Elements of Life

2011-08-28T20:35:00.002-05:00

Summer in Seattle started three weeks ago, just in time for my vacation. Both of which I am very grateful for. I am learning to relax, to let my high strung nature lay a little bit lower, and to notice things like the reflections of light on water dance along the underbellies of pine trees. This time of notice, and of details, nudges my mind into reflection of what I love, what I like, what I dislike, and what I am grateful for.

Which brings me to my first list in a long while, in no particular order, of things that I love:

Sunshine
The color silver
Cheese that smells and tastes like the barn it was made in
The idea of being giddy
Matthew
Photography
Arts, education, and the students
My family
My family's dynamics
Lucero
The afterglow of running
Strolling around farmer's markets
Dogs in trucks
Road trips
Rolling hills and open plains
Growing tomatoes, hoping one will turn red by the end of the summer
Writing

With little thought put into this list, it's cathartic to write. Thank you for reading.

Weird Images From Long Shot

2011-07-31T17:48:00.003-05:00

Sidewalk Adventures

2011-06-25T12:44:00.011-05:00

The only thing that I have found to stay constant in my life is change, so it seems only natural to evolve the content, perhaps title, of this blog that is my narrative self.

The Wandering Rambling Circus of Encounters... Human Nature in Terms of Dog Poop, or Sidewalk Adventures come to mind...

Life is pretty interesting in Seattle, and I'm hoping this summer brings more stories, because I speak of these adventures in tones of irritation, but really I enjoy immensely the education that they bring...

It has been an eclectic adventure since I moved here one year ago. I have encountered more passive confrontations involving dog poop than ever in my life. Now two weeks ago our mail delivery stopped after the mail carrier saw our dog, Nora, the kissing (should really say licking) queen, in our yard without a leash on.

In Seattle culture, where dogs have seemingly human rights, they can also be punished and resented as a human would be. No dogs in the middle school field down the block, but yes dogs in the cosmetics aisle of Walgreens. Hidden agendas, passive aggressive pleas, and I find myself wishing for anonymity, for lack of eye contact, and a general mind your own business stagger. Back home when you have toilet paper stuck to your shoe, someone tells you simply because they want you to know. In Seattle, they tell you the same thing, but they probably want you to use it to wipe up your dog poop too.

It's been good for me, because now I've learned to laugh when people tell me what I should or shouldn't be doing. But I often walk away with a really good retort that I wish I'd been witty enough to say at the time. Which, I think is a pretty universal feeling.

More photos to follow...

24 Hours, Hundreds of Photographers, One Photo Center

2011-05-25T19:58:00.008-05:00

I have been working on a event for the Photo Center NW, a crazy cool nonprofit organization dedicated to photography and community in Seattle. The event is called Long Shot, and is a 24-Hour Photo Marathon where you shoot for 24 hours (although sleep deprivation is not required) with any camera, any where! You pledge 24 dollars, which supports the Photo Center, and then after the shoot you have approximately a month to submit your photos, frame the chosen one(s), and then send that to the Photo Center for us to hang in our exhibition that is a culmination of everyone's work. We sell the photos at a big crazy party celebration and the proceeds go to the Photo Center. It's a great chance to not only have your photography exhibited and sold, but to be part of a community, no matter where you are.

It sounds complicated, but it's really not. The Photo Center NW website can explain it a bit better than my rambling words can, but ultimately what it is is hundreds of photographers, or people who appreciate photography but really have nothing more than an iphone, being creative and seeing the world and their community through the eye of a lens for a day.

I hope you think about signing up to be a part of this creative spark, it not only tickles the creative brain, the event benefits the Photo Center and Seattle photography/education community.

Sign-Up Here!

Vantage Climbing

2011-04-22T10:59:00.004-05:00

Joy

2011-04-12T22:22:00.003-05:00

I have been walking my butt off lately...I have no car, so I rely on those long and lovely legs of mine to keep in shape and carry me to my obligations. Since the arbitrary time change last month, I have been walking myself, walking Nora, walking with boyfriend and friends in the glow of the evenings. I like to be a creep and peer in lit windows against the gray orange background of dusk and make up stories of the people that I think live in these houses. It's become quite fun, like a bedtime fairy tale or daytime nightmare. Entertaining and imaginative... The house on 25th and Charles has well manicured bushes, hummel figurines in the front window, and has monogrammed shutters so they have lived their since the 1950s and are a retired couple; one a high school teacher, the other a clock maker. They house on 27th and Cheery has an unruly amount of dandelions and peeling paint so they like to watch 30 Rock taped on TiVo because they work two jobs.

Lately I have been rock climbing and getting back into hiking as the snow melts ever so slowly from the tops of the Cascade mountains. I have cameras, but they are all film, and those dozens of rolls need to be developed and then delicately and laboriously transferred to digital for our era. I work at the Photo Center Northwest in Seattle, so you'd think that would be easy to do. But we never set aside time to do the things that bring us the greatest joy.

That is what these evening walks have been for me. Joyful.

Years ago I had a boyfriend and a group of friends who made lists of things that made them happy, or things they were grateful for. Things that were small, things that smelled, things that were yellow or things that were irritating but hysterical. I have not made this list yet, but the lines are forming, and I continue to write letters to my friends, because THAT would be top ten things that make me happy in a list of probably hundreds.

Although I find Seattle fascinating, I miss my friends in Illinois.

Crazy Birthday Love

2011-02-25T13:19:00.006-06:00

I was in Chicago last week for my Mom's 50th birthday party. 60 of our families closest friends packed our house last Saturday and brought wonderful food, drinks, and stories of the past and present. The night began with a champagne toast and culminated with a dance party, during which we nearly "cut the rug", or carpet rather. Needless to say it was amazing. I was too busy drinking and conversing to take pictures, but at some point there were bag pipes being played in the dining room. This is a picture that my man Matthew Williams took, but doesn't like, from new years eve, which was a similar party but not as exciting as this past birthday extravaganza.

How Do You Speak with Love to a Thief?

2011-02-09T13:08:00.004-06:00

Part of my new years resolution is to practice calm and relaxation in both my mind and body. In January I began going to a local yoga class and have been attempting a routine of stretching and meditating. Yesterday I decided to revisit the book, The Four Agreements by Miguel Ruiz. I want to adopt these words to live by, which I have been told is a tough challenge, but one with great rewards. The four agreements are:

Be Impeccable With Your Word
Speak with integrity. Say only what you mean. Avoid using the Word to speak against yourself or to gossip about others. Use the power of your Word in the direction of truth and love.

