Language as a Legacy

Every parent knows that if Mommy or Daddy says bad words, so will Baby. Children first parrot what they learn from those around them, then begin to create their own phrases and sentences using the vocabulary, grammar, spelling, and punctuation available to them. This is fairly evident in, and easily proven by, immigrant families. Teachers these days, especially in the grade school level, face a dozen challenges with the children of non-English speaking parents. These hurdles come in all shapes and sizes, varying from the child who has no English because of this to the child whose parents cannot foster a strong language education... and beyond, into nightmares that schools and teachers struggle with daily.

I've been thinking lately about language as a legacy, and how our interactions with everyone around us affect literacy and language development. For instance, on a very small level, every time Cameron hears a "big" word, he subconsciously stores it away in his brain for future use; and future use for him is about thirty times in the week following that acquisition. Despite the fact that, often times, he knew the word before, could have given an accurate definition, and used it in a sentence, it's the hearing it that prompts him to incorporate the new word into his daily speak.... And he will go out of his way to do so.

We blame "schools these days" and fallen American education for the degradation of the English language, but I say we stop pointing the finger for a moment and consider what we've done to contribute. Every day, I deal with dozens of intelligent people--people who have MS degrees, who are CEO's of companies, who write professionally, even--and shake my head at the disgrace brought upon the tongue I speak. Sure, I sound like an English snob now; I've never denied that I am a purist in this. But hear me out: When we get sloppy, it gets noticed. Sometimes I think that we get so used to living in a world where virtual communication is acceptable that we don't stop to think about what we're communicating.

There's a small, publicly-traded company I work with based out of Costa Mesa. The Director of Human Resources, a perfectionist whom nearly everyone in my office can't stand, regularly sends me emails with typos. Huge, easy-to-spot typos. Sloppy typos. Things like, "Please check Josh's reference's," or, "There going to interview him Tuesday." I know, small things to you, yes? But this person is the face of her company to me. My opinion of her company is formed based on my interactions with her... and she doesn't care enough to give her email a once-over for that? My guess is that she's very intelligent and has at least one degree; these are just sloppy mistakes, and if someone else sent them to her... well, that would be the end of the world.

Here's another annoyingly common trend: adverbs. I totally enjoy adverbs and their ability to transform a sentence. In fact, I'm a firm believer that adverbs completely help to emphasise a point. But realistically, I've just written four sentences that would have been just fine without an adverb, but used one anyway. The overuse of adverbs is a trend noticeable in recent years, likely attributed to the "valley girl" dialect and popularised by shows like Beverly Hills 90210. In case you didn't notice, there are six adverbs in this paragraph. Literally. And I think things would have been okay without them.

I could go on and on, but I'll refrain. It comes down to this: Pull yourselves together, team. What you say and write is noticed. Go ahead; do the unpopular thing and proof read that text you're about to send. I'm not saying that I never have typos; God (and my boss) know I do. Certainly, I am not perfect in anything I do, even this, which I am passionate in. But language is a legacy, and though it evolves (in the sense that it changes constantly), it seems to me that "devolve" is the proper word in this instance. We are allowing laziness to punctuate our IMs and emails; God forbid you type "see" rather than "c" in that text.

Language is contagious. Get it right. You are commissioned; go and do.

This is the funniest thing I have ever seen.

I see a LOT of resumes every day--my guess would be between two and three hundred daily, probably one thousand per week. I've seen some bad resumes in my time, and some great ones, but this one stands out.

We have a debate going in my office about whether this one is real or not. Please, enjoy, and let me know if you think it's real or not. :) (For this possibly real person's protection, I'm taking out his info).

Rob J. Jr.


Entry Level Web Design Skills (I Am The Webmaster/Owner of 2 Websites)
Speed Read Rate: 80-100 Words Per Minute
High School Diploma
Good attendance. Only 1 sick day because I eat a lot of organics.
Got the Highest Score on State Exam English Portion in the 3rd grade.
Certificate of Completion for Customer Interaction Training Program
Multilingual(English+German+Spanish)
IQ 146


Work Experience
Webmaster
11/2009-Present Making Money Off The Ads I Put On My Websites
Janitor
9/2006 - 4/2007(Relocation) Clean Inside, San Francisco, CA
Cleaning tables+chairs+racks
Education
8/2002 - 6/2006 International Studies Academy High School, San Francisco,
CA

NO ARRESTS
NO CONVICTIONS

Sammi

Once again, I will be posting Wordy Wednesday on Thursday; today, I'd like to introduce you to my new friend Sammi.

