Owning the power of transference....

Why are we such conspiracy theorists? People who believe in conspiracies are held up in our society to be crazy and psychotic. But we all do it. At every job I have ever had, I have worked with people who complain complain complain (including me). They complain that the bosses don't pay enough, as though they are purposely filling their pockets just to deny their lowly minions. People complain about new policies, forms, and procedures, as though their boss actually took the time out of his busy schedule just to plan ways to make his employees' lives miserable. It happens in every day life too. Something goes wrong and we immediately are angered, blaming the person responsible as though they did it on purpose. It happened to me just the other day. I sent in a rebate for my new cell phone, and received a notice back saying it was denied because of this reason or that, which I knew was false. Instead of accepting the fact and focusing on the solution, I instantly became angry. How could they interfere with my life and cause me to waste my extremely limited time by calling them to make sure they know how to do their job? So when I did pick up the phone it turns out the guy just reversed two of the numbers in my phone number. A harmless mistake anyone could have made, and much less devastating of a mistake than I'm sure I make all the time. Thank goodness I didn't take my anger out on the operator. And, how much time did I really "waste" on the phone with her? 5 minutes, maybe.

When I think about how many people are on this planet each following his or her own interests, it amazes me that we all don't just collide and explode every second. But somehow it all manages to work out, for the most part. No one is out simply to hurt other people. We just get blinded by whatever need we happen to be hunting at that moment in time for our own survival. And, sometimes that affects others. Always it affects others. It's like the theory of transference in criminology. No two objects can come into contact with each other without leaving some physical trace on one another. So it is with all situations in life, though in life the contact doesn't have to be physical, and the traces left could be emotional, mental, etc. The old saying "put yourself in their shoes" then applies. Only we have to go a little deeper than that. Maybe the guy has dyslexia, maybe he was extremely tired because he was up all night with his baby, maybe his keyboard malfunctioned, maybe he just made an honest mistake, or maybe shit just happens. But just like at the hotel where I work, we have to have each others' backs. When one person makes a mistake, the next person has to catch it. No blame. But we have to understand everyone makes mistakes, not one person knows the perfect solution to anything, and we all have our own agenda which sometimes makes us blind to that of others.

I read an amazing book once called Turning Stones about a man who was thrown into the arena of child welfare. It depicted some of the cases he worked on, and also included a story of a trip he took once where he saw a busload of tourists. He watched one of them turning stones over that she found on the ground. When he asked her why she did this, she said it was her way of making her impact on that one place in the world. She took nothing from it; she left nothing behind. But just turning over one stone each place she went was her way of saying "I was here". Every time we have any contact with others, we are essentially turning them over, making an impact. We just have to keep in mind that we have this effect on people, and own that power. Because it can do a lot of bad, or a lot of good.

Following my butterflies...

Happy 100th Posting!!!

So, I finally sat down and watched Marley and Me tonight. Everyone had told me how sad it was, but the saddest part to me was the people, not the dog. Both of the main characters were writers, which caught my interest immediately. The man, who had always wanted to be a reporter, was a columnist, and the woman, who had been a reporter, was now a stay-at-home mom. And, neither was happy. Ever since I got canned from my last job, where I was miserable, I started a new system. I noticed that I had hated every job I had ever had. Seriously hated. Yet, I stayed in them for fear that there wasn't anything better out there. I was comfortable there at least, I would say. It was crap, but it was familiar crap. I continually weaved in and out of this phase of wondering if this is really how life is supposed to be. And, several people verified- yes, in fact, your job is supposed to suck. Fortunately, I had a few friends who disagreed, including my husband, and once I had been fired, I decided it was enough and it had to change. So, now I have a check-in system with myself. You would think that being myself and all, I would know what I want. But, in fact, it's hardest for us to see what we ourselves want. It gets so clouded by what others want for us and themselves, as well as what we think we should do, in addition to that picture we have hanging in our heads that we created back in college, or even earlier.

So, now I don't just ask myself on a cognitive level- is this what I want? I ask myself on a spiritual level. Like I stated before in my post about pain, I feel that happiness is my compass. I have so many interests it's hard to pick just one to follow. So the way I tell which one I need to follow at this point in time is by stopping to recognize what makes me excited. I explained it to a student of mine once in relation to falling in love. When you fall in love with someone, you get butterflies whenever you think about him or her. It's just the same with everything else. If writing gets me excited, then that is what I need to do. I've also narrowed down my physical cues, which I believe everyone has but most ignore. Mine is my stomach starts to hurt. It's ironic, I think, because that's also my signal that I am stressed. But it's an entirely different kind of ache. When I am working on a program for a student that I'm really excited about or on a photography project I'm super jazzed about, I get anxious because I am eager to start. Another cue is when I'm so excited about something I can't wait to tell my husband. I'm sure I will discover more as the years pass.

I use this check-in system to make sure that I am following my correct path. It is SO easy to get side-tracked, thinking instead about what's more logical or financially responsible. In fact, in writing this, I think I have figured out the missing step in my writing process. My biggest worry is that I will get started on a book that I think is a good idea, get three-quarters of the way done, and realize I'm not passionate about it. I think that's part of what's holding me back. I want to look forward to working on my book everyday, not have it feel like an obligation. So my step before sitting down to write will be stopping to feel which way my happiness points me. I have three books I am currently working on. Maybe that number will increase. This way I have several options for my daily outlet. But every time I sit down to work I want to be sure it is because I feel it. Well maybe every time is a bit naive, but the majority of the time would be nice. I wish more people would follow their butterflies. I bet the world in general would be a happier place. I know I am definitely happier since I started. I've been at my current jobs for over a year- a record for me!- and I still love them! And, as for my side work, it's going extremely well too!



Funnily enough I just randomly decided to shoot these tonight hours before I even came up with this post. These are a couple of butterflies I picked up at the Hubbard House Thrift Store (second best in town), which I spray painted orange and hung on our wall. I guess they will now forever be my reminder to follow my happiness.

Finding my process...

Today I took a day to myself. I went to all my favorite places. I started out with a relaxing morning at the pool. I got to really dive into my new book by President Obama, since I finally finished Haroun last night. His use of language is so fluid, you almost don't notice how beautiful it is. I'm sure I will have a lot to write about it in future posts. It was nice to finally have some time to relax in the sun and read, as it's been raining here quite a bit lately. I also decided to try a new technique and take some underwater pictures with my little canon by sticking it in a ziploc bag; and to my astonishment, it worked!



After cooking myself in the sun, I made a run to the other side of town to visit my favorite antique store, the best in Jacksonville- Southern Crossing. It took me over an hour to wander through all the aisles. There is so much to discover there. Just being there feels to me like being in a story. They have such beautiful things, some dating back to the early 1900's, if not earlier. I fell in love with a wooden hand mirror, which was so worn you could hardly make out your reflection, and a huge intricate doll house which dated back to 1920. It was so well-made, had I had the $400 available I would've bought it. Just touching these things that belonged to some stranger so long ago feels so powerful. Like taking a peek into someone else's diary.



After taking off with 6 items for only $20, I headed to my other favorite store, the best bookstore in Jacksonville- Chamblin Bookmine. Another place I could wander around for hours. Aside from the sheer size of it and the ridiculous number of books it houses, it is another spot that I feel so much a part of. All these stories, all these dreams, all these ideas surround you as you walk the maze of aisles. In fact, I love being there so much that even after I had found my books, I found myself just walking around hoping I'd find another section to browse just because I didn't want my time there to end.



Today's events got me thinking about my approach to writing. I'm beginning to realize that every writer must create his own personal process. But what is mine? I have found that I have several sources of inspiration. I learned on my trip to Chicago that they are all around me. And, today I learned that if I am ever lacking inspiration or lacking focus, I have many places I can go to pull from the spirit of the past. But then, where to start? That is the next phase in the process. You'd think you can just sit down and start typing but I feel like there's a step missing. So I'm on a mission to find it.

Crawling out of my niche...

