Old Friends

I love to read blogs - possibly yours! Today I read my friend, Amy's blog. We have known each other since 7th grade. My mean-girl-days. Yep, I was one of those girls - for a moment anyways. And, lucky for me, she forgave me.
Amy has seen some of my weakest days, and some of my strongest. As I opened her blog today, it became quite clear, it was a tribute to me. As I read her words, I was taken back to our high school days, and into our crazy adventures, post high school. Amy has lived the craziest life. I can't even begin to understand some of the things she has lived through, yet she is the woman who makes me laugh harder than anyone. I laugh so hard it hurts, tears roll down my face, I snort and in the end it's hard to breathe. Sitting here, I am laughing just thinking about it. To this day, I'm not even sure what it is. I'm not even sure if it's that funny. Her silliness, is so contagious - her expressions and words, completely uninhibited. I like that.

Happy Walls

Finally, I have a home. In 27 days, I will be married. My finance and I found an amazing condo right close to a skytrain station in Greater Vancouver. Perfect. Now I can easily get to my Vancouver friends, in the Winter months - skate in Robson Square and in the summer months, enjoy the parks and splendor that the west coast has to offer. I moved in two weeks ago and Jason will follow suit, right after our honeymoon! Almost a year ago, I sat in my seat on a plane home from NYC - from one of the most beautiful weddings, I had ever attended. A couple with such intense, yet beautiful joy. A couple who beat the odds - a couple so dedicated to their faith, each other and social justice - I road that plane ride home - inspired. Ready to find my own better half. One who make me smile, like my friend made his bride. The bride, an old NYC housemate - was radiant. I cannot wait to be radiant for my groom. I also can't believe it was a couple days after that plane ride - that love fell into my lap.

Early in the Morning

It's official folks! I have pretty ring on my finger. Jason said (on one knee of course and after a wonderfully romantic speech), "Will you Marry Me?" I, of course replied, "YES!!!" I woke up early Tuesday, December 21st to meet a friend who mischievously suggested we be spontaneous and go for breakfast at 7AM! I sooooo did not love the idea of a 6AM wake up call, but out of love for my friend, I begrudgingly agreed. That morning I woke up wide awake and ended up being early, and she was stuck behind a big accident on the freeway. Shortly after our phone call explaining she was running late, a car pulled up beside me, and this guy came over to my car, and said, "Jason would like you to come with me..." In my head, I was like, "I think that's Andrew.... I hope it's Andrew." A minute later we pulled up to an ice rink and he led me inside to a half lit pathway of tea lights (i was early!) I looked up and there were was my love, and my favourite place in all the world, recreated just for me! I sat down on a bench perfectly placed in the ice rink of my "Bryant Park" and he sang to me, my favourite love song, "Feels Like Home" And it was there on the ice that he got down on one knee.

From Starbucks to Bodega Coffee - An Unpredictable Security

I watch Law & Order: SVU - obsessively. I can't tell you if it's my love for NY, or the show itself. I do know, I get a little excited when I see SVU's characters holding one of those little blue and white coffee cups. There is something great about the experience of getting coffee from a Bodega, that Starbucks just can't beat. Last spring, when I lived in NYC, I was really broke. Starbucks was no longer a viable option and so I closed the door on corporate coffees and opened it to something interestingly independent. The whole experience of coffee purchased from a bodega is random, but it's the kind of experiences that always made my day. I was a regular at the one on the corner by my apartment. Some days my coffee was $.65 and other days it was $.75. I was never quite sure what it was going to be, so I was always prepared for the latter. The thing you need to know about a bodega is, more often than not, english is the second language of the majority of the staff, if not all. I only know english - Canadian english. It took me a few trips to learn that one of the guys who worked there, the one that most always prepared my coffee - didn't really speak english, like I presumed. He always responded with a nod or something; I think he understood, cream and sugar. Maybe. Cream is more Canadian, it seems Americans often say Half and Half. Though the amount of cream was always right, he also didn't quite get, "a little bit of sugar", or "one sugar", he just new "sugar" and estimated, (I am guessing) and put in, what he imagined I would want. It was never what I wanted. The thing about it though, was that, he was always so eager and happy, that I just could not be bothered, to care that my coffee was too sweet. Eventually, I started to like it. I think it was more about becoming a regular, having a place that was familiar - daily. I appreciated how nice the staff was ( i liked that it was always open, so there was always a safe place to go) - and most of all, I loved that it was $.65 and sometimes, $.75.