I found Sammi on the side of the freeway on the way home from Cam's on Sunday night. He was running up the on ramp, and, being my mother's daughter, I couldn't just leave him. So I pulled off and was surprised when he immediately began trotting my way. When I crouched down and offered my hand for him to sniff, he eagerly greeted me with sloppy puppy kisses. I tried getting him in the car, but with no luck.

Fortunately, a moment later, a family in a white Prius came and helped me get him into my backseat. (If you're miraculously reading this, thank you soooo much for your help!) On the way home, he was calm and joyously stuck his head out the window; a family in a car beside me complimented me on my beautiful dog. When I arrived back at the house, my parents were ready with food and water for the adventurer. We set up a bed in the garage and left him overnight, praying he wouldn't freeze, and before I went to bed, I prayed over him, that he would find a good home.

In the morning, my mom and I drove around putting signs up on our half of the city. All day, I waited for a call. And all day yesterday, we waited.

And this morning, I'm pretty sure my mom decided we should just give him a home. Either way, whether he stays with us or not, this is Sammi, in all his morning cuteness:











When Sammi jumps up, he's huge! Probably as tall as I am, and he easily knocks me to the ground... and quickly makes up for it with sweet puppy kisses!

In the Presence of Abba

I read this book a while ago, Hadassah: One Night With the King. You may have been subjected to the rather awful movie version; if so, don't let it spoil this for you. The books was one of the most well-worth-it reads I've had, in my truly extensive experience with books.

But I'm not here to talk about the book overall. I'm risking copyright infringement for the purposes of sharing with you an excerpt, a piece of the book that hit me hard and has changed my focus. Without further ado, here it is:

---

And the Mordecai asked the fateful question. "What was it really like to enter the Holy Place, the dwelling of the Almighty?"

The old man turned to his host and raised his eyebrows high. I could not tell whether he was giving Mordecai a quick reappraisal or glaring at him for his impudence. Then I saw that his eyes were watering. As he was completely motionless in that instant, I wondered if he was suffering some sort of internal breakdown.

But then he looked away, and two large tears rolled over the creases below his eyelids only to disappear in the sparse hairs of his beard. No, I could tell he was not angry at Mordecai for asking the question. He was merely preparing his reply with all the strength he could muster.

"Ah yes, the perennial question. Or at least, it once was. Ah, my son..." and he trailed off. Then he turned around quickly, with a surprising ferocity in his eyes. "It's not just what you think, you know. Everyone things it is all fear and trembling. And some days it was. Especially in my early years. But I will tell you the truth. The memory that keeps my heart strong and my head clear is the thought of days when my heart was pure before Him. When I had spent time reading the Sacred Texts, preparing myself beforehand, had sung His praises, asked for forgiveness, I would enter the temple and suddenly be engulfed in His presence...."

At that moment he jerked his head back and stared into the ceilings as if he were seeing some opening into heaven itself. He made a small keening cry, like that of a newbord child. Then he looked down and his gaze was turned so inward he seemed to have forgotten we were even present. Several more tears fell from his cheeks onto the table. Finally he looked up again, not quite back to the ceiling but just over our heads, as if meeting our gaze would have simply been too much at the moment.

"God really does have a presence, do you know?" He asked it almost petulantly, as though his proximity to tears was due to some skepticism on our part. "My whole being would throb with this awareness of His person. I thought I could feel His heart. And at such times I was glad everyone else kept their distance, because often I would dance and laugh and weep and sing and shout all at the same time because my chest felt like it would truly, truly burst if I did not. I felt--I felt... well, have you ever seen a young child greet a beloved father after a long absence? The little arms pumping, the little legs churning, the leap into his arms, the tears in the father's eyes? I felt like that. A child so overcome with joy at His return that all I wanted to do in this world was to leap as high into His bosom as I could. And I could feel His tears, too. That's the wonder of it, don't you see? I could feel His Spirit being fed, His heart gladdened, His pain--yes, His pain--being healed somehow."

... "I always believed," Jacob continued, "that the catalyst for these times of blissful closeness to Him was that I had focused my attention on Him, not on myself. Not on the fact that the Master of the Universe, may His name be blessed, stood in my presence, and I in His at that moment. I could not even think of such a thing, although I suppose it was true. No, like that little child, I was completely enraptured by His arrival and His presence, and my own part in the matter was completely forgotten. Then, of course, as He surrounded me and wrapped me like an infant in those Abba arms, it became more impossible to turn a thought unto myself. What caused His joy was not my puny righteousness--my holiness, which would have been like filthy rags to Him had He chosen to examine it. In that moment His charity--His favor--was far too great to scrutinize my fault. Again, it was not about me. Not about me at all. What caused His joy was seeing my rapture at His presence and the communion that it sparked. That is what gladdens His heart. Often I have to remind myself that the example of parenthood is not accidental. He is our Father. He is many other things, too, of course. But He is every bit as much a Father, and more, than any man whose heart has ever ached at being separated from his little ones."