Don’t Take Anything Personally
Nothing others do is because of you. What others say and do is a projection of their own reality, their own dream. When you are immune to the opinions and actions of others, you won’t be the victim of needless suffering.

Don’t Make Assumptions
Find the courage to ask questions and to express what you really want. Communicate with others as clearly as you can to avoid misunderstandings, sadness and drama.

Always Do Your Best
Your best is going to change from moment to moment. Under any circumstance, simply do your best, and you will avoid self-judgment, self-abuse, and regret.

And then last night while I was out for dinner and drinks after class, my wallet was stolen.

Fuckers.

There were charges attempted in cities across Western Washington in a matter of ninety minutes. After I am done going through all of the swear words, hateful is the next that comes to mind. So how do I keep my speech impeccable when all I want to do is be loud and angry?

I want to teach them a lesson, but I feel I am the one that is learning a really shit stink of a lesson in calmness, in forgiveness, and in deep breathing.

22 States Total and 16 Different Ones

2011-02-05T12:57:00.010-06:00

It's been too long since I've seen you. I said I would post in December during our epic road trip, but honestly I didn't even have time to see all the people I wanted to, let alone spend time in front of the computer writing to an anonymous audience.

So, I miss you, whoever you are, and I miss being able to look back at life and see what it may look like to some one else. Even if that is just reflecting on something that happened but six weeks ago. I guess this is what they call the 'curatorial me', and a generation of youth with an insatiable thirst for information.

We started out in Washington, drove through Oregon, Idaho, Utah, paused in Wyoming, Colorado, Kansas, Missouri, Illinois, Kentucky, and arrived at our first destination in Tennessee. Ten days later, set out again. Tennessee, Kentucky, Indiana, Illinois, and unpacked for our second destination. Two weeks later, headed back west from Illinois to Wisconsin, Minnesota, South Dakota, Wyoming, Montana, and eight more hours of Washington until Seattle and we arrived at what we call home.

These are the images that we gathered from our friends, family, mountains of Utah, uninterrupted fields of Kansas, and everything that lies between.

12.08.10 Beginning Road Trip

2010-12-11T17:14:00.003-06:00

Matthew and I left Thursday for a cross country road trip. Stayed in Boise, ID, went through Salt Lake City, UT and are now in Laramie, WY, the state called Forever West. Some of the most beautiful skies I have ever seen. I will post some pictures tomorrow.

What Does A Sustainable Future Look Like?

2010-12-02T17:51:00.006-06:00

This post is prompted by an article in the New York Times last Sunday on the imminent (possibility) of developing a vast industrial zone with coal-burning power plants, oil refineries, and steel mills, on dozens of miles of lush, nurturing coastline in the city of Dawei, Myanmar (Burma).
The article broke my heart. Because this is undeniably who we are today.
Thailand needs the power, and Myanmar needs the jobs. Everything is expanding, and our population is proliferating. It seems in order to sustain the lifestyles that we currently enjoy, we need to keep building and burning. Building and burning.
What was once the 'American Dream' is now the 'Universal Dream'. We all want a family to love with, a house to live in, nourishment, and health. And we should desire these things. Everyone deserves comfort and warmth, not just the wealthy or the developed. But how can it not makes me sad and uncomfortable when I am the culprit of my environment too? These things keep us alive longer but deplete our resources faster. So maybe there is another way to dream, so that we can live life with joy, and the Earth can grow and replenish it's skin.
Do I want to have babies that grow up into children, teenagers, and then adults that will then want to have more babies? Some day my children will not have this gorgeous Earth that we have now. I wish I was smart enough to live without the things we are told that we need. I wish we had created something that was sustainable, because this currently is not. But wishing is not going to make a difference when it comes to this. Change is going to take the effort of every one on this planet.

Here is a link the the article... http://www.nytimes.com/2010/11/27/world/asia/27iht-myanmar.html?_r=2&pagewanted=3&sq=myanmar&st=cse&scp=2
I hope it makes you sad, inspired, and motivated.

18 lb turkey for 2

2010-11-30T11:29:00.002-06:00

Small Update

2010-11-29T14:06:00.003-06:00

To: Those Across the Country

I have been writing papers, preparing for finals, and celebrating birthdays and holidays. I'll be in Wyoming, South Dakota, and mainly Nashville and Chicago next month. I will post some pictures when they are sorted through, and I would very much like to see those that live in those areas...please...

From: Terry

A Telephone Call to Michigan

2010-11-02T14:09:00.003-05:00

I missed a call on my phone the other day, and I didn't recognize the number. They didn't leave a message, and since I'm job hunting, Matthew said I should call them back. I think that's awkward...hey, um, did you call me? who is this again? what?

But I noticed that it was a Michigan area code, and one near Traverse City. I have a friend who is a heroin addict that lives with his folks in in the Upper Peninsula. I am often afraid I will get a call from this family saying that he overdosed. So, after deliberation, the next day I call the number back hoping that it's not his Dad that answers.

Nope. It's Camile. She is a woman, living near Grand Rapids, MI actually, and originally from Crystal Lake, IL. She won't tell me how old she is, but I can tell the decade, and that she's a smoker. After we try, but don't figure out how/why she called me, she still wants to chat. So she tells me about her husband, a Chicago cop for 25 years, who wants to retire to a trailer in Florida and does, and who dies in 2004 after they move back up to the Midwest again. She still misses him, but she has great kids who take care of her and look after her every day. She tells me to love my Mom, and call her every day. She asks about siblings, and I tell her I have twin brothers. She seems happy that I talk to at least one of the four of my family every day. I can hear her smiling. She tells me to find love, and to keep it, and to love every minute of every day, because one day it will be gone. She tells me she hopes I am not scared of her, that she's not a creep, and that too many today live in fear. I laugh because she used the word creep, and I tell her it's nice to talk to someone I've never met. After about 35 minutes we hang up. She calls back an hour later and tells me she figured out how our numbers crossed and she says goodbye again.

