Oceans of Tears

I am a crier.  I tear up at the drop of a hat.  On Saturday, I realized I had teared up and/or cried on 3 separate occasions within four hours.

This used to cause me shame and embarrassment.  I tried to shake off my emotional ways, feeling that it made me weak.  Now, I count it among one of my blessings.  It helps to offer empathy, and to be able to possibly carry even the tiniest bit of someone else's burden or to multiply their joy.  I feel that it makes me incredibly human and allows me to search for connections with people and to really appreciate both the peaks and valleys of life.

So what were my three tear-worthy moments?

1)  Volunteering at the St. Francis Center in DTLA - when able to, I like to join the Order of Malta and feed the homeless.  Besides the part where I have to wake up at an early hour on a weekend, I really enjoy the work and especially like having the opportunity to really connect and speak to people that exist outside of my bubble.  The focus is on serving our guests, and when the line winds down, we sit and eat breakfast with them.  Normally, I do fine but as I was putting a plate in front of a man, a wave of emotion washed over me.  It feels so unfair that I won some kind of genetic lottery and that I have a stable life, full of abundance and opportunity.  Less than 10% of our guests are women, and less than 10% are white - the room is primarily made up of Black and Latino men.  Even though this is something I think about regularly, as I was listening to man talk about fighting in the Vietnam War and having to end his career early over injuries, live in his van, and struggle for decades - I was overcome with sadness and guilt.  I have done little to earn the life I have, and moments like these strengthen my desire to use my privilege as a tool to advocate for others who are treated unjustly.  He was such a happy person, and spent his free time volunteering when possible and was as friendly and positive as can be.  I admire his spirit, and hope to emulate it.

2) Watching The West Wing on the elliptical at the gym.  I always look like a crazy person at the gym: I'm either cracking up at a podcast or trying to read my kindle while barely getting enough air to my lungs (and the sweat making my glasses steam up or slip off my face), or I'm that asshole that brings her iPad to the gym to watch Netflix.  Honestly, this show gets me teary on the regular (I'm watching it for the first time in a wonderful binge at the moment) and there was an especially powerful scene where a character was talking about how proud he was about his relationship with community and how he wanted to use his platform to fix institutionalized racism aaaaaand the tears, they came.

3) Listening to the Modern Love podcast in the sauna.  Yes, bringing in my iPhone to the sauna is stupid and dangerous but I just can't get me enough podcasts, y'all.  I cry nearly every week because the stories are powerful and I turn to mush easily.  Colin Farrell read a story about a quadriplegic man finding love that he felt he didn't deserve and to hear him speak about his wife was just beautiful. I laid on the wooden slats in that hot, hot room with tears streaming down my cheeks - emotionally and physically naked.

Double Exposure Series

It's no secret that I'm a big fan of landscapes + double exposure images + editing photos.  In my bedroom, I have this 88" x 104" tapestry by Andreas Lie (btw, he's a sweet guy and a brilliant artist - check out his work).

I've decided to embark on a series of double exposures that will include people dear to me, and the places that are dear to them.  Below are some I quickly put together from older photos.

What I need from you, my wonderful and beautiful friends, is to pose for me.  I would like to improve my portrait-taking skills (and get more use out of my 35mm lens) and also sate my love of photo editing.

Me + forests

Forest photo by Samuel Rohl

Emily + Truckee

Steven + Joshua Tree

Haley + Newport Beach

A Romantic Life

Life is, in general, decidedly unromantic. It's full of dirty dishes, long days and difficult choices. It's made up of stressful work days, accidents, and lots and lots of lines. 

That's why I choose to savor the romantic parts of life. It's why I have intimate conversations with my uber drivers - talking about their passions, their dreams, and why the ended their marriages. A deeply personal conversation with someone I will likely never, ever see again. I always appreciate a fleeting moment. 

People watching is immensely enjoyable: reunions at the baggage carousel at the airport, guessing which number date people are on in dimly lit restaurants, and parents laughing with their children. Somehow feeling like a small part of their lives by simply being a witness for a single scene. 

I will always be in awe watching fireworks at Disneyland - synced perfectly to music. Pure magic in the evening air. 

One of my favorite ways to spend a weekend morning is watching the sun rise over the ocean, chasing it down PCH; the waves dotted with surfers and the smell of salt. 

The way the warmth of a fire during pounding rain makes me feel lucky to exist. The glow of twinkle lights and candles is an unceasing source of happiness and contentment.  

I adore playing my favorite sad album on the record player; bringing forth happy, wonderful, and painful memories of people who aren't a part of my life anymore. 

I treasure the thick tension that exists in the seconds before a first kiss and making eye contact across the room with a stranger. 

I find romance in the heartbreak. A relationship ending forces me to reflect on the blessings that were once there: a best friend - someone who knew me deeper than anyone else. Hours spent in laughter and quiet understanding. The dozens or hundreds of sunsets we shared. Gifts given, surprises planned, and embraces shared after personal victories and trying arguments. Mourning the loss of a future planned that will never exist. Remembering that I felt love and gave love and the possibility that I will have that again. 

This is why I'm unashamed by how excited I get over small, insignificant things - almond lattes, an acquaintance remembering a small detail about me, or when a friend unexpectedly comes over on a hard day. I hope I never lose my enthusiasm for being overly sentimental about nothing in particular. 

Goodbye, 2015

2015 was quite the year for me:

I had my heart broken.  I grew in my faith.  I finished paying off my student loans (!).  I was put under more pressure at work than I've ever experienced and branded a new company.

