spent the majority of today cleaning and got up at 8:30 to find that my brother was no where in sight. Turns out he borrowed my tripod and recorded himself singing in the dewy morning air across the street in a field of tall yellowish grass. I couldn't be happier. While he is napping, because of course he didn't sleep all night, I have been thinking about how happy I am to have him in my life. Here's a poem to you little brother.


Today is your birthday little brother.
We have so much in common, we even share the same mother.
I cleaned our house, made you tea and wonderful chinese food, all because I love you and want to put you in a good mood.
You woke up today looking for adventure.
I hope that you receive all that and more.
When you awake from your nap we two will explore.
I have a present or two that I plan to give you today.
And lots more love, fun and music are coming your way.
God bless you today and always, I thank God you were born. For if it were not for him and our mother I would not have your beautiful companionship and a little brother that I adore.
Happy Birthday little big one. Congratulations on making it this far, I am so proud of you, your accomplishments and the man that you are becoming. Having you here with me this last month is the biggest present that I could have. Because nobody could and ever will replace your presence.
All my love,
Sissy. <3 :)

Here's to a day of Adventure, may later I will share the details of our fun.

Fuck it, I'm blogging...

You oversee your own life.

I am a box overflowing with trash, donate-now items, recyclable bits and pieces and photographs. Haha. I'm just kidding, but it is how I feel. I feel like my dirty home. I feel like my stress over the upcoming week's events. I feel like the dirty face that I still have not washed today because I have been distracted by cleaning, cooking, and other miscellaneous activities. We take on our emotions, our actions, our surroundings in a physical and mental sense. And I am trying to learn mind over matter. I am trying to learn the secret of energy and that what you put out you will receive, I promise I am trying. I am trying to have patience. I am trying to forgive and forget. I practice breathing, I push back tears and I call to myself strength. I am working on earning money and never placing its importance above the necessary immediate use. Andsometimes I fall, I feel like I am falling. I am Alice in Wonderland. I am exploring new places, ideas, people, and celebrating life's many un-birthdays. The other day my brother asked me why I can't just blog about the happy things that we do together. So, I said ok, I will talk about the park we visited and the joy that I got from laying in the sun and taking pictures and hugging trees but when I had the opportunity to blog about it, I didn't. My brother played at an open mic night and my boyfriend told him that he should only play his own songs from now on to showcase his own talent. To this my brother replied saying that most of his own songs are too dark and unhappy to perform. I thought it was funny that we both allow ourselves, our minds and our bodies to soak up the happiness of our experiences but when it comes to expressing ourselves it is the frustration, heart break, bitter feelings that we write about. Maybe it's because it is easy to be happy but it's much harder to handle unhappiness, stress, frustration and that we need to express ourselves when we feel that way in order to get it off of our chests, out of our minds and put it up to something other than ourselves to deal with it. However, I have taken some beautiful pictures this summer. Had some great and fun friend bonding experiences. Have had my brother move in with me and am preparing for the biggest traveling adventure of my life. I am searching and finding myself daily. Sometimes I hide in the closet or find pieces of myself on top of the fridge, man I'm sneaky. Haha. My brother and I made a long list of things that make us happy in life. In fact, that was what I planned to blog about a few days ago. Things that make me happy, like finding treasures at a yard sale that you impose yourself on because these two people are hanging up garage sale signs for Saturday and your brother asks if they have bar stools for sale because even though you e-mailed someone on craigslist and thought you had an agreement about bar stools it turns out he wanted much more for all of them than you are willing to pay and these two people say yes, but they are square and we say that's ok and they say $8 for both and you say ok thanks and get their address for tomorrow's yard sale and drive away and then flip-a-bitch and ask them if we could take those bar stools off their hands tonight and they say yes, I'll meet you at our house and then we end up looking through all of their stuff and taking home much more than you had planned but are extremely happy with your decision because it means that you invested in your home, which is where you live and is your place of rest and is your safe zone and for that, it was all worth it, and for that, I LOVE yard sales. :) Off to take care of business. Until next time

So, I've got this flaw...