Seasons of Change

2010-10-28T15:03:00.004-05:00

Seattle Autumn is mild, but those fire balls on tree trunks are not as vivid when light doesn't dance on the leaves. But when the sunlight slices through the thick gray for a few minutes, it's beautiful. Although I think Chicago has some of the most spectacular Fall months I've ever seen...So I wonder what do the seasons mean? Why do our bodies respond with stuffy noses and dry skin? Why do colors mute, and gray filters cover my hazel eyes? Why do endorphins and energy levels change? Our thoughts look forward to December, and dread January? Christmas is no coincidence. Our souls may hibernate but they drink, eat, and are still hungry for company. Green grass is still underneath the cold, but our bare feet are inside on warm carpet. Then Spring emerges, and we are rejuvenated; but why not be refreshed by Winter?

Early Winter Spires

2010-10-23T15:23:00.008-05:00

Matthew was ahead of me, the first of the two of us to climb back over the "whales hump" that sits up another 40 feet above the 400 feet we have already climbed. He scampers out a couple feet as I hold the rope, turns around, swings his leg over the steep side and straddles the hump. He grabs the spine of the rock with his left hand and raises up his right arm, swinging it in circles. 'Yeeeehaaaawwww', riding his horse on top of the world, he smiles the biggest smile I have ever seen. And I know he's home. I know after all these years of knowing each other, endless discussions of photography, school, travel, careers, rock climbing, kayaking, the past and the future, and how do all of these align to make the most beautiful life we've ever seen... he has found a home on that mountain horizon. I am so happy for him, and I am so happy for me. It's not always simple or easy, but this new city, geography, landscape, has given us the distance to be ourselves when we need to be, but be as one when the sun sets, and you're looking for that hand to hold.
Life is taking on new meaning for me lately.

write, call, email, blog, paint, print, and participate

2010-10-18T13:26:00.005-05:00

Communication has has been focusing on other aspects of my life lately. It feels like it's been a long time since I have put some effort into writing. This blog needs to become something that it currently is not. But I am not sure what transformation this blog deserves. I am not a photographer. I am not a [good] blogger. Really, I am not interesting enough that anyone wants to seriously check out what I do. But I like my life, and I do interesting things every day. But we all do. And today, many think that their lives are worth broadcasting and shouting. I don't know what I think of that.

So, I write. Because I can. It's free and I am not bad at it.

But I am in a nonprofit management program, and I think in the future I will write more about what I discover about this sector. I will write about news, about developments in the arts world, about the pacific northwest nonprofit industry. Or maybe I won't write at all. Maybe I will just live my life and not tell anyone about what I am doing, because if they really want to know, they'll ask. And if I really want them to know, I'll call. I just can't decide right now. Monday morning seems so cold and stiff so far.

So, I'd like to hear about what people are doing. But you don't all have blogs, so I guess I'll have to write you all a letter to ask and find out.

I like the ease of technology, but waiting for mail has improved my patience and consequently my relationships. I love many things. And I love to look at what people think is interesting, and what kind of art they are creating. So I partake in the participation and consumption of mass art. We are now what is called ProAms, Professional Amateurs. I am an amateur of hundreds of things, and a professional at nearly nothing. Consequently, I cannot claim the word professional in any title of mine. Let's have a discussion of what the heck that means.

The Novak Clan in Various Capacities

2010-09-30T18:35:00.004-05:00

thanks to matthew for the photos while we wandered around Seattle.

Casa Do Caminho

2010-09-24T18:39:00.007-05:00

After nearly 15 months, I finally have some tangible product from the dozens upon dozens of rolls of 120 film I shot while in Brazil. These are some of the photos, taken with my grandmothers twin lens medium format camera. They are of children and young adults that reside(d) at Casa Do Caminho, a nonprofit orphanage located in Xerém, a jungle town three hours outside of Rio. Casa Do Caminho is supported in part by the language center in Rio de Janeiro where I took Portuguese classes. I spent a number of weekends horsing around, and learning from these tireless kids. The energy and love that emanated from this community was contagious, and indescribable. I will put up more as they are printed and scanned.

Waptus-Escondido Loop

2010-09-18T13:20:00.007-05:00

The eastern side is the drier and warmer side of the Cascades. The mountains are painted with reds and yellows and are speckled with orange and purple meadows. We set out on a 22 mile loop on Tuesday, with the promise of a couple warm days ahead. We may not see the sun til next Spring as AutumnWinter looms. As we hiked up the mountain, every turn on the trail revealed a different surprise; lush green pines, snow capped mountains in the distance, a dried up valley, a shimmering pool. On the second day the last turn on the trail before we began our descent revealed something incredible. A forest fire had swept across acres, maybe years ago, maybe months ago. Hundreds of trees, white and black and gray towered above us. Stunning, and terrifying, it was something out of a Dr. Seuss book. We walked for miles among these charred giants, the muted colors of the area reflected the clouds that were fast approaching. Deep green alpine mountains painted the skyline. We took as many shots as we could; I could never describe this day well enough. Quickening our pace, it began to rain hard just as we hit the valley and found shelter among the forest.

i am in a list making mood lately

2010-09-13T14:31:00.003-05:00

i have been absent from the online world for a while.
my 29th birthday came and went.
my first quarter of graduate school is over (summer session) and now i have ten days until fall quarter begins.
my brothers and parents hopped over for labor day weekend and then hopped back home almost as quickly.
i have one last paper due at 5pm today.
the excitement of a possible new roommate
new boots
i smell autumn approaching
i am catching up on the letters that people have been writing me now that i have a tiny break. keep them coming please.

bed and breakfast. and a busy couple weeks.

2010-08-30T11:14:00.003-05:00

it was a half refurbished 60 foot sailboat, and we stayed in the front room that was described as the "honeymoon room". you couldn't call it a suite, because i couldn't even stand up in it, but the bed certainly took up the majority of the room. the owners were a retired couple from austria, who held good cheer and educational conversation with us our entire stay. the weekend was a busy one, but i was grateful for the inter mitten relaxation that the boat and it's sun deck offered us. grandma, you would have loved it. www.slowseason.com

yesterday we went rock climbing in snoqualmie in the foggy seattle morning. this past saturday we were tickled with some bluegrass at the local bar, and i've had a whirlwind of class and homework for the past two weeks. now i am getting ready for a visit from the novak fantastic four.