---

I know it seems random, just sort of put here, but I was trying to explain it to Cam today and I just felt like it was worthy of sharing... I didn't include the whole thing, for lack of desire to type all night, but I did want to share it with you. Thoughts on the matter? Does our joy come from just being with Him, leaping into our Abba's arms without a thought for anything else? Or does it come from something else? Where should our focus be? Most of the time, I blog for me and you just happen to read it, but this time, I'm blogging for us all, and I really really really do want to know what you think.

Wordy Wednesday: Affect/Effect

I'd like to introduce Wordy Wednesdays, even though it's Thursday, which will teach you something new about the English language. Sometimes, it will be correct pronunciation of words (for instance, that frozen stuff you eat is sherbet, not sherbert; and you frustrate me when you say fustrate); sometimes, correct grammar (no examples here; just study my blog and every word), sometimes, a little something about punctuation. I will discuss made up words that do work, and made up words that don't, the evolution (and, often, devolution) of the English language (thank you, Urban Dictionary), and so much more. In a nutshell, Wordy Wednesday is just one English nerd's attempt to save the word, one bad sentence at a time. At times, I'll play book critic, praising books with fabulous verbage, condemning those novels whose authors should consider burying themselves alive for the disgrace they've brought upon the English language.

As a fair warning, I think the Brits have it right: colour, realise, centre, ageing, cheque... you get the idea. I won't insist that you do it this way, but when you're trying to impress your boss with new vocab, just don't quote me letter for letter without checking the dictionary first.

For my first edition, let's talk about effect and affect.

effect--n. something that is produced by an agency or cause; result; consequence

There are a BUNCH of other definitions for this word, but you get the idea. Remember when you were six and learning about parts of speech? A noun is a person, place, or thing. Effect is a thing.

affect--v. to act on; produce an effect or change in

Verb... something that implies action. As a general principle, if you can add "ed" on the end of it, it's a verb. Let's look at some differences between these two homonyms:

The pain killers had a strong effect on her after the surgery.
After the surgery, she was strongly affected by the painkillers.

I cannot affect the outcome of the race by cheering.
My cheering does not have an effect on the outcome of the race.

One last note: If you look in the dictionary, it will tell you that affect is also a noun. This is true, but it's not pronounced the same way; nor does it have a similar meaning to effect. These two words are not interchangeable, even though they sound the same.

Go forth and make use of this information!

Be Prepared to Dance

Last night, Cameron and I watched The Office's long-anticipated episode--Jim and Pam finally got hitched. When I walked in the door this morning from kickboxing, my parents mentioned that they still hadn't seen it, and I told them they must! Immediately. Especially if we were going to be on speaking terms for much longer.

My dad said, "Oh, well I've heard that it has to do with that JK wedding video."

I was like... "The what?!?"

With gasps, they dragged me into the office, saying, "I can't believe you have seen this yet! It's the funniest thing ever!!"



While Mom and Dad were laughing the whole way through, I was moved. Touched. If you know me at all, you know I'm obsessed with weddings. I own dozens of wedding magazines, surf the net for locations, planners, designers, read blog after blog of wedding photography... I would venture to call myself a wedding connoisseur.

And as much as I love the weddings in magazines, the $30,000 to $100,000 extravaganza weekends that people plan, where every detail is in perfect place, every light hanging at just the right angle, every petal in the exact spot it was meant to be... those weddings are so impersonal. They're about outdoing the wedding that came before. They're not about the bride and groom; they're about being memorable, but for the wrong reasons.

If you come to my wedding, whenever it is, be prepared to dance. If you're walking down my aisle, be prepared to make a fool of yourself. If you come to my reception, be prepared to get your groove on. My wedding will not be traditional. It will not cost $40k, it will not be perfect, it will not outdo every wedding before it. It will, however, be memorable. It will be memorable because every minute detail will be infused with love, full of the personality of my husband-to-be and myself. The flowers might not be just right--and who's to say there will be any flowers at all?--the bridesmaids may not wear colours you approve of (though I assure you, they will be wearing clothing), and I'll probably go against a lot of hard-and-fast wedding rules. But if you let yourself, you'll have a lot of fun. We'll all have a lot of fun.

Just be prepared to dance.

On The Road

Indicators that you've been living out of your car for too long:

• Neither your deodorant, nor your toothbrush, have resided in your bathroom in two weeks. Sure, they make occasional guest appearances, but never move back to the shelf or the drawer; instead, they take up their places in the gym bag.
• To do laundry, you empty out your car.
  
