Black Sheep

I have become accustomed to mockery in my lifetime. People have criticized my politics, my style, my tattoos, even something as simple as the food I eat. Through it all, however, I have remained steadfast in my beliefs, I have continued to wear what I want, do what I want with my own skin, and I have never compromised something I believe in. Now it seems that I am yet again under attack, this time by the people I love and value the most: my family.

For years we have differed on views of my future. Let me say that again: MY future. In high school it was never much of an issue, they knew I wanted to work in the field of anti-human trafficking but because I was young and without a degree, I suppose they saw it as the romanticized passions of a teenager. In college, we had minor disagreements on degrees. My mother wanted me to go into nursing, but I knew that was not the path for me. I finally settled on the field of Communication, after switching from English. It was then that I knew journalism was my true calling, but not just any journalism. Conflict journalism. I knew I wanted to be on the front lines, where no one else would go, so that I could begin to make a difference in lives. Why should I stay comfortably out of danger when thousands die each day and aren’t given the choice of safety? I knew my family would not agree, just as they refused to see my passion for Africa and its people.

Yes, I have become the black sheep of my family. Some children become ostracized for matters of drug abuse, crimes, immoral lifestyles… I have become shunned because I am choosing to follow the calling placed on my life, a calling ordained by God.  To be clear, I am not trying, in any way, to victimize myself. My intentions for writing this down are (1. to vent these pent up frustrations before they turn into anger (2. to state the fact that I will not stray from the course I am on. I am going to dedicate my life to the freedom and well being of others, and I will do so until I die or until peace graces this earth. It hurts to be rejected by family, the pain of having those who you love not believe in you is truly a heart wrenching thing, but I can not stand aside and allow this calling to be lost. Many great men have been rejected and criticized. So, continue to mock me if you will, but I am a determined woman and I will not falter, I will not waver, and I will not fail. 

“What, then, shall we say in response to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us?”

                                                                                                                                  – Romans 8:31 

I am…

I was given the opportunity to be on the other side of the camera a few days ago, and what an experience it was! What started off as a basic shoot with a friend turned into a full blown session complete with four photographers and a bunch of fancy equipment (of which I was very envious). Each of the photographers brought something different to the table, and the finished products are as varied as they are beautiful. Thanks to everyone who was involved! Next time I look forward to being back on the shooting side! 

Here are some of my favorite images (along with favorite quotes) from the day, images that really seem to capture who I am: 

“I can as easily still the fiercest tempests or stop the rapid thunderbolt, as command the motions and operations of my own mind.” -John Adams

“It has always seemed to me, ever since early childhood, amid all the commonplaces of life, I was very near to a kingdom of ideal beauty. Between it and me hung only a thin veil. I could never draw it quite aside, but sometimes a wind fluttered it and I caught a glimpse of the enchanting realms beyond-only a glimpse-but those glimpses have always made life worthwhile.” ― L.M. Montgomery

“Fear, to a great extent, is born of a story we tell ourselves, and so I chose to tell myself a different story from the one women are told. I decided I was safe. I was strong. I was brave. Nothing could vanquish me.” -Cheryl Strayed, “Wild”

“What kind of man would live a life without daring? Is life so sweet that we should criticize men that seek adventure? Is there a better way to die?” -Charles Augustus Lindbergh Jr.

Well, I have lost you; and I lost you fairly; In my own way, and with my full consent. Say what you will, kings in a tumbrel rarely Went to their deaths more proud than this one went. Some nights of apprehension and hot weeping I will confess; but that’s permitted me; Day dried my eyes; I was not one for keeping Rubbed in a cage a wing that would be free. If I had loved you less or played you slyly I might have held you for a summer more, But at the cost of words I value highly, And no such summer as the one before. Should I outlive this anguish—and men do— I shall have only good to say of you. -Edna St. Vincent

There she weaves by night and day A magic web with colours gay. She has heard a whisper say, A curse is on her if she stay To look down to Camelot. She knows not what the curse may be, And so she weaveth steadily, And little other care hath she, The Lady of Shalott.

“Long ago, men went to sea, and women waited for them, standing on the edge of the water, scanning the horizon for the tiny ship. Now I wait for him. He vanishes unwillingly, without warning. I wait for him. Each moment that I wait feels like a year, an eternity. Each moment is as slow and transparent as glass. Through each moment I can see infinite moments lined up, waiting. Why has he gone where I cannot follow?” ― Audrey Niffenegger

“Ask her what she craved, and she’d get a little frantic about things like books, the woods, music. Plants and the seasons. Also freedom.” -Charles Frazier

The winding roads that led me here Burn like coal and dry like tears So here’s my hope My tired soul So here’s my ticket I want to go home. – The Civil Wars

 

Stay posted, more awesome photos to come! 