A Study of Washington Water

2010-08-25T12:07:00.003-05:00

San Juan Island Ferry

2010-08-18T14:08:00.002-05:00

Last weekend was a hot couple of days shooting a wedding on the San Juan Islands in Washington, just shy of Canada. Matthew and I stayed on a dated bed & breakfast sailboat, I will get a couple more of those seriously weird pictures up soon.

rain city

2010-08-09T14:43:00.005-05:00

i would like to just sit and watch the glow of the rising sun one morning. i guess i will have to wait a couple more years til after i finish grad school.

10th Ave. Construction Wall

2010-08-01T15:05:00.000-05:00

Elevation: I am from the Midwest

2010-07-25T13:10:00.006-05:00

When the guide book says the difficulty level of your hike is Strenuous, next time I will take that grade seriously. This was my first major hike in forever, and although I have run several marathons, I have never known pain and soreness like this... It's a truly great feeling. Seattle has been many things to me this past month, and the serenity I find only when I am deep in the woods is a perfect balance to the tens of thousands of drivers, cyclists, pedestrians, and endless hipsters I navigate through every day. And in the Alpine Wilderness, we had a whole new set of obstacles and swarming numbers to dance, jump, and step around. One snake, one hummingbird, two frogs, three slugs, six caterpillars, the cry of a mountain goat, and 20,000 mosquitoes. Next time we won't forget the bug spray.

Dog Poop

2010-07-12T13:54:00.003-05:00

Walking Nora this morning she decided she couldn't hold it anymore and pooped on the sidewalk. She likes to walk, sometimes in circles, while she is in the act. I picked up the little brown culprits, threw them away, and waited to cross the street. A white Nissan came around the corner, and a lady smiled out of her car window, projecting her voice across the passenger seat, told me that i had missed a piece. Flabbergasted. What? Huh? Words did not come, so I said "thanks lady". I guess I'm not in Illinois anymore.

Leah

2010-07-11T14:37:00.002-05:00

Moving to Seattle has been a tangle of easy and difficult. I find myself lonely, and I find myself in awe of the beauty that is the Pacific Northwest. Reflecting, and knowing that the incredible nature that surrounds me can kiss me and keep the empty feelings at bay. I have yet to find a camera of my own, so the blog has definitely been lacking. In the soft grass, these are the toes of little Leah, and they make me smile.

jon and his spider

2010-06-28T12:38:00.002-05:00

Joshua Tree, California

2010-06-15T11:23:00.000-05:00

wake up (the art of focus)

2010-06-11T08:02:00.005-05:00

i don't find comfort in knowing that i am not the only one with a seemingly diminishing attention span. obsessively checking email while working, texting while driving, blogging while brushing my teeth, twittering while taking a shit. all of these things effectively affect my ability to read books, to have lengthy and educated conversations, to listen, to focus, to retain, and i can feel my brain cells sleeping.

the New York Times book review sunday section had a review of Nicholas Carrs' The Shallows. initially i found it depressing, but there is motivation in such a feeling. and i am going to find what has been lost along the relatively short path we call technology.

check it out
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/06/books/review/Lehrer-t.html?ref=books

Dave and Kristine Married May 22, 2010

2010-06-04T10:39:00.002-05:00

just a couple preview shots, i know it's been a while.

the rose room, birmingham, alabama

2010-05-18T20:49:00.003-05:00

i'm moving.

2010-05-07T13:54:00.001-05:00

bringing my house to the west coast.

The (Art) (Stress) of Waiting for Mail

2010-05-02T22:19:00.006-05:00

I've waited all late Winter and Spring for my grad school acceptance letters. I know how it feels to wait. And then wait some more. Anticipation grows, and every day has the possibility to be Christmas. In the meantime I've begun to write letters to my friends across the country and across the city. I write to those I know, and hope to meet new along the way. Growing up and finding my path(s), I've taken to finding solace in the simplicity of paper and pen, horizons and sunsets, and wide open spaces. Finding tiny surprises in small towns, smiles from strangers on lonely roads, and letters waiting in mailboxes from friends I just met on my last adventure. Their letters beat me home. These little pieces of paper bouncing in the back of a mail truck, so excited to be opened. I love getting mail. It's been a slow start, and I have my Grandma and my love to thank for some wonderful mail, but like everything that's good, you have to wait for it.

pastels and hipsters in soft light at art opening on fulton

2010-04-26T22:27:00.001-05:00

creepy springtime in chicago

2010-04-15T19:55:00.001-05:00

The Art of Amateur Radio

2010-04-07T09:10:00.004-05:00

There are 700,000 licensed ham radio users in the U.S. These guys know that if the internet and cell phones (suddenly) stop working, they will still be able to communicate. Whether that means warning residents of potential emergencies, communicating mass instructions/directions to a town, cracking jokes, or sending their love to their love across national radio waves. Communication for the masses is perpetually being developed. New forums, new inventions, new sites, new fads. And, like most other fields, new communication is based on old communication. But how has it changed what we are saying, how we are saying it, and what it means?

Can we sort through decades of out-dated communication devices and forms and find something that will change the way we speak once again? By definition, trends and fads escalate and then vacillate often in short periods, many never leaving a lasting impression. But when we talk about communication, sustainable communication, with impeccable speech and noble intentions, that form may be more important than all of the future internet technology combined.

Maybe something to talk about...

name change

2010-04-03T16:18:00.006-05:00

"the effervescent jungle", referring to my time in rio de janeiro didn't feel pertinent anymore. so i've begun anew. please pardon any confusion.
hugs, cheers, and many many thanks for reading my little contributions to this world.
-terry

trees have emotions. humans have branches

2010-04-03T15:36:00.000-05:00

lazy monday, nothing but the sunshine with those that i love

2010-03-24T19:08:00.004-05:00

saturday morning, the beginning

2010-03-16T22:38:00.003-05:00

mussels littered the streets of coupeville, wa. and i hung on to nora as she sniffed and surfed for leftovers. i feebly took pictures.

tuesday afternoon so far away

2010-03-13T12:04:00.004-06:00

he made cauliflower and leek soup and i watched as the windows fogged. white painted benches in the kitchen, the dog at my feet, it felt like a picture i once had seen. i read the paper and we listened to new music. unsure about what we thought of female vocals. we talked and laughed. my love.

my hotel

2010-02-27T16:48:00.000-06:00

The Art of Letter Writing

2010-02-19T09:43:00.010-06:00

I miss mail.
I miss the anticipation of a weeks wait for that box of cookies from my mom, or the love letter from a college boy in the next state over. I am proud to say that I experienced, at least part of, college without a cell phone, and actually had an answering machine in my dorm room. Although technology is inevitable and integral to our future, I am proposing a slow down from the rush and rat race of our modern society's communication fascination. I am not the first to suggest this, and certainly not the first to write about it, but it takes a great deal of people to create a movement of change and to spread the word.