Sometimes someone comes into your home, grabs you off the couch, and pulls you out above all else and forces you to look at life, all of life. That happened to me tonight. Life is so big- so big. Yet, we squoosh it and smash it and stomp it until it is little more than a tiny grain of dirt. Why do we do this? Because to look at life for what it is, the size that it truly is, would be to admit our complete lack of power. When we squeeze ourselves into our tiny little comfortable niche in the world and tell ourselves that that's life, we pretend that we are in control. We pretend that we know what's out there. We pretend that we know why things happen. We pretend that we know what to expect, what's coming. But life is huge. Life is powerful. Life can carry you along and then pull you under like a tidal wave. It encompasses everything, everywhere. Yet, here we sit in our little corner of the world and talk of money, fame, and other trivial pursuits.

Tonight I experienced the magic of pure storytelling for storytelling's sake. The kind of storytelling that introduces you to a character that leaves you with a feeling of deja vu. You know you've met it before, but you're not sure where. It's life. Real life. Whole life. You can see it before you, free of the constraints of death and sadness. You float there above it seeing it from afar like a painting on the wall, and all you can do is just cry in amazement.

This evening I sat down for the first time in my new office and worked on my book. I mean I dedicated actual time to it without a deadline. I dug up an outline, torn and water-stained, that I had written two years ago, and revisited it. I am proud of my book. I am passionate about its content. I think it will be helpful, uplifting, and informative. But, after tonight, I realize that I want more. I want to wield that hand- the one that rips people out of their comfort zone, shoves life in their face, and makes them cry. Because it's an amazing feeling to experience the awe of such power.



My words- coming soon to a bookstore near you...

Giving up the "why me" fallacy...

We've learned to run from anything that's uncomfortable.

I was driving down Penman today (which is apparently a very thought-provoking road, as that is where I have come up with many of my posts), listening to my new love, Paramore, when Hayley sang this line. I thought about it immediately in reference to the fact that I spend much of my time in a long-distance relationship. This, above all others, can definitely be described as uncomfortable, to say the least. When I started dealing with this situation, I suffered from serious depression and your basic case of misery.

I'm in the business of misery.

In fact, this continued for years. Each time I would try to come up with different ways to cope, nothing seemed to work. When I would become highly agitated, I would sit with how I felt and try to label all the feelings. There was sadness, of course, and anger over being sad. There was guilt for being angry at the person I loved most, followed by distress over the fact that this was what I faced for the rest of my life. As well as, anger over being put in this situation I never asked for or wanted, along with, jealousy that others were with him when I was not. And then more guilt over not being more supportive. I was a heap of mess. It was a sick cycle that seemed to have no end. I would constantly tell myself- this is not how I pictured my life to be.

And then a few months ago it finally sunk in. Life will never be how you imagined it would. Life does not follow a recipe. And, thank God for that. How boring it would be if it did. It's like with the flowers outside my window, which by the way I saw more of today! We cannot compare our present state of affairs to a photograph we hold in our heads. Especially one that was created years ago. It's like when I planned to be a marine biologist at age 10, and at age 18, found it was not to be.

Some things I'll never know, and I had to let them go.

We never know what will happen in the future. Of course, it is the human condition to plan, there's no harm in that. But it's when you attach yourself to that plan that you sentence yourself to a life of misery. When life takes a turn from what you expected, asking "why me" or "why now" or just plain "why" will get you nowhere. Accepting that it is and living around it is so much healthier. The other day I was really missing my husband, and this time, when I stopped to label my feelings, there was only one. I just missed him, plain and simple. And, that was so much easier to deal with than the jumble of complex emotions of the past that only served to make my life complicated. In this case, simplicity it definitely the preferred method.

I've gone for too long living like I'm not alive
So I'm going to start over tonight.



Life has no roadmap. And distance is just a line on a globe.

Running from limitation...

For whatever reason, a girl who had never been good at P.E., and who had in fact been threatened with being put in the P.E. class for the mentally challenged in fourth grade due to her refusal to participate, decided one day at age 13 that she wanted to join the track team at school. She had absolutely no knowledge about running, though her father had run several races in his day. But, her friend mentioned something about "sprinting", and so she decided that is what she would do. So, ignoring her penchant for shyness, she went out for the team. After the first meet, her coach pulled her aside and said that she was more cut out for long distance running. She, of course, had no clue what this meant, and so quickly agreed. Well, the next week she ran the 2-mile event in a meet and finished in just shy of 15 minutes. Everyone on the team was freaking out, including her coaches. She had no clue why. She didn't have any concept of how far 2 miles was, and nothing to compare her time to. But, apparently, she had done very well. As time progressed, she started to complain about her 6 mile practice runs. She started to get cramps and shin splints, and continually told herself during races that she wouldn't make it. Her coach talked to her about this one day, saying "you used to be the one I could tell 'go run 20 miles' and you'd say, 'ok'". Needless to say, that first meet was her record time, and it all went downhill from there. Instead of the rising star her coach had seen that first day, she was a fallen star.

This experience has always stuck with me. Not because I regret anything. I still continued to run which was all that was important to me. But because I saw how familiarity can lead to self-imposed limitation. Before I understood the concept that running 2 miles is hard, I had no idea. So I just did it. And, I did it well. Once I understood that this was supposed to be challenging, it became that way. And, I didn't do well. In a way, it reminds me of John Mayer. If someone were to ask me who is the greatest lyricist ever, this is the name I would provide. Someone who can fit so much information into one tiny phrase, to me, is a visionary. Take his line, "posing for pictures that aren't being taken", which he uses to describe a girl in his song, Comfortable. (This is my favorite line in a song ever.) It tells SO much about this girl's personality, and in a totally unique way. That line was on his very first album, made before he became "In Touch" fodder. His next album's lyrics were great too, yet not quite as poetic, and it's just gone down from there (if you ask me). Now, his songs are still amazing, but they will never be as enchanting and captivating as those of his first record. It's funny because I had already been composing this post in my head when, as I was cleaning my room tonight, I stumbled upon an old magazine featuring an interview with Gwen Stefani. In it she states, "I'll never be as pure as I was when I wrote Tragic Kingdom". This was actually No Doubt's third album, but last before they became "US Weekly" fodder. Maybe this is because they became too familiar with the record industry, or what is expected of a hit song, or maybe not. But, you would think a person would improve with time, but that's not always the case. (DISCLAIMER: In no way is this to be construed as my thinking No Doubt has not improved with time!)

So, I tried to apply this to my photography. Yesterday at work, my boss was discussing a guest's camera with her and talking "aperture" and "ISO", when he looked to me to jump in. I told him I don't know nothin' 'bout no aperture. Sure, I've taken the class and spoken with several photographers about it, but it's never stuck, and I'm not worried about it. I kind of like not knowing. Because when I see something I want to capture, I just try out all settings. I have no clue which one is "right". And, sometimes, this works out in my favor, as a shot may come out different than I had envisioned, but tells a better story. If I had known exactly what setting to use to capture what I envisioned, I may have never gotten the best result. It's also more fun.

I used to think it meant I wasn't a "real" photographer, but now I actually feel lucky to be just starting out, to be "pure". I'm sure one day I will finally get the concepts of focal length, etc, etc, but for now, I am ok with just shooting. Sometimes the best shots I get are the ones where I just shoot without thinking. I don't want to limit myself with knowledge. Knowledge is supposed to be freeing. But not when it's used against your potential. And we all have way more potential than we realize.



This is another one from yesterday's shoot that I liked. For some reason, I think people's hands say a lot about them. I feel like this shot depicts wisdom for some reason. I feel like it tells her story.

Truly smiling...

Today I got yelled at. In my face. For a prolonged period of time. No one was there to help me. And, it was great! As I was standing there, I was thinking, "how am I going to deal with this after he leaves"? When people are just rude without reason (because there is no reason), it puts a cloud over my entire day. I think about what I should have said or done, but mostly I beat my brain over how and why anyone could be so horrible. And, why was I forced to endure it, with a smiling face no less?

Well, this time was different. I said what I wanted to say, the whole time looking him straight in the eye. I didn't budge. Now, that I have done before on at least one occasion. But this part was the best- after he left, I was fine. No suspended feelings of fear or anger (if there's a difference). Not even a shred. I was in shock. So shocked, I couldn't wipe the smile off my face. I suddenly had a huge burst of energy. I ran up to my boss as soon as he was off the phone and told him what I'd done, as I triumphantly jumped up and down! (He knows how I am.) For the next half hour, I walked around the hotel in a jubilant daze.

