MMXIV

call me Moonflower

I have had some strange new years.

I went from being in a crappy relationship in California with a dude that refused to kiss me at the countdown at an awkward house party, to last year in Portland not knowing hardly anyone in the city and celebrating on my own at a barcade, kissing a total stranger, and having a Canadian couple take me under their wing buying me drink after drink and playing pinball with, to this year in Seattle having new friends who got me free tickets to a show and a new guy with a ton of champagne an eager for a kiss.

Things appear to be looking up.

I don't do new year's resolutions because it's just a fading fad. I'm not going to eagerly vow to lose weight or eat healthier or do whatever because fuck it, I am who I am. My only goal ever truly is to create stories, have fun, and grow as an individual and that's not pertinent to what time of the year it is, it's just my life philosophy. 

Doing what I love is a huge privilege that I don't intend to take for granted anymore. This includes both photography and travel. When you find what you're passionate about, you just gotta keep with it, right? 

These past few years have been immense growing opportunities and I'm happy to do a year in review. After all, this is the year I spent in Portland creating lasting friendships that I'll cherish for a lifetime, took some of my absolutely favorite landscape photographs, and yeah, even the year that I fell in love with a great guy.

So here's 2014 in review;

//January was the first time I saw Multnomah Falls, and within first moving to Portland immediately took a trip to Washington, the Big Four Ice Caves, and Cougar.

here's me being all kinds of pensive

//February was the celebration of my 25th year of being on this planet and also the month I met my partner in crime...

//March enjoying the state's capitol in March and glorious cherry blossoms for golden hour in Salem, OR

//April was when my bestie came up to visit and I surprised her by taking her to the Tulip Fields

//May is when I became the motherfuckin' butterfly whisperer...

...jk, but I did explore the Columbia River Gorge

that's also when I befriended my soul sister, Casey whose friendship I value tremendously!

//June is when I photographed Portland's Naked Bike Ride

and also when I took a personal day to pick some lavender

//June called for a road trip to Canada to shoot the Pemberton Music Festival and my queen, Annie Clark

and when I hiked through a river to reach a waterfall at Oneonta Gorge

//August by then it'd been roughly a year since my first solo camping trip, so it felt like it was just about time to do it again. I didn't expect the thunderstorm while camping or the summer  cold that ensued, but it was a therapeutic experience, always.

//September was when I took a ladies camping trip to Thor's Well, but we only made it at low tide womp, womp.

we were told you'd be able to see the Northern Lights from Portland, so I gathered my favorite ladies and tried to see what we could capture. While we couldn't see anything after all, we had some fun playing with night photography. 

//October was when I did a pregnancy shoot for a good friend, and little baby Ismael came soon after!

//November was when I shoot the Squarespace cruise event on the Portland Spirit, here's everyone singing Bohemian Rhapsody.

also I moved to Seattle.

//December spent the holidays in Houston, TX

2014 was rad.

2015 is shaping up to be even radder.

I'm digging this life trend of each year being better than the last, and I intend to keep it up. I guess you could call that... my resolution, after all.

x

To be or not to be: the ideal self and the problem with New Year's resolutions

(This is where I spent my New Year's celebration. FYI, don't light sparklers indoors.)

Ok, so this post is kind of a week late. Whatever.

I have mixed feelings regarding New Year's Resolutions. I think it can be a burden and disheartening (when you inevitable fail to lose 20 lbs in two months!) to hold yourself up to crazy expectations with the change of the calendar. But I also believe that growth and change should be a constant journey and stagnation the enemy.

I knew someone who once not-very-humblug bragged about how much better he was than those of us struggling to get our lives together, simply because he had a spouse and had figured out what he wanted to do with his life ages ago. Inevitably, life plays cruel tricks on us all as we learn that growth is a lifelong process with no real destination in sight.

I guess more than anything these "resolutions" are aspirations of what I want to see come about in 2013, as there are a lot of changes occurring.

