I quit. No not my resolution, but trying to understand society. I'm sitting at work totally upset. Today it's not because I work for minimum wage nor that it's a National holiday and I don't get holiday pay, I'm upset that it's a holiday, I'm making poop wages and I have to suffer through watching 2 hours of the Bachelor along with Celebrity Wife Swap. Why do people watch these shows? What is so fascinating about seeing women attack each other and an overwhelming amount of crying. Who thought it was acceptable to have a 30 sec promo with only sobbing women? Am I the only one that finds it to be misogynistic and sadistic? Is no one else disturbed by this? I just don't understand. If anyone has any insight into why these shows are so popular please let me know. So much crying!!! Luckily I had something to preoccupy myself. I shaved down my callouses and painted my toes. For once I'm thankful for my thick callouses. Next week I might wax my legs. I have to go through a whole season so I'm open to distraction recommendations.
My distraction setup
Oh wait I forgot my positive thoughts... I'm so thankful for nail polish. Done.
Resolution... make this year better than last. This shouldn't be too hard since last year was shit.
I'd like to sum up the past 12 months in a best and worst of list:
January: Injured hip (can't play sports)
February: Dealt with sexual harassment and overall awfulness at job
March: Unemployed
April: Turn 26
May: Start hating new minimum wage job
June: Car air conditioner breaks
July: Applied for food stamps
August: Still hate job
September: Adopted brother passes away
October: Hip is still broken, replacing muscle with fat, and 50% of paycheck is going trying to fix it
November: Broke and holidays are here and no car heater
December: 2 year anniversary since I've moved home with parents
Now there are people that have it worse than I do so this is not a competition... well unless I thought I was gonna win, but I'm not... right?
I know I shouldn't start the year being a downer so that's why I'm starting this blog. I need to start being inspired. Take my life into my own hands. If I can complain it's because I know the solution. Not true but it sounded good the first time I heard it. I don't know the answer and I will still continue to complain. Even though I don't fully comprehend how I'll make this year better I am going to start taking steps to better myself. First thing, blog. Blog every day... well as much as I can. NO every day! Ok #2 I'm a photographer with a degree for goodness sakes so next thing is to start taking pictures... every day? So far this is doable right? I keep looking at the clock cause I have 48 minutes to finish this blog or I already fail my resolution. With the time in mind I'll stop there. Damn I forgot the 2011 best of list. This shouldn't take long.
1.... umm... got a puppy (more broke)
2. and a boyfriend (this can go on both lists... I kid... only cause he'll prob read this... kisses?)
3. oh ya that dumb ass broke as shit hate my life f*&#ing year is over!
Breathe. Only positive thoughts. Ok 2012 let's do this!
January 1, 2012 and I have successfully gone through one day of the new year without breaking my resolutions. Blog done with 32 minutes to spare... 31.
Picture of the day: Roarrior the Catzilla reminding me that holidays are over.
I only said a picture every day... never that it was going to be a great one... 29 min.
The
Brown girls are embarking on a huge adventure that we have never done
before.... we are going to Chicago for Jesus! We went to a conference a
couple months back and heard about a bigger conference in Chicago and
felt lead to go. Now we need God to send us there financially because we
are all struggling but through one of the ways is help from our
friends.
We decided we are going to put on a yard/art sale to help raise money for the trip.... traveling cost, housing, and food. There are a few ways that you can help
1. Donating anything that you don't want for the yard sale. We will take furniture, clothes, jewlery, etc
2.
We invite our friends to set up their own art to help themselves raise
money. I will use Meegan for example (she makes hats and she sold some
lovely hats at the last yart sale) So if you have any sell-able art then
please come and set up.
3. Simply donating
We want to
make this kind of a modern type yard sale party. We will have music,
BBQ, , sweets, art tables etc.... kinda like a bloc party. Please let me
know if you are interested in doing anything or have any questions and
we shall converse. Thanks so much!
It all started with a conference my mom wanted me and my sister to go to. It was called "Jesus Culture". Now don't get me wrong, I love Jesus, I love me a lot of Jesus, but I feel like I have heard of "Jesus" conferences and I either end up trying to sleep in a uncomfy chair, or end up setting there fuming because of some comment someone made about all women needed to procreate or something. But my mom is really good at guilt tripping sooooo, we went.
