Valentimes: AJB and I spent the day slugging around the house. Flowers arrived at 5:30pm. We had dinner at our favorite Indian restaurant Akbar’s and then saw “He’s Just Not That Into You” – which, considering the stellar cast, was one of the dumbest chick flicks I’ve ever seen. It goes into the “Under the Tuscan Sun” category.

On Sunday, we took my Mom to see a small production of Ray Bradbury’s “The Wonderful Ice Cream Suit” at South Pasadena’s Fremont Theater. I’m not the biggest fan of theater and I’m less a fan of community theater, but aside from this being a cute story, it also starred Joaquin Garay III – whom you may know as Paco from Herbie Goes Bananas; who befriends Herbie, gets into all kinds of trouble with Harvey Corman (RIP) and Cloris Leachman and shows the world that Mexican stereotypes can also comes from Guatemala.

Yesterday I gave my Mom my old PC and hooked it up for her – it’s much faster than the one she has now. I showed her how to use iTunes and Picasa and spent the day hanging out, talking, and installing Windows programs. It was nice to do something other than real work for a change. I also realized that making a PC do what a Mac can do is like forcing a round peg into a square hole.

Yesterday, the Wii Fit arrived. AJB and I have been desperately searching for something to help us shed some pounds for the wedding and I figured, the Wii Fit should do nicely. It’s cheaper than a gym membership and something we can do alone or together. The Wii Fit also seems to make exercising easy and fun – so while there are cute games to play, you can also do some real aerobics, yoga, and strength training. In addition to the interface being cute and highly Japanese, I figure it’s a good way to enthusiastically exercise and set realistic goals for ourselves. Further motivation is your Wii Fit Age – which apparently, I’m 51 and AJB is 47. I’m older and he’s younger. This confuses me. In my defense, the Wii Fit Age is calculated by your BMI and your ability to balance. I got a bad score on the balancing part because I didn’t quite understand how the test worked. Now that I understand it, I’m pretty sure I can get that number lower. I also found out that my BMI and weight are both normal. So why don’t I feel normal? According to Wii Fit, I’m 133 pounds. So does this mean the scale in my bathroom is wrong? It often tells me I’m 136. Maybe it’s because I had rice for dinner the other night.

I agree that the Wii Fit doesn’t replace a gym membership (cause of the no machines), I think it does one thing very well: Gets you to do some form of exercise…and that’s what we need.

I’m off to Enid and Edgar’s for the weekly photo shoot. Online job listings have been scarce. I need to figure out a way to continue working through this economic crisis. It’s getting harder and harder.

*Note: My Mom’s tomato plant is off the hook. Considering it’s Winter, they should be dead or dying. We found out, the trick is accidentally planting your plants next to the dryer vent – keeps ‘em warm and cozy. Good tip. I love happy accidents.

I’ve been a photographer and writer as long as I can remember. I did most of my writing in high school and came up with a bunch of lame stories I’d never let anyone read. I then did a good deal of writing when I was running Dark Culture. However, since I’ve left Dark Culture to wallow in solitude, the only real writing I’ve done has been for this blog. I’ve been concentrating on my photography career steadfast and true over the last year and writing has taken a back seat. Fact is, photography is easier than writing. While there are far more technical aspects to photography that one must master, writing is hard because you start with a blank page. Photography, on the other hand, you start with the world.

Looking around my own house, I could find any number of things to take pictures of. Doing the same with a pen and paper, I draw a blank. I realize that coming up with ideas to write about is much more difficult than looking for things to shoot. Does this mean writing requires a truer talent than I actually possess? I don’t know. I’ve been told that I’m a pretty decent writer and when pressed, I’ve come up with some fine text. I suppose it’s because I look at photography like a puzzle to be figured out. Pieces all jumbled that need to be placed in their corresponding order. Light, shadow, glare, bounce, reflection, hues, softness, hardness, and all these other elements that make any one picture come alive. Furthermore, take into consideration camera settings, angle, shutter speeds, ISOs, and F-stops. It’s more akin to a murder mystery. Who dunnit and at what F-stop? There’s also motive and emotive.

When I really think about it, writing has all these elements as well. I guess what it comes down to is me. Truth is, I never felt like a good writer, but photography validates me as an artist. I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I am not Annie Leibovitz. I am me and I’m good at what I do. When it comes to writing, I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I am not Ray Bradbury. I am me and I’ll never be that good. So what it comes down to is self esteem. Is that what you’re saying? I suppose it is. I feel that I can be witty and flowery in my words, but when it comes to describing, at length, the color of someone’s eyes…I think “blue”? Give this topic to any number of gifted writers and they will tell you why the eyes are blue, what they remind him/her of, or how they spark memories or songs. Ok, so maybe I could do that…maybe I really could, but I get the feeling that should I try, I’d only be saying what a million other people have already said.

