Bay Area

Good to be Home

July 10, 2012

My grandmother covering her face from the camera. Picture by my brother.

I am semi settled back in California. Adjusting a little bit still. In New York it’s all, ‘Go! Go! Go!‘ and in California it’s a sudden slow down to just ‘Go.

It’s nice to be back near my family, friends, and doggies. Life is good!

 


More to come very soon in the shop. I have so much to photograph and add! I am constantly on the search for new and more product. I am trying to find a more varying size range as well–especially on the size 20+ side of the plus size range. Slowly but surely it’s coming along!


Time Suckage

June 15, 2012

Me, getting ready for senior prom.

Last night was graduation for the seniors at my old high school. Seeing the bright lights of the stadium against the black sky and watching the stream of well wishers entering the stadium for the ceremony gave me a sense of déjà vu.


I felt a surreal “woosh” effect of being transported back to my graduation day. 17 years old, so young, so full of dreams, ready to bite into that apple…  I wanted to jump in full force. 

It’s hard to believe that it has been 9 years already. 

Looking back at all that I have done in that time, it seem pretty significant. When you are actually going through it, you feel like you’re walking in place–like you’ll never get to that perfect point in your life. That point where all of  your accomplishments have been accomplished and you can have a self satisfied sense of completeness. 

What my 17 year old self of 9 years ago didn’t know is that, that feeling is forever. Nothing is ever perfect or complete.  Things wouldn’t mean anything if they were. You wouldn’t want it to be, because that would mean an end to who you are.

In some sense I feel like the exact same person, in another I feel like I’m on another planet from that girl. Some days I feel like my teen years were just yesterday and others feel like I’ve lived 100 lifetimes since that time.


I guess at core, I am her and she is me–only better.

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