Now first off the worship just made you crave for more Jesus, you could feel the spirit so heavy in the room that you wanted to be a part of the movement. It was elevating. The worship went on for over an hour, normally I would have sat down and be done with it already, but when it ended it was almost sad. My spirit was unsatisfied, I wanted more.
The speakers came out and were all awesome. They all talked about their personal journeys with God and the power of the spirit. It was truly inspiring. I would go into more detail but we just dont have that kind of time today.
During the course of the 3 day conference they kept mentioning a bigger conference in Chicago. I kinda brushed it off because, oh I donno, its in CHICAGO. I mean I would love to go, but because of everyones current financial situations, ahem, my parents, lets be honest they pay for a lot, it just never occurred to me to ever consider it. A few days went by and my mom said that she really felt it in her heart that we were supposed to go to the conference. I kinda laughed because I felt it in my heart but I figured that was because I just want to go to Chicago. Well when the weeks continued of wanting to be a part of this movement in Chicago we finally decided as the Brown Family Girls, that we were going to embark on this adventure.
Then comes the fund raising. See, im the fun one, not the "lets sit down and figure this out" one. So, although I am on board to help, it wasn't ever really a motivation. UNTIL, I saw the movie Source Code. They panned over this magical city right in the beginning of the movie, I thought it was a made up set or something because I have never seen anything like it, nope, wasn't made up, it was CHICAGO. Thats when I started my motivation. I am so excited to start this adventure to go to Chicago with my sister and mom. We have always been girls to take a city by storm and I have the faith that God will get us there one way or another. If that means hitchhiking by an airport, so be it. Im in.
It seems that the Brown Girls adventures have always been pretty split up, we have had great adventures but not really as all three. This time we will leave with sparkles in our eyes, more in love with Jesus, and memories that we will be able to share forever.
Thank you Jesus for this opportunity. Thank you for being the best lover that we will ever find, and thank you for sweeping us off our feet daily and soon sweeping us over to Chicago.
Also, thank you ahead of time for those who are keeping us in your prayers and supporting us in any ways you can.
We will continue to update this blog throughout this adventure and do our best to bring you along
"Non-fat, no water, no foam, extra hot chai, please." Mmmm. My liquid love. Yes I am one of those. The kind that knows what they want. I am a person who enjoys trying new things and experimenting, but when it comes to Starbucks I rarely waver. It is the only place, other than the gym, where I've been considered a "regular". The barista could start making my drink when I walk through the door. Starbucks is the only social meeting place open late in my home town, or really any other town I've been to... well, other than fast food and bars. My parents would go to Starbucks in the morning to get away from us kids and me and my sis would go in the evening to get away from the parents. When I was in college, I went to Starbucks to aid and distract me in my studies. Now I go to Starbucks because it reminds me of home. In Europe, Starbucks isn't on every corner. So when I would see a Starbucks, my heart would skip and my mouth would start to water because amongst the new and exciting, I would crave something familiar.
I used to feel bad not supporting the local trendy indie coffee shops or European cafes when Starbucks dominates the brewing world, but they all had their chance. When I explored out of my comfort zone, I'd be disappointed when the chai would be made with powder instead of syrup, or water instead of milk, or it would be too sweet, or not sweet enough. The worst part of all my trials and errors with the locals is that it wasn't any cheaper than Starbucks. So I had to suffer through all of the less than adequate chais without any relief to my wallet. I don't know why, but Starbucks just does it the best... with my alterations, of course. I always return a little ashamed I ever abandoned my first love and it's true about never forgetting those... It was a cold winter evening back when I was 16 years old and my friend recommended this hot tea that she promised tasted like pumpkin pie. I've been in love ever since.