I can see this internal dilemma in my fiancee’s son, who, like his father, is a writer; and comes from a long line of gifted writers. How do you write about things that no one else has written about? My fiancee once told his son that what makes his writing unique is his ability to write about the things that only he knows. Which leads us back to the time honored rule of writing: Write what you know.

What do I know? I know that I’ve written passed 500 words and it’s time to stop.

2007 will always be the year my dad died. Even though other events skirted in and out of sunrises and sunsets, it’s hard to think about anything else. I lost so much this year. The family (en masse) I once knew seems to be a reasonable facsimile of the vivacious group of people I spent my holidays with. Are we closer? I don’t know. Sometimes yes, sometimes no. Fantasies bring pictures of uniting through tragedy and while this is sometimes the case, it isn’t often. Alas, I am unsure of what it will take and often wonder that I might have to trudge on without them. Maybe it just takes time.

2007 was also the year I moved in with my boyfriend. We got into a grand house in a grand neighborhood. I see his children more often and I am now hostess to my family’s year Christmas Eve Spectacular. My life isn’t anything like it was a year ago. Every thing’s changed. It’s funny how you can actually track the changes, if you want to. The choices you make and the choices that are made for you. They shape you and mold you. If you’re not careful, you may end up becoming someone you hardly recognize. And that has been my battle, my haunted quest. Who I become in the wake of my father’s death is now up for discussion.

One year ago tonight I was trapped in Albuquerque, snowed-in during what eventually became the largest snow storm New Mexico had ever seen. I often wonder about these things. You see, I didn’t really want to go home. I wanted to spend as much time with my dad as possible. The snow storm made it possible. Thanks to nature and it’s unpredictability, I was granted a few more precious days. We didn’t do anything. We watched TV, talked a little, he slept, we slept. It was nice and I treasure those days. When I drove away, I cried. I guess I must have known that he wouldn’t make it. Even though my brain lied to me and told me he’d be fine, my soul knew different.

In 2007 I received money my dad left me and bought a professional camera, a highly expensive lens, and a new iMac. I don’t think I could have ever afforded any of that if it hadn’t been for my dad.

During the trials and tribulations of 2007, I suffered and continue to suffer from stress related eczema. I haven’t liked talking about it because it’s highly personal, unflattering, and annoying. I’m resolve in my belief that I won’t have it much longer and that because of it, I have altered my eating habits and am honestly trying to live a more healthy and productive life. I’m still a work in progress, but the way I figure…I’m working on it. That’s a good thing. The holidays set me back a bit, but I guess the point is to keep trying.

2007 was the hardest year of my life. Even though every day it gets a little better, I remain slightly broken. Adding salt to my wounds, my grandfather was recently admitted to the hospital. I’m not really sure what’s going on, but apparently he’s getting sent home and might still be in bad shape. How well do 90 year olds recover from this sort of thing? I imagine not well and while he might go home, he won’t be healthy, he’ll be a lot more frail and his days will be numbered. I guess at 90, they already are. There are also various custody battles going on over my grandfather and his future is highly uncertain.

2007 was a bad year mixed with small tinges of good. I also went to New York, a town I love more than a whole lot of other towns. I had dinner with Ray Bradbury at Disneyland’s Club 33, I got a new iPhone, my baby brother got engaged to a girl no one likes, my siblings divvied up my dad’s remaining possessions, my boyfriend and I discovered that we still like each other enough to live together after miscellaneous growing pains, and I accomplished several amazing photo shoots. I’m in a whole new place. My mind, my soul, everything. It’s all new and scary and difficult.

What lies ahead for 2008? Do I dare make resolutions? I figure, why bother? I won’t follow them anyhow and like 2007, I’ll simply hope for the best. I know things will get better because I want them to. I’ll continue to make strides and will strive to create a life my dad would be proud of. As each day passes, the reality of his demise will set in a little more and I’ll stop wishing it weren’t true and simply accept it as fact. In 2008 my brother will most likely get married and I’ll see Omaha for the first time. I’ll probably hate it. In the coming year, I might find financial independence or I might chicken out and stick to the status quo. I might find some semblance of bravery and go after the things I want with gusto. Time will tell, the days will pass, and they fly by faster every year. 2008 will pass faster than 2007 and I’ll be one year older. Things will continue to change and so will I.

See what happened in 2006.