So these are my New Year's Desires, Aspirations, Hopes, and Dreams. (Ok, they're just resolutions.)

1. Go Big or Go Home

Twenty-thirteen seems to be the year full of lasts, and as a result should be chalk-full of lasting memories. This is the year that my best friend after marvelously being accepted to Humboldt will be moving 12 hours away to Arcata to work on her Bachelor's sometime around Summer. My closest and dearest friends from High School will be moving up to Sacramento (what is that, 9 hour away? Come on, people!) to room together during the upcoming year as well. This is the year of last birthdays spent together but this is also the year of fun Firsts. Like the inevitably road trip to Arcata to help my friend get acquainted with her new hometown. This just means everything is going to have to be that much more amazing and memorable. 

2. Photograph. A lot.

Having grown tired of  not following my ambitions I decided on a whim to sign up for UCLA's Photography Program. That's right, I'll finally be taking time out of my not-so-busy schedule to learn a few new tips and tricks for my favorite pastime. March will mark my last days as a Highlander at UC Riverside and with it comes my degree in Psychology. But also in March I will become a Bruin, and that's pretty damn cool.

3. Travel

My fondest memories of my youth are of my summer's spent in the pueblo's of Mexico exploring the landscapes on horseback with my Father or laying beachside the absolutely mind-blowingly warmth (seriously, I'm talking bath water warm) of the waters in the playas Lo De Marcos in Rincon de Guayabitos. So stunningly perfect was it all that I committed every bit of it to memory. I saw that beach again two years ago, since then having become privatized much to my mother's annoyance and chagrin, but the water's remained every bit as glorious as my memory recalled. The point is as an adult it's time to make my own lasting memories of travel in marvelous places. This is my year.

4. Work Out

As much as I joke about what a pain and burden it is to work out, I really need to get back into it again. I realized that 2012 was the year of the slob. I can't possibly let that happen again. Twenty-thirteen is my year! Literally, the Chinese Zodiac dictates that it is once again the Year of the Snake so it's my time to reign supreme. But yeah, I'll be training for a 5k and joining in on Cardio Kickboxing and Total Body Toning classes at the gym once more (or just jump onto an elliptical somedays, whatever). See also: hiking.

5. Meditate

My mental health took one hell of a beating last year leaving me diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder and suffering from occasional Panic Attacks. Yes, occasional, as in it's that bad. It's really not anything I ever feel comfortable sharing with anyone besides family and my therapist. Because it sucks and to some extent the Average Joe simply doesn't know what to make of it when I say reality doesn't feel real, ya dig? After a series of meetings with my therapist it's finally been determined that I am eligible to take part in Biofeedback meetings which is essentially a means of teaching me how to calm down and organize my inner turmoil. I also insist that I must continue to attempt to do yoga.

6. Read

I must admit I did significantly better last year than I have in previous years (I'd say since High School) so I'm just going to go with it and keep it up. This year I've already finished reading Bossypants by Tina Fey and am well underway with On The Road by Jack Kerouac. There are also the remaining Game of Thrones series that I need to finish, that is if they can stop breaking my heart enough to become engrossed in the storyline again.

7. Create

Back in October I made my own Princess Mononoke Mask out of papier mache, clay and acrylic paint. Seeing the end result as a result of my own two hand's hard work left me feeling proud. Since then I've taken up knitting (I'm still trying to open up my own knit goods shop, Winterwear Is Coming) and I'm attempting to purchase my own pineapple ukulele. I'd love to get back into painting/drawing and I'm also trying to keep up with this blog and writing. 

8. Hike

This is important. It's become all too obvious to me that the more time I spend indoors the more stagnant and annoyed I become. I really must make the effort to be outdoors (and fit) and hike more often. 

That's it. Those are my resolutions. These are desires that I think I've nurtured for quite some time now and I think it's time I start paying attention to them.

Happy New Year.