• To find clean clothes, you go trunk diving.
• All five pairs of sunglasses you own live in your centre console... as well as your Blockbuster Online moves, backup wallet, and... just about everything else.
• Your parents send you emails asking how your life is going and what you've been up to lately.
• There's a stack of mail at least eight inches high waiting for you at home.
• Need to go to the gym? No problem. Everything's in the car. Teaching a circuit class? Oh, you've got your Action Kids gear there, too. Headed to the beach? There's a suit and towel in the trunk. Surprise date night? All you need to look cute can be found behind the passenger seat!
  
• The guitar you played two Fridays in a row is still in the back seat...
• You come home and there's a strange dog in your house... but you're not surprised. She could have been around for weeks, now.
• Your baby brother calls you from across the hall to say because he doesn't know you're home.
• All of the foods you like that are normally stockpiled in the fridge have either been eaten by someone else, or are expired.
  
• There are more options for perfume in your gym bag than in your bathroom.
• You've refilled your car stock of shampoo and conditioner (twice) since the last time you bought some for your house.
• Ants don't even bother invading your room anymore. Really, when was the last time you had water or food in there, anyway?
• When you open your closet, you find clothes you completely forgot you had.
• Your parents squint at you for a moment when you walk in the door... though it usually doesn't take longer than three or four seconds to recognise you.

73 Blessings

1. People who give so freely--not just of material possessions, thought that's nice too, but of time, kindness, prayer, love and hope
2. Sunshine
3. Salvation
4. Water recreation
   
5. Friends who are there for a lifetime
6. Fun vocab words
7. Fellow photographers who are willing to share and uplift and be amazing
8. New friends
9. A job that teaches me more about what I love
10. A car that gets me everywhere I want to go--in style, with my snurf muhnurf
11. The Brits
12. Jason Reeves's "Reaching"
13. Food of a thousand varieties... whenever I want to eat it
14. Piles of laundry, because they equal piles of clothes
15. IMDB, dictionary.com, and Wikipedia, for ever-satisfying my curiosity
16. External hard drives
17. Sea World
18. Friends who will go to Sea World with me
19. A church family that envelopes--literally just smothers--me with love
20. Photography and creativity
21. Verizon
    
22. Not being trapped in the corporate world
23. God's faithful promises
24. Friends who move closer
25. Friends who are far away in different states or countries but still amazing and wonderful and lovely and missed
26. Friends who have been here all along
27. Friends who are willing to overlook hurts and just be friends
    
28. Naps
29. Puppies and puppy kisses
30. New babies!!
31. The Bread Cave
32. Culture, of my own brand, but there nonetheless
33. Books
34. Wedding magazines, and people who are willing to speak wedding to me
35. Family, even though they're all delusional iPhone lovers...
36. Early exposure to Truth
37. 60 mm 2.8 macro lens
38. The Office
39. Encouragements
    
40. Dreams of the fantastical variety
41. God's clear intervention in my life
42. Full use of my limbs and ability to exercise
43. Post-It notes of all shapes, sizes and colours
44. Google Analytics
45. Blackberry Storm
46. Facebook being down for maintenance
47. Julian, my lefty guitar
48. ACDSee Pro
49. Friends who know things like how and where to buy power cords when your Dell stops charging out of the blue...
50. Two Dell laptops and one Dell desktop, so that I know I really don't want a Dell next
51. Unexpected kindness
    
52. Holding it together
53. Southern California weather--I hear it's below 60 in most states now
54. Sandals
55. Okay, all shoes. Especially my mustard yellow ones...
56. Cousins who double as best friends in their spare time
57. Random people who do huge favours for me and my people because my daddy tells them to, and because we're fellow believers
58. Baseball
59. Wireless Internet
60. Blockbuster Online
61. Respect
62. Not dying from eating almonds
63. Having money in the bank
64. Summer
65. Jason and Colbie's "Lucky"
66. Texting
67. The colour red
68. Loyalty
69. Naproxen!!
70. Photographs and tangible memories
71. Birthdays!
72. Game nights
73. A boyfriend who is such a huge blessing that he could have a list all his own
    

Motherhood

A few weeks ago, Generations had another beach day at Corona Del Mar, and as is usually the case, I brought along my camera. The rest of the photos will come later, but these two were too classic to wait for... My lovely friend Chantel and her beautiful baby boy Colton are not uncommon subjects of my photography, but that day was different...

Different because Colton is two now, and he has become, in her words, quite the monster. I love these two photos because they really capture what motherhood is like...

