find me here

Remember Me This Way

2011-11-30T10:42:00.002-06:00

I told myself I wasn't going to write here anymore about her, that it's best to just leave these things in my journal, but I can't. Not today.

Last week my youngest sister was in town. My sisters and I were gathered around my dad's new Mac where we found pictures taken with our mom on Mother's Day. That was the last time we were all together as a family before the final hospital stay. We had decided to purchase my mom some beautiful large pots and plants for gardening on her deck. It was understood that she wouldn't be able to tend to her gigantic garden that summer. Unbeknownst to us, she had already told her sisters that she didn't think she would make it to the end of June. I didn't know she wouldn't be gardening at all.

We thought it would be a good idea to get photos together on the deck with her. It was important to try to take advantage of such opportunities. The temperature was colder than usual for spring. As far as we could tell it was still winter. She didn't want to be out there. And last week, when I saw those pictures from early May, I wished I would have never bothered looking through them.

It was horrifying. What I was seeing with my eyes wasn't matching up with what I remembered. How could she look so frail? So sick? So miserable? It was like I was looking at another person, someone I didn't know, a hurting creature wanting to hide. How could I not see it on that day? After seven years, had I become desensitized? Did I choose not to recognize her weak condition, was it a mechanism to protect myself from feeling more pain?

At the end of March my dad stopped by my home one evening. We made small talk, but it was apparent to me that he had bigger things on his mind, things he wanted to talk about but didn't know how. He finally brought up my mom's condition. He talked about the changes in her temperament. Slightly choking up and fighting hard to hold back he said, "I don't want you to remember her this way." I didn't want him to remember her that way either.

I decided that I would do a photo session with my parents. It would be a way for them to go out on a little date together and enjoy each other's company. Their 28th wedding anniversary would be coming up. My sisters and I could surprise them with a large canvas from the session for in their home. That way they could look up at that image and somehow find some little bit of hope and goodness in the world. My mom loved the idea. She was slightly weak at the time so we were going to wait a couple of weeks for her to gain strength and for the weather to warm up a little. Then she was hospitalized due to complications from surgeries that had to be done because of the destruction chemotherapy does to the rest of a person's body. There was talk of putting her in a nursing home. We were surprised the hospital ever let her go home as she nearly fell out of the car as she was getting into it at the hospital's front doors. One of my sister's and I had to help hold her and coach her up the flight of stairs in her home. She spent many of her daytime hours lying on the couch or in her bed. She had to use a walker to get around. Too soon. The ways I was taking care of her I never would have imagined to occur so early in our lives.

My parents' anniversary came and went without a photo session. I knew that it would be a long recovery this time, longer than any time before, but my mom and I still made plans for her photo session with dad. Mother's Day came and she was still weak, but she would get better, right? Less than a week later she was hospitalized again. And that's the end.

Those pictures I saw of her last week, the images from Mother's Day, that's not how I want anyone to remember her. I wanted so badly to capture some sort of hope or joy in my parents' lives. I was too late. For the longest time I wanted to somehow redeem myself for not making it in time. But would it have been the truth? Would I have been creating only what I wanted to see, just how my memories of her seem to be?

Year of Scars

2011-10-20T10:21:00.014-05:00

My body is not completely unfamiliar with scars. I have at least two on my face, several on my arms, and a few more speckled on my legs from childhood chicken pox. My mom warned me not to pick and scratch at them. I had no concept of time and didn't realize that my choice to scratch them away would give me a lifelong reminder of the event. Next was the acne of my adolescence. You'd think I might have learned by then not to pick at my body. Then this summer I went for a swim off of a canoe. When I climbed back in I landed on the front of my right leg with the complete weight and building momentum of my body. That left a nasty bruise, and later, to my surprise, a scar.

These are all scars that I can live with. I have others still that are reminders of my anger and selfishness. They embarrass me. And all this time everybody thought that I was merely clumsy on that day.

I was getting in the habit of running to my kickboxing class as the temperatures were becoming milder after the longest winter. It was even nice enough to run in shorts. I wore a pack on my back filled with my hand wraps, boxing gloves, water bottle, and keys. It was bouncing around like mad on my back, like a trapped cat. I ran with my hands holding the straps to stabilize it. I was especially upset on that day. My mom was in the hospital again and had undergone surgery as a result of damage done to her organs from cancer treatments. Who can even remember how long this hospital stay had been, or how many stays she already had at the hospital this year? Spring was barely beginning.

I had visited my mom that day, and the day before, and the day before... It is impossible to keep track of those days. It is easiest to remember them through the sequence of emotions. That day I had gone to the hospital and was there but a few minutes when my mom turned me away. I understand the importance of rest when the body is working to heal, but how could she ask me to leave so soon? What are her true feelings towards me? Did I do something to upset her? Does she not realize that I don't know how much time we'll have left together? How can she not care?

The thoughts and anger boiled my blood. My body felt like a wave in the ocean and my vision blurred. How much time is left?

I felt my right toe catch on the lip of uneven sidewalk. With my hands holding my pack I had no time to catch my fall.

I immediately stood up and continued running. "It's just a skinned knee," I thought. "Nothing a Band-Aid won't fix as soon as I get to the gym." As I ran closer to my destination I glanced down at my legs. They looked bloodier than I expected, still, nothing some soap and water couldn't cure. (Suck it up. Be strong.) When I got to the gym I finally stopped to take a good look at myself. Not only did I have two scraped knees, but my lower left leg was scraped bloody, bruised, and swelling. A friend brought me some soggy paper towels as the others in my class spoke in hushed tones.

I kept thinking, "If I can just clean up all of this blood I'll be fine... I'll just take it a little easier with kicking tonight," but the pain of my swelling leg began to pierce through. I gave in. Yes, I ran all the way back home. Didn't bother to accept a ride. "I'll just put some ice on my leg and I'll be fine..."

But I wasn't fine! My husband was out of town for several days and the last time I had wounds that needed to be cleaned I was but a child. I limped around the house, up and down stairs, looking for the first-aid kit. Not knowing any better, I put strong alcohol swabs on my fresh wounds. I cried out in pain. So much pain. The pain of the fall, my selfishness, and embarrassment. The struggle to be strong for so long - in my mind, preparing to become the new matriarch.

It's a hard face to wear.

In the days that followed the wounds kept re-opening. Wearing pants was a discomfort. I would have loved to wear my dresses or skirts, but the temperatures plunged into the upper 30's again. It was several days before I could walk around without limping, and many weeks more before the bruising settled down enough for me to be physically active again. I guess these are just minor inconveniences though. They didn't last forever.

Now I have scars to remind myself of the undue anger I paid my sick mother. I have to be careful not to let my emotions race too far ahead of me, but I can bet that if I do I will surely be put in my place. It's not an easy pill to swallow, but it's for my own good.

Mayday, Mayday.

2011-09-17T10:02:00.016-05:00

The newest Explosions in the Sky album was released right around the time my mom's health was running full force downhill. I couldn't stand its title, "Take Care, Take Care, Take Care." It felt like a slap to the face. I've heard the phrase said plenty of times to my mom over the course of her seven years with cancer. It was even said in the final weeks of her life. As far as I'm concerned those words are a waste of breath and ink.

When I finally had the chance to listen to Explosions in the Sky's album, "Be Comfortable, Creature" was an immediate standout track to me. It reminded me of my mom. All I could see was this hurting person in this big wide world and just wanting to tenderly take them in under my wing. At one moment my sisters and I were beside her hospital bed and I had nothing to say. All I could do was play the song from my phone.

When nothing more could be done for my mom the nurse at the hospital erased the whiteboard of the long list of treatments and goals for her. It was replaced simply with "Be Comfortable."

It was the first photograph I took after she died.

A music video for the song was recently released. It features a big, orange furry creature. He looks so ridiculous that I almost can't take it seriously. I want to laugh, but I can't, because I see myself in him. There's just such a strange loneliness and yearning, that feeling that you don't quite belong in this world...

Be Comfortable, Creature from Explosions in the Sky on Vimeo.

Quarters, but no cents. Nonsense?

2011-08-28T00:23:00.000-05:00

A quarter of the year has passed

Can't begin to fathom a quarter of a century, by then I'll be the same age as when you...

How did you feel when you heard it?

2011-08-25T10:13:00.002-05:00

You'll hurt too when you come to the realization that the first word to ever rattle in your throat no longer has any business leaving your lips. And to think, others still that hold such lofty privilege and choose not to speak such.

well wishes

2011-07-12T10:17:00.035-05:00

Self Portrait, film, 11/30/04

Several years ago my mom told me she once dreamed of becoming a writer.

Two letters can change everything.

Facing fear, acknowledging reality.

2011-07-05T10:28:00.002-05:00

The courage to just go for it,

and the wisdom to say, not quite yet.

the time traveler

2011-06-12T10:36:00.016-05:00

It was just supposed to be a fun day at the amusement park with my friends. I had a really good time, but I was hit with something unexpected. (I'm not talking about sunburn. I totally saw that coming.)

At one moment we approached "The Monster" which is a tilting, swirling, scrambling octopus thrill ride. I was transported in time. I suddenly saw my mom and my youngest sister on the ride together. They loved that one. It seemed so strange to me because I have been to this amusement park many times in my life with other groups of friends and with my school marching band. Why this memory? Why did it feel so real?

I guess it never dawned on me that this would be part of the grieving process. It's already strange enough to have my mom smiling and laughing in my dreams. There's this defense mechanism that makes me not want to go to sleep and to not visit all of the places that I have ever been to with my mom. That is ridiculous, of course.

I'm learning to accept these experiences. It's difficult to go from a content and happy state of mind to a place of distress and sadness. I feel like I'm turning into an irrational nutcase, but I just keep reminding myself that this is normal, at least the normal way for me to grieve. As long as I'm not using it as an excuse to abuse others or myself, this is just a process that needs to happen.

This morning I was thinking about my experience at the amusement park and how memories are a form of time travel. I found a recent article about how episodic memories are important for envisioning the future. The article is called "The Brain Memories Are Crucial for Looking into the Future" by Carl Zimmer. It made me think about how memories with my mom are important, not because it is good to remember the time we had together, but also because it is good to learn from those experiences in order to move into my future.

Memories. It's frustrating that it's the only way I can take her with me through the rest of my life.

family matters

2011-06-08T19:11:00.001-05:00

Dear Doug,

Your sister died.

personal life & work

2011-06-06T16:52:00.012-05:00

Growing up and being on sports teams my coaches often told us to leave our personal lives at the door. We were to be focused and dedicated to our team and the work we would contribute to it. Bringing our personal lives to practice would dampen our spirit and bring the rest of the team down. The same has been said to employees as they face their jobs each day.

It was not easy going to work that day. I was to photograph a wedding, for my friends nonetheless, as my mom laid in the intensive care unit of the hospital. When I visited her that morning I didn't have much time and a couple of nurses were busy with her. In the end all I really got to say was, "I just wanted to stop by and say hi before I leave to photograph a wedding for the rest of the day." Right before I left she wished me good luck and I thanked her.