I do not know when,
I do not know why.
Every time we talk,
I nearly want to cry.
You make me pull my hair,
my skin begins to blush,
I can not stand your voice,
I pretend I'm in a rush.
But then the feelings pass and I enjoy my day,
knowing that despite our differences, you are there for me in every way.
But you still drive me crazy,
sometimes off a cliff.
I love you so very much but I am tainted by our constant rift.
I hope that some day you forgive me for my boastful banter,
for I am not a saint, an angel or some body with the best of manners.
I just want to acknowledge that this feeling eats away
at the thought of calling you each and every single day.
It does not change my heart, I would never tell it to.
And when I start to fight it sometimes the yucky still gets through.
You could say it's just a phase that you and I will some day pass.
I would hope for nothing more because the real you I adore.

From the past to the present, I am who I want to be.

Alright I'm gonna do it. I'm going to make reference to the past. To my x's. To my mistakes. To my tears, regrets, not-so-great-adventures. It is really mind boggling to look at your life in retrospect. How is it that as a young person you can be so convinced that you know it all?!  Nobody knows for sure what the future holds. However, it is muy chistoso to me that as children we are so naive, headstrong in what we believe. Nothing and Nobody can stand in our way, tell us what to do or change our minds. I am torn between telling future generations to listen to their parents, their better judgement or encouraging them to just live their lives and make mistakes. I believe in destiny. I believe in fate. But who knows if I would have been the person that I am today if I had not been a little too risky, risque, careless? Well, I can say that I loved with all of my heart and to what I believed was my truest self. I gave 100 percent of myself, even if it meant that I was left vulnerable. And I may have grown up a little too fast but I am stronger because of it. We are all blessed with unique qualities and characteristics. I was built up to be the woman that I am today from the building blocks of yesterday. One day I will be a tall structure, fully intact with life's lessons, stories, mistakes, flaws, and cracks, and baby, I was not built to break. All that we can do is LIVE. And all that you can expect from us children is to live. We are not perfect. We are not you. But also know, that somewhere in my subconscious mind, I did listen. So, don't give up on them. Don't give up on us, on me. Words of wisdom play their part but experience will build you. I have yet to experience the best. I can't wait to be at the peak of greatness but knowing that nothing turns out quite like you had expected, I will not hold my breath. I will go into my ventures with optimism, not high expectations. They say that there is a silver lining to every cloud. I have not taken sculpting but I will imagine myself as a sculptor, and life, my pile of clay. My experiences mold me and I will push the clay into my broken cracks, I will find the silver lining. 

What is the point of NOT writing?

What is the point of NOT writing? So... I bought a journal. I have never consistently written in a journal. In fact I feel that the only reason that I pick up a journal and write again is for documentary purposes. Ergo the eight journals that I do have starting from the time I was nine giving a blurb of life updates and then ending abruptly. I wish I had kept a journal, I find it interesting to read from my past. However I think that the fact that I like to read my writing from the past being a motivator to write is well, not very motivating. I feel that if I start to write it has to be important, it has to be intriguing. I am not interesting every second of every day. Therefore I have come to terms with the fact that maybe my journal will not be either. I talk a lot, but that does not fill the void of the intrapersonal self, my writing. I often make lists; to do lists, worry lists, lists about everything. The other day I had a lot going on and many thoughts running through my mind, "make a list," I told myself, but just as I opened my new journal to do so, I stopped. I prohibited myself from writing, and it bothered me. Instead of writing, I took time to think about why I did and simultaneously did not want to write. 

• The journal, it's too pretty to write bad things in. 
• Facing the facts, if you write it down you have to look at. Throw away my writings after I write them down you may suggest, no. 
• Writing it down makes it true, makes it more real, doesn't allow time to forget, mask or cover. 
• I don't want to write, it's emotionally exhausting sometimes. 

My journal was inexpensive enough that I do not have to worry about replacing it for another pretty journal. Sometimes, facts are facts, whether they are floating around in your head or on paper. It may be a positive thing to write down difficult things, because from writing, you can brainstorm ideas, create positivity, express your thoughts and expand more than just a simple, cold hard fact. I do want to write. I need to stop having a quota. Once I let go and free myself from inhibitions then writing will be a source of freedom. If I had a regret, it would be not writing, enough. But there is no time for regrets, maybe I will start by writing about that.