Fwd: I Hate You

For some inexplicable reason, my fairly internet-savvy father has failed to pick up on the fact that forwarded emails are like paper brown bags of poop on your doorstep. You see it sitting there, and you pretty much know what's in it, but you have to look anyway, just in case it's not... and then it is, and you have to decide what to do with it.

Several times a week, he goes through all his forwards and sends them out. Assorted pithy jokes? Sure. Interesting discovery in history? Yes. Fraud protection? Definitely. Virus alert? Check. Beware of gangs abducting women at gas stations? You bet... several times.

Because I'm addicted to my phone, and because right now there's an ant reenactment of D-Day happening on my nightstand, my phone has been sleeping with me. First thing every morning, I reach for it, one I squeezed shut, the other barely open, and check to see what's occurred during my slumber--in the form of emails (on three accounts), texts, and, yes, facebook (now, if only I could get my blog subscriptions, my phone would fulfill all my cyber-needs). This morning, not surprisingly, even though my parents are in a cabin in Big Bear without anything but a dial-up (remember those?) connection for the net, I woke up to a forward.

Ugh.

Except... as I started reading, I found myself actually laughing! This list of "truisms" my dad sent were actually worth my time. So like it or not, I'm posting the list here. I just love them too much to let it die!

1. There is a great need for sarcasm font.

2. I can't remember the last time I wasn't at least kind of tired.

3. Bad decisions make good stories.

4. How the hell are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet?

5. I would rather try to carry 10 plastic grocery bags in each hand than take 2 trips to bring my groceries in.

6. The only time I look forward to a red light is when I'm trying to finish a text.

7. The letters T and G are very close to each other on a keyboard. This recently became all too apparent to me and consequently I will never be ending a work email with the phrase "Regards" again

8. A recent study has shown that playing beer pong contributes to the spread of mono and the flu. Yeah, if you suck at it.

9. Was learning cursive really necessary?

10. I have a hard time deciphering the fine line between boredom and hunger.

11. Answering the same letter three times or more in a row on a Scantron test is absolutely petrifying.

12. Whenever someone says "I'm not book smart, but I'm street smart", all I hear is "I'm not real smart, but I'm imaginary smart".

13. I love the sense of camaraderie when an entire line of cars teams up to prevent a dick from cutting in at the front. Stay strong, brothers!

14. Every time I have to spell a word over the phone using 'as in' examples, I will undoubtedly draw a blank and sound like a complete idiot. Today I had to spell my boss's last name to an attorney and said "Yes that's G as in...(10 second lapse)..ummm...Goonies"

15. What would happen if I hired two private investigators to follow each other?

16. While driving yesterday I saw a banana peel in the road and instinctively swerved to avoid it...thanks Mario Kart.

17. MapQuest really needs to start their directions on #5. Pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood.

18. Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died.

19. I find it hard to believe there are actually people who get in the shower first and THEN turn on the water.

20. Whenever I'm Facebook stalking someone and I find out that their profile is public I feel like a kid on Christmas morning who just got the Red Ryder BB gun that I always wanted. 546 pictures? Don't mind if I do!

21. If Carmen San Diego and Waldo ever got together, their offspring would probably just be completely invisible.

22. Why is it that during an ice-breaker, when the whole room has to go around and say their name and where they are from, I get so incredibly nervous? I know my name, I know where I'm from, this shouldn't be a problem....

23. You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work when you've made up your mind that you just aren't doing anything productive for the rest of the day.

24. Can we all just agree to ignore whatever comes after DVDs? I don't want to have to restart my collection.

25. There's no worse feeling than that millisecond you're sure you are going to die after leaning your chair back a little too far.

26. 'm always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my ten page research paper that I swear I did not make any changes to.

27. "Do not machine wash or tumble dry" means I will never wash this ever.

28. I hate leaving my house confident and looking good and then not seeing anyone of importance the entire day. What a waste.

29. I like all of the music in my iTunes, except when it's on shuffle, then I like about one in every fifteen songs in my iTunes.

30. Why is a school zone 15 mph? That seems like the optimal cruising speed for pedophiles...

31. As a driver I hate pedestrians, and as a pedestrian I hate drivers, but no matter what the mode of transportation, I always hate cyclists.

32. Sometimes I'll look down at my watch 3 consecutive times and still not know what time it is.

33. It should probably be called Unplanned Parenthood.

34. I keep some people's phone numbers in my phone just so I know not to answer when they call.

Happy Labour Day!

Perspective, part 2

(Disclaimer: There are no pretty pictures for this post. There is no pretty analogy, like the first "Perspective" post. This is just a raw, simple exploration of my thoughts.)

Rather than complain about how much clean up there was after the party tonight, I am thankful that I am surrounded by amazing people. So many people in this world are feeling alone right now.

