My Constellation of Stars

#52Essays2017
Week18

Lately I have been working harder on the things I am passionate about. I have been photographing Bernard much more, as well as dogs in foster homes, from Pupstarz Rescue. I have also been photographing everything I find beautiful- nature, buildings, landscapes, places; and whenever I'm not shooting, I sit on my desk and edit new and old photos. Photos that have never been edited, or ones that have already been through photoshop with several layer masks upon them. I get to create and bring new life to photos that were long gone and forgotten. I love writing about the process. Writing about how it makes me feel. These pieces are mostly for myself. They are handwritten. Just like photography, I write about what makes my heart turn, in good and bad ways. If there is an event in my day that was significant and had an impact on me, I write. If I see something that makes me dream, I write. If something happens to someone else, but it hurts me as if I carried the person's heart in me for a while, I write.

I photograph and write because I let out what I fail to execute in any other way. Verbally, words don't flow as well as they do when I write. Verbally, sceneries and soulful eyes can't be described as they are in my photos. I express myself best through art, and that is what I want to do. Forever.

However, because I've been doing this so much more, I'm becoming familiar with the feelings I get when I'm fully immersed in what I love. I'm becoming accustomed to relentlessly create. Therefore, not only have I been feeling amazing about it, I've also been hearing the little voice of depression make it's way back into my life. During the hours that I am immersed in photographing, editing, and writing, in other words, creating, I am on a high like no other. I'm in my zone. A zone I do not want to get out of. A high I do not want to come down from. But I have to, not because I have to eat, shower, and sleep, but because that is simply not part of my everyday life. It doesn't pay the bills, it doesn't feed me. So when I come down of the high, I don't gracefully hit the ground. I hit it hard. So hard it hurts.

The first few days I kept it to myself. I tried to ignore the feelings and push them aside. As if this would work. I should know better. Then I decided to honor my feelings and be fully aware of these emotions. I am entitled to let myself feel whatever I want to feel because there is nothing more real than my raw emotions. I told John about it. And although he was very understanding and kind to give me suggestions and advice, I just needed him to listen. Because the advice he was giving me were things I knew well I had to do. They were the things that got me out of hell, so I knew I had to to put them into practice. I just needed listening ears. I just needed to vent. So I let out all of my emotions. It hurt, but I also freed myself from them, because I was then able to see clearer.


I am lucky to have a job I enjoy, with children that make me laugh and families that trust my knowledge and capabilities to help and teach their children. I am also lucky to have all the time that I have to do what I love. I do count my lucky stars, even though sometimes I forget to do so. But I also count the stars that are farther away, not yet at my reach, because those are the ones that I will relentlessly work for. Stars that I am not sure if they even align. Perhaps my dream job hasn't been invented yet. But somehow I will find a way to integrate photography of dogs and beauty, with writing that comes from the heart and do them both for a living. I'll not only align those far away stars, but they'll become a constellation I'll form on my own, and I'll count each and every one of them every chance I get.

Empathizing With a Rap Song

#52Essays2017
Week 17

"There are certain emotions in your body that not even your best friend can sympathize with, but you will find the right film or the right book, and it will understand you" - Bjork  

** or the right song **

On Sunday morning I jumped into a friend's car to head to a rooftop sunrise shoot. As I stepped in I asked for the music to be changed as he was listening to rap.
My liking in music is very dependent on the lyrics. Music with words that tell a story I can identify with travel deep. Even if the song has no real connection to my life or any experience, my empathetic self feels what the singer is relaying as if he/she is living it, and I hurt or rejoice for them. I am not a fan of rap and hip-hop, because for me, there is nothing significant about 'I got a glock in my rary' or 'I'm so gangsta prissy chicks don't wanna f*** with me' --- I can't. I try to be open to things as much as possible. But those words just don't do it for me. It does for others, but not for me.

On our way back from the shoot, he tried educating me about the specific rapper he was listening to when I got into his car. He tried convincing me that not all rap and hip hop is meaningless. That there is actual art created in it, and life messages being transmitted. He provided examples of what this singer/songwriter raps about, and how his style is so unique. I listened, liked what I was being told, and decided to give it a try. And so he played it, and I tried listening to rap as I do other genres. Listen closely, feel, relate.

I listened to Logic, a 27 year-old rapper, singer, songwriter, and record producer. The first song I listened to jumped from different perspectives in such a genius way. It integrated the fatality of an accident, talking to 'God', and the explanation of a theory of life; more specifically how little we know about it. Genius I tell you.