As I spent my day making images not once did I pity my mom and her health. Not once did I think I should be at the hospital instead of photographing that wedding. Instead I took the pain and the realization that my mom's life was slowly fading and worked to make images that would mean something to the couple and their families. The photos that I was making could very well be someone's last. You just don't know. Life holds no guarantees.

As a photographer you can't tell me to leave my personal life at the door. The way I see, compose, and press the shutter are all extensions of who I am. Tell me to leave my personal life at the door and you might as well hire a robot to photograph you.

Watching people celebrate love and life through the lenses on my camera that evening was one of the most beautiful and humbling things I have done. There were moments when I held back tears. I felt truly honored. It is always a privilege when people let me, and my camera, into their lives in that way.

It's sacred to me.

nothing more.

2011-06-03T11:39:00.011-05:00

I find myself wanting to help you, but you don't need saving anymore.

No more hospital visits.

No more trips to doctor appointments.

No more washing your hair beneath the kitchen faucet.

No more picking things up off of the floor.

No more cleaning the house for you.

No more holding your hand.

No more reassuring words.

There was so much despair in my heart for you and now that it's been taken from me I feel like

I don't know who I am or

what I am supposed to do or

where I am supposed to go.

I'd cry my eyes red if it would remove this place in my life that has gone missing.

The day you left your body and were separated from us for the rest of our earthly lives.

2011-06-02T12:15:00.017-05:00

It was not easy looking at you in those days, but we came any way. And when the fresh flowers we had brought were wilted and dead, we brought new ones. In the moments when it was too much to hold your hand, too much to tell you that you could go, too much to see you in pain, we retreated to the corner with the toilet and dabbed our eyes with tissue.

I don't know how many times we told you that we loved you. Can it ever be said enough?

When you finally passed on I couldn't help but feel joy. Your spirit, that strong will of yours was finally free from the body that had bound it. No more pain. No more suffering.

We gathered your things and left the hospital. Nick brought me home. As we pulled into the driveway I looked through the window behind me. I couldn't help but smile. There was a wedding celebration taking place across the street! It was such a wonderful reminder to me that life is so good and rich and beautiful. There is much left to be celebrated.

The weather was perfect. Just that morning dad had said to you, "Diane, it's a beautiful day outside and the only way you're going to be able to enjoy it is if you leave this body." Nick and I drove out to Sibley State Park. The big blue sky, the wind, the breeze through the lush green trees. It was as though I was noticing leaves on the trees for the first time in my life. Hiking on those trails I found peace. I knew it was exactly where I was meant to be.

When I was finished hiking we went to the house that you and dad had built together. One of my sisters told me not to go into your bedroom because it would hit me hard. I walked down the hallway and stepped through the doorway. Everything was how I remembered it to be. Your lotions and a framed portrait of your mom were resting at your bedside. Your jewelry and bottles of perfume were sitting on your dresser. Then I saw it, your purse. It was as though you had just gotten home and set it down. A strange feeling swept over me. I was half expecting you to come walking and talking through the door behind me. I turned around,

but you never came. It was then that I saw your black notebook. I had given it to you a few years ago because you once told me that you dreamed of becoming a writer. I opened it up and was pleased to see that you had written something.

When you couldn't speak.

2011-06-01T17:10:00.001-05:00

It's the way the water pooled into the crease of your left eye

when I said, "I wish I could give you the biggest hug ever."

Life moves fast, death creeps slowly.

2011-05-26T23:26:00.004-05:00

I can't stand how much my heart is breaking for my mom--whose soul longs to be free from the body that so desperately insists on continuing to fight.

Of all weeks.

2011-05-18T09:27:00.008-05:00

Someone, please, tell me this isn't happening, now.

I'm not ready. Though I doubt I ever would be.

Separation anxiety

2011-05-06T20:11:00.001-05:00

My mom was in the hospital. My husband was out of town. Face down on the hardwood floor I cried the most painful tears to leave my eyes in 14 months. I felt surprisingly comfortable against that firm surface, but I knew I couldn't stay there all night. At the moment I wanted someone, anyone, to just come and peel me from the floor. Nobody showed. I whimpered and wailed until I felt sick to my stomach. The nausea made me realize that I had carried on for too long. I made the conscious decision to pull myself together. I crawled into bed, alone.

We were all alone that night. Each of us beneath different roofs. How is that family?

Like a cough drop lodged in my throat.

2011-04-25T08:29:00.001-05:00

Life doesn't make promises,

so don't think you deserve a damn thing.

IMPULSE

2011-04-19T22:24:00.004-05:00

Tired ((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((OF THIS,))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

I've decided,

I'm no longer waiting for my sunshine to come.

See ya,

Leaping out the door to snatch up what is mine.

Expecting death

2011-04-18T10:03:00.003-05:00

Making a living-

Just like my father, your father, all fathers, working and making a living in the dark sad earth-
I look up, there are the stars, just the same, desolation, and the angels below who don't know they're angels-

And Sarina will die-

And I will die, and you will die, and we all will die, and even the stars will fade out one after another in time. (123)

All my friends growing old and ugly and fat, and me too, and nothing there but expectations that don't pan out-the the Void'll Have Its Way. (124)

Yep, I'm still reading Desolation Angels by Jack Kerouac. It's pretty OK.

between

2011-04-17T11:17:00.003-05:00

it's uncomfortable being inbetween

it's painful being inbetween

it's exhausting being inbetween

it's frustrating being inbetween

None of it is going to get the best of me.

Hospital food

2011-04-16T14:32:00.002-05:00

She's awake and attentive. It's like I've won the jackpot. She talks about the food she enjoyed on her last vacation. I see the life come back into her eyes as she joyously describes walleye, scallops, salmon and shrimp. We dine together at a smorgasbord of seafood.

Speak to me in terms that I understand:

2011-04-15T12:45:00.003-05:00

Today is the day that I choose to say;

2011-04-12T10:30:00.001-05:00

I won't let you take me with you.

If I'm going to be sleepless, can't I at least be in Seattle?

2011-04-12T00:03:00.003-05:00

stretching

dancing

stretching

walking

running

kick boxing

running

dancing

stretching

crying

You'd think I'd be tired.

Get it!

2011-04-08T11:05:00.003-05:00

After injuring my calf on a run a couple of weeks ago I am finally getting back into the groove of my exercise routine. For that I am really grateful. Today I wanted a workout that would be more of a mental challenge than anything. Taking some ideas from bodyrock.tv and combining a few of my own, here is the workout I created for today.

It is called "Get it!" Fitness, health, happiness, success, your dreams --- none of that stuff is going to come to you. You have to go out and get it! No whimpering is allowed during this workout! (I've been kind of a crybaby during my workouts this week.) Whenever I felt my muscles getting maxed out I had to tell myself, "Get it!!!!" What is it that you want today, and how hard are you going to push yourself to get it?

I went for maximum reps for each round. I set my interval timer to 24 rounds. Set the first interval for 10 seconds. This is the rest interval where you write down your score. The second interval is 50 seconds of maximum repetitions. Here is the workout with my scores.

1. "Pull ups" w/dumbbells (focus on the pulling down action) 10, 8, 9

2. Prisoner jump squats 34, 29, 33

3. Side crunches (right) 19, 18, 16

4. Side crunches (left) 16, 15, 18

5. High knees 109, 115, 111

6. Snowboarder 29, 30, 36

7. Clap push ups (on knees) 11, 12, 14

8. Plank jumps 27, 30, 32

Repeat these exercises two more times for a total of three.

For instructions on how to do these exercises do a search on my favorite fitness website bodyrock.tv

bring me something to make it better

2011-04-06T20:22:00.002-05:00

It wasn't until I said it out loud that I finally realized,

This is it.

How I want to look today.

2011-03-26T10:52:00.002-05:00

BLONDE HAIR W/BANGS.

PEONY TATTOO ON SIDE OF BODY IN THIS STYLE.

FITTED BLACK MOTORCYCLE JACKET THAT FALLS AT WAIST.

RED SKINNY JEANS.

2011-03-25T16:34:00.012-05:00

I don't remember the last time I heard you laugh.

I'm so sorry I took it for granted.

I guess I just always thought that things would be better by now.

Tomorrow, tomorrow, there's always tomorrow.

Do you think I'll ever learn to truly value time?

Stop posting my photos on your blogs?

2011-03-22T08:35:00.024-05:00

I have noticed a growing trend of my images being "favorited" on the photo website flickr. (You can view my photostream here.) Whenever someone likes one of my images I check out their flickr account to see what kinds of images they make. Sometimes they haven't uploaded anything! This has caused me to always check out their profile page. While I am there I pay attention as to whether or not they have a tumblr account listed in their profile.

My images are being posted all over tumblr.

This has left me with a bag of mixed emotions. Sometimes I feel flattered that someone likes one of my images. Other times I feel frustrated that my images are wedged between other photos that I have no control over. There are days I feel like sucking it up and just letting people kind of promote my work in a way. I know that I have the right to ask that my images be removed, but with the number of times my images have been reblogged it would not be worth my time! For now, as long as they're posting my name and not trying to pass it off as their own work, I will let it slide.

It's kind of fun to do a little detective work and see how many times an image is passed along from blog to blog, with each post referring to where that blogger originally found the image. Then there's always the list below my image of all the tumblr people that "liked" it and reposted the image to their accounts. It's kind of overwhelming to see over one hundred responses on a single post because of my image.

However, one of my concerns is that by having my images posted on tumblr (without my permission, mind you,) and because of the ease of being able to reblog my images, it feels like my work is being cheapened.

Also, why is it that I can personally post my images to a blog or website and get little to no feedback, but these people can post my images and get a ton of people to respond? Do my images become "hip" because of the persona of the person posting it?

And lastly, maybe I shouldn't even care about the tumblr responses. Viewers of the blogs where my images are being posted aren't expending a lot of effort towards them. With the click of a button they can "like" it. With the click of a button they can repost it.

As you can see, I'm kind of a mess over this. My world isn't ending or anything, but it's not something I feel entirely at ease about.

No use in complaining.

2011-03-17T12:57:00.000-05:00

It will be over soon.

In all these things

2011-03-02T07:55:00.010-06:00

The calendar turned

The marking of all things new, brighter, better

But we're still cold, colder, colder

An e-mail reply

Unfortunately

Things would not be going according to plan

My plan, my plans, new plans

Ringing phone

Your tone

I don't remember hearing your first words

But I know EXACTLY what you said

Bullshit / Who needs it / We'll hightail it // from here

What I'm Seeing

2011-02-13T11:16:00.005-06:00

Doctors treat

they gain knowledge

and they are mistaken

God heals

He is all-knowing

and perfection

Put faith only in God and none in medicine,

you fail to receive the kindness of humanity

Put hope only in the efforts of humanity,

you fail to receive the restorative power of God

ink

2011-02-11T08:01:00.000-06:00

I've been "seriously" considering getting a tattoo, in general, for over a year now.
I wanted one pretty bad when I was a freshman in college. Thank God I didn't make that mistake. (I would hate it now. Who I was then wouldn't get along with who I am now, but I would get along with the me from the past.)