I want to be surrounded by those that are interested in connecting with friends,lovers, peers, colleagues, and random inspiration on a personal level. Physically putting in the effort to build a network of creativity and knowledge that is directed towards individuals that we directly want to affect and inspire.
I want to read books, and use card catalogs, I want to go to libraries and write letters. I want to grow gardens and walk to work. It's maybe why I still prefer film. I want to appreciate the things that have helped make me who I am today, not forget about them. Love the sustainable, the heirloom designs in communication that are going to keep our grass green, our dirt pure and our emotions and spirituality healthy.

It tests my patience to have to wait for information and good word from the people in my life, but I believe that it instills confidence and motivation in myself to have to wait and work for the goosebumps that come with the arrival of physical mail. This patience seems to be dying a slow death with the wild popularity of technology like text, social networking sites, and twitter. But I am happy to not have to check my phone or my email every eight minutes because I know it's going to take days to get my message. And when I finally do, it's a crazy good day.

I realize the hypocrisy of the forum in which I choose to write to you. It has many benefits that I love and it's easily accessible to the masses, but the point is... I would like to start writing letters, making mix tapes, sending photographs, article clippings and random discoveries of the day to anyone who wants.
So who's in?

Caddywhompus Architecture, In Love With Knowledge

2010-02-08T20:30:00.007-06:00

The euphoria that my brain feels when I breathe in recent crazy amounts of knowledge, because it's so damn easy to get high these days, has been making me dizzy. With school on the horizon I cannot get enough information lately. Checking out articles, blogs, papers, and artists, I've discovered an overflowing treasure chest. ...One that is surely soiled with other grabby hands, but I still love it nonetheless.
What a unique gem I was immersed in while living in Rocinha. It's only now that I am understanding the great urban planning miracle that favelas like Rocinha really are. Traditionally built climbing up mountainsides, with winding streets and precariously placed houses, these micro-cities are surprisingly incredibly strong and resilient. Daniel, who grew up in Rocinha, told me that his house, originally built out of wood decades ago was rotting away from the flow of water that runs wherever it wants to due to their unique sewer system. When they saved up enough money they replaced one wall at a time, generally one wall per year, with cinder brick. These small changes are an illustration of time and patience in urban planning.

More to come...

pairs come in threes

2010-02-07T01:30:00.001-06:00

a man in a hallway with dark sunglasses; i prefer sunlight

2010-02-03T21:44:00.003-06:00

she wakes when she dreams; dirty website and gre studying

2010-01-18T14:37:00.006-06:00

in my sea of sentences, paragraphs, math formulas, charts & graphs, and essay questions, i've discovered a myriad of new studying techniques. i have never been great at test taking, and am still not sure this test is going to measure anything that I can't show you i'm good at with a song & dance or photograph & poem. But that is not my decision, and i'll join the circus someday anyways.
but in these past months, hundreds of new, crazy, beautiful, and intricate words roll through my mind... in my sleep, in wake, in dreams, and in silent long drives home. most of them have been hard to absorb without almost literally just drinking them. but a brilliant website stumbled past my attention, and it has helped my overwhelmed mind retain some of this new knowledge, with a little filth in memorization.

Thank you to every one that has supported me, and check it out.
thefuckingwordoftheday.com

3:57 AM

2010-01-17T13:21:00.002-06:00

A Random Thin Thread That Is Life.

2010-01-10T20:48:00.005-06:00

in the rain, silence, on a bridge in three oaks.

2009-12-27T21:25:00.001-06:00

square moment

2009-12-22T20:43:00.001-06:00

Snowy Friday Night

2009-12-19T13:50:00.000-06:00

Nami's Birthday

2009-12-13T20:51:00.006-06:00

salsa dancing in the kitchen all night. i left brazil without learning the samba, making up for some lost lessons.

Dave Rawlings Machine (and Gillian Welch)

2009-12-07T19:23:00.005-06:00

Eyes wide open, all watching him on stage smiling with his eyes closed. He dances and strums, sings, and smiles. A vision of happiness, unaware of the spectacular spell he has cast on the crowd. His knees buckle with each strum of the banjo and strain of his voice, unafraid of hitting the ground, his guitar neck holds him up, like a marionette he dances by the chords of the song.

Sunday gospel in a passionately beat-up club, beautiful wooden walls, a timeless stage draped in black velvet, denim shirts, red neck ties, banjos, violins and whiskey.

before the snow, autumnal grass. smile.

2009-11-23T22:09:00.000-06:00

there has never been and will never be another human on this earth the same as you. you are absolutely, infinitely, unique.

2009-11-17T21:57:00.000-06:00

As Children We Grow Like Trees

2009-11-16T20:55:00.000-06:00

It's a hard argument to try and convince others, let alone yourself, that you are actually not yourself. At the moment, that is my challenge. It feels so enormous, it keeps me awake at night, crowding my bed and stealing my covers. I wish to help the disconnect between who I think I am, who I desire to be, and who I actually am, and make it hurt less... And sting more...

...With vibrant colors and sparks from fireworks.

This is a task that I have felt lurking inside me over many years now. Now I am ready for it. I want to capture the bees that inundate my day, and take them home to make honey. I want to find people and programs that will challenge every thing that I know. I want to climb trees and listen to what the wind tells me. I want to find you, and I want to find myself. I will wait for you at the Station Inn, I will be the one lying on the floor, in the grass, covered in flowers. I wonder if I will recognize myself.

Seattle

2009-11-01T14:13:00.001-06:00

shades of grey

2009-10-18T00:36:00.000-05:00

Cheers

2009-10-09T07:40:00.000-05:00

I've begun work with Ada S. McKinley, at their Neighborhood House in the deep South, almost Indiana, of Chicago. It's a big house that incorporates all ages in study and activities throughout the day. Bingo in the morning for the seniors, tutoring in the afternoon for the kids, computer lab time in the evening for the teens, with soccer and foosball mixed in between. I hang around with the kids mostly. Their youth has taught me crazy things in the short time I've spent with them, and it brings me back to Rio and Two Brothers, whether I want to be there or not. That city taught me difficult lessons, but ones that have paved the path that I stumble along now. This city is round two, knock down and out. Get back up and swing again, miss, hit, miss. I hit, and look for round three, where will that take me?