But then I listened to a song that prevented me from swallowing the bread I was eating. I had a knot in my throat throughout as I listened to its every word. Never in a thousand years did I think a rap song would make me feel the way that song made me feel. The song is titled "Anziety"

"Ima make it someday somehow"
what you telling yourself
But you ain't focused on what's important: mentality, health

Speech within the song-

It was December in sunny Los Angeles California
in the heart of Hollywood
I stood next to my wife in a line surrounded by hundreds of other people
on our way to watch Star Wars
When suddenly I was engulfed with fear and panic
as my body began to fade
In this moment my mind was full of clarity
But my body insisted it was in danger
........
And soon enough I found myself in a hospital bed being told
what I went through was anxiety
.......
The doctor said it was anxiety
But how could it be anxiety?
How could anxiety make me physically feel off balance?
How could anxiety make me feel as though I was fading
from this world and on the brink of death?
.......
Derealization
The sense of being out of one's body
I'm not here
I'm not me
I'm not real
Nothing is
Nothing but this feeling of panic

Every word was familiar. His description of anxiety as feeling physically off balance, fading away, panic, and on the brink of death punctured through my heart.
An anxiety I dealt with alone for as long as I can remember. Anxiety and depression I kept as a secret to not add to my parents' list of worries. I was 'strong' in their eyes, I was the family's anchor, how could I possibly weaken? If I fell, my family would too, I thought.

Anxiety and depression is real. And even more real is the silence that surrounds it. It's a silent killer the creeps in and suffocates, slowly. Oh so slowly.

It's like having a constant voice poking fun at you for feeling helpless, which makes you feel even more helpless, because you know the voice is right. The voice is heavy as it pushes you down making it impossible to get out of bed upon waking up. It plays and replays nerve racking and sorrowful events making sadness the most known and familiar feeling. The voice thumps in rhythm to your racing heart, making it louder and deafening. This voice never leaves. It becomes quieter sometimes, so quiet that you may think it's gone for good, but it comes back. Without announcing its return, it comes back well fed, bigger, louder, and more aggressive.

The voice becomes so deafening that there comes a point when its sound waves knock you into a hole. A deep dark hole, so deep that light isn't visible when looking up. I was in there. I tried climbing out, by ignoring the feelings and pushing them aside as I always did, but this time it didn't work. And the fact that I couldn't get out made matters worse.

Until I embraced my emotions, I learned to listen and talk to my heart. To free myself from my own mind because it was distorting and intensifying what my heart was feeling. I had to learn to accept that my heart was a little different. It felt too much. It felt my feelings and others' as well. Once I accepted that about myself, I was no longer at the mercy of my emotions. Because I let myself feel, and then took control of my thoughts, which in turn took control of those feelings before they controlled me.

There is nothing wrong with sadness, and feeling nervous. But when they forcefully want to become your best friends, your mind tends to listen and welcome them in. Controlling my thoughts through self help books, yoga, meditation, mindfulness, positivity, and putting ME first, helped me climb out of the hole, as if they slid in a long ladder and helped me out.

11:11 and Eyelashes

#52Essays2017
Week 16

Last week, as I was with one of my students during a session, I noticed a long eyelash on his rosy cheek.
I stopped teaching, told him to stay still and took the eyelash. I placed it on my index finger and said to him, "Look sweetie, this is your eyelash. Close your eyes, make a wish, and blow at it"

He didn't question me. He closed his eyes for what seemed like an entire minute, opened his eyes and blew. He was excited. His little smirk told me so.

The next day I saw him while I picked up and waited for another student in his classroom. He walked up to me, and with sad little eyes said "My wish didn't come true."

My heart sunk. He had wished for a toy and innocently believed my every word. For a second I didn't know how to amend what I had done. But as I looked into his eyes, the words started flowing. I told him to keep wishing, but to work hard for what he wants as well. If he wants that toy, I told him to do all of his homework on time, pay attention in class, do his chores, help mommy and daddy out, and ask for the toy as a reward and be patient for when his parents can get it for him. To always wish and work hard for the wish. Those are the wishes that are most likely to come true. He seemed to understand what I said, and walked back to his seat with the same sweet smirk as the day before.

At first I thought I should have never introduced him to wish-making for every eyelash. He'll either pull out all of his eyelashes, or get his little heart broken time and time again, as this first time. But after seeing his reaction to my explanation, and knowing it will most likely stay with him more than what is taught to him during a lesson, I thought I did right.

Ever since I learned about wish-making, to stars, eyelashes, blowing birthday candles, 11:11, in no particular order, I got my heart broken several times. I'm a big wish believer. I believe in wanting something hard enough to wish it into reality. But I recently learned that as much as I wished for something, if it wasn't under my control, chances are those wishes would not come true. But for those wishes where I did have control over the outcome, I had to wish hard, and work hard to have them granted. There's no way around it. Not that I know of at least.

When I was young, I wished for my brother to get it together. I wished for him to come home early from parties. To stay home on weekends. For my parents not to argue. For my dad to be happy. For them to understand me. Those wishes weren't granted, even though I wished hard for them.
But other wishes, like getting the jobs I interviewed for, getting accepted to the college and gradschool of my choice, winning contests, etc. they did. Most, at least. Because I worked for them. I wished them every chance I got, every 11:11 am/pm I came across, every eyelash I found, the first star I saw every night. But I also did everything I could to obtain them.

I still make wishes now. The same wish over and over again. The one I now know I want more than anything. I wish to be a photographer and a writer. Full time. Do them both for a living. And just like I told my student, I'll not only wish for it, but I'll work hard for it, because one day the wish will be granted even if I blow at the eyelash when it's already gone, or I look at the time and make the wish a minute after 11:11.