Today I feel one step closer.
I've finally decided on what I want for a tattoo.
First, I'm going to wait 6 months.
If I still want it in 6 months, I'll wait 3 more months.
If I still want it then, I will start saving money for it.
If I still want it when I'm done saving money for it, so badly that I'd rather get the tattoo than spend it on camera gear, I'll get one.
I think I realize this means I might not ever get a tattoo.
Ha.

(ALT) Assisted Life Termination

2011-02-03T10:18:00.019-06:00

The snow had been melting for quite some time now. Slushy brown piles lined the roadsides. The whole world was grey with drizzle and I was in a van when I received the news. She had been accepted for ALT - Assisted Life Termination. How could she do this? How could she just give up, after all of these years? Filled with disappointment and fear, I tried to hide the tears from my friend that was sitting next to me. We arrived at a house I had never been to, but the driver and passenger seemed to know it full well. Someone came to the driver's window and we drove off with a bulging bag of weed. They immediately started smoking. I was so pissed. "Why am I even here?" I thought. "I have got to meet some new people..."

When I was dropped off at home I started gathering items in my room. The truth was that I hadn't gotten around to shopping for presents for my mom. Both of my sisters were home too and they learned of my predicament. They tried to make me feel guilty. Feeling defensive I said, "What does it even matter? One gift or many gifts, she can't take any of it with her."

We gave gifts any way, to lighten the mood, to let her know that we care, that we love, and that we would miss, her. It was like a birthday celebration. There were balloons, cake, flowers, streamers, presents, and family. Although, more truthfully, it was a going away party.

It was so strange. All of these years, these six or so long years, never quite knowing how much longer she would live. Now we knew. Tomorrow. Tomorrow it would all be over.

My present was a glorified Monopoly game I found around the house. It had about eight 6-sided dice and many 8-sided dice. When she opened it, as a look of slight confusion swept over her face, I tried to explain myself. "You see, mom, in order to get into heaven we have to be perfect. It would be like taking all of the dice before you, rolling them, and having them all land on "1." Everyone gathered around, we each took a few turns trying to make all of the dice land on "1," but we just couldn't cut it. "But," I said, as I grabbed the "Get Out of Jail Free" card, "Jesus was perfect so we wouldn't have to be. He's like a "Get Out of Jail Free" card. We get to go to heaven if we believe this is true, no matter how our dice rolls turn out." I could tell I had touched a nerve and not wanting it to escalate like an argument we had about faith in high school, I let it be.

So this was it. Tomorrow she would go to the clinic and be gone from our lives forever. There was comfort in knowing when it would happen, that it would all be over, but what it would be like for her to actually be...

---

That was the dream I had last night and I think it's a fairly accurate depiction of what it's like to have a family member that is fighting disease. My mom has had colon cancer for almost seven years now. I don't mean to discredit what it is like for her to live like this, but I personally find it terribly emotionally exhausting. In my dream, when I found out that she had decided to be euthanized, I felt cheated. This is as much of a fight for my dad, my sisters, other family, and friends as it is for her. It's a fight for not wanting to see the ones we love in pain. It's a fight for wanting to see the ones we love living life to its fullest potential. And it's a hard fight.

And right now, I just want to make it through February, make it through winter. Last winter was one of the darkest seasons of my life. I'm sure other people in similar situations can relate to the guilt that is pushed during the holiday season. The murmurs of, "This might be their last Christm..." Can't we just make this a happy time?! Does that darkness really belong here, now? I'm trying not to think of last February, all the moments I was sure that my mom was going to be taken away. When you're not in the same house it is easy to "forget" about the circumstances, but when you're walking to the hospital, in the cold, alone, day after day after day after day when it was only supposed to be a couple of days, the pain and fear just escalates. In these times, it's not just the cancer, it's all the ways the treatments have worked at not just destroying the cancer, but her body. It makes me angry and bitter.

But in the end, death does not discriminate. All we can do is fill the days we have left with joy, and pass the excess to someone with less.

America:Half of the story

2011-01-30T10:01:00.010-06:00

As I skim over the surface of American photography my stomach becomes unsettled. Why is the story mostly being told by male photographers? Robert Frank, William Eggleston, Joel Sternfeld, and Alec Soth are all photographers that are hailed for their work in capturing America. They all also happen to be men. Are women photographers simply not speaking about this subject? Is their voice falling on deaf ears? What would it take for them to receive as much recognition as their male counterparts?

I am not trying to create an argument about feminism. I am just curious.

Is there a reason why it seems to me that women tend to dominate the fields of wedding, senior, and children portraiture? Some people will generalize and say that it's because women are more emotional beings which could aid in their success in these photography fields. However, another thing to notice is that these fields allow female photographers to work in their own communities with little disruption to their home lives and child rearing. You tell me which scenario would be more frowned upon:

1. A male photographer that leaves his young children for eight weeks for a photo project on the road.

2. A female photographer that leaves her young children for eight weeks for a photo project on the road.

You can't tell me there isn't a difference.

---

Kodak Ektar 100

I sometimes wonder if contentment is just a euphemism for settling.

{introducing} Tayva Ann

2010-12-07T20:19:00.007-06:00

My wonderful sister-in-law had a beautiful baby girl at the end of November. What kind of aunt would I be if I didn't take some newborn portraits?

At 9 days old, when it came to photo taking time, Tayva made sure I knew who was boss. She fought sleep as hard as she could and during her brief moments of sleep she wouldn't dare let us pose her. It wasn't easy, to say the least, but I really enjoy taking on different photography challenges.

Here's baby Tayva, in her sweet moments. :)

The set I designed was inspired by:

I am filthy rich.

2010-11-29T13:06:00.003-06:00

Along with my husband,

We own a house complete with furniture we use and don't use.

We have an oven, a refrigerator, and a dish washing machine!

Plus,

a washer and dryer.

We have our own books. We can even read the words in them.

And I have a bachelor's degree, completely worked through and paid for.

We have clean running water. We have an indoor bathroom.

We drink coffee and tea. We use exotic spices from far away places.

Do you have any idea how wealthy people used to be in order to get these things, these things that we now deem as necessities?

And now we're told that we're just middle class. We need to work more to buy more things that we don't really need.

We can make our voice heard by the way we spend our money.

Does anybody have any idea how ridiculous that sounds?

on photography.

2010-11-17T12:18:00.006-06:00

Sometimes I freak out. What exactly is it that I am trying to accomplish?

I read so much about the photography industry and I can't help but get disappointed. It is truth that needs to be faced and photographers must be willing to adapt, or get left behind. But what does that even mean for someone that has only crossed the starting line?

The other night I was reading a Clint Clemens interview on A Photo Editor. I tried talking about it with my husband because he is always good at keeping me grounded, but I couldn't stop crying.

It's the part of me that acknowledges that this isn't a good way to make a living, but that's not what I'm in it for.

I need it to live.

"They don't get it. This isn't a game. This isn't a game to me."

nobody's home

2010-10-31T10:40:00.004-05:00

The first and last hours of daylight are the only times of day I can be bothered to care about.

a vow & a secret

2010-10-28T09:00:00.014-05:00

This morning as words formed thoughts into main ideas, I questioned my motives. Is another post just one more manifestation of me trying to put this whole thing off?

No.
It needs to be said.

I don't want another two years to pass me by only to find that I never set out for what I wanted.

Either I do this now, or I don't. There isn't any more time for hesitation or second guessing. I can't stand around for the next pat on the back, thinking it is going to give me enough momentum to see me through.

No.

I'm like a beginning runner that wants to run a marathon. Obviously before I can safely run a marathon I need to run a few easier races and get a lot of practice runs in. But I'm so caught up in finding the most suitable running shoes, buying athletic clothes that I look good in, building the most epic running playlist on my mp3 player, and worrying about what people are going to think of me while I run that I never actually get out the door AND JUST SIMPLY RUN!!!!!!

You can't run any race by standing still.

It's time for me to peel away everything that I think I need for this journey. I need to let myself set out to become the person I'll need myself to be x-weeks, months, years from now. I also need to stop putting up my own hurdles and roadblocks on the path in front of me. It's like I don't want myself to succeed, or do I do this so I can blame myself if I fail? I'm not really sure. Do you have any ideas?

Now, a secret.

Since you read my blog, or you were lucky enough to stumble upon it for this post, I want to share something with you.

I can't stand posting my photos on flickr (I'll save you the rant,) but I do so any ways. Facebook has so much going on for each page that I feel like my images can't breathe. I don't really like putting them on this blog either because I'm too lazy to format it the way I truly would like it. In May I started a secret photo blog. It's a place where I feel like my photos can just be. No words. No comments. No ads. No clutter. Just images.

Most of the images there are personal. Some are never before seen. Others were available elsewhere on the internet, but now can only be found there. From now on, if it's a more personal image, something that I didn't make for anyone else, purely and wholly for me, you'll see it there FIRST.

So go to my secret blog, and enjoy. Bookmark it, favorite it, do whatever you need to do because I'm not going to keep that link active forever.
(The link has now been deactivated. Thanks for stopping by!)

bland

2010-10-25T13:05:00.003-05:00

Sunday's grey
Spend all day in
between blankets & sheets
Between waking & sleep
------------------------
Ways to spend the static day (that creeps into a longer night):
Sleep
Attempt to eat
Sleep
Thinking of your smile
Fetal position on the bed
Sleep
Get into bed
Sleep
Sip
Sleep
Sleep
Watching the bubbles in my glass of ginger ale
Sleep
Listening to Ramona Falls
Sleep
Seeing your smile
Sleep
Sleep
Sleep
Sleep
Sip
Sleep
Sleep
Sleep
Sleep
Sip
Sleep
Sleep

vision

2010-10-25T12:37:00.002-05:00

Every week it is the same.
I want to take pictures! I want to take pictures! I want to use up this roll of film!
Hours spent driving around.
Another stroll. Camera(s) in my bag.
And I never see a thing.

I can't see anything anymore. I'm not entirely convinced I ever could.

me & my shadow

2010-10-18T20:03:00.004-05:00

Almost a week ago a high school student shadowed me for photography. Since I didn't have any clients scheduled for the day of the shadowing I had to seek out my own model for the afternoon. Enter my sister Natalie. We've been wanting to do a shoot together for a while now since she's lost a lot of weight. This seemed like a good opportunity for it. I styled the shoot for the day and selected the main location. I had a lot of fun photographing my sister on a beautiful afternoon and sharing everything I could about photography with my shadow. Below are some photos from the shoot, some you may have already seen on my flickr, and some fresh releases. If you like what you see let me know what you think!

Lesson #127

2010-10-03T11:31:00.003-05:00

I learned this lesson the hard way.
Not only that, I made this mistake two times over the course of three days.

Only order coffee from the new(er) barista.