The after school crowd comes around 3pm, and the other day one of the girls, Nina, asked me "are you black, white, or mexican?" I smiled inside, someone was actually not assuming I was white. She was barely over four feet, but she stood so tall. I said I was white, and asked her what she was. She said "I'm all three!", and then broke into a traveling song and dance.

So here's to the the youth of America and Brazil, all of the worlds' youth, for that matter, you teach me things I could never learn in books, on the internet, or from my peers.

Fucking Awesome.

a weekend of music. clear blue light.

2009-10-05T22:40:00.000-05:00

obsessive drive for self-discovery

2009-09-27T22:41:00.000-05:00

The title and the subject have little to do with each other, but I love the words, the idea. Last night had the most eerie light, almost cinematic, but natural.

looking through

2009-09-22T22:15:00.000-05:00

Tonight's Sunset

2009-09-15T21:38:00.000-05:00

Across the same wide sky that blankets us all, and sitting in my own small bed, I look for the words to move sideways, backways, shimmy forwards, and eventually next to where I want to be. And I ask where is that? And do I need an answer now? Do I let fate run it's seemingly haphazard course, do it's own lengthy work, or do I have to simultaneously push forward with my own scrawny might?

What do you think?

I hope that when we fall asleep under the stars that were once birds flying, that we remember the world, and the millions of tiny souls that make it up. I hope that we can love them as much as we love ourselves, and I hope that you love yourself.

canoeing, kayaking, hiking, camping, and one violation

2009-09-07T19:51:00.000-05:00

2009-08-25T22:51:00.000-05:00

what the fuck, my legs are dancing, and my mind is tangled. it feels weird, and i find myself in these shadows, and these circles of light.

Quiet Lights Quiet Night

2009-08-24T16:02:00.000-05:00

Lucero

2009-08-17T21:11:00.000-05:00

A local noise ordnance unplugged the Sunday night Lucero show early, so Ben Nichols and Rick Steff played guitar and accordion on a park bench to about thirty of us in eckhart park until late. We helped with the lyrics while the alcohol helped Ben to forget.

let go what you don't like, or, hopeless, drunken, romantic, dancing

2009-08-16T14:13:00.000-05:00

looking at yourself, i mean really deeply inside, is maybe one of the hardest things to do. to realize the mistakes you have made, however great they are. to see the other people around you hurting so badly. to realize the work you thought was moving you forward, was really just a shuffle sideways. in some ways, i feel like i have failed. i have failed myself, in that i was not true, and i was not loved. my heart, my stomach, my liver, kidneys, they float in a toxic fluid, leftover, spilled from a toxic year. how did it come to this? how was i so blind, when i didn't listen to what was said, sitting on the porch, in a restaurant, or on the beach? how stupid was i to continue to hold on? why not just let go that night. why not just jump off that turquoise balcony and see where i end up? maybe on the back of a motorcycle, maybe at a bar, maybe in a school, or maybe swimming far into the atlantic ocean. none of these places are far away.

i realize how right my situation is, how it will allow me to grow and to become the person that i want to be... so that the separation between who i actually am and who i identify with, believe i am, is much less. will i/i will walk with tired and bleeding feet, crying tears that won't stop, and look up in awe at the mountain i am at the foot of. i discover the mountains in my life and ask to climb them, and meet my spirits and friends on the top, and we dance for hours. maybe they will play 'backwards walk' but maybe they will play 'that much further west', or 'pieholden suite' and we will watch the stars at night when it gets hard, and then breathe in the sunrise the next morning. where is that day? i can't predict the future, but i know it loves me. because if you let life in, with a lot of fucking pain, there's nothing you can't do.

i just wish it wouldn't hurt so much now, because there are days, more often than not, that i would erase it all if i could.
the sky is black, it's about to thunderstorm something crazy right now.

terry

airplanes, trains, cars, and sunsets

2009-08-10T18:52:00.000-05:00

untitled conversation

2009-08-05T21:22:00.000-05:00

gallery, site

2009-08-05T00:23:00.000-05:00

at an art gallery opening this weekend i discovered a small and quite powerful piece hanging in the first corner of the space. it spoke to me in a way i hadn't heard in some time. it made me realize...how important it is to share your jewels, the words that resonate and the pictures that feel, and not allow them to fall asleep in your mind, and then cease to exist in their magnitude. here is the artist statement:

Anthems of Empty

What happens when a memory ceases to be remembered? Does it no longer exist, or has it been corrupted into some form of the truth within the depths of consciousness. When memory fails the individual, what is left behind but a word, a partial thought, stories without text, songs without lyrics, anthems that are empty... like an old shack on the side of the road. The shell is mostly there, but the inside is gone and will never again be what it once was. My work is made up of these fragments of memory;
built up, pieces of a former whole, rearranged and layered together to make a new.

The action of writing on page leaves a mark, a scar, on the universe. Even if it is erased, it never is totally gone. It may change forms, but once made can not ever really be undone. Even time leaves a mark These scars left on people, on the universe, are not always visible. Sometimes they can only be seen when a portion remains and what was the whole is no more. Material deteriorates, paper yellows, an image fades unto a puff of smoke into the sky... to become some other memory in some other place. These pages from old books, some of which are so fragile it takes all the will in the universe to not have them crumble in my hands, they need something structural, because inherently they are on the verge of total ruin.

sarah e rehmer

shocked by honesty

2009-08-02T15:06:00.000-05:00

found this in the woods while i was riding my bicycle. i love finding notes, it feels like i just met a new friend.