Instead of being upset over how many dishes there were to wash, I am grateful that we had an overabundance of food. Millions are starving right now.

I will not fuss about the pain in my knees, but praise God that I can not only walk, but run... and dance. All over the world, there are people who cannot stand.

I won't grumble over the vacuuming I've left to do, but whisper thanks for the roof over my head, the carpet under my feet, and the many rooms in my house. I've built homes in Mexico that are smaller than my bedroom.

Nor can I complain about my irreverent dog jumping up on the table and eating our cake; or my cat dragging the bloody carcass of a mouse through the party. I am so blessed to have animals who look at me with adoration. There are people in this world who are not loved.

Wherever I look, something I could complain about becomes something to praise God for.

Lizzie

My oldest friend in the world is getting married... Well, technically, she is married, but she hasn't had her SoCal celebration for it yet. Tonight, Lizzie's bridal shower kicks off the official wedding stuff (for lack of a better term), so I thought I'd post some super old photos I did of her when I was first starting out as a photographer... Embarrassingly enough, I was not so good as I thought myself to be back then. Looking back at these, I cringe. Literally. Seriously. Cringe. I almost don't want to share them.

But she's my oldest friend in the world, and she's beautiful and laughing and carefree, and she jumps and twirls and smiles like she sees your soul. So here they are anyway, even though I'm fairly certain this is the batch of photos I'm least proud of in my three years of shooting.

Yayyyyyy!

So my hard drive crashed back in June, and today I got it back fully recovered! Photos to be posted tomorrow... Just thought I'd update you, in case you care...

Now, I was up until 6:30 am this morning, so I'm off to bed.

Arachnophobia

I have a rather severe, constant fear of spiders. Lately, they've been everywhere. In my backyard, room, shower, and on me.

This dude was hanging out on my front porch. I flipped out, hyperventilated, then reached for my camera. Yuck. Enjoy.

On a side note (related, for once), all spiders are pirates. The king of them all is a brown widow named Ted who occasionally resides in my mailbox. Ted reports directly to Captain Muffin Man, the infamous pirate whose sole mission seems to be to thwart the pastry-saving plans of Ninja Bread Man. More on this another time...

How It Is

It's not that life is empty without her. But it's not full, either. This evening, when I sent Kat a text saying, "Alta?" it didn't matter greatly whether or not she said yes or no. Because I could suggest it without it being outlandish. It wouldn't involve a car ride rivaling our road trip to Canada a few years ago; nor would any planes be transporting me to her, or the other way around.

Three exits away. That's all it is, the space between us.

As we sped down the 55S headed for our "local" coffee digs (only 37.5 miles from my house), my life felt so full. My heart felt full. I was thinking, as we drove into dusk, that it couldn't possibly be any more full. Then I realised... the funny thing about love is that you can't ever have enough.

It's like Mary Poppins's bag. No matter what you've got, you can keep putting it in. Book? Lamp? Desk? Bookshelf? Car? Sure. Oh, and throw a few pairs of shoes in while you're at it. My life is full of amazing people who love me, support me, and tell me I'm funny because they don't mind lying to boost my ego. I recently had breakfast with my (incredibly talented) friend Melissa, who is getting married in less than a year. We talked about how her guest list has grown over the last few months because people have entered her life and become friends.

It's like that. That's exactly how it is. I'm not taking people off my guest list for life to make room for the new kids; I'm adding to it. My life is so full because of friends like Kat, Anne, Lizzie, Stephani and Bambi... but there's so much room left in my Mary Poppins bag, on my guest list for life, and in my heart. I'm adding to it all the time.

Natural Equilibrium

It's funny how life works. Everything always seems to balance out in the end. Things have a way of just reaching a natural equilibrium. Yeah, sometimes they're way far to the left, sometimes way far to the right. But eventually, at least in my experience, they find a middle point.

On Saturday, one of my two best friends will be departing for an eleven-month-long adventure around the world. Bambi will be visiting eleven countries along the way, and her team's goal is to be the hands and feet of Christ as they work with all sorts of people in all sorts of situations in all sorts of cultures. On the one hand, I'm incredibly excited that she has the opportunity to go on this journey. I know that God has big plans for growing her and using her on this trip, and she's ready to be used and grown... But let me be honest. I don't want to lose this girl. Not only is she one of my favourite people to photograph, but she's a confidante, someone I can always count on for honesty and wisdom... and a friend who makes me laugh constantly. My heart is already hurting for the loss of her, and she's not even gone! Throughout the day, I find myself plotting ways to keep her here... but in the end, I know that I would just be interfering with God's plan for her life. All I can hope is that she comes back ready to jump back into photoshoots and coffee dates at Alta.