It was like when you first meet someone you're crazy about. You get what an old friend of mine called, "permagrin". You're just so happy and excited about life you can't stop smiling. That's how I felt today. In fact, I've had permagrin several times lately. Once when I was getting ready for bed and a thought about my husband came to mind. Once as I was driving home from work down our tree-lined street. No one was around to see it. It wasn't an attempt to be polite or socially-correct. It was a true smile, one that just happened. That is my confirmation that I am experiencing life for what it is.



Today I tried a portrait, which I haven't done in a while. It was quite a challenge trying to capture some emotion. But I think we pulled it off in the end. I'm pretty happy with the results, and I'm sure I will post others from this shoot in the future. It was a lot of fun! I've just been so focused on my writing of the posts lately, I haven't really been inspired with photo ideas. Until today!

Laying my doubts to rest...

Wow. My head is actually spinning. When I started this blog, I just never imagined anyone would actually read it, but I have gotten so much incredible- literally, unbelievable- feedback that, well, I can't believe it! I never imagined a feeling as wonderful as being an inspiration to your inspiration. People whom I've always looked up to for their artistic genius and just plain greatness have been throwing me blog props talking about how my little blog has helped them! I even had a real writer look at my blog and compliment it! I literally can't think straight right now, because the one person who has helped me the most in my life just told me that my writing- mine- actually helped him. And not just helped in a general way, but with his art and with his happiness. I'm just so in awe right now of the Power, of the Source, as I have referred to it. It just flows through me. And now that I've given it an outlet, it's helping people, and not just me. It may not be affecting millions, or even tens, but even if it's only one person, it's amazing. I apologize for not writing on a more specific topic, but I am literally speechless! So, for tonight's post, I'd just like to thank those of you who have read this blog.



Laying my doubts, and myself, to rest. Good night.

Stopping to see the flowers...

I caught a glimpse of our flower bed yesterday and realized it had been overrun by weeds. So this afternoon after work I put some oldies on the radio, my dog on a chain, and got to work. I had no clue how big a job it was going to be, but I am exhausted. It was fun though. I love getting dirty. It's like a mark of accomplishment. I remember when I was in Cross Country in high school and we would run through ditches and tramp through mud puddles five feet wide. Afterwards, we'd have mud sprayed up the backs of our legs onto our shirts even, and, we would always stop somewhere for lunch on the way home, the whole lot of us. I remember walking through the restaurant covered in mud, feeling like the biggest bad ass as everyone stared. It was great! Today's accomplishment felt a little different, though equally as great.

I can pinpoint to the exact moment when I became in control of my life. It was only slightly over a year ago. I was in my bathroom of all places. I had just woken up and was feeling my usual level of lowness. All my life I'd wished for things to be different, without even realizing it. I wanted myself to be different, where I lived to be different, how I dressed, how I acted, what I did. After I was married, I had this view of the perfect life. We would live in a beautiful little house, preferably in St. Augustine, with a front yard full of flowers that you could see when you looked out the window. (Straight out of Little Shop of Horrors, right?) I would work on my art full time, my husband his. And, everything until that day was just a means to that end. But that morning, for whatever reason, I looked up out of our bathroom window and I spotted a flower. It was high up in a tree in our neighbor's yard, far from the window. But, it was a flower. And it was outside my window. And, suddenly it hit me. I am living my perfect life! Right now! Maybe it's not exactly how I pictured it, but it turns out I do have flowers outside my window! I was so excited! It sounds like the smallest thing, but it really was this complete instantaneous shift in my thinking. And, suddenly I wasn't waiting for life to come to me. I realized it was already there, I just had to open my eyes to see it!

Since then, I have really appreciated all that I have, not that I didn't before, but now I look at it not just with thankfulness, but excitement. I also realized that day that I do have the power to make some things happen. Maybe I can't do my art full-time right now, but I can still do some pretty rad projects on the side. Maybe I can't have the house in St. Augustine, but I live pretty darn close, and can go whenever I want. And maybe I can't have the flower bushes exactly how I saw them in my mind, but my husband and I have made quite a beautiful bed in our front yard. And today tending it was just more of a reminder of the wonderful things I have in my life because I accept them as they are.



You can learn a lot of things from the flowers.

Listening to the pain...

You know how pain is a warning system? You put your hand on a stove- it hurts, so you remove your hand before you damage your skin. Without pain, we'd all be dead, or at the very least, severely incapacitated, which would pretty much screw up any happiness we might have had the fortune of experiencing. So in order to have happiness, we must have pain. Simple as that. They go hand in hand.

The same with life. You're in an unhealthy relationship, you feel pain in the form of depression, you leave, you meet someone else who makes you truly happy. You're in an unrewarding job, you feel pain in the form of frustration, you quit, you find a job that makes you feel good about yourself at the end of the day. You deny your true dream, you feel pain in the form of anxiety, you face it and make the necessary changes until you feel complete.

Pain is a blessing. When someone we love is hurting, we want to make it go away, when in fact, maybe we should be rejoicing, because maybe that pain is just the push they need to take the first step on the road to the person they are meant to be. If you want to look at it more deeply, you could say pain is a form of communication God uses to speak to us, to protect us, to push us in the right direction. Happiness, as well, as that is what confirms for us that we have taken the right path.

Tonight I tried to take a backseat to pain. Instead of trying to intervene and put on my superhero cape, I reminded myself that pain knows what it is doing. It has a purpose, even if I may not be able to see it. Sometimes all that's really needed is just to listen to it.



Learning to deal with life is learning to sharpen your senses. But not by way of your eyes, ears, nose, mouth, and hands. By way of the heart.

Saying goodbye to guilt...

I walk through my life with a constant companion. One that never leaves my side, but is so stealthy, I didn't even notice it until today. Until this moment, actually. It's called guilt. Some people might think it is a powerful motivator. How often are we guilt-tripped into action? But to me it is the anti-motivator. It makes me feel heavy and overburdened into hibernation. No matter what I do it is never enough, I will always feel guilty. Guilty that I haven't cleaned the house the way I said I would, guilty that I'm not doing a better job at work, guilty that I don't work more and make more money, guilty that I sat on the couch watching Dawson's Creek instead of folding laundry, guilty that I haven't called a friend- any friend- in a long time, guilty that I don't see my family more often, guilty that I've gained weight, but most of all, I feel guilty for not having started my writing.

How many times a day do I dream of the day that I can stay at home and be creative with my time? The day that I won't have to rush home from my 6, sometimes 7, day work week to spend a few hours with my thoughts. The day that I can call myself a writer. The day that I see my name, mine, on a book shelf in Barnes and Noble. Yet, I am motionless. I am the only one who can make it happen, and I want it so badly. So why am I standing still? I feel guilty that I haven't started it yet. And every day that I feel guilty makes me that much more guilty the next because I know there is no time like the present. And, I'm wasting it. Why should it be this hard?

Because- "if it was easy, everyone would do it. The hard is what makes it great." You know, sometimes I wonder if movies haven't saved my life. I'm sitting here hopeless, searching for an answer, and Tom Hanks' voice rings out in my head. And, suddenly it's all clear. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to go work on my book!



Catching my time to shine.

Carpeing the diem...

Tonight I watched Dead Poet's Society for the first time. Although the symbolism of "following the flock" was a bit overdone what with all the geese imagery, the movie was pretty inspiring. It got me thinking about where in history students crossed the line from how they were in the 50's- following rules and societal expectations to the littlest detail- to how they are today- disrespectful, cocky, with no regard for authority. I'm all for free thinking, but I think somewhere along the way people mistook thinking free of barriers for acting free of responsibility. But I don't really feel like writing about that tonight. I wanted to write about the phrase referenced in the film- Carpe diem, seize the day.

I finally finished my book, Coaching the Artist Within today (I now owe $0.60 in late fees), and in the closing, Maisel reminds us that living a creative life is not easy even with the best of intentions. He states that, "every day you will have to renew the pact you made with yourself to act as if you matter". That was huge to me. Ironically (I think), this is exactly what the movie was about. Not letting your life pass by as you unconsciously follow a path set in front of you. But instead grabbing each day and making it into what you want it to be. Being great- it's both exciting and terrifying. I never thought I would be anything other than ordinary until someone showed me that I, little winnie tate, could be great. And how exciting it was when I realized that all those things I thought, "gosh, that'd be cool if I could be like that" about, I could actually make happen. I always felt like if I tried, I'd be a poser. So, I better just stick with my solid color wardrobe and sink into the wallpaper. But, why? Why can't I wear bright colors? Other people do. Why can't I stand out? Other people do. Why can't I be different? Other people are.