I suppose they could find a way to mess up a plain cup of Joe, but hey, at least that's only a waste of a couple of dollars instead of $3.50+.

anticipation

2010-09-22T09:13:00.010-05:00

Polaroid 500 taken of my Yashica Electro 35

My fingers move anxiously. Is it the coffee or anticipation?
There are many facets of film photography that I can't get enough of. Yes, there is the physical object that I love, holding a piece of past or selective reality in my hands. Then there's also this feeling of anxiety. From the moment the shutter opens and closes there are a myriad of questions that grind in my head.

What kind of film do I have in here again? Wait, do I 100% without a doubt know know know for sure there is film in here? I hope to God so because I don't want to go around making all of these images for nothing! Ugh, the film doesn't seem to be winding correctly. I wonder if or how these will turn out? How many exposures are on this roll? 24 or 36? I don't want to advance too far... THE SUSPENSE IS KILLING ME! I have to wind this now!

These are the questions and more that I faced with my Yashica Electro 35 recently. I went on a deligthful photowalk with it yesterday. In the evening I spent 45 minutes driving around looking for more images to make, but I couldn't find anything. Maybe life is better examined more slowly? Either way it left me feeling utterly defeated.

I finally wound the film last night because I couldn't handle it anymore. Indeed, there was film in it. Also, much to my surprise, EKTAR 100! I dramatically fell to the floor (and stayed there for a while) in front of my friends. (I was expecting Fuji Superia, which I don't care for nearly as much as Ektar 100.)

Twenty-five minutes to go until 1-Hr Photo processing is done. The suspense is killing me! How will the images turn out? Since the film didn't seem to be advancing all of the way am I going to have images overlapping each other? If so, was this a problem for the entire roll or only the last few? And because of the overlapping, is the processing shop going to cut my film weird? (I should have told them to refrain. It slipped my mind.) I wonder which images will look better than I envisioned, and which ones will look worse. Maybe I build them up too much in my mind after I have taken them.

Soon enough all of the answers to my questions shall be revealed.

...

Post Vacation Funk

2010-08-27T10:45:00.004-05:00

Near Scott Creek, Olympic National Park, Washington

It has hit me again as usual.

I want to go back. It's not that I need to go back to this physical place. I miss that the concerns that plagued my mind were actually relevant. I concerned myself with the quality of our drinking water, making sure we got back to camp before high tide returned, keeping raccoons away from camp at night, and hoping that rain would stay away for our trek back out. There wasn't anything I truly found myself wanting, except to wash my smelly feet.

The Monday our mail returned there was a J. Crew and REI catalog waiting for me. I sat in my living room feeling overwhelmed by the possessions that surrounded me. I exposed myself to the internet for the first time in over a week. Now four days later I feel like an anxious mess as I think about all of the house projects that need to be completed, and all of the "things" that will need to be purchased to make the rooms complete and organized. I don't feel any clarity here. I feel like I can't focus on more important issues when my own environment is a mess.

I want to move, in more ways than one. (And no, I don't want to move to Washington. I am not so naive as to believe that moving there would make my life better.)

Coast to Coaster

2010-07-10T11:42:00.003-05:00

I had a beautiful Reader's Digest World Atlas from the 1960's. It's mostly torn apart now because the maps inside of it are so gorgeous. I've made a pencil holder out of a map of Hawaii and I'm planning to frame the map of Antarctica. I've used Japan for wrapping paper and other pages for a collage. I knew that I wanted to use more of the maps, but I just wasn't sure how.

The coasters that we had before were cheap lightweight plastic. They would always stick to the bottom of our everyone's beverages and then the coaster would fall to the surface beneath it. It was so annoying and startling! I had a couple of instructions to coasters stashed on my diy list. I bought tiles on clearance from Menards a couple of months ago for 12-22 cents each. With the temperatures rising and our drinks dripping with condensation, now was the time to complete the task.

If I were to do the project again, which I will probably do since I have more tiles, I would cut the cork to only cover the bottom grid part of the tiles. I really like these coasters though. They're so much more functional and prettier than what we used before. Maps make me happy. A happy wife is a happy home. :)

I referenced this article and this article to make these. They're really easy to make, you just need time inbetween the coats of Mod Podge and Acrylic Sealer.

2010-07-04T21:00:00.002-05:00

it's wearing the same beads from six years ago, when you asked me to hold your hand.
it's listening to the same sad songs, thinking it will help me cope(land).
it's you still fighting,
fighting,
fighting.
(will it ever end?)

(what's the use in good news when the bad news just tears it shreds?)
(what good is the sun when the clouds make its rays impassable?)

Yo-yo-ing

2010-05-27T11:47:00.011-05:00

The original plan was to chop off my hair into a cute (blonde) bob for the summer.

Then I realized that my hair is getting long and my shampoo bar and tea rinse is making it much more managable and pretty. Long hair flowing in the summer wind was sounding really appealing.

However, 80+ degrees with humidity is not the most bearable of conditions to be blow drying long, frizzy hair in.

I should probably just go for it.
Right now I see a photo in my mind. I have a cute, blonde bob and I am wearing my mom's fur coat, in the desert.

It doesn't happen to you, you happen to life.

2010-05-02T22:03:00.009-05:00

In school were you ever told by your teachers that there's no such thing as a stupid question? That there's no such thing as a wrong question?

I think people ask the wrong questions all the time.

What is my purpose in life? What is the meaning of life?
Instead shouldn't one ask

How can I live on purpose? How can I bring meaning to life?

I feel as though the first set of questions don't require personal action. Haven't there been people asking those same questions for centuries? Why even ask "What is my purpose in life?" I am certain that we're alive for more than one reason! Why sell ourselves short like that?

The second set of questions requires something of us. Could it be that we are responsible for our own lives? Imagine that!

I suppose you could spend your whole life hunkered down, asking again and again what your purpose is, and come to the end of your life realizing that your life never did have much purpose because you never chose to give it purpose.

Or you can spend each day asking how you can live it to the fullest, trusting that God, the beginning and the end, already has your life in His hands, and by living on purpose your life will have purpose.

I'll let you think about it and get back to me. I'm going to bed.

Flexibility.

2010-04-21T21:02:00.010-05:00

Near my 25th birthday I made a massive list of 25 things I wanted to do before I turn 26. I had seen several other bloggers who had made such a list. However, I probably should have taken note that many of them never completed all of the items on their lists.

I won't be finishing mine either.
As a matter of fact, I am throwing mine out of the window. (Not literally, mind you, because then it would be like me throwing my computer from my window.)

When I made my list I fervently believed in all of the goals I made for myself, from small to large. I started accomplishing some of the tasks, but after time I started to feel bound and trapped by the list. What if I no longer wanted to achieve one of the goals I had laid before myself? I felt like I was being a quitter if I didn't continue to complete each and every one of those goals. Besides, every time I finished a goal it was like I was accomplishing something! Then I realized; that's ridiculous. There's no need to do something merely for the sake of doing it

I've decided to be more flexible with my goals and to bring sharper focus to my priorities. As my values change, my goals should shift too and reflect those new priorities.

Because of my new focus, these past few weeks have been quite amazing. I have come to enjoy these periods of clarity. I have found courage where I have lacked. I have seen magic in the ordinary (again.) I love it when I feel this way, when anything seems possible and the feeling of mediocrity is thrown from my back. If you don't know what I am talking about, may this hope find its way to you too, soon.

Traveling light.

2010-04-11T18:19:00.010-05:00

I'm looking forward to camping in Washington this summer.

It started with this. I don't know how it happened, but one day a set of photos from train hopping adventures were staring back at me from my computer screen. Oh how divine to travel by the seat of your pants with only a rucksack in your posession! Later that week I found myself completely wiped out with the start of a terrible cold. I drank to my heart's sweet content of homemade Ginger Honey Lemon tea while my soul feasted on a copy of The Dharma Bums that I fittingly bought from Goodwill.

Even though my condition worsened with a cough that sounded like something that could only be heard in the depths of hell, I was starting to feel more like myself than I ever had before.

Since then I've been working on a series of small changes in my life. I had become increasingly overwhelmed by the new blog posts overflowing from my Google Reader. Why was I suddenly feeling controlled by something that was an option? One by one I unsubscribed from blog after blog. All that's left are blogs that truly motivate change in my life. I don't want to just consume something. I want to learn something valuable and then take action.

Later the universe threw this blog in my face, Far Beyond the Stars. About a year or so ago I had heard about the 100 things challenge. The man behind Far Beyond the Stars, Everett Bogue, although not the originator of the 100 things challenge, is currently the owner of only 75 items. His story and blog really intrigue me. I was so thankful for his outspoken reminders as I grew tiresome day by day of tidying up non-essentials in my home. I was spurred on and began ridding myself of things that I didn't truly need anymore or were merely kept around for some silly sentimental reason.

Lastly, I am so encouraged by the people in my life and the new understandings I have gained in recent conversations. For one of the first times in my life I don't feel bound to people's expectations of me. You have no idea what this does to a person like me, someone who has always strived to do right by someone else.

Now I am left with a new sense of freedom that is nearly matched by my relentless sense of restlessness. My mind is clearer, my house is emptier, and my hands are more open to possibilities.

I still don't know exactly where I am going, but wherever I go from here I am getting prepared to travel light.

2010-03-30T19:27:00.006-05:00

Deep down I don't think I care how she is doing for her sake. Mostly I need her to be alright for me. July 29th, 2009

Seeing someone you love fight disease and sickness is different than seeing someone pass away by an accident or natural death. That's immediate. The pain and grieving are just as real and true, but there's relief. Disease adds so many variables. They're doing well one minute, then before you know it they're one step closer to death.

This back and forth business is exhausting. Not quite among the living, not yet to the land of the dead. A terrible, wretched purgatory. December 18th, 2009.

I can't stand how selfish I am. My mom is dying and I hide behind a blanket, burying my face to muffle my cries.

Please mom, keep living. Stop all of this dying. February 23rd, 2010.

-Some photos from my mom's emotionally exhausting week-long stay at the hospital last month.
-Writing from pieces of my personal written journal. I haven't exposed everything. Sometimes I think I take it harder than I ought, but who is anyone to tell me that the pain I feel isn't real?
-I am pleased to say that my mom's recent chemo and radiation treatments have been going well. It's been a relief since they've been sort of a "last resort" before starting clinical trials. This past year has been especially hard on me. I can't imagine what it's been like for my mom.

We'll take the days we're given until they are no more.

out of bed before Dawn

2010-03-26T06:16:00.002-05:00

I awoke to the sound of honking geese in flight overhead. Feeling well rested I glanced at the mister's alarm clock.

5:00AM.

(I haven't used an alarm in two weeks.)

Had my dose of Nyquil run its course? After rolling around for 20 minutes in fits of coughing I got out of bed and started my chores.

Now I must sit still for awhile and wait for the sound of squeaking floorboards above me.

#25 go to an original dance production

2010-03-06T11:07:00.027-06:00

I'm slowly chipping away at my 25 things before 26 list. Last night I went to an original dance production at the Walker Art Center in Minneapolis. My husband and I saw the work Heaven, a collaboration between choreographer Morgan Thorson and the slowcore band Low.

