Much seasonal joy to all! Christmas and New Year were beautiful, busy, sleepy, delicious times for us. I am a big fan of Christmas, and love to live it like a child (a child who drinks booze, that is). This year I helped chop down our own tree, made banana bread and wrapped it in cellophane and red ribbons, watched Chrstimas movies long after midnight, spent afternoons at the beach, and tried out many new recipes (all of them complete successes... what are the chances?). I have found that spending this time with my beloved in our own house has changed the season for me, both forcing and allowing me to let go of some old traditions and hang-ups, and building our own happy, carefree moments that will become part of my memories. Like being woken up at 7am, by a 32-year-old man, because he is so excited to open presents; staying up late playing video games; having him make fun of me while I dance around putting up ornaments; constant giggling at his complete inability to handle the summer heat (through which he turns a nice pinky colour and lays around complaining indignantly and sweating hopelessly).
In the spirit of the season, I had intended to attempt Princess Lasertron's Radvent Journal Project, but, as I'm sure it goes for everyone, December is such a short month and things kind of... ran away with me. I photographed a wedding out of state, house-hunted furiously, saw a lot of family, worked as much as I could, and came in to my sixth month of pregnancy; all of the above leaving me with little spare time for reflection or meaningful written dialogue. And so, I will now, in a slightly more laid-back (lazy?) fashion, post my own 25-day (r)advent calendar.
Today’s theme, “remembering,” is all about giving yourself permission to reflect not only on the awesome things that have happened in your life, but to stop blocking the bad memories and accept how you have grown and learned from those experiences.
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What were you doing five years ago today? As the holiday season began? Where were you? Who were you with? What did you want? What did you have?
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Five years ago, I was 21. I was driving an '85 Ford Laser, dubbed the Little Red Rocket, my hair was blonde and my jeans were always ripped. I was living with my parents, though was never home, spending a lot of time with my brother (a rare pocket of intimacy in my life to date), and partying a lot. I was still at art school, surrounded by hippies and poets and photographers, constantly involved in projects and neck-deep in paint, and sleeping four or less hours a night.
At 21, I was in love. It was my first serious relationship and it was both easy and hard; easy because it was beautiful, hard because I was young and dramatic and complicated. We were in a whirlwind of friends, and love, and sex, and parties, and adventure, and in the middle of that was just us. It was a very happy time of my life in that sense. My love was grand and sweeping and small and sweet and sacred, it was everything, and it was reflected in the warm glow of friendship and fun that surrounded it.
I was struggling to finish university at the time, torn between my love of art school and my growing disdain for the heirachial nature and abuses of that teacher/student environment. I had struggled for a while after suffering from a series of deep depressive episodes, kicked off by the death of my grandfather in 2002 and the death of my aunt the year after. The stereotypical "find myself" phase was well under way, and I was learning what it was to be an adult, including forming strong stances against my teachers' abuse of their authority and an increasing take-no-bullshit style of life management that has, in retrospect served me well.
I had a group of friends with whom I was deeply in love - a hodge-podge group of art school freaks who came to shape my views on friendship, love, and sexuality probably more intensely than anything else in my life to date. I was heavily involved in my university's circus society, another group of freaks (assorted), who spent a lot of time nude, drunk and happy. I loved it. It was a time of great exploration in so many fields of my life.
It's funny, looking back at this time, I had to reread some of my old journal entries just to remember; a lot of this time has become blurred in to one complicated, out-of-focus landscape. Pinning down timelines has become problematic for me; I can vividly remember moments, feelings and sensations, but the stepping-stones of the years are more difficult to recall. This is not something unique to these young-adult years, but a recurring issue of mine, and something that plays an enormous part in how I live my life. I photograph to capture moments I feel I am likely to forget; I write on scraps of paper, reciepts, boxes, serviettes, and stash them in boxes and envelopes so that I can have a physical reminder that these events and emotions existed. I am a hoarder by nature. I want to remember. I want to hold on to everything I can, because some things are just so painfully beautiful (or terrible, or significant) that I cannot bear the thought of forgetting.
One of the major changes in my life this past year has been the development of a home life. Two jobs and full-time university forced me away from the social flurry of my previous years and in to the necessity of cultivating an intimate life at home with my partner. And although times I resented my new-found lack of social freedom, I discovered that a home life is one of the absolute best things about living with your bestest friend. Small things begin to take on larger joys, and suddenly home was somewhere I couldn't wait to return.One of the largest joys has been the having and loving of a dog - something I haven't had since my old friend CJ died when I was nineteen years old. The addition of Harvey, our foster pup, was the true cherry on top for our cozy little ice-cream household; he taught us how to love another dog besides Tank, and how to love so hard that we still miss him months after he departed. Surrounded by my three red-headed boys, home became somewhere tangible again, and the sweetness of that time together in our run-down little house is something that I never want to forget. Harvey has moved on and we are adding to the human side of the family (in, oh, TEN WEEKS), and I feel our home becoming homier with every passing day. For that, I am so grateful.
This year, I want to do a better job of remembering. I want to take more photos, write more, and share more of my life with the people who matter.
In that vein, and with Harvey in mind especially, a very few images from my year, of sweet moments worth remembering.
Tank and Harvey's first ever trip to the beach
First time playing golf
My grandmother turned 90
xoxo