So, today I carpe'd the diem by putting aside my first hour for my creative work in my new, though still not completed, office/studio. In the book, Maisel suggested creating a project log and creative "to do" list. I loved these ideas. I've done the "to do" list before, by the prompting of my life coach, but had slacked off of it a year ago. So, tonight I created my own notebook (I love notebooks!), in which to organize my thoughts and ideas for ALL my current projects, as well as a list of all the tasks I want to complete, whether today or in a year. Oh, what a relief it is. Doing so allowed me to organize my thoughts, quite like writing this blog has done, and already I have crossed out the first item. Something I have been meaning to get around to for 2 months! Needless to say it felt good.

After I put together my notebook, I decided to decorate it with inspiring images. Halfway through tearing out pictures and words I liked, I realized that they all represented things that I can do to ensure that I am "making meaning", as Maisel calls it. He informs the reader that in order to stay on your creative path, you must make sure you are sticking to what truly inspires you and not just to drab mindless work. For instance, last year I began doing art shows. The first two or three were a total high. I had never shown strangers my work, as I stood right next to it, owning it. It was the scariest thing I have ever done, and when I not only survived it, but got several compliments, and even sales, it was the greatest feeling ever! But after that I started to secretly dread shows. I would get stressed about having to put together photo boxes the night before and worry about fitting them into my schedule. This is when I decided I needed a break not only from the shows, but from my photo boxes. I still love them, but they're just not what I want to work on right now. So I feel like I'm taking a break to grow more in my talent, and then I will definitely go back to the shows, because they really are great fun.

But some of the things I included on my notebook were pictures of bicycling, along with the words, "reading", "connections", and the phrase, "an open road and wind in your hair...the perfect way to clear your thoughts". These are all things I can do to be sure I am staying focused on my true work. I also included two photos of little girls- one is reading, and one is pretending to be a super hero. I hope that through my creative work, I will honor the little girl I used to be who was so much stronger than I am. Strong enough to believe that she mattered.



My project log.

Exemplifying the oxymoron...

Optimism. Pessimism. I saw this special on TLC this evening featuring a biopsy of optimism, as hosted by Michael J. Fox. Kind of ironic, since I fancy myself an optimist these days, but have spent the day on the couch unable to move from the magnetic forces pulling me down into the black hole of pessimism. I only caught the last half of the show, but it made the assertion that optimism is both cultural and genetic, as well as environmental. It served as a documentary following Fox as he embarked upon several different missions with the focus of discovering more about this ideal. In one scene, he visited film students in the US, as an attempt to see if actors like himself are more optimistic, as they have taken on a profession in which only about 1 in 10 people obtain work. When asked if they considered themselves optimistic, about 80% raised their hands. It then depicted his travels to Bhutan, a Buddhist community, where he visited another group of film students. When asked the same question, only two people raised their hands. He explained this by stating that in their culture, the duality of optimism vs. pessimism doesn't really exist, as they live by their faith. In Buddhism, there is no positive or negative outlook, everything just is. They see no reason to question it. They just adapt.

When I got online afterward to research more about the show, I found a post about it on beliefnet.blog.com written by Stacie Stukin. She wrote:

The thing that really struck me was his trip to Bhutan. Apparently, this small Buddhist nation situated between China and India has a government policy that dictates happiness. Instead of a Gross National Product, they've adopted the idea of Gross National Happiness. According to an article in this week's New York Times, the Bhutanese constitution clearly states that government programs should be judged by the happiness they bring rather than by the economic benefit. And Bhutan's Prime Minister Jigme Thinley says things like this: "Happiness is complete well-being...being content with what is and with what one has." Wow.

But the remarkable kicker came later in the segment, when Fox, who traveled to Bhutan to report the story, discovers being surrounded by such happiness diminished his Parkinson symptoms. He could hike up a mountain, the jerking motions that plague him dissipated and in general, this natural optimist just felt better.

Perhaps optimism vs. pessimism should be tossed onto the pile of unnecessary, and harmful, dualities. Instead of hoping for the best or expecting the worst, maybe we could just live and accept what comes. It's starting to make sense to me why Tolle proposes the practice of abandoning all labels. We are not [insert profession here]; we are not [insert familial position here]; we are not [insert personality trait here]. We just are. It can be dangerous to pigeon-hole ourselves into these defined stations. Once a person labels himself a "pessimist", he may be more inclined to view life in a cynical manner. Once a person labels himself an "optimist", he may feel guilty when at times he feels more pessimistic, as I did tonight. Of course life is going to carry us up and down. Of course at times we will fall on either side of the line. So, again, why this need to create defined barriers that only serve to hold us back? Why can't we be all things? Maybe if we learn to stop judging ourselves with these qualifiers, we will be more likely to stop judging, and hurting, others.




Is the glass half-empty or half-full? The answer: it just is. And, that's all that matters.

Erasing the lines...

Today I read an interview with President Obama about his book, The Audacity of Hope. This was my favorite part:

Q: You're known for being able to work with people across ideological lines. Is that possible in today's polarized Washington?
A: It is possible. There are a lot of well-meaning people in both political parties. Unfortunately, the political culture tends to emphasize conflict, the media emphasizes conflict, and the structure of our campaigns rewards the negative. I write about these obstacles in chapter 4 of my book, "Politics." When you focus on solving problems instead of scoring political points, and emphasize common sense over ideology, you'd be surprised what can be accomplished.

In his answer, he exposes the political tendency of our culture to emphasize conflict, breaking into two distinct groups and waging this all-out battle. But, to my eyes, this is a human issue. I see this tendency to define two or more separate and complete parties in any and all areas of life. There's black, there's white; there's evil, there's good; there's North, there's South; there's religious, there's other; there's male, there's female; there's gay, there's straight; there's right, there's wrong. What is this need to create defined battle lines, drawn between people who could never possibly fit into one category? Show me two Republicans with exactly the same beliefs, or two Catholics with exactly the same thoughts, or two females with exactly the same abilities. It's ridiculous, and impossible. And, no one has ever solved anything waging brother against brother. How hard is it to instead be the people vs. the problem?

This is what I was referring to in my post, "Paying my respects...". For some reason, humans have this need to be right. And this need is so overwhelming and consuming that it causes people to turn against other people, even ones they love. It causes them to disregard their fellow human's suffering. It causes them to fight and argue an imaginary battle. And, why? To make yourself feel justified? To make you feel more powerful, more deserving? To make you feel that you are more worthy of love? To make you feel that you above others will be admitted into Heaven?

Well, in continuing my thoughts on the human progression, all of our greatest achievements have been things that bring us as humans together, not force us apart. Language, writing, transportation, technology- all things to bring people together. So why are we fighting so hard against each other? Do we not realize that we are damning ourselves not just to misery, but to a species of less meaning? Surely we were not put here to ourselves determine who is and who is not "good"- or right. I'm pretty sure Someone else has that covered. So why can't we, as humans, work together, all of us- forget "party lines", who cares?- to struggle through the problems of this life? No one knows all the answers. All we can do is lift each other up to have the courage to try.



What if all we were were lines? No variations of color, no skin tone, no dimension. No beauty.

Goal setting...

Well, thus ends my delving into my trip to Chicago. Tomorrow I will return to posting my daily photos. A lot will change tomorrow actually. Due to a mass of free time becoming instantly available for the next month, I will be working on "goal-orienting" my process. At this point I have been keeping up with this blog for one month and 2 days, and I already feel like I've grown so much. I've become slightly more comfortable with PhotoShop, I've gained a trust in my writing, I've become more observant of my surroundings, I've taken some risks, I've put myself and my work out there, and most of all, I've been happy. No more subtle, yet suffocating, feelings that something's missing. Therefore, I will be forging ahead in the next month with the following goals:

1. To write everyday. More than this blog, I want to begin work on my three ideas for books, and devote to them the time that they deserve.