If anyone needed a favor from me the magic words were, "I'll get you a chai... from Starbucks of course." Every time it was worth it... well except for that one time when my sister and mom wanted me to be my sister's "subject" in her cinema make-up school final project. I objected until they told me they would add some mullah on my sb (yep I shorthand Starbucks) card. Some might think "Oh how nice that your sister wants you to be her subject. You should be flattered, not bribed". Ya well you get in a swimsuit in front of wanna be models (with real portfolios), get lathered up in grease, walk in 6 in. heels, eyebrows plucked until bleeding point, and then have your sister say, "my model won't quit eating" just because you were the only one who was enjoying the free lunch platter, then go on the subway still covered in grease and glitter and 2 cans of hairspray keeping up your Mohawk, and then wonder how you'll ever get your self-esteem back. So, that was the one time chai wasn't worth it.
Anywho back on subject. The reason I dedicated a whole blog to Starbucks is because not only does it satisfy my sweet, warm, spicy cravings, Starbucks cafes transport me to a familiar, safe, comfortable haven. No matter if I'm at home trying to escape family drama or in Istanbul, Turkey sightseeing on a 4 hour layover, it is the same low light warm tone ambiance that brings me in. Also, a "grande chai" is the same in German, Bulgarian, Arabic, etc. So no matter how far away I am, how foreign I might feel once I walk through Starbucks' door I feel a little bit of home and I know what to expect when I order. There isn't anything or anywhere else that I've discovered that brings such an instant feeling of comfort and belonging. Right now I am writing this in my comfort zone with my liquid love's warm touch near by. Even when home doesn't feel likes home Starbucks is always there as my home away from home away from home.
I had less than 1 month left before my contract ended and I wanted to end with something amazing. I chose to do a video for NYI (Nazarene Youth International) as my last project. Since this is for youth, I thought I could be a little more unique and creative. I quickly realized that a promo video for the youth of Eursia was a broad concept and complex project. So after a lot of brainstorming... and delays... and more brainstorming, we finally figured out what to do.... stop-motion.
Stop-motion: a style of animation that sounds like a great idea until you start working on it.
Academic definition of stop motion: is an animation technique to make a physically manipulated object appear to move on its own. The object is moved in small increments between individually photographed frames, creating the illusion of movement when the series of frames is played as a continuous sequence.
So this is some insight into my last few weeks.
Thursday: brain storm.... "We'll have a map, then paint each field, then have landmarks pop-up like: Eiffel tower, Taj Mahal, temples. Ya ya. Then we'll have painted hands show info about the field... yes yes yes... We've got it!" Friday: make a list of what we need: paint, markers, people for the hands
Monday: get paint, markers, sheet, letters, project map onto the sheet, sketch map Tuesday: paint, paint, paint, pic, pic, pic Wednesday: paint, paint, paint (russia is ginormous and my back is starting to hurt) pic, pic, pic Thursday: finalize script, cut out landmarks, import 1,000 pix, edit, find music Friday: have a headache, neck spasm, regret doing stop-motion
Monday: pick song, take 3 hours to fix one picture in photoshop Tuesday: paint hands, pic, pic, pic, import, edit Wednesday: edit every frame to music (24 frames in a second) Thursday: keep timing music to video Friday: can't stand to hear the song or watch the video ever again
Monday: final edits Tuesday: make a vow to never do stop-motion again Wednesday: finished
click below to see some of my blood, sweat, and tears... in motion.
Katmandu, I love you. God, how did I get so lucky? Those were my thoughts as I looked out over the Himalayas at the top of Mt. Nagarkot. I had just been running through the mountains (well hills compared to my surroundings) to get to the highest point, which ended up being a helicopter-landing pad. I was all alone soaking in the wonderment surrounding me. I just couldn’t believe I was here. How did I get here?