Goals for Winter

This year has been completely volatile for me. Luckily it's almost up and the time to start anew is nearly here! I've decided in an effort to keep up my mood I'm going to start seasonal goals, little forms of achievement and accomplishment and good times! This idea was inspired by The Dainty Squid's Fall Goals. Today marks the end of Autumn but tomorrow begins Winter, so I'll start there.

Winter Goals

photograph more (I can't emphasize this enough!)

play in the snow (Rupert included!)

hike more

bike more

snowboard 

start up knit shop

find a mahvelous New Year's party to get fancy for

visit somewhere with gorgeous Winter scenery

have an amazing birthday party

purchase and learn to play the ukelele

finish playing Skyward Sword

yoga/meditation/exercise

add-ons:
get my own recurve bow and practice archery
take Rupert on walks 

and, well, if I manage to come up with anymore I'll add them as they come. 

So that's it.

After this quarter, I’m done.

I have already begun to receive commencement e-mails stating upcoming filing deadlines and appointments I need to keep.

In April I get to be rid of these godawful braces once and for all.

In June I get to take part in the commencement ceremony that I’ve watched them set up for the past two years with envious eyes. When will my time come?

This quarter marks the end of all my requirements and necessary units. But due to my failed eagerness to study abroad I’ll have one last quarter to fill with unnecessary electives, just for kicks. That’s when I came across and beginning book arts class where I’ll learn to bind a book, as well as typesetting and letterpress. I’m also taking a Psychology elective that I know damn well would look good on a future Psych resume but I can’t help feeling like I’m taking it more for show than anything else.

That book arts class though? Yeah. That feels right. I take immense pleasure and pride from making something with my own two hands. I just do. The act itself of creating is a therapeutic process in which I become so engrossed in what I am doing that nothing else could possibly matter. My Psych of Happiness professor called that phenomena “flow.”

Recently all of my best friends came out with excellent and surprising news that inevitably ended with all three of them moving up to Nor Cal rather shortly and unexpected. I’m happy for them, fuck am I happy and proud of these people that I’ve shared my best and worst moments with. I’m so proud of their success and that they’re following their dreams, that they’re growing up so wonderfully right before my eyes.

But behind my cheers and grins, inside I could feel my panic rising. What are you doing that’s worth cheering? I keep having this feeling rise up that I haven’t accomplished that I have wanted to,  that I am not quite what I always anticipated I’d become. This feeling of being lost and not knowing what I’m doing next. Then I have to slow it down (my breathing, usually, to stop the surmounting panic attack that’s about to extinguish my reasoning), and remind myself not of where I am but of where I’m going.

I’m graduating soon. I will have earned my Bachelor’s Degree in Psychology from UC Riverside.

I’m hard on myself, yes. I know that I’m capable of more, that I should have finished earlier, that I should have done better. But fuck it. Why live in the shoulda, coulda, woulda’s? I did what I could and the finish line is within my horizon and I get to easily traipse across it now.

Now I’ll be able to focus more on what feels right, anyway, without fear. I’ll have the advancement of my degree to pursue in the not-too-distant future but for now I want to focus on me, on my needs, and on creating, on exploring, on adventures.

My friends might acknowledge that I’m always throwing out random ideas to visit far-away places. Which of course no one can afford, always to my chagrin. But that’s okay.

I always find a way.

the other singularity

Two years ago I wrote a research paper on the technological singularity, because my English prof. seemed rather nerdy and into sci fi so I thought I'd play it up a bit for a good grade. But I found out some rather spectacular information.

Moore's law states that the number of transistors per square inch on integrated circuits has doubled every year since the integrated circuit was invented. This means that each time it doubles the productive of the computer hardware doubles as well. So computers are getting smarter, get it? The singularity is the point at which humans will cease to be able to continue this trend and the computers will build more efficient machines. Computers building computers, can you kind of see how freaky that could be?

