I am selfish. Not in the overt, "MEMEME" way, but a more subtle, quiet kind of selfish. The kind that others would never pick up on, but the kind that makes me slightly uncomfortable to be sitting in my own skin. The kind that I decided to face head-on one random Tuesday afternoon. 

My world revolves entirely around me, Zack, and my loved ones. Basically every thought & action I have in some way is related to myself, my husband who I'm probably too obsessed with, & my family or close friends. I'm not a bad person, I'd even go so far as to say I'm a good person. And sure I have a great deal of empathy for others- I frequently cry when reading sad news articles, donate my old clothes to Goodwill, or give a couple bucks to a homeless man. But after a few brief moments of absolute sadness for another human being, I seamlessly resume my charmed little life, and that moment of connection with someone whose life is a lot less rosy than mine, is lost in the air.

Since moving from Germany (which was 2.5 years of nothing but selfish desires- "I'm sure there are starving people out there, but I'm in Italy so you can bet your life I'm gonna get a third scoop of gelato." Not saying anything is wrong with that, there's a time & place for everything, and I knew that lifestyle wasn't forever, so I took full advantage.) I have done little more than pass my time with what I, or Zack, wanted. I fixed up our new home, we traveled around the Midwest, I did almost every single crafty thing found on Pinterest, I delved into photography, and I floated around in my perfect bubble of a life.

For the past few months, I have had the tinniest feeling that seemed to pull on my shirttail and sometimes kept me awake for a few moments longer at night. At first I didn't know what it was. Was I bored? Did I need to find a job? Did we need to have a baby? What was this strange little pull on my heart? My puzzlement continued until one day I was walking down our hallway and it hit me dead in the face- no more messing around- it meant business & wasn't going to leave until I had heard it out. 

You need to be more giving. Stop thinking entirely of yourself & the small circle of people around you, and open up your eyes. This world is a very big place, and there is a lot of sadness and hurt in it. However small, you have the power to take away at least a tiny bit of that heartache. Start now. 

I didn't know where to begin. Because we're moving in a few weeks, I knew I didn't want to get involved in a volunteer organization. Then my mind went to the holidays that are quickly approaching. Of course there are a number of things I would love to have for Christmas (new computer, new camera, new lenses, new boots, blahblahblah) but do I truly need any of that right at this moment? Was it going to make me any happier to wake up on Christmas morning and see any of those things underneath the tree? Was my heart going to be any fuller, or my days any brighter, because of the material objects I want? Probably not. So what then? What to do? I haven't decided. What Zack & I have decided to do is use the money we'd spend on gifts for each other, and put it towards helping someone who needs it more. What exactly that means, we're not sure, but I trust that the answer will be placed on our hearts. I hope that original feeling of discontentment can manifest into something great, something changing in my very nature. Whether it's through using my hands, our money, my writing or photography- I hope I can find something inside of me that is of use to the world, to people that need it.

I struggled with even posting this. I'm not writing this because I want anyone who reads this to think, "Oh wow, what a selfless act. She must be a really good person." I am writing this because I have been inspired by others' blogs that feature altruistic acts, and if even one single person is inspired by mine, then that's a good thing.

I am still going to Instagram too much, still going to buy that infinity scarf I want, and still lament over the fact that my hips will never fit into a size zero. I'll still drink good red wine, and still meticulously inspect my split ends and chipped sparkle nail polish. Only now, those things are going to take up only a small space in my life, as they should. The world is too vast, too troubled to let anything more reign over your heart. God, luck, the Universe and fate have been on my side my whole life. What an injustice if I didn't take some of that gold and help others see the beauty that is simply being alive. 

"It is not only for what we do that we are held responsible, but also for what we do not do."

-Moliere

but if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need

The last 12 hours have been a little crazy. We found out where we're going to be stationed for the next 3 years....DRUM roll please.....Ft. Drum, our #2 choice! It's funny how things seem so different in the light of day. Last night when Zack got the email, I felt like my heart dropped straight out of my body. It wasn't so much the fact that we got Drum (which I have only ever heard awesome things about) but that we didn't get Bragg. I know, I know I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up for Bragg, but telling myself not to get my hopes up for something is absolutely pointless- because I simply can't help it. I had my obligatory, Linda Blair circa Exorcist freak out (sad to say this is not an exaggeration) for a few hours last night when we found out. If my head could have spun around, it would have. Times fifty. 

But sitting in the soft morning light drinking a cup of coffee, last night seems so bizarrely unnecessary. No, not unnecessary. That's how I deal with disappointment- I have my moment (or hours, whatever) of absolute dramatics that include crying, screaming, sobbing, scream-crying, etc. and I get every last drop of emotion out, and then...miraculously, I am recovered. I have to have that self-indulgent moment and allow myself to get my disappointments out through whatever means they want to come out, and then I pull my big girl panties on and get on with it, with a genuine smile on my face. Ft. Drum will be fabulous because we will make it fabulous, and because we will be together. I'm already discovering a lot of awesome things about the area (3.5 hours from Montreal, 30 miles from the Canadian border, we'll get to see all of upstate New York, Vermont, Maine, New Hampshire...all places I've wanted to travel, and it snows a ridiculous amount so I'll get to use my Sorel snow boots I never got to use in Germany!) One of my friends from back in the days of the good ol' USMAGF club (West Point Girlfriends...so many lolz associated with that, I can't even) is stationed there with her husband and they absolutely love it, so I'm looking forward to getting all of the insider information from her & getting to hang out with them. 