I tried to learn as much as I could about the production beforehand so that I could go to it with a vague idea of what to expect. The unfortunate part that I was not prepared for was the antsy, stand up, stand down, program fumbling, looking around every which way, burping, knee scratching man sitting next to my poor husband. It was really difficult because the performance starts out with a procession where the audience is nearly expected to be solemn and "sit with themselves" as Morgan Thorson said after the performance. This was obviously more than the man could bear, and it was making me anxious and angry because I was trying to let myself get pulled into the piece, but this own man's anxieties kept pulling me back out! Later on the piece became more rigorous and the man turned to the woman sitting next to him and said, "What the hell is this?" A while later my husband and I stood up to let the man pass through to the aisle and I held on to the hope that he wouldn't return back to his seat like he had earlier. A few minutes passed and I finally relaxed as I realized the man wasn't coming back. I'm sure the people behind us were thankful that we would no longer be interrupting their view. This kind of reminded me of being in a Catholic church as a child. A certain behavior is expected of you as you quietly sit and prepare for the beginning of Mass. The fidgety man was clearly not abiding by some unwritten religious code, and he was just plain rude.

To get back to the piece, Heaven was a wonderful synthesis of sound, light, space, and movement. The work opened with white light as one would expect Heaven to be like and later morphed into a variety of enlightening hues made possible by lighting magician Lenore Doxsee. I especially loved the part with the single bright white spotlight. The light nearly jerked across the floor as one performer would chase after it, jump onto it, only to roll slightly off of it. The dancer would then get up and try to hit the mark again. As the spotlight moved there were times the light would cross through the jewels hanging down from above the stage and as the light would pass through it would refract for one small moment in time. This part of the dance was probably one of my favorites. With the piece's idea of perfection I saw the chasing of the spotlight as trying to achieve perfection, but always slightly missing the mark, never being able to fully attain it.

Emmett Ramstad paid fine attention to detail with his costume design and implementing the white and ivory textiles into the audience space. Some of the male performers were outfitted in dresses and some female performers in pants. The performer's armpits were left unshaven and hairstyles were done in a way to further question gender. I was aware of this androgynous concept before the show and further the idea of angels not being male or female. I liked not having to think about seeing a man or a woman dancing, but rather simply a group of people who were simply being.

The performance offered up a variety of soundscapes. At times there would be just one small voice murmuring ever so gently and other times the whole group of performers erupted into a full bodied song. Sometimes the sound of gibberish was utilized and emphasized to show meaning instead of allowing words to plainly give definitions to the audience. Alan and Mimi were not just left to the sidelines to make the music either. Just as the dancers were very much a part of the music, Alan and Mimi danced in the piece as well.

As far as movement is concerned, dancers bowed, gazed, and even threw their bodies against the back wall. This was not a pretty little dance, but a performance with raw passion and wholehearted rapture. I wouldn't have wanted to see anything less.

After the performance we stuck around to hear the discussion. What Costume and Visual Designer Emmitt Ramstad said sticks out in my mind. He said that working on a piece titled Heaven was interesting due to being told that heaven is a place that he is not welcome to go to. That made me really mad. I don't care who you are or what you've done, but nobody deserves to be the subject of hate and it is never anyone's place to tell anyone that they are going to hell.

I thought about this as we stopped at a grocery store on our drive home. We drove past a church whose sign said, "All are welcome."

Do they really mean it?
It clearly isn't true everywhere.

A passage about winter.

2010-02-23T12:06:00.010-06:00

There's something about the freezing death chill of winter that I am drawn to. It makes life seem more fragile, like the first thin layer of ice spreading its embrace around a lake. And how you don't dare breathe in the cold air too deeply out of fear that your lungs may glaciate. Why I like this numbing physical and emotional state, because weather affects our emotions too, I don't completely understand. But I have been a Minnesotan for 25 years, and it is going to stay that way for at least a while longer.

Many of my fellow Minnesotans are getting anxious for spring. They can't be blamed. This late in the season the frigid temps have probably not only chilled them to the bone, but straight through the marrow. Mourning is exhausting and they're anxiously looking towards spring, their blessed hope.

I too am hoping for spring. I am ready to put this emotionally draining season behind me. Yet I know in my spirit, and judging by the weather forecasts, that winter is not ready to release its harrowing grip. For now I will sit in silence and listen as this season's lessons slowly and painstakingly come to their close, because it will end. It must end.

And now, in honor of winter, a passage from a book I am still reading titled Independent People by Halldor Laxness. I have a few favorite passages from the book that I love to go back and reread even though I'm not done with the book yet. The setting for this passage is an Icelandic heath in the winter. The section is titled Winter Morning on page 139.

"Slowly, slowly winter day opens his arctic eye.
From the moment when he gives his first drowsy blink to the time when his leaden lids have finally opened wide, there passes not merely hour after hour; no, age follows age through the immeasurable expanses of morning, world follows world, as in the visions of a blind man; reality follows reality and is no more--the light grows brighter. So distant is winter day on his own morning. Even his morning is distant from itself. The first faint gleam on the horizon and the full brightness on the window at breakfast-time are like two different beginnings, two starting points. And since at dawn even his morning is distant, what must his evening be? Forenoon, noon, and afternoon are as far off as the countries we hope to see when we grow up; evening as remote and unreal as death, which the youngest son was told about yesterday, death which makes the minister bury them in the Bailiff's garden, death from which no one returns, as in grandmother's stories, death which will call for you, too, when you have grown so old that you have to become a child again."

I can handle death. It's the dying that's the hardest part.

nowhere to hide

2010-02-20T08:43:00.012-06:00

I saw Shutter Island last night. Now, I am not here to give you a review on the film. I'll leave that to the critics that are quick to find fault. I personally found it to be a gripping and beautifully produced film. Many people are upset with how the movie turned out, but instead of looking at how the storyline could have been I prefer to look at something else.

I don't like to watch horror films. It's not because I find them to be scary. It's quite the opposite. They are far too gory and gimmicky, especially when ghosts and the like are presented. You won't find any ghouls in Shutter Island. What you will see are dream sequences, hallucinations, and tricks of the eye. Which leads me to believe,

The most terrifying place on earth is the human mind.

In the real world there are limits to how badly things can go awry and some of the fears we have in this world are well-founded. On the other hand, the mind knows no bounds. It can manipulate, exaggerate, and deceive. It can cause us to be become irrational about the harmless "thump" we heard in the night. I guess this is why it's important for us to take care of ourselves and look out for those around us, so that we don't become enslaved to the fears that could cripple our beautiful minds.

Try going to an old mental hospital at night and not be filled with an irrational thought or two about what or who could be lurking just beyond that doorway. Imagination can be a blessing or a curse, depending on how you decide to use it.

Summer Uniform

2010-02-19T11:15:00.002-06:00

If I could have a summer uniform this would probably be it. Of course I will be wearing my standard dresses and skirts, but I feel like I could really live in these pieces. Perfect for when I just want to hang out, go on photo adventures, or sit along a shoreline. Keep in mind I will *hopefully* be sporting these with a blonde bob. Yeah, summer is sounding really good to me right about now. I've looked everywhere for the denim I want for this look, but this pair of Diesel's was the closest I could find and completely out of my price range. I'm hoping to thrift a pair or find something more reasonable. OK, that's enough dreaming for now. I hope the sun finds its place on your face today!

Poncho T by thiefandbandit. $32
The Sailor's Knot bracele t by thevamoose. $18
Matic 008XH Super Slim denim by Diesel. $230
Sperry Top-Sider® boat shoes in navy at J.Crew. $98
BB Dakota Sean Jacket at Need Supply Co. $65

Schell's Bock Fest 2010

2010-02-14T17:31:00.005-06:00

It was interesting to check out, but I don't think I'll be trying it again. The over consumption of beer never really brings out the best in people and immature people only become overwhelming obnoxious when under the influence.

Maybe my problem was that I didn't drink enough beer. I had one glass at $3. It was cold outside though and everyone was pretty much just annoying me. We waited in line for about an hour and a half before we even got to the gate. We didn't get the memo that you're supposed to drink as much cheap beer as possible before you get inside. The whole route to the brewery was littered with disgusting empty beer cans and bottles of cheap hard liquor. Some of those people had to have been drinking before 10AM.

Long story short, it felt like I was in a farm yard with a bunch of animals. There were guys taking care of their business outside of the mini biffs. Yeah, this was a really classy function.

Here's a doodle I did today. I took some pictures with my 35mm so it will be a while before those get up.

I have a cold now too. I'll blame it on the cold.

Secret #93

2010-02-08T21:42:00.010-06:00

I really like shoveling snow.

I secretly enjoy being the very first person on the block to clear their sidewalk. It makes me feel proud. I especially like to be out before the households that own snow blowers.

It doesn't stop there.

I like to dress up to shovel the snow. I know this sounds ridiculous, but trust me, it makes sense.

In order for it to snow the temperature needs to be mild. When I say mild I mean lower 30's. This is a good temperature for wearing a skirt and tights. Besides, when you shovel you get a little warm and it only makes sense to be wearing a skirt instead of snow pants.

I don't shovel just to spite my neighbors, because let's face it, that truly is ridiculous. Snow is magical. There's a quietness to winter. The world slows down. It becomes peaceful. The best time to shovel is while it's still snowing. This guarantees that you'll have to shovel again later. Please keep in mind, I really like shoveling. However, it's in times like these that I miss my neighbor Bill. He used to rent the house next door to us. Whenever I used to shovel the snow he would stop by to chat. I used to be bothered by these times of chatter because shoveling snow is a time for me to quiet my mind. He had a stroke last year that bound him to a nursing home. I don't even know if he's still alive. I used to bake for him. I don't bake as much as I used to. A batch of cookies, loaves of bread, a cake, they're all too much for a household of two.

I fear that if we get another large snowfall I might have to take a break from shoveling the driveway out. The snowbanks are as tall as me now. It becomes harder to place new snow on top of it. I really had to hurl the white fluffy stuff tonight.

I wore my husband's hat tonight while I shoveled. It matched the colors of my clothes (black, grey, and white) perfectly. Remember, there is no reason for you to compromise fashion while taking care of your chores.

I hope you jotted down a few notes. Snow shoveling can not be left to amateurs. The next time you're in town and you see me shoveling snow please feel free to wave, but do not take it personally if I do not notice. I am in my own world when I shovel snow.

The Anniversary Gift

2010-02-06T12:00:00.004-06:00

My husband got me an amazing gift for our anniversary this year. As of January 6th we've been married for three years. Now that the studio room is getting somewhere I feel like I can share this. The gift that he had made for me is perfect for the room and it is one of the best gifts I have ever received.

It is a wooden box, a beautiful wooden box. I love the finish on the outside and it even has a spot for me to place a label. I will probably spend months agonizing over what I should label it. That's half the fun.