Anyway, there's this guy named Ray Kurzweil who is a bit of a genius and inventor of the synthesizer. Everyone accepts that this guy is a genius. Well, when his father passed away he vowed to live long enough to reach the singularity so that he could download his memories onto a computer and recreate a being like his father. What? Well, the way Kurzweil describes it is that the human body is our hardware and our memories are our software. All hardware eventually begins to malfunction and needs to be replaced whereas the software can be saved. When I came across this guy, I literally thought he'd lost his marbles with the death of his dad and was trying to find a way to evade death. He takes 150 pills a day to be healthy and extend his life span so as to live long enough to see the singularity.

Also, The Big Band Theory did an episode about this where Sheldon came to realize that in order to survive he would have to hide out in his bedroom because his body is so weak and prone to accidents. Hilarity ensued.

But! This whole idea creeps me out! Sure, you can download memories and create a machine that mimics your actions and beliefs but is it really you? Doesn't your essence, your soul (ugh, and I say this for lack of a better word...), reside solely in your body? To everyone else, perhaps it might be "you," but for you once you die, you're dead. This entire concept seems purely selfish to me.

Can't deal with death? Don't have to! Download your aging parents today for low monthly cost of $199.99 until you can't stand them, then unplug them!

Humans are getting out of control with technology. It's one thing to attempt to make your life more comfortable but this robotics, genetics and nanotechnology has the ability to get way out of control in the wrong hands and I think this is something we're going to encounter in our life.

Although, the idea of using nanotechnology in order to clean up our atmosphere sounds pretty awesome. Let's move forward with that, please. And lets start using hemp for all of our paper needs instead of cutting down the rainforest.

Prop 19

I don't know shit about politics.

A few days ago at school there was a debate on-campus regarding Prop 19 between a retired DEA agent and the editor of High Times magazine. One of the biggest things I took from the debate was the DEA saying, "Now, most of you will probably boo me for saying this but 90% of you kids out there who are for the legalization of marijuana and smoke don't care about the medicinal aspect of the prop but only want it legalized so you can get away with doing it recreationally without worrying about the cops being on your back." Did they boo? Hell no, they applauded.

I am for the legalization of marijuana for a few reasons. Medicinally, I see no reason why it shouldn't be legalized. It has helped more people than hurt from what I have seen in my life. I, personally, think alcohol is a far more hurtful substance to individuals than marijuana is. Viewing the stereotypes alone we have angry drunks versus carefree, loving hippies. Which would you prefer to be surrounded by? I know, we tried prohibition and failed (I am nowhere near even advocating that we attempt prohibition again, I am merely stating that we have worse things legalized as far as I'm concerned) and although we haven't had anywhere near the same level of backlash with marijuana I can only think of a few reasons why it shouldn't be legalized.

Really, perhaps the only reason I think there are any issues with the legalization of marijuana is because we don't have a breathalyzer-type instrument to tell you when someone's high. Society being the way it is, they'll want to regulate what you do on the job (and rightly so in some cases: i.e. driving heavy machinery) and currently the only means of figuring out whether you've partake or not is via urine or blood samples and the shit remains in your system for up to a month so that's not particularly helpful.

It seems to me though that the fight for legalization has been going on for decades and this may not be the time for it to pass. It saddens me, a bit. It appears to me that we are entering a conservative era and... I feel like I have missed out on something important and grand.

singularity

I believe the universe was created 14 billion years ago from a singularity and what we today know as the big bang theory. From that single moment in time, all of the Helium and Hydrogen in the universe was created, the basis for the existence of everything we know today. Every single atom ever was born in that moment and exists today, surrounding us, engulfing us. Four billion years ago the solar system was born out of an accretion disk creating the milky way we see today. The initial blast from the big bang (and assuming we all know a bit about inertia and vacuums) pushed everything in an outward motion, which continues to this day. Hypothetically (and this can never be proven), the universe will reach a limit of expansion at which it will slow and inevitably stop before it starts shrinking unto itself once again, eventually back into a singularity and possibly creating yet another big bang. The cycle of this means that perhaps on the grand scale of things, this has happened before. Other universes could have existed and others can exist again. Who knows?