2. To read more. I've been reading but not as much as I would like. I am 10 pages shy of finishing Coaching the Artist Within (too bad it was due back to the library today, there goes that 20 cents I worked so hard for) and would like to read more on creativity.

3. To organize my space. I'm a little OCD about my house being in order, and what with my busy schedule, this blog, and my life, I haven't had time to get my new studio and office organized. I feel like doing so will be the ceremonial beginning of a new phase in my life- the realization of a five year old's dream.

I have several other personal goals for the next month, but these are the top priorities. I want to also add a section on my blog that lists all the books I am currently reading that I can update as needed. This way people will have a clue what I'm talking about when I refer to this book or that.

So, here's to the future! I can't wait!



The sky's the limit!!

Traveling abroad in America...

When I was in Chicago, I heard the most beautiful line I have ever heard a person say. It was after the show, and my friend and I stopped by a party celebrating his other friend's father's 50th birthday. (Got that?!) It was straight gorgeous, set up in a tiny backyard filled with beautiful flowers under tents with colored lights strung above and picnic tables below. By the time we arrived, it was already one in the morning, so only a few people remained, sitting around the table talking. His friends, being from Poland, were speaking Polish. So I decided to talk to another of his friend's father about life in Poland. It sounded wonderful, though different. He told me that were it not for economic factors, he would be back in his home country. When I asked him why, he said because people are nicer there. I probed him further. For example, he stated, in Poland, if you want to see your friend, you just go to his house and knock on the door, any time of day, and you are invited in. It's a real community. That sounds nice, I thought. As I continued talking to him, his son- my friend's friend- suggested he tell the story of him and his wife before they got married. Well, I love hearing romantic stories- I am just a girl, after all- so I asked him to tell me.

He related that on one occasion he had taken his future wife to the disco. However, having looked at the bus schedule wrong, he did not notice that the buses do not run on Saturdays. They were 10 miles from home, and it was late at night. So, they started walking. A few miles in, she became tired. Well, it was my fault, he said. I checked the schedule wrong, so I took on that responsibility, picked her up, and carried her the remaining seven miles home. Wow. Now that's character. What was more captivating was his manner. I spent two nights hanging out with this man, and I don't think I caught a glimpse of him once without a smile. He's the kind of guy who would give a friend of a friend of his son's a hug when she left after just having met her. The kind of person you feel is like family the second you meet him.

This was how the party started. However, the mood quickly changed when his son became the object of castigation by his godfather, the honored guest of the night. The argument, in Polish of course, went from 0 to uncomfortable in .2 seconds. They continued back and forth quite loudly as we all pretended to suddenly become very interested in the tablecloth. The conflict began as a result of his godfather feeling he was not being respected. "Who am I if you don't listen to me?" Some English emerged. And, my mind stood still. Who am I if you don't listen to me? I'm not even sure completely of it's meaning to me yet, but it has stuck in my head since the moment it hit my ears. I thought it was beautiful. Who are any of us if someone doesn't listen to us?

It got my brain waves flowing over thoughts of how they fought so easily, so loudly, so unashamed. The first reaction might be to think it was inappropriate, but I felt the opposite. I saw it as healthy and desirous. And I wondered, if Americans were so comfortable with their feelings and honest in expressing them, instead of asserting their "power" over each other to hide their fears, wouldn't they be happier? Several other cultures are known for their family connectedness- the Italians for sons who live with their mothers into their 40s; Hispanics for sharing a single house among several generations. Americans are known for broken families. Families who live far apart. Families who don't understand each other. Maybe this is a wild generalization to make, but that night, hearing the passion between these two family members, I couldn't help but feel a little jealous.



Chicago- the land of many lands.

Getting lost in the crowd...

The No Doubt show. What more is there to say? So much, and so little. Yet, here I go. But I do so in vain, knowing from the beginning that I will fail. For there is no word in any language that can come close to describing the experience. In fact, it is such a life-altering, life-stopping, life-shattering experience that I, who prefer the solitude of my living room couch over going out, would stand crunched between thousands of complete strangers in order to be a part of it. In a weird way, that is part of the greatness. To be in one place surrounded by twenty-three THOUSAND fellow No Doubt fans, all experiencing the same euphoria at the same exact time, singing the same exact words, well, it makes you feel like you're a part of something. Like a mini version of the world.

People seem to spend most of their time trying to stand out from everyone else, whether it's with their job performance, competing their way to the top, with the way they look, covering themselves with tattoos, or trying to be famous, so everyone else will know their name. But if you step way, way back and look at the Earth- it's just one big No Doubt concert! Everyone having the same euphoric experience at once. We may all look different and seem to have different problems and issues, but we're all the same. We all want one thing- to be happy. Whatever form or shape that path may take, it's all the same goal we're reaching for. And though it seems glamorous and enviable to stand out, there is something so much more special about being just one in a million. Like when I wrote about the evolution of man over time. We as individuals are just a drop in the bucket. But how wonderful that is! To be a part of something greater than yourself! So much cooler than just being "different".

There's a bridge in one of No Doubt's songs that has always intrigued me. It goes like this...

Once in a while I sit back and think about the planet. And, most of the time I trip on it. To kick back and think about how massive it all is, and how many others are on it.

It's from a song called "Different People" and if you've ever been to a No Doubt concert, you know that this is the song where Gwen demands everyone in the entire place to jump up and down at the same time. Watching twenty-three thousand people- in the pit, in the VIP section, in the seats, in the balcony, in the grass, on stage- jumping together is... well, moving, to say the least. If we could all just see ourselves as one tiny part of a gigantic working machine, maybe we wouldn't be so quick to point out "differences". The Earth is too big for that.

"You're on it. Me too."



No Doubt.

Waving from such great heights...

Next on the Chicago itinerary was visiting the Sears Tower. My friend who grew up there had never been, so we decided it was time. I'm not particularly scared of heights, but I am scared of dying. And, panic attacks. And, I must say it was quite an experience going up there as pictures flashed in my head of what 9/11 must have been like. But I tried not to think about it.

I was completely fine for the two hours we waited in line before paying double to get the "Fast Pass" (best 15 bucks I've ever spent). But the second we were standing in front of the elevator I freaked. I debated as to whether or not I should just forget the 30 bucks and run. But I gained control of my racing mind, and got on the elevator, as the lady told us it would take one full minute and, oh, our ears will pop as we go up. Yeah that didn't scare me more or anything. I couldn't watch as the doors closed on the 55 people, complete with strollers, they had crammed into this tiny elevator. So, I closed my eyes and grabbed my friend's hand. Now, this is someone who has stood by me through everything the past 12 years have thrown my way. But, that day, as 1450 feet sped past us, he asked me what I thought my husband was doing at that moment, and it just might have been the sweetest thing that he has ever done for me!

Before I knew it the doors had opened and we were there! It wasn't bad at all! My ears hardly even popped. We made our way around looking out each window and taking tons of pictures. It was really a beautiful sunny day. You can actually see four states from up there, states I've never been to. I also caught view of my first Great Lake, which, by the way, really does look like the ocean! I used to laugh at him when he told me of these esteemed "lake beaches", but now I get it. The other cool thing was the recently opened glass balconies that allow you to literally walk on air, and look at the city passing by beneath your Converse. That was a little much for me, so I just stuck my shoe on it and then ran away! I was surprised, though, at how many people actually went out in them. Just goes to show how crazy people are. :)

But, once we made the round, we got in line- again- to travel back down, which was no sweat. Except when my friend then pointed out a sign that said Maximum Capacity: 300, as well over 500 people milled around! Just a concrete example (literally) of how we can build up fearful situations in our minds out of nothing at all. I will hold on to this example from now on to remind myself, when I start to feel myself tensing because I am afraid of failing at my art, that nothing is as bad as it seems (or as scary as being up 103 stories in the air)!



















I'm actually really proud of this skyline photo. I had taken two from that angle- one with clouds and one with more of the buildings. I couldn't decide which to post, so instead I used Photoshop to put them together, and it worked!! Looks like I actually took it that way!

Taking control...