I haven't completely decided what I will keep in it, but this is what is residing in it for now: a Moleskine Reporter, a couple of Moleskine Cahiers, ink pad, stamps, and my Diana+. That poor camera doesn't get enough love, but at least she can feel special sleeping in my lovely box, although it probably feels more like a casket to her.

The inside smells heavenly and I love that it has slots so that I can easily make adjustments for whatever I finally decide I want to keep in it.
Let's hear a round of applause for my husband for thinking outside of the box! :)
You did well dear.

empty me

2010-02-05T13:44:00.015-06:00

Sometimes negativity can take such a stronghold on your mind that you need to take a moment to flush it out.

Yesterday was great and I let nothing get the best of me. Right after leaving the office I got to work with painting the studio room. Every time I heard the humming of a vehicle a block away I hurried to the window to see if the UPS man had arrived. No I am not being sexist. A UPS man delivers my packages and I gleefully accepted the package he gave me, when he finally arrived.

My new Canon 50mm f/1.4 lens was contained beneath B&H's printed packaging tape. I was very pleased with my upgrade from Canon's 50mm f/1.8 lens. That is until the heart sinking Error 99 flashed before my LCD screen. Sometimes it would show up, sometimes it would not. Then the auto focusing on the lens stopped working.

I was not alone in this. I tried a few of the suggestions I found online.
Turning off the camera and removing the battery.
Using an eraser on the lens' contacts and the camera's contacts.
Taking a peek behind the camera's mirror.
One suggestion said to remove the lens, remove the CF card, and charge the camera's battery. But I had recently charged my battery and it was still nearly full. Why would I bother?

Still, I felt compelled to charge that battery. The only problem was that I couldn't find the charger!

First I checked the most obvious place, my camera bags. No luck.
I rummaged through the junk drawer.
I started looking through the piles I had made in the spare room. I was finally able to see the bare tops of flat surfaces, but a camera charger was nowhere beneath them.
Window seat bench? No.
Spare closet? Nu uh.
I found myself becoming increasingly angry with myself. Why was I so unorganized?!
I started to look through each and every one of my bags. I have a lot of these.
Nowhere to be found.

That was the last straw.

I had to stop and tell myself that the only way I was going to find it would be if I just settled down for a moment. Maybe praying about it would help. Yeah. That might help. Maybe I could ask God to tell me where it is was. Maybe He would answer me. Probably not, but it couldn't hurt, right?

I asked God to help me find my camera charger.
"Check your bags."
Ugh! No God. I already did that. They weren't in my bags! Frustrated, I hesitantly picked up my bags one by one and looked inside of them.
Not in here.
Not in that one either, God.
By now my arm was getting weighed down and I wandered around looking for a place to hang up my bags. I realized that such a place does not currently exist in my house, which is why they were in a huge pile in the first place.
I continued picking up bags and checking their contents. By the time I picked up all of my bags there was something small staring up at me from the floor, my camera's battery charger.
Seriously. I have no idea how it wound up way down there, beneath bags I haven't used since this summer, but I was thankful to have found it.

My mood lightened a little, but there was still no guarantee that my camera was going to work right with my new lens. I was disappointed that I had so quickly sold my similar lens.

I didn't really pray about my camera problems this morning, it was much more like begging and pleading with God.

I inserted my CF card, put in my freshly charged battery, and twisted my troublesome lens on my camera while crossing my fingers in my mind. I powered up my camera and pressed down the shutter button while wincing. I looked at my LCD screen. It took a picture! Wait, it might be a fluke though. I quickly snapped another picture. HOT DOG! Ok, let me try again.
And again.
and again.
I've tried it again at least 200 times now without any problems.

So maybe technology really does work some of the time, and maybe God really does answer prayer all of the time.
It probably wouldn't hurt to try.

making my own sunshine.

2010-01-22T13:27:00.002-06:00

Thinking away the grey...

It is Friday and I am not at the office. :D
French-pressed coffee. (I'm thinking a Round 2 might be nice.)
I scanned my new slides! *faint*
Listening to "I am Young" by Coconut Records, on repeat.
There's a new Missed Connection (Throat Tattoo) and it isn't quite like her usual works, but it is amazing nonetheless!
The Studio Room is seeing some progress! (Soon I will have copious amounts of free time and I can go wild on the room, just like I did with the bedroom last year. CAN'T WAIT.)

So yes, even the sky is grey and I have made a mess of my body with poor nutrition, too much caffeine, not enough exercise, and a lot of anxiety, I am still feeling pretty great!

And the winner is...

2010-01-10T17:53:00.004-06:00

I told myself that I would draw a winner at random on Sunday. As it turns out, today is Sunday. The wait is over!

I wrote each one of your lovely names on a Post-It note, which Nick drew at random from a hat. After reading the name he said "That's not any fun. Best 2 out of 3!" I said, "No! We have to be fair!"

And the winner is...

Mike Knudsen.

Thanks everybody for playing and reviewing 2009 with me! :)

favorite photos of the year (+print giveaway)

2009-12-28T17:29:00.009-06:00

Looking back on 2009 is easier for me to do when I have photographs to remind me of the highs and lows. Below are some of my personal favorite pictures that I took in 2009. I have at least 3 cameras that still have rolls of film in them, so naturally those photos are not being included. :)

As a special thank-you for everyone's wonderful support this past year (love you all) I will randomly select a winner to receive a free print! Leave me a comment and tell me which one of my pictures from 2009 is your favorite. I will randomly select one person to receive their favorite as a print. I will choose a size that I think will best reflect the nature of the image. You are not limited to the choices in this post, so be sure to visit my flickr photostream to pick your favorite. Leave the photo's link in the comments and if you're on blogger please leave your e-mail address too so I may contact you if you win. You have until January 2nd, 2010 to enter.

Be on the lookout for the full launch of my photography website in 2010. Thanks and have a Happy New Year!

My personal favorites:

A message for my Alma mater.

2009-12-20T08:04:00.002-06:00

I completely understand that you can't offer returns. It's just that I paid a lot of money for my college degree and I don't really like it any more. Do you think I could exchange it for something else?

Wanted.

2009-12-13T22:49:00.001-06:00

Shinigami eyes.

homeland

2009-12-13T18:25:00.003-06:00

To be an American is to feel displaced.

At least this feels true to me.

This has been running through my mind for several years. It hit me hard during my Sociology and American Indian studies, and again during my French course. It's been bothering me more lately as I read through "The Language of Landscape" by Anne Whiston Spirn and the novel "Independent People" by Halldor Laxness.

As a citizen of the United States we are told that we should strive to become a cultural melting pot. It's such a beautiful ideal. But I feel like someone that doesn't have a noteworthy ingredient to contribute to the dish. It's like I'm bland water. I'm taking up space, but as far as taste is concerned I am nothing.

Who knows how long ago my ancestors moved here. All I know is that I'm of mostly German descent. I feel lost because nothing of my heritage has been passed on to me.

I find myself being envious of other peoples, cultures that are directly connected to their land. Their food and traditions are closely tied to it. They have songs, folklore, art, language, and a common history. They are more unified because of it, at least I would like to believe so.

I know it's human nature to want to feel like you belong. It's not that I feel isolated or lonely. I just wonder what it would be like to have that kind of camaraderie and connection to your homeland.

Would anybody like to offer any insight?

A Selfish Confession

2009-12-13T10:55:00.002-06:00

Wednesday 7.29.09.
Deep down I don't think I care
how she is doing for her sake. Mostly
I need her to be alright for me.

hiding beneath the covers.

2009-12-07T12:59:00.001-06:00

Today I didn't crawl out of bed until 8:46AM. I wanted to stay there forever.

run for her life.

2009-12-03T16:52:00.004-06:00

Sometimes I just want to be somewhere else. I begin to feed on all the negativity of this place and dwell on why I ought to leave. There's always something that grounds me though, shakes me up and tells me that I'm right where I need to be, for now.

It won't be long before where I am today will no longer be. I'll painfully wish for things to be just how they are today. Not because my future is hopeless, but because there are things in this moment that I won't be able to have forever.

Today was the coldest run of my life. With the wind the temperature would feel like 0 degrees F. I wasn't timid in the least bit. I was ecstatic.

After 5 minutes into my warm-up walk my fully charged iPod died. Perfect, really. There were flurries floating in space and the sun started to break through the clouds as I approached the trains. Snow is in the rail yard again. It really does make my heart skip a beat.

With freshly fallen snow my whole world was new. I did not get cold. I never grew tired. The wind rustled through the remaining dead leaves and the geese gathered along the beach's shore. As I looped through the trail I caught full view of the sunset with its golden rays reaching through the trees, snow falling slowly, time stopping, tears welling up in my eyes. It was as blissfully beautiful as a run I experienced in late June, the golden ball falling from the sky and the seeds of dandelions suspended in the air. I've never had a moment like that since, and I know I'll never have a moment quite like tonight again.

It's times like tonight that make me love running. It's not because I ran really hard or really far. I was aware of the world around me and my own place in it.

Yet I can't just do it for myself. I won't. A week ago I ran in a race. Before the half-way mark I felt so exhausted and sick. I thought of my mom. I couldn't give up. I thought of how drained and sick she must feel, time after time. I had to keep running. This was my choice, to run for her. And when I got first place, it really wasn't for me. I was running for her life.

This is for you, mom.

Dear Vincent Fournier.

2009-12-03T13:06:00.002-06:00

Mr. Fournier,

I found your website almost by accident. I was searching for the best in website design when I happened upon this site and later went to this page. When I first looked at your "Wonderful World" project I was awestruck. I actually saw this photo several days ago only to discover today that it was taken by you! I have added you to my list of photographers whose work I admire. Thanks for the inspiration.

Kindest regards,

Jacinda

golden birthday (and 25 things before 26)

2009-11-25T17:49:00.004-06:00

It's my golden birthday and I don't care as much as I told myself I should.

Today I finished making my "25 things before 26" list. It's a fun and challenging list. You can view it at listography by clicking here. Otherwise, you can see it below too. I'll be sure to update my blog with photos and stories as I complete each one of these!

run in a half marathon
buy meat from a local "organic" farmer
have all student loans paid off
learn darkroom technique, take a class if available
refinish a chair
put up my photography website
get started on any or all of these design projects:

Patterns
Fingerprints
Letters

complete the studio room
visit a National Park I have never been to Would love to go to Big Bend National Park this year, The song "The Mighty Rio Grande" by This Will Destroy You and Ken Burns' series on The National Parks really piqued my interest for this place.
implement one lifelong change a month that will better the quality of life in my home: food, water, cleaning products, personal products, chemical use, electronics, etc. using http://www.ewg.org/ as a guideline

December
January
February
March
April
May
June
July
August
September
October
November

give blood for the first time (eep)
use my screen printing kit
get one of my photos into an exhibit or on a wall some where in the public eye
choreograph a dance
go on the F. Scott Fitzgerald walking tour in St. Paul Walking tour map. Official guide.
learn to crochet
become a scientific and natural areas volunteer
make a fermented food
learn a book-binding technique
take an art class at The Paramount VAC
visit 5 small town cafes and photograph them

go to IKEA for the first time
figure out how to play all of the piano part in Mogwai's "Friend of the Night"
make and use a a pinhole camera

and try solargraphy!

go to an original dance production

I hope you all have a wonderful and safe Thanksgiving! You're blessed in ways you have yet to recognize.