I suppose this can be viewed as somewhat "spiritual," but it seems lacking to me. I do not praise, pray or cower. I do not judge. I question, I ponder. I refuse to preach but I will sit and converse. No one is right, to me, because nothing can ever be proven.

We are all stardust. Today, as much as when I was a child, this idea remains with me and comforts me.

This is my "religion," I suppose. My science. This is what I believe.

“Every atom in your body came from a star that exploded. And, the atoms in your left hand probably came from a different star than your right hand. It really is the most poetic thing I know about physics: You are all stardust. You couldn’t be here if stars hadn’t exploded, because the elements - the carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, iron, all the things that matter for evolution and for life - weren’t created at the beginning of time. They were created in the nuclear furnaces of stars, and the only way for them to get into your body is if those stars were kind enough to explode. So, forget Jesus. The stars died so that you could be here today.”

-Lawrence Krauss

revival

There's thunder rumbling about outside my window and I feel childlike in my joy.

It's been a very long week for me. I started my new job last week while I was still working the remaining week at my old job so for awhile there I was juggling those two while my Dad was trying to push me to keep both while going to school! No worries there, I completely ignored him. This week classes started up properly and I'm reminded of why I ignored him; I'm exhausted! I hadn't realized just how very much so but even while I'm staring, shoulders shrugged, at the screen I can feel just how puffy and tired my eyes are, and my back is quite a bit sore as well.

I love my new school. It's what I have been waiting for, for three years, to be at a proper school with decent people and events. I went straightaway and bought myself a shirt, that's how excited I am. THERE'S SO MUCH TO DO. Literally, there's so much! Events left and right and never a dull moment, it's my home away from home now (which is reasonable, seeing as how I go to school 5 days a week as well as work there). The people are magnificent and I'm finally starting to be pleased with the sorts of people I'm surrounding myself with these days. Perhaps it's less much so the people and more the fact that I'm finally beginning to feel secure with myself, that I'm starting to be more of myself, perhaps? Regardless the reason, I'm overjoyed and quite a bit exhausted, really.

I'm trying to take care of myself more. I really am awful about watching what I eat so I might as well try to sweat it all out of my system. So I went out and fixed up my old bike, then decided I might as well try to get a decent road bike as well, and joined yet another kickboxing class. I'm rather pleased at myself for that...

Haven't had much time for photos, but I'm not bothered. I'm really trying to concentrate on my schoolwork moreso than ever, because maybe now it really means something. Now I actually feel like I'm working towards a goal, my B.A. in Psychology. Now if I could only choose my concentration...