Well you might be asking the same question right now. After my team’s trip to Bangladesh, we flew to Nepal to capture the progress being made with the showing of the Jesus Film and other compassionate ministries, along with teaching a communication class. Well, they don’t have any ministries in Nagarkot, but our host thought it would be nice to catch the sunrise over Mt. Everest. What a great idea! So from Kathmandu we hopped in a taxi and headed to the top of this mountain. I think I only anticipated death once or twice, I’m must be getting used to the extreme sport of South Asia driving. Once we got to our hotel, we didn’t waste any time, we grabbed our equipment and walked around to grab more b-roll (secondary footage that is intercut with the main footage). I was amazed at everyone’s friendliness, greeting us with a “nameste” (blessings in Nepali, yes like in yoga). When we stopped for some chai (tea), I saw some military men running for a training regimen. That inspired me. I had brought my running shoes, but had yet to use them... until then. Within the first 5 minutes, I noticed that the altitude added an extra burn in my lungs, but I loved it. I wanted to go as high as I could get. I got weird stares from other tourists and the locals, but I was still greeted with a “nameste”, and I wheezed back a “naahmseh” between my gulping breaths. I stumbled onto a sign that pointed to a tower. I thought, “hmm towers are high”, so off I went into the woods losing sight of the last trekker. I knew that if anything happened to me, no one would ever find me, but what a way to go out. I’m not a huge risk taker. I don’t go base-jumping or swim with sharks, but there are just some things where I can’t let fear take over.
When I got to the top, it was worth it; the burning lungs and legs, fear of being lost or worse. The view was majestic. I couldn’t see all the mountains due to the haze, but no tree was blocking my 360-degree view; I was in awe. All I could hear was the zephyr and a few chirps. I was completely alone and on top of the world. However, darkness was creeping in and since there aren’t any streetlights to guide me back I picked up my pace. I arrived 6 minutes too early for my hour run, so I found a plateau with another incredible view. Once again I was speechless. I just couldn’t believe I was at the top of a mountain in Nepal. I was overcome with gratitude; I was surprised to feel tears stream down my face. I’m rarely moved with emotion in this way. I know it sounds corny, it felt a little strange and cheesy. It was a new experience to be surrounded by such greatness and wonder. I felt so alive, like nothing would ever match this feeling. I was overwhelmed with marvel that I was thrown to my knees thanking God for this world, this opportunity, my life. I wondered what could I do to get this feeling again? What would it feel like at the top of Mt. Everest? I never wanted to leave. I then realized that greatness is all around me at every moment; everywhere I go. For me, I felt the majesty of God so strongly at the top of this mountain, but others might feel it when they stick their feet in the warm sand of the California beaches. What greatness have I seen, but not realized? It’s everywhere.
The swirling wind warned me of an approaching storm so I hurried back. If I was not amazed by the glory and power I’d seen during my run, I was even more captivated later that night. Around midnight, Simone and I were startled by a loud crash outside our windows. Not long after came the blinding flash of lightning. That night we stayed up to watch what felt like a battle between the gods. We got out of bed and went to the top level of our hotel to watch the scene. I’ve never seen such a storm. The lightning lit up the sky with only seconds between them. It reminded me of bombs going off in war movies or the flashing lights of the paparazzi. If there was a trailer to a movie I think it would go like this, (with that guy narrating that has the deep action movie voice) "The dark clouds shouted bursts of anger that scattered through the sky. The lightning tried to escape the stifling dominance of the clouds embrace. The rumble of its resistance screamed in our ears. The battle was won when lightning pierced through the cloud's skin and touched down to earth. Tears streamed down the clouds for the loss of its power no longer hidden within. While the clouds cried and the lightning gloated, the dry earth rejoiced for the comfort of its long lost love". Well, I celebrated with the lightning until 2:30am.
Two hours later, I woke up regretting last night's party as I have many times before. I gathered up my equipment to catch the no longer "much anticipated" sunrise. We set up the camera in the direction we thought the sun would rise, but we slowly realized we were wrong. Due to the clouds and haze our 4:30 am sunrise turned into only a 10 minutes glimpse of a hazy sun. By 6:00 am the sun was up, but still hidden by clouds, which were obviously getting revenge because I cheered for the lightning the night before. So we packed up our stuff and accepted the temptress sun and grabbed another hour of sleep before heading back down the mountain.
We picked up Dilli (Nazarene Compassionate Ministries Coordinator) along the way to visit a ministry center and get another interview. I wandered around the village taking pictures while Steve and Simone filmed the interview. It didn’t take long before a crowd of kids surrounded me, soon followed by their parents. One of the little girls, around 9 years old, spoke a little English. She became my interpreter to the crowd. She was definitely a leader, and everyone knew it. Everyone listened to her and she always seemed to find herself in the focal point of my camera.