Encourage ME

A couple months ago, I was motivated:

As one of my best friends has always said, "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade." Today, I got a lemon and this is my attempt at lemonade.

I have three loves - on the career side of life: photography, writing and loving people. When I dream about my career, it entails all three encompassing one another. I feel most alive when I photograph beauty – when I reveal to people, that they are beautiful, when I meander through new places photographing its urban fragments that are sometimes lost in the raw, sometimes painful, but always beautiful. In my heart, photography should be natural and I always hope that something as simple as capturing laughter, or even a small smile, can change a life. In writing, I love to share stories of people, who have risen (or are rising) up from adversity. So that's what is going to happen here, on Sherri McLeod Blog. I am going to share stories, reveal photos - portraits and journalistic. Through these photographs and stories I hope to inspire you. As I strive for this and adventure into my city (or your city), I want to love the people around me and find a way to bring hope into this nation, and nations afar.

So please, make lemonade with me.

I said this the day, I lost my job. I have posted one blog on my new blog ( i love making new blogs ), one. Ugh. I need to get back in the game. I need to feel that way. It's so discouraging loosing a job, when you try so hard to keep it, even get it, in the first place. Spending the last two month semi unemployed has been hard. The more I do, the more motivated I am. The less I have going on, the less I care about doing anything. I love busy weeks, filled with projects, shoots and fun. But the weeks, where I have no clients, no plan - are soooo long. I would love encouragement. Encouragement makes me work harder. I don't know why, but it's always been that way. So please, encourage me :)

a dreaming machine

I admit it, I am a dreamer. I dream up big projects and I change my dreams every five minutes. Three things have always stayed the same for me: NYC, Photography and loving/helping people (more often then not young people). In these big dreams I like to create, I sometimes am able to encompass all three loves, other times not. My latest dream, brings together all three, full circle. There is a long starting point, to get to the end point, but I feel like to get to the end (or the new beginning) there needs to be work, education, research. How can anything big, happen without prayer, faith, work, resources, time, understanding and patience? And, the best part is, I think I can reach my overall dream, all the while loving people along the way.

a sojourn and a home

I am thinking about these two words: home and sojourn a lot right now as they are a potential theme for a photo project I am working on with a friend of mine. I went out today with old friends and as we hung out I carried those words with me. Together, the three of us, we flew a kite on the beach in Whiterock. It was so freeing and startling - I felt home as I photographed the kite, as I learned to fly the kite. After playing we went for appetizers and talked. It had been about three years since we sat down together and chatted. We starting talking about my first stay (sojourn) in NYC. As the memories poured out into the air, I felt excited and hopeful. I remembered, how innocent I was as I clamored around the city. I remembered photo shooting so naively. --- Later this evening, driving home - I felt inspired. I live in this great city, I have a great camera and I am entering in, with the same naiveté, the same innocence. It makes me hopeful, ready to create a new portfolio, of this new home, this new time in my life. To create excellent life changing, inspiring memories.

Sometimes...

...it's nice to be reminded of this...

Don't worry about anything; instead pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank Him for all He has done. If you do this, you will experience God's peace, which is far more wonderful than the human mind can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus. Matthew 4:6,7 NLT

Moments ago I was thinking about my debt, that has accumulated over the last year as I adventured to NYC, came home, all the awhile seeking employment - anywhere. I was thinking about ways to pay it off, being strong enough to pay it off instead of buying new shoes. I wondered if I can do it, and then I realized. This is something I can stop worrying about, that I can give to God. He wants it. So, it's my hope, that I can be strong enough, that I won't be swayed by pretty things.