Alley

2009-08-01T10:46:00.000-05:00

physical health, pain, emotional clutter

2009-07-30T21:42:00.000-05:00

sifting through my carefully yet haphazardly packed boxes, my mom gets a phone call. my aunt is in the emergency room, she has had a mini-heart-attack. what a triage of words, and i wonder if they go together. the implied severity and the acuteness co-mingling in sentences. does that work? it doesn't matter, because we need to get there, and there is little time to think. and it is a welcome relief to focus on the needs of someone else right now.
when i see her she is in good spirits, because she is my aunt. i don't feel okay, but her faces reminds me that we are only human, and that laughter can be the best medicine. i try to smile with her, but it's overwhelming. she doesn't want a party so i kiss her and take my cousin home with me so he doesn't have to spend tonight alone.
i slowly return to sorting out some clutter in my personal earth attic, cutting through fog, dense trees, and thick water. we are not alone in this world, but when the boxes are stacked so high, it's hard to see the people standing on the other side sometimes.
this is the second time today i have been in a hospital. it's time to get some sleep.

dunk tank

2009-07-27T20:27:00.000-05:00

right after this picture was taken i got clocked in the throat with a fast flying softball. i woke up on the ground with a circle of people standing over me.

a bicycle, a beer, and a nativity scene

2009-07-23T20:44:00.000-05:00

I've been riding my bike around, chasing the evening shadows every night after work. Yesterday I found a nativity scene in a garbage can so I brought it home with me, it makes me smile. The baby jesus has a busted knee cap.

after work

2009-07-20T18:21:00.000-05:00

windows

2009-07-16T20:17:00.000-05:00

When are the the people, the values, the concrete and sandy paths, and the relationships in your life worth fighting for? How do you decide which battles can afford your energy and which are too taxing, leaving you exhausted? Can these change with time? And how many unanswered questions can you handle, rolling around in your mind, in your soul, your heart, before you can't stand it? And you make a decision, to go, and to follow what it is you want, unrestrained and with love. I wonder, and it turns me all around. Then I laugh, because that makes me wonder what the rest of the world is thinking. It's incredible sometimes.

older

2009-07-11T09:10:00.000-05:00

my throat is a mixture of desert and yuck. it's swollen and makes my eyes look tired. my lungs are filled with green and yellow. and seems brazil has stayed with me longer than i thought it would. i guess this isn't the type of thing you put on a blog, but well, i wanted to.

my shadow

2009-07-10T17:05:00.000-05:00

A Separate Piece, 1959

2009-07-08T19:52:00.000-05:00

Driving down Highway 12 and listening to my grandparents talk about how they met and how they married, not necessarily how they fell in love, but how they chose to spend their lives together, I am calm. The talked as the miles passed. She said he was tall and quirky and he wasn’t like the other boys she had gone out with. He kissed her at the end of the night and apologized for it. She said it was different, charming. He said she hoped in his car and immediately slid over close next to him. My grandpa proudly told his story of leaving the army, going AWOL, not once, not twice but three times and being sent to military prison for each offense. It took him more than four years to get a discharge from the army. He seemed relieved to be back in life with women, work, and human pleasures. My grandma chuckled from deep, she didn’t know this before she married him. She was a junior in high school and he was 22, dating a chick from Oconomowoc, WI a while before he met her, as he describes it, when they decided that they wanted to intertwine their lives. She had some money saved up for college, and they spent it on a trailer to live in instead. They have been together ever since. Not without troubles, but always with understanding.

I sat there, concentrating on driving, and enjoying the quiet bliss that the road often cradles those looking for peace. Despite the chatter behind me, I couldn’t help but smile and listen with my ears, as my mind may have been somewhere else. They couldn’t tell me, or anyone, why they married, or even if they were in love, but they didn’t seem to mind. And you could call it a simpler time, with less worries or restraints. But I call it serene, and that is timeless. I call it something of a time lost not in love but in a concern for careers, for money, or for self-awareness. All of which are positive, can be good, but can alter where your heart sits. It was a time where life was chance and love was a catalyst for spiritual growth, for travel, for adventure, and for dancing freely. It may be what people still hope for, but that depends on your definition of love, of happiness. Either way, it made me smile.

three states

2009-07-06T15:52:00.000-05:00

Finding Heart and Leaving Brazil

2009-06-28T13:31:00.000-05:00

Sometimes it's hard to tell your stories when someone asks...

We didn't see a single monkey, but we saw a ton of machine guns. It was crazy, to say the least, the first time we walked past a group of guys toting tall guns. But eventually we didn't think twice when they sat outside our doorstep nearly every day and night. Sometimes the guns were as tall as the boys that carried them. But that is not the whole story of my Brazil...
And it's true these narrow tools of destruction affected my psyche, my following experiences and my personal relationships. They made me afraid, and then annoyed, then educationally intrigued, judgmental, and finally understanding. It was my stages of grief, a departure from a sheltered world that many in my life, including myself, had come from. But I cannot say it was earth-shattering, or pious of me, no, I did not learn and come back one who can write poetically and carefully about the abject poverty I was privileged enough to live in. No, it made me care about myself and the world in an interesting way. It made me feel small, but not insignificant. The world began to look disheveled and unruly, a place of wild growth and equally wild change. And I asked could I please be a part of this? But in the space between, my life began to change, and my personal relationships suffered. Maybe because my body and mind were growing too fast, and I could see the stretch marks and scars.

Matthew and I had difficulties landing on the same level, on the same day and even month. And we came to love our trip at different times. He in the beginning, and I later on. Rocinha was our Rio de Janeiro. It was our home, and our life, and our noise was our own in our own heads. It was hard and often rough, but it was what life brought in our choices and our loves. It was what we had decided our life together needed. So I began to pick up the pieces of the black and white mosaic Brazilian sidewalks. We attempted to live, as harmoniously as possible in an organic and violent foreign country, as we could. Some mornings we drank coffee and read the paper, some we listened to the nearby shots and helicopters fly low overhead. We moved to Rocinha for an indefinite period of time. A spectacular adventure.

We saw the products of human consumption in it's rawest form. Burning mountains of garbage pushed the sidewalks to the streets. We walked exhausted in the streets, next to nerve-wracking perpetual motion. Passing once delicately prepared meals, served on humble glass plates, coveted and much loved clothing, kissed and forgotten about. Do you want to see my new outfit? How about my new CD? Just look at the streets. In Rocinha life was loud, it was fast, cheap and often armed to the teeth. People ask me, "were you scared?" and I think about it... I indeed was, at more than one point in the beginning. Wondering whose business it was to patrol my home, my community, and my body with guns. Wondering why I couldn't take a photo and why a rifle, a hunting rifle no less, couldn't take away those self-proclaimed robin hood's insecurities. My photo won't hurt you, but maybe someone before me ruined it. I was scared when our first bus ride shot us out of a tunnel and burning brakes stopped and let us off into a bustling, colorful raw state of being. But the frightened panic and pain I felt was so long ago, it's almost forgotten. Always learned, always educational, but not stored as fear. I have enough of that in other places, to last me til the next trip. So I answer, 'no, not really'. Briefly reminded of that first two weeks, but not allowing it to define me by what it implies.