Tis the Season to be Holly

Okay, this lady is serious model material. She has the body, the face, the confidence… I had SO much fun photographing her! Thank you Holly for spending your day with me! 

 

Belle fille

Wow, it’s been pretty hard keeping up with all these fun shoots lately! Both my camera and laptop have been working overtime and I can’t help but be exceedingly grateful for modern photograph technology! Yesterday I had the privilege of taking photos for the beautiful Natali Barker. One of the reasons I was so excited to photograph this woman was because of her striking blue eyes, which went beautifully with the pristine Lake Washington waters. We had a lot of fun, laughs and delicious Zoka coffee. Thanks for a fun day Natali! Enjoy! 

 

 

Regrets

Regrets are a lot like bruises. We’ve all had them, we will always have them, and they affect everyone in vastly different ways. Some hurt more than others, some leave scars, and some, if not all, tell a story. One of my greatest regrets is not holding you tighter that last night, not allowing the rhythmic sound of your breathing lull me to sleep. I should have breathed deeper, the scent of your skin, should have watched you longer, your eyelids bowed with sleep. You looked so peaceful, your mind far from the pain of tomorrow. I should have kissed your lips one more time, or maybe two or even a hundred. I should not have taken for granted the time, for it was all that we had. I remember how cold it was, the air was icy and those blankets, so warm. I remember the sound your dog tags made every time you moved, that sound hurt as much as the clock’s ticking. I remember the doubts, the fears, and the desire to sleep. Your body was so warm, like it always is, and I know I could have laid there forever. But I didn’t. When the clock struck five, you were gone. Quicker than I could blink, before I could fully catch my breath. I didn’t cry, at least not in front of you. You were the one going to war, it wasn’t within my rights to despair. So I suffered quietly, in my own way, in the dark confines of an empty room, in passing thoughts and prolonged musings… I cried, fought my demons, and waited, putting on a smile every morning, careful to make sure it looked as good as I was pretending to feel. Perhaps I hid too well. Did you think I didn’t care? Did you honestly think it didn’t kill me, watching you leave again, not knowing when you would return? Did you think my heart was not full of loneliness, of fear, of the desire to be protected and close to your side? If I had known then what I know now, I would have never let you go. I would have pleaded against heaven, scoffed at hell’s gates, defied the very men you go to fight… I would have followed you anywhere, especially into battle. But I didn’t, and like the winter frost, you slipped away. And I’m still reeling, trying to grasp at some elusive answer to a haunting question. Why? Some days I believe I will take your love to the grave, because if time won’t dull the pain, what will? I am not one to let regrets carry me, but these will not be shaken. If I had the chance, to say anything to you, I don’t think I would speak. I would just hold you and cry; finally show you my pain. But it seems that in my little world, second chances do not exist, and like every bruise, I will bear my regrets knowing full well that I earned them.

“The feelings that hurt most, the emotions that sting most, are those that are absurd – The longing for impossible things, precisely because they are impossible; nostalgia for what never was; the desire for what could have been; regret over not being someone else; dissatisfaction with the world’s existence. All these half-tones of the soul’s consciousness create in us a painful landscape, an eternal sunset of what we are.”
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  ― Fernando Pessoa

 

Enchante

Some more photos of the stunning Jamie Dunn. I had a lot of fun with this little sprite today, jumping in and out of flower beds and rivers. We were up before the sun and finished just in time for breakfast. Talk about great timing! All clothing worn in the shoot is mine, which was fun to show off; Jamie’s adorable little body looked absolutely enchanting in them. Enjoy! 

 

Little House in the Big Woods

The following is a true story:

Today I decided to go exploring, and since my home is situated on the edge of a vast forest, it is there that I began. It is lucky that on this particular day I had, with me, my camera, for as you shall see, it became a very special day indeed.

Halfway through my woodland wandering I came across a most unusual sight.

It was a little house in the big woods! At least, I thought it to be a house. From my place behind the trees, I could see that it was indeed a sort of dwelling made from wood beams and some clear canvas… But who on earth would be living in our woods? I decided to gain a closer look. 

What a very strange (and messy) place! This did indeed appear to be some sort of home, complete with a cook fire, all sorts of curious gadgets, and (from the looks of it) the remains of someone’s meal. Curiouser and curiouser… 

       “Well this just about beats all,” I said to myself. My curiosity was only growing, and indeed the odd objects scattered about did not serve to sate it. Perhaps an answer lay inside the house? I took a deep breath and fervently hoped no one was home. 

And what was this?? A little bedroom! 

I suppose this was a bed carved right out of the fallen tree. Imagine that! 

There were shelves filled to the brim with knick knacks and tools of all kinds. 

There are markings. It’s some sort of Elvish, I can’t read it. 

And is this not odd?