I learned to be gentle with myself.  I finally reached a point where I am able to let go of the things I cannot control, instead of pouring energy into them.  I've adjusted my attitude and perspective so that my first thought is to approach someone with understanding instead of taking everything personally.

I've dealt with rejection and deep sadness.  I've formed and strengthened friendships with many beautiful souls.  I've lost count of the amount of times I've laughed so hard that my stomach hurt.  I cuddled with Fitzgerald hundreds of times.

I visited Scotland. Vegas. Big Bear. Palm Desert.  Healdsburg.

I attended my first (country) music festival.  I went to my first opera.  I moved and started living on my own again.  I took pictures and more pictures and more pictures after that (and sold more in my online store than I ever have).  I went to museums and more concerts than I can count at tiny venues, beaches, shopping centers, arenas, schools and more.  I spent countless sunrises at the beach.  I replaced my record player and upgraded my bedroom furniture.

I ate dozens of oysters.  Attended a t.v. awards show.  Drank a million cups of tea and coffee and wine.  Hosted a bar crawl.  Attended multiple podcast recordings (and listened to hundreds of hours of podcasts).  Mailed lots of snail mail.  Attended church retreats.  Prayed the rosary dozens of times. Attended Adoration.  Read lots of books.  I finally opened a retirement account and a second savings account.

I started to appreciate the pieces of me that make me who I am.  I've loved fiercely.  I went to the gym more than I ever have.  I spent time with family.  I went to Disneyland again and again as well as baseball games, basketball games, and hockey games.  I took public transportation in LA for the first time.

I feel so blessed to have such a good life and to be surrounded by so many amazing, lovely people.

Bring it on, 2016.

Perception

It's so incredible to me how your past experience and personality can dictate how you feel about a song or a poem or even a phrase, or how you interpret an interaction, memory, or recollection. You are a slave to your own perception and no matter how hard you try to be open-minded, you lean back on your own barometer determined by your childhood, your college experiences, and how you choose to analyze and internalize your life experiences. Big moments, small moments...even a seemingly innocuous comment can stick in your brain and alter your frame of mind. 

The truth is a concept we conclude through these filters, which is why there is a plague of disagreement  and misunderstanding. 

*FYI: It's possible I had about 3 glasses of wine right before I wrote this

10 AM Gare du Nord

This post was originally written September 9, 2013

I spent my last week falling hard for a lovely Scottish man.  We only had five days together but are both so sure of our feelings, which I realize sounds insane.  At the same time, I'm at a time in my life where I've had enough romantic experiences, and know myself well enough, to know what I want and who is good for me.

He makes me laugh.  He makes me feel like I can share every part of myself with him.  Oddly enough, we met at a bar (I honestly didn't think it was possible to meet a decent human being at a bar) - one just a block away from me.  I had walked over with a fairly large group of friends, as we had just been indulging in Moscow Mules at our housewarming party and needed to move to a bigger space.  Tired, I sat on a stool to relax and a man with a lovely smile sat down next to me.  Next thing I knew, we had spent half the night talking.  We walked out together when the bar closed and I ached at the thought of him leaving me.  He proclaimed that he couldn't leave me just yet, and we walked back to my place with the rest of my friends.  As everyone else settled in for the night, we spoke for hours - until the sun rose!  In the glow of my copper lamp, and while listening to likes of 'Keaton Henson' on the record player, we talked and talked and talked.  We spoke about our lives, our families, our interests, ourselves.

I had never felt so strongly for someone so quickly.  In the span of a few hours, I felt weirdly comfortable with him, like I had known him for at least a decade.  After some intermittent napping, and more conversations, our group headed out for brunch.  I was surprised by how normal it felt to spend time with him, to hold hands under the table, and give each other knowing smiles.  I know that my friends were surprised - I was putting my head on the shoulder of a man I hardly knew!  Late that afternoon, I drove him back to his hostel (after getting lost numerous times) and before we parted, we agreed we had to see each other again.  Keep in mind this was early Sunday evening...and he was leaving on Wednesday.

A couple hours later, I nervously texted him letting him know my roommate, best friend and I would like to join his friends out for a night out on the town.  Upon seeing each other again, we were giggly and awkward and it was wonderful.  After about five minutes, we settled into being together and shared a kiss that I had been just about dying for.  The escapades that night were random - our group traveled to a couple different bars and just generally had a fun evening.  My English roommate was happy to have someone British around - she used quite a few colloquialisms I didn't recognize.  When sharing breakfast as a group the next morning, my best friend told him that he felt like an old friend.

In such a short span of time, I knew how right he was for me, how much we could make each other happy.  It's crazy, I know - but so are many of the best love stories.  Each day we spent talking, laughing, and settling into each other.  By the time Wednesday came, I was a total wreck - how could this great man just leave me life forever?  However, he changed his plans and stayed an extra night so that he could spend more time with me.  I was overjoyed.

The next morning, we sat in the car before leaving for the airport - we talked, I cried.  We teased each other, took pictures, and tried to cherish our last moments.  Life has been feeling pretty unfair, but I'm just so grateful that I got the time I did.  What if his friends had gone to another bar that night?  We actually came very close to never meeting each other.  To know that someone can make me feel like this is such a blessing, I now know to never settle for less.  However, I also know that it's rare - which is why I refuse to let go of him.  His travels have taken him to Alaska, and our texts and conversations have only reassured everything I knew I felt in those first 12 hours.  As for the future...who knows?

Life is magical, beautiful, & unexpected.