Tuesday, August 18th, Kat is coming home! For those unaware, my sister/best friend combo has been globe-traipsing since January of this year. She started off her travels in Germany, where she was studying abroad. The experience took her to all sorts of cool places, including Ireland and Paris! She was home for about three weeks before a worship arts internship wisked her away to Bend, Oregon, having all sorts of life experiences without me. ("Sorry I didn't call you back," she apologised over the phone earlier tonight, "I was climbing a mountain." Oh, right, climbing a mountain. Nonchalantly. As if I shouldn't have been climbing it with her. As if she climbs mountains all the time. As if... sorry. I'm getting carried away.) I'm so excited to have her home in TWELVE days, to go to Taco Factory with her, to stay up late talking, to sleeping in the same bed and having Rylee take up more room than both of us combined. I'm excited for her to brush me off for some other friends some night... because she knows that we'll see each other soon and that I'll still love her, and that living five miles from each other again is a dream come true.

The bad news is that Bambi cannot freak out her friends by shooting mock weddings with me anymore. The good news is that Kat is just as photogenic as Bambi, so I'm sure we'll have lots of phototastic moments. The bad news is that I'm losing one friend. The good news is that another is returning. Life has reached this natural equilibrium, a balance of loss and return. I'm seeing this in so many other areas of my life, and I just love the way God works it all out. If I'd lost Bambi and Kat at the same time, I don't know how I'd cope. If they were both here... quite frankly, I don't think I'd have time for them both right now. In another situation, I've lost a really good friend to some hard circumstances, but gained a lifelong friend over some rather wonderful weeks. God is looking out for me. He's got my back. I can't wait to see what else is in store.

Hold Your Own

I'm in this sweet funky mood because I've been listening to "Details in the Fabric" by Jason Mraz and James Morrison all day. Something about the song captures the beautiful reflective place in which I like to write. My brain is working twelve times faster and writing eight times more stories than normal, and it's all in the back, just sitting, cooking...

It's been months since I wrote anything I was proud of, but tonight, every thought I think feels like the deep inhalation of a breath... not just any breath, but that breath you take when you're inches away from a person you love deeply, drinking in--not the scent, as books always describe, but the moment, as if the longer you breathe in, the longer the moment will hold in your memory. I've never done drugs, never gotten high, never had a desire to... but I realise as I sit here that this feeling, this breath, is like that. I feel nothing and everything at the same time. I feel hopeful and quiet. I feel awake and still. I feel raw and paralysed. I feel like I want to breathe this in forever, because in this moment, I see clearly. I know differently than I've known.

Sometimes, these things aren't stories--at least, not traditionally. They are pictures--snapshots, just as much as any photograph I've ever taken--or portraits of an insight, a dream, or something more. They are images burned into my eyes, tattooed on my heart, imprinted on my soul. I did not put them there; they are a gift, but not for me, not always. Today, I don't know.

I see white feathers swirling up from the ground in a city full of busy people, making magic and seemingly freezing time for a perfect second... The crowds pause and look around... Where did they come from? For a moment, they are in a fairy tale, they are friends, or, better, family. They have dreams and not duties, faith and not fear. Where they once were enslaved to responsibility, they are now offered free salvation. The burdens they carry drop to their feet; they lift their hands and faces toward the sky, and they twirl, rejoicing in the glory of this frozen moment.

Then, in the space of a breath, from the start of one inhalation to the complete exhale of air, they drop their arms and eyes; they dust their burdens off and hoist them onto their backs, not noticing how their shoulders hunch as they carry a collection of hurts and wrongs... both those they've received, and those they've handed out. Where enchanted smiles had been, a flat line now reflects the holes in their souls. Faith fades; dreams die. They move on, pretending the feathers don't exist. They keep walking, brokenhearted, having experienced truth but without any understanding of what to do with it. They whisper to themselves, "Hold your own, know your name. Go your own way. Everything will be fine."

Oh, I know your pain! Hold your own... my mantra from childhood. You keep it locked in your chest until you feel like your insides will explode out into the open, like you'll be unable to keep still for a moment more. You think about what to do with it. You want to scream, shout, fall on the ground, you want to cry--yes, cry, heaven forbid! But instead, you close your eyes, you inhale deeply, you drop your eyes and your arms, you dig a deeper hole in your soul and bury it a little deeper this time. Exhaling, you open your eyes and tell yourself, "Everything will be fine."

But it's still in you...