Timeless

Unpacking, I have rediscovered an old treasure; a dictionary, formerly my mother's - old, worn, and blue. I heart it. A friend of hers gave it to her years ago. I think it was a best friend from her youth, a woman named Ibby (who i called Auntie). There is a inscription inside, but no name.

Jan, A gift to you.

Something I hope you will cherish. But I believe this will always

be something you will use.

My mom loved this dictionary like, it, itself was a friend. There is tape on the spine holding it together, a well used/loved book. Funny, how we can't ever run out of the desire/need for words. A dictionary is timeless. This specific dictionary, allows a memory to last forever. In part, because when I see it, I see my mom, and that makes me smile. Her heart & soul poured over this book. She loved to write, to think, and put her heart on paper. These words enabled her, taught her.

Oh Vancouver: From A to C

I found a place in the Vancouver area in a city that is comparable to what Queens is to Manhattan. Burnaby, it is called. Changes are good. I never imagined living in the place, which holds Canada’s second largest shopping mall. But, if you saw my place and met my wonderful new housemates, I think you would be equally excited for what is to come.

Finally after 9 months, I bid farewell to New York City… yes, I know what you are thinking, - how sad is it, that this bidding took so long - Ah, I tell you, it’s not sad at all. It was a process, a trip of self-discovery. I think I would call these 9 months, the wandering months.

Home. It’s something that means something to me - recently, I went through a break up and my friend Jenae decided to make me a break up kit; part of the kit contained a CD of some of her favorite melodies and lyrics, unintentionally, most of the songs she found for me, referenced the idea of home. I am an adaptable person I can be at home, anywhere. Still, there is that idea of being in a place – where roots are planted, where life is affirmed, where successes are made and family is born. It’s a place you hang your hat, where the bed is yours, not borrowed. I crave that place. This week, I moved into my new house and I bought a dresser. It’s pretty and white; I have been eying it for a while. It feels almost symbolic of what’s to come. Many times this week I have sat on my (borrowed) bed – stared at my dresser and smiled. Almost as if there is a secret inside of me, but it’s not a secret…it’s so much more. All my traveling, my moving – it brought me here. I never thought I’d plant roots on the lower mainland. I never imagined the greater Vancouver area, being home. I never bothered to consider it would be a job that would make me still. I agonized over where to live, for so long. I see now, all my reasons, to move or live in each place, I have encountered in the past few years, were like stepping-stones. To get from a to c I had to trek through b.

PS. Soon, I'll buy a bed.

What would you do if your income knew no limits?

I was asked that question recently. And, it was a question, I didn't need to pause to think for. But now, days later, I want to pause and revel in my imagination and dream my answer into all its possibilities - oh I love possibility! My answer gives me goose bumps, its makes me excited for the future. Excited to think, it could happen, one day, even without funds with no limits. My answer: travel the world, explore the vast array of cultures. Immerse myself in other ways of life. Take photograph after photograph, write stories, journal, blog - live it.

Missing Manhattan

the stench of something wafts to me.
i crinkle my nose.
i smile anyways. its truth in its own way.

i miss it.

freedom in the subway (time constraints and all).
bryant park. is beautiful.
buskers sing for dollars. hungry.
loving art, life, & song.
photoshooting, bravery and loneliness.
It's all the same.

i miss it.

there is love, pain and brokenness.
but it works. it's raw, it's real.
you can't be blind, when you see. (if you really look).

i miss it.

An Apology

In early 2007 I blogged about the cycles of anger. I was mostly referring to an incident that had happened with one of my closest college friends. Since that time her friendship and mine has started to crumble and over the last couple years I have missed her, fiercely. One of my favorite things about her, is her ability to say things like she feels it. ...the same thing I loved, is in part what broke us apart. Last summer, two and half years later, she came to me, she apologized. I wanted to cry right there. My heart was rejoicing - All I could think was, "I have my friend back!" I wonder why sometimes that's all we need. An acknowledgment saying "I'm sorry I hurt you." I also wonder why we even need that.
Our hearts are so fragile. We are human and sometimes I forget how intricately we are woven, how words and actions, really can hurt, do hurt - no matter how fiercely we try to fight it... I have goosebumps writing this: thinking about forgiveness and the power of an apology.