i may or may not be an existential nihilist

I still can't for the life of me explain why as a child I was so paranoid and fearful of death. I think it all started in the third grade when the teacher started talking about an asteroid heading towards Earth. I remember looking around in confused panic, wondering why we weren't jumping into action. Where were the lasers and bombs to destroy this monstrous asteroid? Why weren't we hiding in bomb shelters with stashes of food and goods?
Then there was Y2K, good lord that was a mess. I was in Mexico for the New Years and while everyone was out partying for the millenia (since it was 1999...) I was hiding out in bed, beneath the covers with my heart racing, convinced that if I were to die I'd damn well die in my sleep.
I was afraid of the house catching on fire, aliens declaring war on Earth and earthquakes. I can't deny that from time to time I still lose sleep over "The Big One." I guess it's one of the major downfalls of living in California.
-"Where are you from?"
-"Oh, California, where the weather's always perfect."
-"That sounds lovely!"
-"Yeah, until the Earth and Ocean decide to swallow us whole... but what a view!"
I really can't even explain where my intense fear of aliens came from. I have odd memories from when I was a child that simply do not make sense. Our yard was huge and the backyard had a giant brick wall and an enormous lemon tree hidden away in the dark corner that I rarely ventured to and never alone. I remember looking over at the wall one day and seeing, what to me as a child, appeared to be a giraffe. Later on my sister swears she saw the devil in that house so... I don't really know what I saw. Other occasions there were odd lights... but I must have walked into the living room once at an inopportune moment and caught something on tv on aliens abducting someone and it was one of those awful tv shows were they reenact everything dramatically and a million times scarier and since then I just haven't liked the idea of aliens. Do they exist? I do not care so long as their existence does not pertain to me.
Basically all these fears stem from the major one: thanatophobia, the fear of death.
When I was a kid going through one of my usual panic attacks I spoke with my eldest sister who told me not to worry about it, that it was all pointless. That we were all created out of stardust and once we perish we go back to being stardust. For whatever reason, this calmed down my fear immensely and my usual panic attacks perished. On a side-note my mother says when I was younger I used to have night-terrors but I swear I don't anymore.
Probably since them my love of astronomy and stardust has only grown. I took an astronomy course during the Spring that I loved and we even touched on a particular theory that piqued my interest.
If The Big Bang Theory is correct, then the universe is expanding. But the universe is expanding at a much slower rate today than it was millions of years ago, which has lead astronomers to believe that at some point the universe will reach some limit (what's beyond the universe?) and begin imploding into itself until it reaches a point of singularity from which a new Big Bang will emerge. This soothes me. It means that the universe is never-ending. Once this world is over, a new one will exist and who knows how many others have existed before us and will exist after us. It means that we are tiny tiny things in a grand scheme, our lives are meaningless but not in a sad "boo-hoo there's no point to my life!" type of way but just as it is. There is no point to our lives and I think that's kind of the big joke of it all.
It doesn't mean we can't make anything out of it and be meaningful to someone, but for the universe? We hardly exist.

“It's fear of the unknown. The unknown is what it is. And to be frightened of it is what sends everybody scurrying around chasing dreams, illusions, wars, peace, love, hate, all that--it's all illusion. Unknown is what it is. Accept that it's unknown and it's plain sailing. Everything is unknown--then you're ahead of the game. That's what it is. Right?”

-John Lennon

i write my death on paper so i can feel alive

She was fed up. If you had asked her with what in particular, she wouldn’t be able to give you the specifics. Whether it was a flaw on her part or if really was just that inconsequential, who knows. What we do know is that she had hit her breaking point and was done with it all. Done with her job, her so-called boyfriend, her family, she had just decided that she was done with life.

She walked up the steps of the tallest building she knew, slowly, calmly. Like I said, the specifics don’t really matter. It’s the same old story. She climbed the mountain towards nirvana, decided. Once she reached the top she took off her coat. She suddenly felt too warm. She walked towards the edge of the building and looked down at all the little people-ants. She could have been there for an eternity, it certainly felt like a lifetime. In reality, it could have been a mere seconds, minutes, hours, days, years, many lifetimes. Seasons could have passed without her acknowledging them. Her mind was set.

She braced herself, but then again maybe she didn’t. It’s not something you automatically know how to brace yourself for. But she braced herself as best she could, and jumped. Suddenly she had the grace of a ballerina and the agility of an acrobat that she never had in her life. She flew and twisted herself, her arms down to her sides and her head pointed downwards she flew like a projectile. Suddenly she was aware again. Time slowed down for her as if she was the only thing that mattered, she was the only one that had ever mattered. She realized just how vivid colors were and how beautiful everything was. She felt the tiniest breeze through each strand of hair, she saw each particle of dust as it moved, gently, quickly, out of her way, and she felt the air, the oxygen, the smog, everything as she breathed it in and made her lungs expand.

Then suddenly it came. It didn’t cause her any pain and somehow, somewhere in the back of her mind, she was grateful for it. But she felt it. She had twisted her body and aimed herself straight down for a reason, she wanted it over quickly. But she wasn’t prepared for the sensations that occurred. There may have not been any pain, but she felt everything. She felt her skull crack open and the jagged edges slam into her soft cushiony brain. She felt her entire face explode from the fall. She felt her arms and legs slap around without feeling, without bones. Maybe it was just at which the speed she moved, there surely had to be bones. Just as quickly as it came, it was gone.

