open your eyes. it's a beautiful day.

Being somewhat shy of 30 years old, I still (hopefully) have time to change my mind. Despite that, two things I want for certain are as follows:

1. I want to do good. Good in general, and not a poor substitute for saying 'I want to do well'. Not good for the sake of being good, but because I want to. I want to exude positivity as much as possible.
2. I want to be remembered. Not necessarily for being good, though I definitely would not be averse to that. If someone cares for me, it'd be nice to know that I cross their mind once in a while, whether I'm living or have passed on.

19 Sept '11, the fridge in my aunt's home, Woodland Hills, California

Anchor and I returned from our Los Angeles trip last evening. I departed with the feeling that I'd accomplished above points one and two without much energy at all. Granted, I probably could have done a lot less drinking, but that's a tiny drop (pun slightly intended) in an ocean of activity.

20 Sept '11, Point Fermin, San Pedro, California

When I traded the Southwest for the Northwest, I felt relieved. Indignant, even. It took more of me than expected to adhere to this long-term plan of moving and actually seeing it through, and it made be a tad bitter. I honestly let myself forget about LA for a while, even with all the online contact with others. 

I made a thousand miles seem like three times that number. I had to, as a defense mechanism for the way certain interactions had affected me.

The distance was necessary. Perhaps it still is, in some aspects that shall go unnamed for the moment. There's loads to sort out.

It has taken a few trips, a couple of years, and interacting with a delicate number of people, but I have finally come to appreciate southern California in full. It was home to me, and remains such for friends and family I value. I'd be a fool not to acknowledge these facts.

Frustrations about the city I lived in were minimal compared to the frustrations about the life I was living, the parts of myself I stifled. It's better to have realized that sooner than later, and I'm grateful for the closure I was so desperately seeking without being fully aware of it.

cities in common

Since last spring, I've completed two week-long trips to Boston. I might have just a tiny crush on the city.

I'd say that any time less than a week there wouldn't be fair - there's lots to take in (especially if you're from the west coast, as I am). Hell help you if you have people you know in the general Northeast area, not to mention if you happen to be travelling with someone who hails from the Northeast itself.

Boston is filled with gorgeous sights if you're lucky to catch it on a non-gloomy day, as is the case with the Northwest. Missing a glimpse of the Charles River is unacceptable. Taking the T can be quite the adventure in itself (as I can personally attest to after many mishaps on the Red). You'll also find yourself among some amazing food and drink, and insanely aggressive drivers. It is definitely a good time.


I did my second trip with my Anchor a week ago. It was a good time to take advantage of the opportunity to visit Connecticut for the first time, meet some new people and absolutely unparalleled new visions.

I have to say that the stuff I liked best about this Northeast trip were the chances I got in reconnecting with others - people who, for the most part, I'd met during my many years living in Los Angeles.

I am going to talk about three of them.



Gingerbread came to Boston on account of school, and is very passionately working at it.

He is one of the most mature teenagers I've had the pleasure of meeting, probably the result of lots of personal growth. Folks like Gingerbread just go to show you that people should not be immediately judged on the number of their years. I left our interactions feeling glad I'd reached out, and made a mental note to do more of it in the future.


Bubble made a short trip to meet me in Boston. Most of the time he was away soaking up the environment with an exciting new mademoiselle. He has the talent of coming off as full of positive energy, and he surrounds himself in a great percentage of it. I'd forgotten how easily he makes me smile with such little effort. It was truly a treat to chat with him, and I'm grateful the effort was made.


Last Chance was the one I ended being the most excited about, in the end. I'm not sure why, but our history in Los Angeles was fairly intense. Our correspondence hasn't always been strong, and I felt slightly disappointed when he chose his new home as Boston over Seattle (for obviously selfish reasons).

I can't explain why a casual trot turned into a good-to-honest sprint for a hug - in a hipster restaurant, no less. It didn't matter. I became captivated all over again, in the middle of a table of six, and digested more personal stories than I did any of the delectable food.



My last year in Los Angeles happened to be one of my most miserable. Bubble and Last Chance both contributed to bits of happiness I managed to snag along the way, so seeing them one after the other was overwhelming in the end.

I would do it all again.

I most likely will.



Boston being Anchor's old stomping grounds, it goes without saying that a trip to Los Angeles is long overdue. I suspended the idea of doing it in May because I felt going for an extended weekend wasn't enough for me. There are even more people to see than the ones I hooked up with (and didn't) in Boston, family, and those in between.

I don't regret leaving Los Angeles. It was time. Despite that, it is always good to return home for a while - a home in which I struggled, fought, sweated and bled. While I have forgiven all of those responsible (myself included), I don't risk forgetting the hard times, else I won't recognize the better ones when they come about.

W × L

When one of the last guys with camera I worked with told me that in editing the photos he'd done he'd taken the liberty of softening the areas where my stretch marks were I was almost horrified, but not for the reason(s) one might think.