While I had been in South Asia, I had never thought that the women I met were strong and independent, I mean I didn't think they were weak or subservient. When I think of independent women, they are in power suits motivated by the rights they’ve earned through women’s liberation. I realized that just because women wear traditional clothes, work in the field, and cook, doesn’t mean that they don’t have a voice in their community. Now women’s rights in South Asia still need improvement, but they are making progress. Even the church is helping women provide a second income for their family, self-help groups that allow women to brainstorm about ways to help their community and protect each other from injustice.
So I realized that I had met many strong, self-reliant women. For example, 2 nights before, we went to a village outside of Kathmandu to interview Sarita, a woman impacted by the Jesus Film. Her house was in complete darkness, and I had to feel my way to a wooden ladder to climb to the second floor, the only source of light was from one bulb hanging in the corner and the last rays of the setting sun through a hole in the wall. We sat on the dirt floor and interviewed this woman while she was surrounded by her family. She told us about how she came to know Christ through the Jesus Film Ministry. She is one of the only Christians in her village, but hopes to bring the truth of Jesus to everyone she knows. The most memorable part of her interview was when she said, “If I don’t eat for two or three days that is fine, but if I don't attend a Bible study I feel so unsatisfied". The Jesus Film was being shown outside her house. There was no DVD player on a HD TV; the film was projected onto a white sheet that was taped to the side of one of the houses. It didn’t take long for the whole village to gather to watch the film. The children sat on the ground while their parents stood in the back. Sarita invited us into her house for dinner, rice. It was cooked in a way I’ve never had before. It was like it was fried with water instead of oil; very chewy. As I ate I remembered what Sarita had said just an hour before and wondered, “How many days would she go hungry for hosting us?” I no longer wanted to eat. I have enough to eat. I never have to experience hunger, painful, gripping hunger. So why should I be so honored to take food away from her? I wanted to give her back her food, but I knew she would take it as an insult.
When we left, one of the men we came with traded his spot in the car for a woman so she didn’t have to walk back. It would now take him an hour to walk home. No one seemed to think that this was a great deal except for me, “Oh its fine, it’s only an hour.” I guess in the land of trekking anything under a week isn’t very long.
On our last day we stopped at the Monkey Temple, named from its immense monkey residence. At the top of the temple was a hazy view of Kathmandu. I really like that name, Kathmandu. This was a Buddhist temple; the eyes give it away, and in one of the sanctuaries I was surprised by the friendly welcoming Buddhist monks who let me sightsee while others monks were chanting. I felt like an intruder, but none of the other tourists inside seemed to be disturbed by it. I guess like many other historical European churches, the donations of tourists are a big part of the their funding.
As soon as we made our way down the temple, we were off the next one; a Hindu temple. At this temple I had one of my most memorable connection with another religion. I was a little more surprised than I should have been to see people using religion for a personal gain. For example, there were Hindu “priests” or “holy men” dressed up in traditional clothing charging tourists for pictures with them.
Now I have never met a priest, pope, or pastor that had a photo booth, but I have found Disneyland-like coin machines inside Notre Dame. Anyways, what really struck me was the funeral process we witnessed. There were two going on simultaneously. Like most tourists, I was intrigued, but it quickly didn't feel right to take pictures, even though they do the ceremony out in the open for all to see. To start off the ceremony, the deceased are wrapped in cloth and covered with flowers and laid down by a river (dirtiest water I’ve seen since Mexico). Then holy men come and perform certain ceremonial preparations such as prayers with incense, as family members throw coins and flowers on their loved one's body. The deceased is then placed on a pile of wood and lit on fire. Then their ashes are thrown into the stream. One of the most difficult parts of the ceremony to endure was seeing young boys scrounge the smoldering remains for small treasures like change, jewelry, and watches. It was unsettling to watch women, mothers, daughters weep for their loss, while kids ravaged their loved one's body that had just been dumped in the murky water. I wouldn’t want my body laid out in public for tourist passersby, and then looted before my ashes cool. What would be even worse is while mourning, seeing the person I loved defiled and disrespected. I just couldn’t fathom why anyone would want to partake in this kind of ritual. I just couldn’t understand or relate. However, when I looked at the mourners, I realized that it didn’t matter one's religion or traditions, the pain of loss love is still there and that sadness is the same everywhere I go. No matter what one believes happens after death, losing someone you love hurts, a lot. We are all human. I felt honored to be apart of this intimate moment, but ashamed to be a tourist taking pictures of someone’s suffering. If someone walked into a funeral back home to gawk and take pictures of my rituals, how would they be received? Not well. I wonder as Christians if the suffering is any less because we believe we will see our loved ones again some day. Does this hope take away some of the pain? I wondered what hope this Hindu mother had, reincarnation? I don’t know, but I’m thankful for my hope.