The Website is Live!

www.sherrimcleod.com

You Don't Believe in Miracles?

Two years ago my roommate at the time was in a really bad car accident. She was t-boned on the drivers size and pulled a block. She walked out of the accident injury-free. As she step out of the car, looked at her car and then down at herself, she yelled to the sky, "thank you, God." My friends mom, was supposed to die two years ago, I drove up to my friends place about a month ago, and her mom was unloading wood from the truck. Just a few afternoons ago, Haiti had a horrific earthquake. An old college friend of mine, her parents had just landed in Haiti to visit mission organizations they had been involved in. The entire extended family on her dads side, lives in Haiti - All of them, are alive.

In the Heat of the Summer

It's been awhile since I have thought of the sweet days of the summer of 2007. I have spent the last month searching through my archives looking for "new" old photographs to share with people, to be inspired by. Luckily, there were a few, but the ones of that summer took me back there. As I stare at the photographs I can almost feel the humid air.
There is something about that summer that inspired me like never before. My work was at its finest (in my opinion anyways) I crave to be back there, not to NYC, but to that place of inspiration, that place of almost naivete where my work was less followed. It was more personal, I was taking more risks. I allowed myself a sense of freedom, that I seem to have lost, or misplaced.

I will get there again.

*

I wrote Finding Place a few weeks ago. I have felt a lot of change in these past few weeks. In this time: I have met someone, ended whatever it was with that someone, I have planned a bachelorette for my best friend, realized that all my friends here are wed or to-be-wed, become content with being 30 and single, found a deeper connection to my photography, and most importantly, I have discovered home - at HOME! How odd. I spent 6 years gone, only to return. I am so excited to get re-involved in my life here. Re-discover my place. Me, in my hometown. They say you can't go home again. I say, whoever 'they' are - they were wrong.

Wandering: Finding Place

I am wandering, aimless in this life: a freeloader, living off of generous hands. I did not see this coming. I saw my dreams start unfold before my eyes, at the tips of my fingers... those dreams are gone, done, dissipated into oblivion. At least that's how it feels. A friend recently invited me to live with her, for a year in Cambodia. A part of me yearns for newness, for a place to be inspired. The other part craves stability, home and lifelong friendships. I left NYC in June with the intentions of an imminent return. It was not so. I am torn between two worlds right now...

I once lived in NYC, actually twice. And in those months, it stole my heart. I braved the summer and the winter. Braved the spring, but not the fall. I learned compassion, in a whole new way, I learned to see and breathe and sing...photographing all the beauty, the people and the place - I found a home. I fell in love and broke my heart. I skated round the pond in Bryant Park.

I conversed with a New Yorker friend online today. She spoke of being a quitter and hopes that in not quitting her most current endeavor that in the, end her experience, it will in turn, be fruitful Her revelation reminded me, that I too, am a quitter (have been a quitter). I fight with my desire to quit everyday. I know what it is.

More than goodbye, I hate to be vulnerable - exposed for the entire world to see. Intimacy is excruciating. I was thinking today as I looked down at a small sketch (I once drew) - I was startled by it, startled that it looked like something, that it was art. I think of myself as an artist in one form. I am a photographer. I get confused by it sometimes, and often wonder why I have no other, artistic tendencies. When I saw my sketch, I remembered the vulnerable moment I drew it in ... It's rare, those moments happen. But, It made me think of all that I could accomplish, if only I allowed them to happen.

I think, its there that NYC pulls at my heartstrings because far from home: I have to be vulnerable.

Tumblr

I have started a tumblr, most of my posts have been happening over there. I have actually been writing a lot over the last few years, tucking it away into the heart of my computer, never to be read. So I have decided, to clip samplings and put them out there for people to (hopefully) enjoy.

Small Yellow

When I was in NY, I found the perfect camera bag, but couldnt buy it at the time. I kept thinking about it and found it online. It's made by a designer who specializes in fashionable camera bags for woman. I am very excited. It's on my save-up-for, wish list! It's so pretty (and practical).