One of the first exciting adventures on my list as I explored Chicagoland was- hold your breath!- the site of the first McDonald's! (It was actually the 9th McDonald's restaurant, but the first franchise, so basically the beginning of what now occupies as many storefronts throughout the world as Starbucks.... or WalMart... or Walgreens... or... oh, nevermind.) It was opened on April 15th, 1955. The setup was pretty fun, but my favorite part was the parking lot. It was filled with classic cars of the era- bright shiny Ford Fairlanes and other such beauties. I so wanted to take one of them home. It was also cool to check out the menu board- hamburgers at just 15 cents, a root beer for 10. You know what's crazy; I never noticed this until I just wrote that sentence, but there is not even a cent sign on my computer keyboard. That is definitely a sign that things are way more expensive these days.

Standing in front of this place, I felt I was witness to the site of a historical shift, not to sound too overdramatic. But, in mentally digging- past the death of "mom and pop", past the death of the artery, I started to think of it as the death of what I consider one of the most important factors that separate us from the apes- self-control. I read an article recently that I plan to use as fodder in my future book on bringing imagination back. It discussed the effects that modernized toys have had on what's called "executive function" in children. The fact that children can pick up a toy pot that really makes bubbling sounds, and then a fishing pole that really catches plastic fish (with a magnet of course), has stripped them not only of the imagination to turn a leaf into a pot or a stick into a pole, but has also, according to research, taken from them their ability to self regulate. This means they are less able to control themselves- mind or body- for the same period of time as their identically-aged counterparts from the mid-20th century. Hence, possibly, the recent rise in attention deficit problems.

I feel similarly about McDonald's, among other businesses. For whatever reason, as places like this have popped up, people seem to have lost their ability to make choices for themselves. I'm pretty sure that Ray Croc had no evil intentions when he opened his first restaurant, so by no means am I damning all McDonald's. But, somehow, we have lost the thought pattern to look at something and take it in small doses. Just as a child today might have problems controlling his body from running around the grocery store screaming, we as adults cannot control ourselves to intake a reasonable amount of cholesterol. We cannot control ourselves to spend a reasonable amount of time in front of the tv or computer. With the advancements of the past century, we have so much more available to us. None of it is harmful- in moderation. But, it's like Ian Malcolm said, (and, yes, I am seriously quoting Jurassic Park- it's a great movie!), people are so worried with if they can do things, they don't stop to think if they should. There's so much more we can do today compared to 50 years ago, but maybe we should take a lesson from the pre-McDonald's generation and start wondering if we should live in more moderation. (Or maybe I should just wonder why I am almost to Japan with all this digging over a simple fast food restaurant!!)



The one on the left- it will be mine. Oh yes, it will be mine.

Listening...

Back from my brief hiatus from the "page", and I am brimming with tales to tell! I think the most important thing that happened this weekend was that I realized inspiration is out there everywhere if you only look for it. This weekend I came across several new people, places, and events. Perhaps in the past they would have slid right past my eyeballs, but since I've started this blog- this daily dedication to writing (and that wasn't even the point!)- I feel my senses of observation have been sharpened. People I may have written off as weird and avoided, I found myself talking to and questioning, in an attempt to figure out where they are coming from. What great inspiration for characters in a future novel, or for a future rewrite of myself!

The most interesting character I came across this weekend who seems to keep creeping into my thoughts was a young guy who sat next to me on my planeride to Chicago. From the moment my eyes opened as I awoke from my coping mechanism used to deal with turbulence, my nap in other words, until the moment we landed, he forcibly intrigued me with stories of his life. I heard about his job with the military, his ex-girlfriend of three years, his sister's abusive relationship, and his financial situation, among other things. The first thing I noted about this guy was his penchant for the word "gay", which he enjoyed using to label almost everything. I couldn't help but laugh after the twentieth time. He also liked to say the F word at such a volume that I worried the people around us wouldn't be laughing. But the thing that struck me most about this person was that he was obviously at this dead end in his life and was desperately searching for a way out, even if that meant latching onto a stranger who showed no interest in conversation. But being personally familiar with being stuck, I just couldn't help but want to help.

He told me of how his ex hurt him by dating someone else immediately after she had broken up with him, and that his solution for this was to beat up his replacement, and her. He related how he found out his sister had been slapped by her current boyfriend, and how his plan of attack for this situation was to "put him in a wheelchair". And, he meant it. Now, normally I might have quickly written this kid off as a psycho. But what got me was the way, after he had said his part and gotten himself all worked up, he looked over to me with these sad eyes and said, "Is that what I should do?" And it hit me. He really had no idea how to handle these situations. He would tell me how he felt the only answer to whatever problem he had just unloaded was to shell out some sort of violence, follow it by saying, "that's probably not a good idea", and then ask me, "is it?" And finally, he outright questioned, "what do I do?"

I mean you can imagine how my mind raced after this chance meeting, wondering what our country, or even world, has created with its glorification of violence. We set these kids up to pass the FCAT, yet give them no toolbox to pull from when they undoubtedly hit these types of personal roadblocks. It's sad. Say he does decide to "put [someone] in a wheelchair". What will become of him- this young kid lost behind those pleading eyes?



This is only one of my many photos from my trip. With the magic of photography I was able to capture the fears overcome, the highs reached (literally), and the music experienced. Though it has been my habit to post only photos and thoughts from that particular day, I feel the pull to post more from my weekend adventure. Tomorrow the journey continues...

Taking my place...

My photo today is of an object that once belonged to someone else. Someone who lived in Mexico. Someone who had a husband and two sons. Someone who's father was mayor of a town. Someone who never learned to drive. Someone who had diabetes. Someone named Luz Maria Milan Anguas.

The person I just described is my grandmother- my abuela, and the short paragraph above encompasses all that I know about her. She died when I was a baby, so I have no memory of her. This makes me sad. She only lived a short time ago, and already what's left of her here is limited to the memories of a handful of people. This scares me.

It's interesting to think about our individual selves as parts of the whole. I mean humans have been around for something like 200,000 years. When you look at the approximate 85 years a person lives next to that, it's nothing. We're here, we're gone, and the next generation moves on. It's frightening to think that all we work for here is gone in the blink of death. It's enough to make you question why we're here to begin with. But it's also kind of comforting to think about. I mean we spend so much time while we're here worrying about this and that. But, when you step back and look at 200,000 years, you realize it's not that important. And, you also realize that you, as an individual, are hugely important in the whole scheme of things.

Going back to my ride through Tomorrowland, when you look at the hunter/gatherers of the early days of man and then look at a cellphone that responds when you tell it to play Jack Johnson, it becomes entirely clear that you are a part of the progression. You didn't have to invent the phone or even own one. And, it actually has little to do with technological advancement. But each one of us is like a tiny grain of sand in a bucket. Together, we all add up to fill that bucket. Our individual stories no longer are what matters. Our united humanness is what tells the story.

I wish I could have known my abuela, and I wish I knew her story. But I know that somehow I carry her with me, just as I carry along the spirits of the earliest man. Sometimes, when the wind blows, I feel that they are speaking to me, guiding me in this life along my human path.



**This weekend I am traveling to the land of Chicago to once again experience the high that is the No Doubt concert. Therefore, I will be taking a 2 day hiatus from this blog. I will miss it, but I will return on Sunday evening for more blogful thoughting! Happy weekend everyone!

Paying my respects...

Tonight's post is going to be short, though so many thoughts regarding this subject filled my head today I could probably fill a library with them. But, I am not one to fuel controversy, as I believe it benefits no one but the ego. I have no interest in being right, I only have interest in trying to figure out the world and the people who inhabit it. And, it breaks my heart that any person could attempt to strip someone of their positive contributions to this earth, or even worse, to deny another of their right to grieve. We are all evil, we are all good, we all bring beauty to this world. And that needs to be acknowledged and respected.


My way of paying my respects.

Going home...

So my husband and I took a trip this evening to my home, the place where I say I was born, my favorite place in the world- St. Augustine. It's pretty cool that we only live 40 minutes from the greatest place on Earth. First we had dinner at one of our favorite places- The Tasting Room, while listening to the music (and witty banter) of Goliath Flores, a local musician who plays acoustic Spanish guitar, the mouth trumpet, the foot tambourine (among others), and sings. It just so happens he sang at our wedding, as well. And did a killer job. After dinner, we went for a walk. The sun was just about set so the sky was a dark cloudy blue. We set off down St. George street, over to the Huguenot Cemetery, and then to the fort. But when we got near the fort, we saw a gorgeous house (which just so happens to share a lot with my Neverending tree, as seen on my etsy site). So we decided to take a walk down the street and look at all the houses. This is something I LOVE doing. Just driving or walking down different streets in different places, admiring the beautiful houses, making fun of the ugly ones, and imagining what it's like to live in each of them.