She was gone. Like being born, like coming into existence, she was gone. Just as the world existed before her, it continued without her. Maybe some miniscule part of it missed her, but it was far too small and the world lived in a much grander scale to truly acknowledge her. She had come, done her part and had gone just as fluidly, effortlessly.

The point was that it was over.

of dreams

i dreamt tonight. i saw faces and animals and clouds all speed through before my eyes. faces i've met and faces i haven't met yet, jumbled thoughts and memories, nearly impossible to pick one apart from the rest. loves gained and loves lost. everything feels the same.

i try to pick apart the subtle differences, the distinctions that separate the love from hate, the apathy from sympathy... but they move too fast for me to be able to pick them apart and analyze. they blur into one another until they are the same thing. inseparable and indescribable.

i remembered my dreams tonight. i'm not sure if i don't simply prefer forgetting them.

Part I: Birth

It's a funny thing, life. We know nothing going into and out of it. We can't even begin to recall the first three to five years of our lives or so, and some of us are so unlucky as to not be conscious for the last few. We are born naive and die tragically jaded, ignorantly unaware or, a very rare few, at peace (It's a funny thing the latter, perhaps I've still got plenty of the youthful ignorant confidence towards these sort of things but I find it hard to believe anyone can truly be okay with dying. But really that's another story.)

Two things are the same for every living soul: we are all born and we all die. Every death is tragic, engulfed by mourning and every birth is... what is birth? Planned or unplanned, temperamental, a joyous occasion? Sometimes, but not all the time. People have managed to give birth without even acknowledging that they were pregnant and how they pull that off is beyond me.

It's a weird thing, not being able to remember our births. We were all there through the screaming and agony, the pushing and bleeding, the slapping and crying and bathing and hugging. They coo over you and fight to hold you while the nurses and doctors take you away to clean up all the ruddy disgusting natural liquids that were keeping you alive only moments earlier.

Then there's the naming. What's in a name? What is in a name? Nine months are spent trying to figure out what this tiny little being is going to be known as for the next 80 years or so. How did people decide on names in the olden days? Nowadays books are sold and profit is made on whether your child will be named Charlie or Henry. Does it really make a difference?

I wish I knew the story behind my name, or if there even is one. Marcela. Marcel or Marcelo if I were a boy. "Dedicated to Mars." What does that even mean? Mars as in Aries as in God of War? Apparently so. Maybe that describes my temperament and overall moodiness. My family-members would understand that best, I suppose.

nos·tal·gia

Etymology: New Latin, from Greek nostos return home + New Latin -algia; akin to Greek neisthai to return, Old English genesan to survive, Sanskrit nasate he approaches.
a wistful or excessively sentimental yearning for return to or of some past period or irrecoverable condition; also : something that evokes nostalgia

I regret a few things from when I was a child. Granted, I didn't know any better and can hardly blame myself, but in hindsight I wish I had been a bit different.

What with my sisters being ten and eight years older than me, I can hardly attest to what their youth must have been like, or what their childlike mannerisms were. But I remember my own. I was always such a tomboy. I'd ride my bike, play with the boys and essentially run around only stopping to watch Power Rangers and, I'll admit, My Little Pony. My mom would chase me around trying to get me to wear ridiculous frilly little white dresses that were without a doubt older than me. One of my mom's favorite stories is of when we went visiting family in Mexico where they inevitably have numerous portraits of each and every one of us, and when I came across one of my eldest sister Yvette I exclaimed, "Why is she wearing my dress!" To which all the grown-ups laughed at my naivety.

I wish I'd let her dress me up more often and get the joy of seeing her youngest little girl frolick in a frock.

I fondly remember my mother dressing me up in a much-too-big green silky gown that I adored and who knows where I got it from, with my long hair that I would always accidentally sit on or get caught on a chair (this happened often at school with those poorly constructed plastic and metal chairs with screws sticking out at every odd end), and just a teeny bit of make-up. I always hated the stuff at a young age, never did I think I would end up with such a strong reliance on it. She'd dress me up like her own life-sized doll and stand me up just so, positioning me right in front of the window with our lacy curtains as the sun was setting and photograph me.