I don't know if this is for you or for me. Maybe both. Tell me. Tell me if it's for you.
megan@megan-beth.com

Whining

This post is intended purely to spread the word about how irritable I am right now. I've been up since 5:21 am Hawaiian time (8:21 am PST) yesterday. I went shopping with my mother, which is similar to running a marathon backwards, blindfolded, twice; I packed, unpacked, then packed again. I stood in line for forty minutes at American Airlines check in, only to be cut in front of by an unsuspecting Christian surfer there from Chicago for a wedding. I stood in line with four hundred other people to pass through airport security. I sat next to a squirming pregnant lady and her overly-attentive husband (okay, fine, I admit... they were really cute) on a sixty degree five hour plane ride. My plane got lost in the fog, making us land late, instead of early like we usually do. I barely made it to my doctor appointment on time. I came home to discover that my dog, who hasn't chewed shoes in years, ate my favourite pair of stilettos while I was gone (just the same... I'm giving up heels, anyway). And I've been lying on my couch for five hours now, trying desperately to sleep. The sweet bonfire I was looking forward to tonight might be canceled, one of my friends is really upset with me and it's breaking my heart, one of my friends is leaving for a year soon and I'll barely get to see her before she leaves, my best friend is out of the state on her birthday, and I received some unexpected, interesting (in a not-cool way) news about an hour ago. I need to shower because I smell like gross LA air and gross American Airlines airplane. I have a pounding headache. And I'm no longer in Hawaii.

Welcome back to real life, self. This is what you asked for.

Local Sighting!

Okay, so. Here's the thing. I'm a little bit of a lot of things. I call it gypsy, because that sounds cool. With dogs, we say "mutt." Whatever you call it, it's definitely not 50% of this and 50% of that. My mamasita is English and Swedish. My dad is Hawaiian, Arabic, and lot of white stuff like (German primarily, we think). So I'm definitely not any one particular thing...

But everywhere I go, I'm told I look local. Years ago, at the age of fifteen, when I first visited southern Alberta to work with Native American youth through NAIM, they thought I was "brown." Every time I've visited Hawaii, I've been asked for directions or where the best eateries are, had my picture surreptitiously snapped, and been nodded at by other locals. Even the island mosquitoes won't bite me... something only natives can claim.

This year has been like all others... Two nights ago, while on a sunset photo excursion, a guy stumbled upon me as I sat overlooking the ocean. I was contemplating God and his glorious creation when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw him turn toward me and take a picture... Of course, this would have been much more subtle if he'd remembered to turn his flash off... Oops.

I can't lie; I revel in this. As a child, I told everyone I was Hawaiian. No, really, everyone. The clerk at the grocery store, the mailman, the pastor, my parents. I even told my younger brother that I was and he wasn't (though it may not be far from the truth... he tans to the colour of a strawberry). When filling out the bubbles on standardised tests, I always filled in the "Pacific Islander" spot, and the same on college applications.

This year, I think I've brought my native-ness to a new level. After six years of fighting it, I decided that the humidity and my hair just don't get along. So the moment I step out of the shower, I pull on an elastic hairband and let the curls fly loose. Depending on what I'm doing, sometimes I pull them back in a hair tie, but most of the time, my untamed hair dances in the tradewinds... and more than ever before, I've been treated local. I've even had Hawaiian boys have checked me out (locals don't deign to glance at tourists; it breaks some cardinal rule for them).

To add to the fun, my silly brother and sister-in-law scream, "Local sighting! Local! Look, a local!" every time they see me. Ah, this is the good life!

Perspective

I'm a macro shooter. I like to get up close and personal with my subject... every person, rock and tree I've ever shot can tell you this. If you doubt me at all, take a look at my post of the aftermath of December's fires. I think the textures, the details, make the subject. You can never get to close (I regularly bump my 10.5 mm fisheye on my subjects trying to get juuust a fraction of an inch closer), you can never capture enough colour, depth and texture.

But sometimes, this is to my detriment. This morning, I hiked out early to shoot a place I'd visited a few days ago. I found interesting subject after interesting subject... through my macro shooting. Please excuse the unprocessed images below. They forgot to bring any editing software with them...











Here's the big picture problem, where my perspective needs a little tweaking. I stepped back after TWENTY MINUTES of shooting (twenty minutes... 125 photos... do you understand how much that is?) this ONE subject... only to learn something entirely new about it.


This is the shot I want. The beauty of the big picture. The whole thing. Those other photos mean nothing. This means everything. They are pretty and interesting. This is glorious. How much more beautiful would those first photos have been if I had first recognised what I was shooting, if I had taken a moment to step back and breathe in the whole thing... not just the patina on the metal, not just the interesting shape of the tip of the protruding bar, not just the way I could focus on parts of the misshapen head? What if, from the start, I had seen the beauty of the cross in my subject? What if my perspective had been a little different?