Well, let me tell you, these were the most gorgeous houses I have ever seen. Big huge houses of a style that might have originated in the early 20th century, with huge wrap around porches, amazing gardens, brick chimneys, old white iron gates, picket fences, huge yards filled with giant oak trees, dormer windows, and a story. I think that's what bothers me the most about houses today. They are so bland; they tell no story. These houses were so magnificent you could just picture the children running around in them or the ghosts that haunted them. And, of course, I got a case of the "I wants". This is a dangerous affliction that still bewilders me.

I love my house, though I wish it were a tad bigger, but it's great. It's pretty, it's in a nice neighborhood, and it's mine. I love it. But, what if we had the big yellow house with the white porch and the brick fireplaces and huge garden? Wouldn't my life be happier? Better? Who knows? But I try not to go there. Money is this thing, this concept, that is so blinding, to say the least. There's never enough. And our society is so wrapped around it, it's hard to even see life apart from it. Almost everything we do revolves around money. And it's pathetic.

I'm not gonna lie that I don't wish we had more. And, I dream of the day we don't have to stress over bills, if there is such a day. But, I wonder if we were to suddenly make thousands more, would it change us? I was at the Town Center yesterday in Anthropologie for the first time, and there was this totally cute Jennifer Aniston shirt I loved. For $98. Of course, my reaction was I'll go to Target and get a cute shirt for $5 and wear it for 10 years. But then I thought, what if I had more money, I would totally buy that shirt. That Gap lookin shirt. And that, in a way, kind of disgusted me. Then, today I saw a photo of Gwen Stefani shopping for shoes for her 6 month old baby in Barney's New York. Barney's. For a 6 month old. Really? He's gonna outgrow them in like 6 hours, anyway. Is this what money does to us? (And by the way I mean absolutely no harm to my girl, Gwen.)

It makes me appreciate what I have so much more to step back and realize that I am not dying because I wear Target underwear instead of Victoria's Secret, or Payless shoes instead of Manolo Blahnik's, which I didn't even know how to spell til I just googled it. I'm sure Carrie Bradshaw would be totally aghast at my wardrobe. But, if more money just buys stuff, not even necessarily better stuff, I'll just stick with my house. But it really was a beautiful house. :)



A ghost? Nope, it's just my shadow. But if I had to choose a place to haunt, it would definitely be St. Augustine. I could certainly spend the many days and nights of eternity lost in its magic. It's just frustrating because I find it impossible to relate in a photo or a word how much I love this place, how much it feels a part of me, and how enchanting it is.

***By the way, I did not start my writing today. I know, I know. Goal-less process. I will though. I actually did work on another story today (I have 3 I'm currently churning in my brain), well not the story, but the illustrations for it! This one has to remain top secret though, at least for now!

Living life like it's a breeze...

You know that feeling when you're driving down an open road with the windows down on a cool evening with the wind blowing through your hair? I swear that one feeling makes all the bad ones worthwhile. Well, this is the feeling that encompassed my evening. Usually it only lasts for a moment- until you pull into the driveway, or your mind comes back into focus worrying you about nothing, or your cell phone rings. But, tonight, I got to swim in it for hours. This is surprising because my day up until then was awful. I was exhausted from staying up too late again, my stomach hurt, my Starbucks gift card didn't work, my husband and I had a disagreement, and I had the session from hell. (It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day:) But the moment I left work it all dissipated.

I learned that people really do read my blog! And, what's more, they actually enjoy doing so!! Which was the first sign that things were turning up. Then I got to see a friend of mine who moved away a year ago. She was crazy busy during her visit seeing friends and family, but she fit me in. She made time for me, and that was great. We went to my favorite place for dinner by the beach, and then spent the evening shopping at the Town Center. Now, usually the town center is not my fave place because it is teeming with plasticity, but tonight it seemed calm. We walked around, talking, laughing, looking in shops, and trying on dresses. At one point, it even started to rain, but we didn't care, we walked on, as the sky turned from blue to purple to gray. It was the perfect beautiful evening.

This may sound like a normal everyday outing, but to me, it was so much more than that. It was life. I don't know how to describe it, but lately I've been feeling out of sync. I am always one moment ahead in my brain, and never in my skin, in the moment. I don't know why. But tonight, all night, I was there. Right there, enjoying life. And it felt like life. Not like a rush, a hustle, a means to an end. And, it all culminated with an amazing vanilla milkshake. In ten years, I will still remember this evening. But I will have long forgotten all the bad things that happened this morning.



One of my favorite things about Florida is the breeze. Sure, you say, it is breezy everywhere. But the breeze in Florida smells different; it feels different than elsewhere. It carries a story along with it, or maybe just a reminder that we should stop and just be. Not be a teacher, or be a mom, or be a husband, but just be...

Appreciating the process...

I would like to print another addendum to my post regarding the necessity of allowing your artistic "Source" to flow through you in order to create, no matter what the intended product may be. This process of "allowing" is not as passive as I may have made it sound. In order for this creativity to be able to flow within you, a hospitable environment must be established. And, I am just now learning what this process is.

In my day's reading of Coaching the Artist Within, I discovered something I already knew. The chapter was about "goal-oriented process". It basically lays bare our ridiculous expectations about creating and applies them to other activities just to be sure we understand how ridiculous we are being. For instance, when dealing with writer's block, many author's become frustrated and even angry that they have to deal with it. Maisel scoffs at this reaction by pointing out that, although we may think it in the back of our heads, there are no writers out there who just sit down and have the perfect words flow off their pen at will. This is not how it happens. Likewise, you cannot just plant a garden and sit back and watch it grow. You must water it and weed it, etc. He further says that we need to accept this blockage as a part of the creative process instead of becoming resigned and giving up.

I relate this to something I mentioned in another post, "accepting what is..."- the idea of accepting the good and the bad, the pretty and the ugly. Instead of insisting upon this world where creating should be easy and just happen when we want it to, we (and by this I mean me) need to accept that in this world creating comes with pitfalls. Hence, my occasional ;) boring posts or crappy photos. The trick is to 1, accept that these will happen, and 2, do your best to be goal-oriented, so you just keep truckin'. Nobody got anywhere by just sitting waiting for something to happen. If you want to go to the store, you gotta get in the car. So, if I want to write a book, I gotta set aside time to devote to it- whether or not I actually make any progress. I gotta stop telling myself that I can't do it. I gotta stop making excuses. So, this weekend I actually started my research, and this Tuesday morning is day 1 of the writing process. Let's see if I stick to it (fingers crossed)!



My goal with today's shoot was to get a new look at the old things I see everyday, which was my initial purpose when I started this blog. I wanted to get shots from new and interesting angles. I took these while my husband was finishing up work on our new bushes in the front yard. And, I figured since I did a backyard collage, my front yard deserved some representin'. These were alot of fun to take, too. I've wanted to shoot the fire hydrant for a while; for some reason, it's really cool to me. I've tried to get that shot of the roof before but never caught one I liked. And, the flower was fun cus I got to lay in the dirt (and an ant pile) to get all up under it. And, I'm really happy with how they all turned out!

Fakin' it til I make it...

Wow, yesterday was my 75th blog! Yea!!! So here's 76...

I considered taking a day off from my blogging today. I didn't have time before work to take pictures, and I just got home at 11:40pm due to holiday traffic, and I have to be back there at 7am. So, needless to say, I should be sleeping. But, worst of all, I found myself stressing over what I would post and what I would photograph, something my husband would yell at me for. He asks me almost daily when I question what I shoot and what I write, "why are you doing this blog?" And my answer is always- "to be a better photographer". And then, he says, "so, that doesn't mean every picture has to be great". Then he inevitably asks, "who are you doing this blog for?", and I reply, "myself". To which he reminds me I needn't worry what anyone else thinks. So, in an attempt to follow this insightful way of life, or at least "fake it til I make it", as my mom says, I decided to go ahead and post a short blog, though I don't have the time to make it my best.

