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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

NYC Community 2007

In one short summer my life changed forever. I met a group of people who welcomed me into their home and made room for me in their lives.

He Shows Up Pt.2

Five years ago my life changed in an instant, everything I knew (or thought I knew) vanished. I guess that happens when your life revolves around another and then that other is gone. When my mom passed away in the summer of 2003, I had to find myself. I didn't really know then, but as time has passed, my eyes have opened. Over time God led me to where I am, who I am. I feel blessed to be a photographer, to be able to see. I am so excited for what I get to do, for what I get to share. I am scared sometimes (or a lot of the time) but I am hopeful and can found on occasion - doing the happy dance!. I am on this journey that is taking me farther than I ever imagined. I was talking with my roommate the other day, about my NYC summer, about living in Harlem. I said, "can you believe I did that? Me in NYC, little old me?" Cat grew up next to me, our families had no money, but we did the best we could, with what we had, only when you have nothing, its hard to aspire for something you don't even know to look for. I never even knew NYC living was a possibility, God has shown me otherwise. Cat's response to my question was, "no, no I can't believe it." This response was said with a smile and hope for me. The tone in voice was incredulous - it said "you made it." And I smile when I think about it. No one expected this, I didn't expect it...a miracle perhaps? So off I go, riding into the sunset...NYC, here I come.

i miss the rain today

I remember on day in august (I think) I got off the subway early, 116th Street, instead of 137th. I got off to go to Starbucks, for my daily fix of sweetness in some form of liquid, or another, and the rain, it was coming down in sheets; warm bountiful sheets. I pulled open the door to starbucks and walked in, hoping to sit and draw, I ordered my chai latte (major comfort drink) and I looked around (maybe the seats were full - or maybe I was antsy to get home; I cannot remember) and instead of staying I just walked back, out the door and into the rain. I held on tight to my chai latte and I wandered in the rain, down the street (down the hill but I was really going uptown) to where I was living on 134th.

The feeling right then stayed in my heart. The feeling of warmth and joy, the comfort of the lukewarm rain on a hot day, the taste of my chai latte, the pitter-patter of rain splashing on my face. - So beautiful, so memorable. I sit here tonight, in my apartment and I smile, at the thought of it all - of NY rain on a warm summer's day.

as i sit here and stare out at my summers work laid across the floor. i ponder you from yesterday. distracted i sit browsing through the blogsphere. reading words of loved ones. and see. they remember yesterday too. i am sad. that yesterday is gone. but i smile. cause tomorrow is close. i miss you too. i also remember:

great cups of tea. illy espresso and mistos. brooklyn cappuccino and snowy nights. ice skates at the forks. summer picnics in the park. mini donuts and rainstorms. long conversations in the kitchen. live defining moments. the art store. changing room. that perfect shirt. gilmore girls and dinners out. homecooked meals and rooftop conversations. reunion hugs. sad goodbyes. graduation. family. rise magazine and the pamphleteer. microwavable pot roast, water hydrants and coney island cotton candy. carpool chaos and cafe 22.