Our next stop was to Thamal a busy shopping district. Pashmina (cashmere) are Nepal specialties, but with the heat I couldn’t muster the energy to try anything on. By this time it was already 5pm and we were having dinner at our host's house for our last meal of traditional Nepali food. It was one of the best meals of our whole South Asia trip. There were at least ten different dishes and out of courtesy, of course, I tried every single one. Delicious. When I couldn’t fit in another grain of rice, our host brought out a plate of fresh mangos. I ate two whole mangos and later discovered that this would be my demise.
The next day started off smoothly. We flew back into Dhaka where we had a couple hours to wait for our flight home. I was starting to feel a little queasy, nothing too unusual for this trip. Our next flight was to Dubai where we had an 8-hour layover 1am to 9am, plenty of time to explore the sleeping city. We grabbed a taxi and got a tour of what appeared to be the next bigger and better Las Vegas, which is incredible because our taxi driver said it all used to be desert a couple years ago. There were ginormous skyscrapers, mile-long shopping districts, extravagant hotels like a 7 star hotel (looked like a spaceship). I don’t know what makes it 7 stars, but the rumor is gold flatware (just learned that "goldware" is not a word) and a tennis court on the 20th level. Soon our adventurous eyes were red and puffy, so we headed back to the airport where we all slept in a coffee shop.
Our final flight from Dubai to Zurich was the worst traveling experience of my life. My queasiness hadn’t gone away and it was getting rapidly worse. I didn’t eat much that day, but just drank some ginger ale. That did the trick… and I mean trick. I rushed to the bathroom and rid myself of what used to be my favorite meal. I went back to my seat assuming a fast recovery. Oh wishes. On my last trip to the bathroom an angry woman harassed me. As I was kneeling on the disgusting airplane bathroom floor someone knocked on the door. I opened the door and this is how it went, “I’m sorry, but I’m getting sick.” You would think that would be enough said and someone would leave you alone. I quit assuming after that. The lady said, “Well this is not your personal bathroom you can get a bag if you are sick.” Now this wasn’t a prop plane with maybe two bathrooms, this plane was huge; it sat 3, 5, 3 across with first and business class as well. So out of 10 bathrooms in sight, why did she have to be at mine? It is amazing how quickly grace leaves me. What I wanted to do was throw up all over her. If had a spew trigger I would have used it.I wished I could say that I turned the other cheek, because that is what it says to do in the Bible, but the truth was I didn’t have the energy to fight back. If I could have transmitted my sickness to her just to repeat her own phrase, I would have. So I grabbed a hurl bag and carried it with me all the way home, where I curled up in the fetal position for the rest of the week sick with a parasite. Stupid mangos.
Not the best ending to my trip, but as I laid in anguish or what I thought was my deathbed, and I was too tired to read, not committed enough for a movie, and not strong enough to sit up to use the computer, I thanked God for podcasts… and more importantly friends. My bunk bed was turned into an easy access ground bunker, soup happened to find itself at my side, and a certain um sample got to the doctor… that is true friendship. So in my “last” moments I was thankful, even though till this day I have lost my appetite for soup… and mangos.
Below is the video of Sarita
A little slideshow below
Here is nice song for you... song+slideshow=less boring slideshow.