 

I am quite baffled. What sort of creature would live in such a place? Surely they must be enchanting, that is to say, not quite human. The strange writing, the curious objects… it is most unusual behavior for a mere mortal. And then, most incriminating of all, I found this:

Tucked into the base of an old tree stump was what appeared to be a fairy door. Yes, the doorway of a fairy, for what else could be small enough to have such use for a tiny door? I tried the handle, but it was locked. Ahh, the mystery of it all is killing me! That is why I wrote this, in hopes that someone may know something of woodland fairies, for that is what I am most certain of now lives in the little house in the big woods. I set down my camera and poked around a bit longer, trying to find some answer or trace of the fairy. 

    When at last I returned home, I found THIS on my camera! 

Can you believe the fairy was there all along?? They snapped my photo, though it was not very clear. But what can you expect from such a creature? I think I shall return tomorrow morning, just before sunrise, and see if I can not capture an image of the elusive fay. My family shall think I have gone entirely bonkers, but what of it? There are fairies in my woods! 

My Brother’s Keeper

Last week my brother came for a short visit. Bailey is about five and a half years younger than me, and has been the apple of my eye since the moment I witnessed his birth in the backseat of my parents’ Jeep. Little five and half-year old Alycia learned a very important lesson that chilly, October night: babies do NOT come from a stork nor do they magically appear one specially selected day. Birth is a terrifying, painful thing and from that day on I was not sure I wanted anything to do with it. Any who, this post is not supposed to be a rant about the emotional trauma I experienced at the hands of an infant, but rather a celebration of who that infant became.

My brother is now 17 years-old and following close in our father’s footsteps. A senior in high school, he has every intention of becoming a farmer and pilot, two things that are tradition in my family. He is a strapping, young lad with a heart of gold and a streak of stubbornness that rivals only that of my own. I distinctly recall being eight years-old and telling my mother that if I was never given any toys or anything else in my life, that would be all right because I would always have Bailey. Adorable right? Well, truth be told, I did decide I wanted toys and other things, but from that point on, I possessed a strong friendship with my brother. We used to fight all the time, as is expected of siblings, and more often than not, I left some physical damage on the poor kid. When he was around two or three I popped his arm nearly out of its socket trying to play with him, I smacked him in the face with a hangar because I was mad, when he was around eight I threw a hammer and hit him straight in the head. The most notorious of all incidents occurred when he was seven or so. We were racing in the pool to retrieve a toy, and in the process I accidentally hit him in the face with said toy. I guess I was not yet aware of my strength, because that knocked out his front tooth. I was left with a screaming, crying, bloody brother and a furious mother who was determined to make me scream, cry and bleed.

Despite it all though, we have retained love and friendship, though Bailey has not been innocent by any means. Revenge was his to have many times. I left for college when I was eighteen, and doing so, I left behind a thirteen year-old boy who thought the world of me. It kills me to think that I missed him growing up, and I missed every birthday of his following that. I still remember when he was about ten and begged me to play dinosaurs with him like we always used to, and I told him no. I told him I did not want to play with him, and that I was too old for games like that. I will never forget his sad, little face as he walked out of my room.

Growing up sucks.

Now fast forward several years, and we come to the here and now part of this story. I was ecstatic when I finally convinced him to come stay with me for a few days in Washington. I picked him up from the airport early Tuesday morning, with a blueberry scone in hand, and drove him to Duvall, where we kayaked and swam in the lazy river. After that we headed to Redmond where we gorged ourselves at the Tipsy Cow Burger Bar (my brother loves hamburgers). It was very delicious. We killed some time at the Marymoor dog park with Camelot and watched “Lucy,” at the local theatre. The following day, I took him rock climbing at Exit 38. It was his first time climbing outside, and I think he quite enjoyed it. I know I did.

Climbing at Exit 38

More adventures included a concert, a meeting for my Africa trip, some climbing at Stone Gardens, and of course, Bailey’s discovery of Boba tea (pronounced bubble tea for you Seattleites).

This champ climbed for six hours. Reminded me of someone else…

On Bailey’s last day, we attended an antique tractor show in Monroe and then I took him to a quaint, little drive-thru stand called “Darci’s Dinky Donuts.” Seriously, the donuts are dinky, but delicious. We headed to the mall afterwards, lunch, and then the dog park again when we discovered his flight had been delayed. Saying good-bye to that kid is always hard, and it was no different this time. Bailey has been my best friend since practically his birth, and we have only grown closer with age. I will admit to loving him more than any other person on this earth, and I know that even though I am not going to be with him to celebrate every monumental achievement or occasion in his life, we will always remain just where we ought to be: close in each other’s hearts.

 

“What strange creatures brothers are!”

-Jane Austen 

At the tractor show

Nothing runs like a Deere

An old farmer let Bailey take over

Back to my roots

Be honest, who looks better…

…in this hat?