Rocinha, and you expect people to ask questions but can only hope they understand the answers. But you sadly realize the sights, sounds, tastes and smells are pertinent and exclusive to a favela, and little more than a dream or nightmare to your audience at home. The sounds of motorcycles roaring past your aluminum and plastic sealed windows at 3am and the exclusive Sunday 5am Baile Funk bass that not only rattles your sleepy mind but also your bed. The smells of stale beer, vanilla, human wastes and aromatic drifts of marijuana nearly every hour. I will never forget. And these are not the negatives, because braided intricately with the vibrant threads of a natural community, were the positives. Fresh eggs, a dozen for a dollar, four dollars for a weeks worth of vegetables, dollar fifty for a double pint of beer...which although taste near water, was still a small delight in a stressful day.

Tattoos given cheaply out of fluorescent lit huts the size of an old, early outhouse with square windows in place of the traditional crescent moon shaped ones. Itau banks with early morning ATM lines, four dollar haircuts, always a customer and no matter what you ask for, always the same conservative-mohawk-like cut. Sex shops, clothing shops, dentists, produce, papers stores, mechanics and garages every-other storefront, pastry and beer counters. This is what surrounded the streets that comprised Rocinha. But the people are what made Rocinha. The temperament. The free-spirited, lack of worry, boisterous speech and flying street chatter, non-stop banter. Walk where you want, sit where you choose, buy what tastes good, and consume all. Leaving the waste for your community to compost and recycle. The people are the kids that make their toys out of PVC tubing and run naked in the streets. The people are my students, and they are the laughs, the arguments, and the choruses you could hear every day and night. They were the continuous wheels. They were why you come to Rocinha.

Is it possible to come back the same person?

Can the confidence that I had in myself, the confidence to make a difference, the confidence to take a chance on change to see if I have revealed a sliver of the path I am next to embark upon, remain? The confidence to love myself for who I am and not for what I think other people think of me. The confidence to see children on the street who need you, but not your money and tell them in Portuguese, no, I have no money, I can't help you like that....but I can give you food. The confidence to walk down the alley past the makeshift desks, manned by young men with a myriad of drugs in their bags and money in their pockets, and not be near tears nor violence. The confidence to pick where I want to go and when. The confidence to believe that Matthew loves me.

Beginning to find what will give me the resources to be selfless in the future, because that is what I have discovered is the most love I can feel. I may not have returned as a higher, better, more cultured American set out to help the needy and write beautiful research papers about her enlightened excursions. No, I came back as a fatter me. I found a half dozen or so new facets of personalities that were locked away in the dark and light places, and I hope they can come out and play this summer. I need some time to be a kid again, to tell my friends what I found out I want to do when I grow up. Maybe we can ride bikes together, inspire some new art, and think youthfully of ways to help those with less.

I hope that some of this makes sense, because right now, it makes little to me. It's why I often sit in silence, or with a book, and why I have no cell phone. I have not processed these things yet, and it needs more space than Tennessee has. My thoughts are strewn about, and probably in some pile of garbage. I have begun to collect them again. It's just a life process, and I often wonder what kind of other life processes my friends and friends of friends are going through.

I would love to hear what others have to say.

If you can't find anything else in your life that makes a damn bit of sense, look to your love. We've spanned hours, days, years, cities, states, and now countries and this journey has undoubtedly made our hearts stronger. This is what I know.

something of a farewell

2009-06-26T10:57:00.000-05:00

with balloons, motortaxi rides, cultural parties, family, friends, caipirinhas, and eerie calm, we began to say goodbye.

student work- part II

2009-06-22T10:18:00.000-05:00

domingo mercado excursão (sunday market excursion)

Walk Home

2009-06-19T13:27:00.000-05:00

Debbie

2009-06-17T18:52:00.000-05:00

by the strings of our hearts.
my incredible mom came to visit these past days. she was refreshing and calm, as we are beaten down, 'chewed up and spit out by a city' as matthew so poetically told her. she was generous, and embodied smiling love with spiked hair and blue eyes. she and i don't always understand our relationship, nor how we should or want to act, but we are figuring things out as age kisses us into wrinkles and maturity. and i hope every mother and child can have that same blossom experience. hibiscus orange perhaps.

Concrete and Kids

2009-06-17T09:05:00.000-05:00

student work- part I

2009-06-11T13:10:00.000-05:00

so life rarely happens as expected. and my first teaching experience has been no exception. teaching a familiar subject in an unfamiliar, foreign, and impoverished community has been an interesting and peculiar game of youthful jump rope. the kids and i learned together, me conversational portuguese, and they, minimal composition, subject matter, and exposure. it was an awkward dance that sometimes crashed into the bricks and mortar that surrounded our funny little classroom. but sometimes the steps were forward, fluid in tiny varying circles, and were graceful, achieving an image or two worth marveling at.

here some of the most interesting images that the girls took.

more to come.

A Winter Moon

2009-06-08T19:07:00.000-05:00

Deadly

2009-06-08T16:16:00.000-05:00

Eating pizza with a knife and a fork is a sin.

red and green emotion

2009-06-05T08:44:00.000-05:00

Children's Eyes

2009-06-02T13:30:00.000-05:00

after a ceaseless night of rain, a morning train, two-mini vans and a really muddy moto ride/quicksand romp, matthew and i arrived at the light blue gate of Casa do Caminho, an orphanage in the jungle, just outside of Xerem.

we came to meet new people, to learn, to explore, and to help. we both took pictures of the beauty that we saw, he with his digital 35mm camera and me with my film medium format. the children range from four to nineteen years-old, and live in three different houses. they are placed there through court order and are taken in with open arms and genuine love. they are shy and nervous, they are happy and welcoming, curious, rambunctious and most importantly they are just children. they are beautiful and have the biggest eyes i have ever seen. i wonder what they are thinking, and hoping that when i develop the film i remember that moment and those thoughts, and see something i may have missed through the lens. can't wait to have access to a darkroom.

here are a few taken with my digital camera, the ones that were nice but didn't quite make the film cut.

Construction

2009-05-28T15:49:00.000-05:00

Past Excursions

2009-05-27T08:01:00.000-05:00

Calm Before Construction

2009-05-25T18:45:00.000-05:00