Sleepless.

2009-11-21T04:22:00.002-06:00

It all started with the shrill cry of sirens, rhythmic honking, and bright strobe lights of one fire engine. Moments later it was followed by a second... a few minutes later a third. What is it about 3:30AM that screams "FIRE!" any ways? Lucky for you I am awake and can ponder such worthless things for you.

I really didn't want to get out of bed. The moment I would get out and flip on the light would be the end of my melatonin production. The real truth is that my stomach is a jumbled mess inside of me and I have had it up to HERE with eating refined carbs. This is where I stop.

I was supposed to go running this morning, but stressing my body any further right now seems like a pretty bad idea. I have a whole exciting, fun, comfort food laden, and stress-filled week ahead of me. Remind me why I crammed events and activities into every nook and cranny of the last week of November?

Wait.

November is almost over?

Bjartur of Summerhouses

2009-11-15T20:58:00.006-06:00

I miss running to "I Know You Are But What Am I?" on forest trails in the early summer, with the fragrance of lilacs hanging heavy in the air.

Now it's almost winter here. Do you know what that means? It's nearly summer in Antarctica. Lately I can't stop dreaming of glaciers, frigid temperatures, and male narwhals. Last year coaching the dance team and thinking of Antarctica got me through the long, cold, dark nights of Minnesota winter. It might do the trick again, but I'm going to throw in some outdoor running in sub-zero temperatures just to be sure.

the eyes have it

2009-11-13T10:40:00.006-06:00

Sandra Juto is offering her Eyes print in her shop right now! I couldn't be more excited! Something this good is not to be trusted on my birthday or Christmas list. I must buy it myself to make sure I actually get it. Not nearly as good as the original l imited edition version that I missed out on. (Still kicking myself.)

This will definitely be going in my studio room, whenever that is finished.

Speaking of eyes, I had an eye appointment this morning. Doc says my vision hasn't changed after all. He asked me if I spend a lot of time in front of a computer screen.

........

I mean, who doesn't these days?

Good news is that my eyes can be lazy if they want when I'm in front of a monitor because my prescription compensates for that. On second thought, I'm pretty sure that isn't a good thing.

I'll have to get some glasses soon. Clearly four eyes are better than two anyways.

Still wandering.

2009-11-11T12:54:00.002-06:00

You said I'd be alone in this.

Despite being lonely
I'm not the only

one.

Sneaky C

2009-11-10T15:44:00.003-06:00

I'm certainly not God

I don't notice every little thing

but I see your sneaky ways.

Someone needs a spanking.

Cons and Pros.

2009-10-30T11:14:00.002-05:00

I don't like to pay for film development.

I have a new stash of magical film!

I've never gone to a show alone before.

It's David Gray! (I have been crushing on him for a decade and the show is sold out!)

I don't care for Halloween.

My costume looks amazing!

Late nights are hard on me.

It's daylight savings time this weekend!

I have some super cool friends that live two hours away.

I get to see them soon!

there's so much more to see in our darkest places (A Critical "Where the Wild Things Are" Review)

2009-10-19T17:12:00.012-05:00

I saw "Where the Wild Things Are" on Sunday afternoon. I can't help but read everyone's negative reviews and feel like they missed the point. It makes me want to roar my terrible roars and gnash my terrible teeth. I did a lot of reading about the movie, director Spike Jonze, and author of the book Maurice Sendak before I went to see it. I think doing some research would have prevented a lot of people from watching a movie that would make them and their children feel uneasy.

First of all, "Where the Wild Things Are" is NOT a children's movie! I can't tell you how many reviews and comments I've read of people complaining about their children crying and being scared during the movie. If it helps, only 27% of the people who went to the movie over opening weekend were families. The rest were teenagers through adulthood. Spike Jonze never made this movie for children. In his lengthy interview with GQ he said, "I didn’t set out to make a movie they could put in the children’s section. I set out to make a movie that was about being 9 years old." That doesn't mean that children should not see this movie or that they will not enjoy it. If you're a parent, it might be best to wait for it to come out on DVD. Then you would be able to pause the movie and have a conversation with your children about what is happening and help guide them through the emotions on the screen and their own emotions.

Secondly, this movie will not make you feel happy inside. I'm learning that quite a few people gauge whether or not a movie is good based on whether or not it makes them feel good. Yes, the movie is dark. Apparently a lot of people missed the memo about this too. After Warner Bros. first viewing of the movie they got really anxious. It wasn't the kind of movie they had in mind. "I tried to make it true to my memory, my experience, of being a human being at that age of life—what it’s like to be 9 and be alive. That was my goal," Spike Jonze from GQ.

Another thing to keep in mind is that this movie is about emotions, wild ones. Maurice Sendak had approached Spike Jonze several times to adapt his book to a movie. Jonze turned him down a couple of different times. He just didn't know how he could do Sendak's book justice. Then one day it hit him. "...wild things could be wild emotions," Jonze from GQ. I actually found the movie to be kind of exhausting as it went from one emotion to the next, jealousy, rage, anger, loneliness, joy, acceptance, and sadness. Don't you remember what it's like as a child to be doing something obnoxious, get yelled at, not completely understand what you did wrong, but feel lonely and angry all at the same time? This is one thing I thought about after watching the movie.

Other people complained that there was no closure to the movie. Either they left early or they completely missed the point. I especially can't stand the L.A. Times review. They said, "(Max) decides to leave the island not because, as in the book, he "wanted to be where someone loved him best of all," but because, as far as can be determined, he's caused some real damage and has no idea how to make things right." Are you kidding me?! Yes, the wild things were mad at him, but that is not why he left. Max had a pivotal talk with KW in which he tries to tell KW that Carol really does love her even if it doesn't seem like it. KW goes on to say that being in a family is hard. Max was realizing that similar to Carol, he loves his mom back home even though he isn't well behaved and hurts her. Family is hard for him too, but they love him and he realizes that he loves them back. Is that not wanting "to be where someone loved him best of all?" You're going to have to watch the movie again if you didn't get this point.

This is not my favorite movie of all time, but I certainly love it. I appreciate all of the work Spike Jonze put into it and I appreciate Maurice Sendak for allowing Spike to make it his own. I thought about this movie for several hours after watching it. I think that there's a lot to unpack if you're willing to not easily brush it aside. I think people have a hard time with the movie being "dark" because there might be things in their own life, wild emotions of their own and the wild emotions of others, that they just don't want to deal with. The movie might have been too much like reality for them.

Overall it was fun to be reminded of what it is like to be a kid again. The imagination, wonder, and awe of life. The fantasy and adventure to be found in igloos and forts. As much as there is joy in childhood, it still has a dark side. Spike Jonze wasn't set on only giving us the candy coated rainbows, but the deep, dark, unknown of the forest as well.

It's time for a check-up.

2009-10-11T19:04:00.006-05:00

"If it isn't broken, don't fix it." It sounds innocent enough, but I've been thinking about this phrase for a few weeks now and how misguiding it can be. Are we really supposed to wait until something in our life is broken before we fix it, before it gets some attention or maintenance?

I don't understand how some people can find this mantra to be valuable. With such a mindset one is expected to believe that the world will take care of itself and there's no need to step in and take action until something is wrong. What does such an attitude say about one's:

friendships

marriage

health

house

vehicle

(insert something really important to you right here)

We need to care for and be good stewards of all that we have. This means constantly working and striving to keep it at its best. It's much easier and less costly (financially, spiritually, physically, and mentally) to maintain something over the course of its life than to clean up its broken pieces. Yes, that does mean work, but the downside of letting anything valuable in our lives slip through our fingers is that it is not guaranteed that it will be able to be fixed or replaced should something damaging happen to it.

Just saying.

falling into place

2009-09-24T17:22:00.002-05:00

The smell of tobacco,
the dripping of raindrops from the roof,
homemade chai warming my heart,
The Language of Landscape filling my mind with new ideas of old,
the chill of autumn in the air,
dampness of the grass saturating my jeans as I kneel to take a photo,
the touch of black keys as I sound out Auto Rock by Mogwai,
the culmination of these things making my heart pitter-patter.
I wish I knew of a word that would explain that state of contentment, joy, and peace.

Lately, I feel like things are falling into place. I know better though. They have been all along, slowly, but surely. I like no longer feeling that I have to make excuses or try to explain the state of where I am today. I'm learning to enjoy the journey instead of being so caught up in finding the "right" answer(s).
I mostly like God's patience with me and that He doesn't require that I have it all figured out.
Yeah. That's my favorite part.

weekend.

2009-09-20T21:19:00.004-05:00

It's past my bedtime, so let's keep this short and sweet. This has been one of the best weekends in a long time and I didn't leave town once. I got to enjoy all of my most favorite things in life: early mornings, running, shooting lots and lots of photos, collecting, exploring, dancing, tinkering on the piano, drawing, writing, reading, praying, meeting up with an old friend, being outside, walking and spending time with Nick... I mean really. What am I missing? This is all I want.

My collection of items from a morning in the forest.

Breakfast with Nick on the porch!

Out for coffee.

The fallen leaves.

Shooting photos of my in-laws.

Engagement Session: Josh & Katrina

2009-09-11T12:08:00.004-05:00

I had the honor of shooting some engagement photos for Josh and Katrina. By the end of the session I was in such a good mood because it was apparent how much they love each other. I had to learn to keep my camera on them. After I would tell them to do something they would have their own cute moments together, which is what it's really all about. Here are a few of my own favorites from the session.

Looking for my place in the world.

2009-09-10T20:04:00.003-05:00

This evening was spent driving around town. I have yet to decide on a place where I want to take photos for one of my "classes" for the "semester." Robbins Island isn't charming enough, or something. The MinnWest Campus is almost too vast for the assignments. I wanted to do the train station area, but I feel like I'll be hassled and told to leave every time I try to take a picture. I don't feel safe downtown alone at night. I'm not sure whether I'm thinking too hard about it or not.

I tried to scope out places tonight, but I didn't venture out too far. I found a new road though! I had no idea it existed! It must be about 2 years old. I was at an intersection and instead of being faced with the choices of going left or right, I had the option of going straight! Straight I went. It was really exciting for me. I wasn't sure where I would end up. It eventually intersected with a road that I was familiar with. Then the fun was over.

Tonight I hope to give Josh and Katrina their engagement pictures, but only if this computer will finally recognize that it does indeed have a disc in its tray.

P.S. I am absolutely loving "Time Stops" by Explosions in the Sky tonight. You can listen to a clip of it on last.fm It starts about a minute into the song. Click here to listen to it.