I never did see what came out of those pictures. I don't think I ever even asked. I wouldn't even begin to explain why I thought of this as I lay here on my couch, inevitably sweating from the heat while the cooler hums in the corner, trying desperately to sleep.

But I oftentimes think about my mother's past life before me and my sisters and my father, her husband. She sometimes mentions tidbits of what her life once was and I grasp at it trying to get a better understanding of this woman whom to me is only mother but in reality is so much more.

She's worked odd factory jobs, she received some sort of degree for secretarial work and she knows shorthand; she even keeps a diary in it! I wonder what odd things are written in there.

vulgaris

Since I was roughly 14 years old I have struggled with the common ailment called acne vulgaris, zits for short. It has consistently pained me and embarrassed me. I once even had someone I liked dub me the "Pimple Queen." High School clearly was hard. Painfully, it is oftentimes associated with pubescent teenagers but it is not always the case. Here I am, a 21 year old with the face of a 15 year old. I expected, like many of my companions, that I would simply grow out of it.
Does that mean I didn't waste an insane amount of money on products in an effort to combat the infection of my face? Of course I did. Have I grown out of it? Has anything legitimately worked for me? Perhaps for a small amount of time, maybe a month or two of sheer bliss but nothing much longer.
So I ask you, how? How do I combat this!? Have I not suffered enough?

Here's a funny little anecdote for you;

A few months ago my face broke out, bad. The worst it's been since my sophomore/junior year of high school. It was nothing short of a complete embarrassment for me to walk out in public. But alas, I went. Because I have never been one to let fear get in the way of me living my life (Ha!). Anyway, I had to return something at Ross because I was strapped for cash like I usually am. There was a man in front of me in line. I thought nothing of it. I did what I went to do and was on my way. In the parking lot, however, the same man stopped me. He was a stout Mexican man and spoke to me in spanish. He asked if he could speak to me and I said sure, why not? I figured he needed directions or something but I should have known something was up by the way he had kept staring at me earlier. Anyhow, the conversation was vague. He was asking something about if I knew someone who was pregnant and I was utterly confused. He kept talking about (get this) how I should ask my prego friend if I could kindly take their placenta and rub it on my face. Here's the point where my brain's gears were grinding and suddenly came to a halt. This man was talking about my acne! Not only that, he had told me to rub HUMAN PLACENTA on MY FACE to CURE my ACNE. The man was kind and gentle, so unlike many people whom I later told the story to told me to react ("Tell me you hit him," or "You cussed him out, right?") I simply thanked him and walked away trying very much so not to cry.
But honestly, now. Does this tell you anything? Consider this. Acne harms people mentally more so than just their dermis. It harms their psyche and their confidence to a level of desperation, to put human placenta on your face is nothing sort of sheer desperation. It is very saddening to me. Have I reached that point? Goodness, no. Have I considered it? Jokingly, afterwards but never seriously. Sorry, but I don't have the gall to go through with that. The idea (understandingly) sickens me.

But really, I've tried countless things. And Proactiv sucks. Maybe it works for those sensitive skin folk with a tiny little zit or two but it dried my skin out something painful. I couldn't move my face or moisturize without a searing amount of pain and I don't care what you say, that is in no way good for your face.
I, like a good amount of people am vain and sick. I strive for, not exactly perfection (I long ago learned that just wasn't within my grasp), but simply to look good. I am sickeningly green with envy of those whose face glows in the sunlight where mine only shows the tiny little shadows of bumps and redness I can't always hide.
I'm tired of slathering my face with make-up in an effort to hide the inflammation, scars and pockmarks. I am completely sickened by the fact that oftentimes I photoshop my face in pictures to appear smoother.
But really, at this point, what am I to do now?