It surprised even me: I was almost horrified because the immediate reaction to my stretch marks on his (and likely most folks') part was to hide them. I found that I didn't really want that, but did not end up protesting the action.


It may have to do with the fact that I have only recently acquired these, perhaps even grown used to them by now. 


I never dreamed I could gain weight, let alone have stretch marks.


Before I moved to Seattle I was ~three sizes smaller, unhealthy in fact, and not eating very well at all. Several years prior in high school I was quite honestly malnourished, anorexic. I hid myself in the baggiest clothes imaginable.






These days I have a wee bit of a tummy. It happened gradually, as my availability and quality of food improved in my coming up northwest.


Some days I'm not sure how to feel about that. I rummage through my clothing, frustrated, late for something, exhausted. Most of my clothes are made with tinier, flatter girls in mind, so parts of me give garments rounded shapes.


I can work it, though. I do. I watch so many others around me become positively radiant in the ways they carry themselves -- people I don't know, people I do. It gives me something to look forward to. It makes me smile.






With this, some other things must change, unfortunately. 


A good number of the people I'd like to shoot with have size requirements; a woman in Portland can't (or won't) shoot any females over size 6, and I don't think I'll ever be that again. I still continue to admire her work.


I have to usually make a point of asking photographers if they have limits to save us both the hassle of having to cancel appointments later.


I have realised that around the double digit dress size is usually when cute clothes become harder to find and more expensive, and when demand wanes.


I'm past the point of being broken up about it. Luckily I've encountered some who are willing to take me on, and even one who insisted he wanted to work with me as I am. It's for the chance to have more of those cases that keep me pressing on.






When things seem really awful and I discover that I've yet to shake the 'skinny is the only shape that is worthwhile and appealing' mindset, I remember precious moments of being silly with my friend Jamie. We grab our bellies, move them about, and have a good laugh.


The growth represents to me a graduation of sorts, from a lack of regard for myself to living a rich, more fulfilled life. I welcome it.


Beauty is encompassed in a number of diverse houses, and we should spend more time celebrating that instead of building a box round a few prim blocks.

rekindling old flames & the grateful train

I would call myself a hopeful romantic. It's easy for me to see the positives of a pairing possibility.


I walk into new ventures with plenty of smiles and my head held high. I listen, ask questions frequently, and am enthusiastic. 


I can say with no ego that my tenacity is astounding when I apply it; I like the chase and I'm good at seeing an end to it when I've decided I want to commit to something more.


The surges of energy are my favourite part. Goodness knows that my last long-term (long-distance) relationship had no shortage of 'em. The mind and body are more likely to go into overdrive after long periods of pleasure denial and short periods of desire fulfillment.






While the aforementioned's cheery and all that, the not-so-great aspects beg mentioning as well.


1. I have a habit of leaping before I look. I'm the sort that enjoys having her head in the clouds, but typically the result of that is learning the repercussions of such the hard way.


2. I often find myself doing things I don't want to do. Instead of attempting to strike up some sort of compromise that might include benefits for each person involved, I have a habit of letting others get their way because I believe I'll ruin everything if I don't. It's irrational, this fear, and I've already modified my behaviour to put this issue to rest (after lots of practice).


3. I overextend myself. The three all tie in, you see. New prospects are fairly exciting, and it's not uncommon to throw myself into the fray without considering that I may need some 'me' time. This may be the most common trait I share with others involved in similar romantic situations. It also may be the most difficult to rectify, as it comes into play elsewhere.






About 80% of this goes out the window if the romantic venture is a reconnection. The events leading up to the severing of ties previous is usually at the forefront of my mind. Paranoia. Second guessing.


It is likely that a rekindling will not see much success because of all of the things it has going against it, namely its history. Even if you get past that, there may be unexpected bumps in the road that are ill-handled. The damage can be irreparable. Fingers get pointed.


In times of frustration, anger or general pain, the first instinct fallacy (paraphrasing: 'your first instincts are your most correct') can easily come into play. For me, telling myself 'it's not my fault' is a coping mechanism to deal with the aftereffects of a break-up. Blaming others for the downfall of a relationship isn't necessarily the best idea. There needs to be some analysis, support from friends and/or family, and a period of mourning.






One behaviour change begets another. In changing Not-So-Great Aspect no. 2, I didn't realize that other changes would be affected. 


Mourning does not seem to be as important as it used to be; it expends tons of energy needed to do daily life tasks and enjoy people and activities. It is not altogether useless, especially if the history is long and intense, but there needs to be a cull at some point.




My experiences reconnecting with people on a romantic front has taught me a great deal, though I am no longer so keen on dating anyone from my past. 


The best I can do is try to keep some kind of platonic, warm tie alive with folks I've known very personally and intimately -- this is not always an available option, mind you. The best I can be is open about my shortcomings in the hopes that I can eventually sort them out. Sometimes only another person can reveal what these shortcomings are.






A close friend of mine recently said, "The day I stop learning, I die." I'm inclined to agree with her.