Photography Inspiration: Jonathan Levitt

2009-09-07T22:00:00.003-05:00

I was visiting a mysterious photo blog for quite some time. Nobody seemed to know the photographer behind the beautiful photos. If you visit the blog by clicking here you will see that it has been stripped of all information. I found myself wondering who this person was and where they were located. I found myself wanting to live in their photos.

Every photo is steeped with honesty and the joys of living day to day. The photos hide nothing. One photo shows a peaceful herd of cattle. And yet another photo is a butchered chicken. In the next photo you find a gourmet meal. Each photo tells a story and when all stitched together they form the fabric of our lives, or rather his life.

After adding this blog to my Google Reader I discovered the email address that was assigned to the blog. Thank goodness the blogger used their name in their email address because I was able to track down the mysterious photo blogger.

Jonathan Levitt.
You can visit his professional website by clicking here.
I am so impressed with this person. Each photo is so down to earth and open, sometimes to the point of sending shivers down my spine. The photo styling is beautifully simple. The series on his website titled, "Wake to Songbirds Wake to Crows" is a dream to me. I love how the subjects of the place he is depicting all seem so intertwined with one another, the people, animals, and the land. I want to see, touch, and taste each photo. I wish I could be there. He really gives me something to strive for.

Poor taste. (Updated.)

2009-09-03T19:48:00.007-05:00

I admit it. I don't always have the best taste when it comes to some comedy. I enjoy a lot of the Tim and Eric Awesome Show, Great Job! (Season 3 really crosses the line though and I haven't found it to be too funny.) I'll also occasionally visit Awkward Family Photos, This is Why You're Fat, and Passive Aggressive Notes. However nothing could prepare me for the "humorous" website I found today.

People of WalMart

I went to this website and although I could recognize the images I was seeing I couldn't laugh. It would be different if these "outrageously bad / ugly / creepy / crazy shoppers" (in the words of the website's creators) were submitting the images themselves. Instead their pictures are being taken, probably unbeknownst to them, all so that they can be the butt of some joke. It just doesn't seem right. This website almost feels like high school all over again. Let's make fun of people because of how they look. I really don't think we need a website to encourage us to look down on one another. We're obviously pretty good at doing that any ways.

Update:

I thought about this some more. I was trying to figure out why it bothered me. These pictures are being taken without respect for the individual. If these people were shot with dignity we would have to face the truth that they are more like us than we feel comfortable believing. Many of the pictures don't include their faces, which is kind of a nice gesture if the picture taker is trying to keep the person anonymous. However, this almost makes it feel like the subject is trying to hide their face, like they are ashamed of what they're wearing or how they look. That outfit that you think is a fashion disaster might actually be the best thing they own and they feel quite proud wearing it.

It's easier for us to laugh it off when people are being exposed in this manner. We don't have to make a connection with them. There's a comfortable distance. It's the same reason why I don't like it when people take random photos of the homeless or of starving children in third world countries. Where is the respect in that? Where is the compassion? We already know that it happens in our world. We don't need photos to make us feel sorry for people only so that we can feel better about our own lives. They don't need our sympathy. They need our help.

Seeing these pictures on the People of WalMart website makes me want to get in touch with the people in the photos and take real pictures of them. I don't doubt that some of them are characters. I would like to see their true personalities come out in the photos. There is so much more than meets the eye. These pictures are not doing these people justice.

3;2;1;26;48

2009-08-21T11:58:00.004-05:00

3 young women

2 Duluth Packs

1 Canoe

26 miles

48 hours

Boundary Waters Canoe Area

My first night out of the Boundary Waters I woke up during the night and couldn't fall back to sleep. I couldn't stop thinking about the pristine beauty of that protected land. It's like the Boundary Waters were just a small glimpse of what God intended for our world to be like. I felt ashamed and guilty as my eyes started to well up. We obviously can't protect every part of our world, but we can definitely have more respect for it. I'm not advocating worshiping the world and I've never liked it being called "Mother Earth." I'm not a tree hugger, greenie, or trendy environmentalist, nor do I recognize myself as being dark green, light green, or bright green. (Who even knew such terms existed?) I just recognize that the world is out of balance and I want to live my life in a way that is more respective of God and the creative handiwork that He put into our world. I'm tired of making excuses and brushing away the voice that tells me that I could be living more sustainably and responsibly. It's just so easy to keep living how I have been. It's hard too without the right kind of motives and accountability.

This morning on my run I noticed each and every little piece of trash around me. Which will be the one that breaks the world's back?

not found, but chosen

2009-08-07T09:45:00.005-05:00

Lately I've thought a lot about moving. At the end of spring Portland Oregon sounded like a place I wanted to be. Then I went to dance camp and suddenly Baxter seemed like a nice place to live. I'm unsure of what could be gained by moving though. Fresh perspective? Definitely. New friendships? Surely. Prettier landscapes? Perhaps. But how long until the novelty wears off? If I'm looking for a change in my life it takes more than a change in a postal zip code. We (because I'm not just talking about myself) can blame the town we live in for the woe in our lives all we want, but if life is miserable in Town B then life will be miserable when we move to City Destiny because our bad attitudes will follow us for as long as we let them. There's also as much bad in Town B as City Destiny because none of us can completely escape our human nature. You're as much a part of the problem, but you're also as much a part of the solution.

I'm content with calling Minnesota home forever and ever amen, but I'm not convinced that I can shake this wanderlust.

2009-08-03T19:30:00.000-05:00

cleaning my dirty laundry

2009-07-27T17:53:00.001-05:00

Positivity tightly clenched in one fist. I don't dare give this up.

GOODNESS.

2009-07-10T21:33:00.007-05:00

Just some goodies from my visit to Goodwill earlier this week.

I got the basket, brand new blue dress, and Terence Conran's

Small Spaces all for under $13. So I didn't exactly need any of

this, but I like it all a lot. I'm not entirely looking forward to

Financial Peace University next week. Nick and I haven't

been telling all of our money what to do lately, meaning the past

8 months or so. That means purchases like this will need to

come to an end. I'll have to use my "fun" money and save it like

I used to. Don't worry about me though. I'll manage just fine.

I'm pretty sure I've got the "Look at me, I'm cute and you

should buy me this" face down. ;)

four-get-me-not

2009-07-04T09:04:00.005-05:00

I can hear your chuckle now as you waved good-bye last 4th of July.
I will always be proud of your service to our country and your honest living of working in the soil. Sometimes I think it slowly killed you, being away from the land you loved.

I don't like humidity, but the smell reminds me of summer sleepovers at your home and eating more raspberries and strawberries than were actually placed in the bowl. The heavy air brings me back to those lush fields and winding roads in God's country. Some people think that Eden Valley is nothing more than a little hick town, but I'm convinced it's paradise.

No matter how big my dreams get, God is bigger yet.

2009-06-30T12:21:00.008-05:00

Let me say that again.

No matter how big my dreams get, God is bigger yet.

It's a Tuesday morning. As I am cleaning up and getting ready for the day I let my mind wander as it has easily become accustomed to doing. I am more prone to doubt during this time of my body's cycling. I've become more aware of it though and am usually able to fight it off. But sometimes I still can't help but ask, "Can I really do it?"

"Of course you can!" I would exclaim to myself on a day when I am feeling "more like myself," whatever that means. Not this day. This day I can't, or maybe won't would be more like it.

I'm not sure what I expect. Overnight success? It happens to other people, right? You just show up on TV as a nobody one day, and before you know it you're the next America Idol or Design Star. It seems so easy. Is that what we're supposed to believe?

Nonsense. I am not so naive and I have some well laid plans. Yet somehow I am scared to death of not actually following through. Perhaps it's a pride issue. I don't want to be made out to be a fool.

I might have some big dreams, but God is still bigger than those dreams. Because of Him the only way I can fail at this is if I don't bother to try. And because God is bigger even if my plans fall apart He still remains.

Nothing says "I Love You" like...

2009-06-29T23:25:00.004-05:00

Some guys write it in ink within a card.
Others may write it in the sand on a beach.
My husband on the other hand...

Of Honduras.

2009-06-11T12:07:00.006-05:00

17. My favorite number.
White girls are his favorite.

His mom is back in Honduras. He has only been learning English for a year and wants to know
what I think. I tell him to read books aloud to himself. He laughs, says it's stupid.
"That's what they make us do in school."

He will be a senior. He likes math and history. He really likes learning about the history of the United States.
In my mind, mostly he likes geography. The geography of women.

Part of me wants to hate him for every distasteful thing he says. Every unwelcomed compliment.
Every suggestion that adultery is OK. Every place he puts his eyes.

But I put up with every ounce of it. Not knowing whether it's the patient side of me or the stupid side.
I ask questions about his future, his family, his hope.
I explain the importance of marriage, education, God.
I pray for his heart, body, mind.
I can't let the silence between us drag for too long, because then all I hear about is

Sex.

No. We cannot be friends.
This is where I start running.
No. You cannot follow me.

Adios.

This is it.

2009-06-07T10:24:00.004-05:00

Fought so long to figure it out and now that I have
This must be right.
It has to be true.
I can't imagine it being any other way.

I'm removing this dream from my heart
Away from where man can grab it
Rip it out
Shatter into a million fragments on the floor
It makes recovery too hard.

I've already left some pieces behind
Out of doubt
What makes me think I deserve this any ways?
Maybe they're right.
They have to be.
I'm nobody.

No.

This time
This little dream
Is on an open pedestal
In the stars
Where my hands willingly offer
This sacrifice.

It's the safest place I know.
Where only God has the power to destroy it.

If He takes it away
I will leave it behind forever.

Until then
no amount of hurled words of hate
from me or man
can stop me now.

Piano Nobile

2009-06-01T15:23:00.005-05:00

Dear Piano Nobile,

I would like one of these, one of these, and one of these. Thanks.

Your new best friend,

Jacinda

Experimentation.

2009-05-31T21:01:00.003-05:00

About a week ago Nick and I went to St. Cloud to visit my Grandpa Denis in the hospital and to drop off the first issue of Coup at The Electric Fetus. I've been trying to take my camera with me more often because you never know what might happen. We were on our drive home and Nick didn't feel like talking much. I directed my eyes out into the encroaching darkness and was swept into awe. I was filled with memories of my childhood, evening car rides home in the summer after visits with either set of my Grandparents. As a child I would look up into the clouds as the sun would set, thinking about how God was somewhere up there. I wanted to try to capture the feeling somehow. Being trapped in a car shouldn't hold me back from experimenting with my camera.

It was fun. I liked the idea of not having complete control over the situation since the car was constantly in motion. I really enjoy some of the lines and patterns that the motion caused in the images. I also liked the blurriness of some of the images. It made me think of the blurring of this world and the eternal, how they blend together and how we crossover from one world to the next. The experience made me want to explore these themes further. Here are a few images from that night in the car.

crossing over.

let us go, up

ejected.

Greetings from the heavenly being.

shape.

2009-05-30T11:02:00.002-05:00

I keep telling myself that I need to get into shape.
Then I always ask myself, "Which shape?"
I'm not quite sure, but I've always liked how parallelograms look.