I'm not a pro with the whole not-caring-what-others-think thing. Craig's friends can tell you that, as I came home to find his good friend and a girl he just started dating sitting in our disaster of a house tonight, and I freaked! For whatever reason, I have always been someone who has this aching need to be perfect in front of others. But I've been trying to let it go over the past few years, and I guess this blog falls under that goal too. I do actually stay up nights sometimes wondering if people will think my photo is boring or if I said something that would offend any one of my readers. Pretty pathetic to waste your time and energy on such useless garbage. This is part of the reason, I'm sure, that I lack the courage to fully involve myself in my art. What will people think? is always running through my head.

Well, in the words of the great Gwen Stefani, "Who really cares, cause it's your life; you never know, it could be great".



From my head into my camera my worries go. These are the worry dolls that Craig got for me. Every night I sleep with them under my pillow so they can carry my worries away and I can wake with a fresh state of mind. I thought of them as I was driving home from work worrying about this blog. So I thought they could serve as my representation tonight. I also chose to shoot them because I would really like to improve upon my object photography. I see some people's shops on etsy and their photos of their products are so amazing. And it's just a photo of a button, or something benign like that, but it's just so well shot. So I want to start practicing more with items. These dolls were good practice for detail, because they are so small. You will definitely see more of these type of photos as the days turn.

Scavenging for clues...

I had to celebrate the Fourth on the third this year, since I have to work the night shift tomorrow. So, my husband and I set off our measly excuses for fireworks (at least that's what he says, I thought they were pretty cool) and went to a movie, which I haven't done in ages. I'm not a big frequenter of the movies due to 1, the prices being ridiculously high; 2, the fact that most movies these days are either a) completely predictable or b) completely overdramatic (ie Nights in Rodanthe); and 3, the fact that they make me ill. Motion sickness. But I decided to throw caution to the wind and we went to see the movie, Away We Go, with Maya Rudolph and John Krasinski.

Let me start off by saying that it was by far the greatest movie I have seen in a long time, if not, ever. The main reason behind this huge accolade is that it played like a book on film. And, not your usual book-turned-to-screenplay scenario. There was no drama; there were no special effects; there wasn't even perfected timing. There weren't your expected facial expressions or reactions; there weren't even your expected relationships between the characters. It was all brutally realistic. I was amazed how the writers somehow managed to define a character in a matter of a short scene or two. Now, some characters were exaggerated for the sake of humor. But it was funny; it was true; it had a beginning, middle and end without tapping the typical emotional pressure points of the audience with its ups and downs. It was a movie that just happened, just like life happens.

It is a story that illustrated through beautiful cinematography the small challenge we all go through of wondering whether or not we are "fuck-ups", as Maya's character Verona calls it. (Verona, by the way, is what I wanted to name my daughter when I was in the eighth grade, in love with Romeo and Juliet!) It was interesting because it reflected how we look to others as guides on our journey to ourselves. Some people we may hold up as near perfect, but realize that 1, they never are, and 2, their life is never perfect for us. So the challenge then becomes to be comfortable with ourselves.

I can remember as a kid, wanting to be just like Debbie Gibson- she was talented, beautiful, perfect. Then, when I was 12, I wanted to be just like Vada Sultenfuss from My Girl, a tough tomboy who loved to get dirty and wore killer shoes. When I was in college, I wanted to be Kate (yes, just like the Ben Folds song), this girl who was so in love with Marine Biology that she would ALWAYS discuss sea worms and other appetizing ocean dwellers at dinner in the cafeteria. But, none of these fit- totally. But it was kind of fun to pick and choose little pieces of who I wanted to be- like a personality scavenger hunt. I guess it'll be one that continues until the day I die. I just hope I get to end up in as rad a house as they did in the movie (which was filmed not far from here in Leesburg, FL!). Go see it. And, happy Independence Day!




I actually got several great photos of our fireworks, which surprised me. I thought it would be hard, but it was a lot of fun. This is one of my favorites!!

Facing the horizon...

There are a lot of lines in life. Some lines you can just dance around; some you can't wait to jump over; others just loom in the distance, unseen, and you can never ever cross them, until you do. It's like the horizon. You just keep walking towards it, knowing it's in front of you, but you never meet it, until that one day.

I've always been intrigued by death. It's this thing that no matter how hard you try to figure it out, or how many ideas you have about it, or how much you fear it, it just doesn't matter- it is what it is and you will never know until it happens. Other things wise elders can clue you in on, but not death. It remains the elusive blessing and curse that it's been for millions of years. One moment you're here, the next- poof. I guess I have a fascination with it, in part, because I've never truly experienced the death of someone close to me. Really close. Or maybe it's just my nature. But this explains my books on serial murder and the paranormal. It's the same reason I read books about psychology. I want to know about death as much as life. But as much as I do think about it, I cannot think about it happening to someone in my life. My brain just won't allow it. But today it had to.

Today death was at my doorstep ready to tear my life apart. But it passed by. A mere fraction of a second came between one world and another unimaginable one. Not because I was in harm's way, but someone else. It's chilling to feel the warmth of death's breath on your cheek. To think how many lives would have forever been changed, but they were spared. I wonder why, as someone who has lost someone wonders why. I hesitate to call it a blessing. Would it not have been a blessing for her to have joined God, as well? Is not everything that God does a blessing? He is the cause of everything, after all, so it wouldn't be right for me to only call the things I want to happen "blessings". But, I know I am thankful, though thankful seems a stupid word. I fully trust that we will be taken care of after we cross that line; it's just something so far out of my cognitive scope in this life, I can't help but be afraid.



When I was at my wit's end, I drove to Jax Beach to get this photo. Although the product turned out to be one that Hallmark might offer on a sympathy card (in other words, crap), the process of taking it was healing. It made me feel better, and brought me back down to this world- an important lesson for any artist.

Stopping... completely...

Today was my first day off in a couple of weeks and it was all about stopping. Stopping work, stopping worry, just plain stopping. I was reading my book, Coaching the Artist Within, when I asked my husband if he thought I was a real artist. His response was that he thinks I need to stop trying to be an artist and just be one. See? Stopping.

In my reading today, I learned a new centering sequence- a breathing activity- to help get you centered to begin your creative work. The first step of this sequence is "Come to a complete stop". Maisel, the author, writes, "This step addresses ... our condition of perpetual flight. We are rushing around,... pulled by our multiple duties and responsibilities. We are doing too many things and worrying about too many things. Many of us are running away- from the awareness that we are not living the life that we wish we were leading, not realizing our dreams, not doing our deepest work, not making sufficient meaning. So as not to notice these painful truths, we keep ourselves in mental and physical motion."

I definitely subscribe to this coping mechanism. In fact, when I started to look for it, I noticed it hits me at least once every 5 minutes. I'm talking to my husband and I glance behind him at the closet, and think, "Gosh, I should clean that closet". He mentions something to do with money, and I think, "Man, I have got to pay that bill." He tells me something about his mother, and I think, "Gees, I need to send her that Thank You card." I can't stop!

So, in order to clear my head I decided to do my Billy Blanks Taebo and then go for a relaxing bike ride. Man, it's tough riding a bike after you just did approximately 100 side kicks. But I rode anyway, as I listened to By The Way by the Red Hot Chili Peppers, which, by the way (yuck, yuck), is definitely their best album. The music from each of the songs just combines to make this amazingly beautiful, emotional tale. But, moving on, as I rode my bike, I practiced "stopping". At one point, the wind was blowing so hard as I rode into it, it was as if I were moving in slow motion, as if in a dream. When I finally pulled back into my neighborhood, my favorite song was pumping me up- "Can't Stop".

I had never really paid attention to the lyrics before, but they suddenly jumped out at me. Two lines in particular called to me as echoes of my post about living on faith- Can't stop the gods from engineering; Feel no need for any interfering. But, most of all, I feel like it's a life-affirming song. The world I love, the tears I drop to be part of the wave, can't stop; Ever wonder if it's all for you? It reminds us that it's all worth it in the end, if for no other reason than just to be a part of this amazing life. The trick is stopping to realize it.

Can't stop the spirits when they need you; this life is more than just a read through.



Taken in my neighborhood on my bike ride. I believe it's a sign. ;)