Another slight hiccup in my daily routine- I checked my work email this morning and had a not-so-nice message from a user on the site I've been advertising with- Bookoo (A Craigslist sort of thing for the military community.) 

"So not professional. Hobby photographer! See my post about photography on bookoo please!" along with a fake username & email. Her post on Bookoo (which has subsequently been removed) was a rambling rant about how she is sick of seeing all these wannabe photographers who suck, undercutting the prices of all her professional photographer friends. You get what you pay for, blah blah blah.

It's funny, everyone with whom I have worked has gone out of their way to praise my work so I was actually wondering the other day when I'd get my first negative feedback. I was thinking more along the lines of an actual client, though, not being satisfied with the work I presented them with. Not some bored stranger who has probably never even looked at my pictures. I wondered if I should even respond, if it'd be worth crafting a response. I decided I should, mostly to stress the fact that I am by no means whatsoever calling myself a professional. Nowhere near it, in fact. I know I have so much work, and a lot of learning to do before I am at the point I'd like to be professionally. However....doesn't everyone have to start somewhere? If some of the photographers I admire started out with top of the line equipment, taking awe-inspiring pictures straight out of the box with a complete mastery of Photoshop, then I should just quit now. But I'm willing to bet they had to stumble and climb to where they are now. This was my response:

"I don't believe the word "professional" is included anywhere in my post, but I am flattered you'd suggest such! I never claimed to be professional, as I am just starting out. (Hence the price...trust me, I would be charging far more if I thought my work was at the level I want it to be.) Everyone has to start somewhere, and this is my starting place. Talented as I am sure all of your many photographer friends are, they had to start somewhere as well. This is how I am choosing to start: by offering relatively low rates but still high-quality images while working to build a portfolio, client base, confidence, & skills.

Fortunately for me, the FLW Bookoo community has been nothing but incredible thus far. That's what a good military community does: build each other up and give support, not attempt to tear each other down for no apparent reason other than pure boredom (or the Bookoo Photographer Police- what a noble cause! I am sure everyone can sleep much sounder at night, knowing you're policing all those "hobbyist photographers.") Also fortunately for me, the response from the many clients I have booked has been overwhelmingly positive- every last one has been amazed with the pictures they've received, and have even suggested I should raise my prices. However, as I am JUST starting out (as I have attempted to reiterate to you), I would not feel right charging more. Thank goodness we live in America, where people have the freedom to pick any photographer they like-  a really great feeling, isn't it?

I really appreciate your interest in my business, but might I suggest you pick up photography as a hobby yourself? I think it's very apparent you need one.

I talked to my Daddy about it, and of course he made me feel better. He said, "You know, it's actually a good thing you got that email. It means you're cutting into the professional's work and they don't like that. If you weren't any good, they'd just leave you alone." She tried to come back with a response attempting to make me feel silly:

Eliza,

The post wasn't directed to anyone specific. So there really was no need for you to take time out of your busy day to send me such a lengthy comment defending your work. I merely posted it as an opinion. As you stated, this is America. So I am entitled to utltlize my freedom of speech. I'm sorry you clearly feel my comment is detrimental to your business and if you don't why would you bother saying anything? I would suggest some thicker skin if you continue to persue photography. As I've seen through friends, it's a tough business and if you can't take comments that weren't even directed towards you, I'd hate to see how you deal with negative feedback. Yes, good on you for not having any thus far. But you have to be realistic and realize that not everyone is going to love the work you present them with. That's just a fact of life.

Good luck and God Bless,

Bee Bee

Not directed at anyone specific? Then why email me instructing me to read it? And ah, "God Bless." Yes, God bless you dear, kind woman- spreading the gospel of Jesus Christ through your selfless acts of photography critiques, doing unto others as Jesus would do unto you (and surely Jesus has disdain for wannabe photographers, right?) Perhaps she should petition for an 11th commandment- "Thou shalt not try to start a photography business." But really, she's right about the thick skin. I know I need to get mine toughened up, but I'd rather it come from people who have actually paid me to take their picture and are dissatisfied with what they're given and could actually give me some constructive, specific criticism, rather than a sad, bored Army wife. One thing I hate about military life: there are some absolute nutso wives out there- we're talking levels of crazy you wouldn't believe. But I guess that's just life in general. 

This is what I've been working on. Is my work where I want it to be? Nowhere close. Am I proud of what I have done, with what I have, thus far? Absolutely. 

Happiness isn't a feeling. It's a choice. 

And I am choosing to be happy, so happy my heart feels like it might burst.

"If neurotic is wanting two mutually exclusive things at one and the same time, then I'm neurotic as hell. I'll be flying back and forth between one mutually exclusive thing and another for the rest of my days."

- Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar 

 

today

I woke up this morning immediately realizing the date and feeling sorrowful in ways you can't really express. I was drinking my morning coffee with Zack at the breakfast table when I felt the tears well up in my eyes. I tried biting the inside of my mouth to stop them as I looked out the window, hoping Zack wouldn't see my glistening eyes. It's not that I'm afraid to cry in front of my husband (goodness knows that's not the case), it's just- I had no idea where this sudden onset of emotion came from. I was as confused by it as anyone, and I didn't want to try to explain something that I didn't fully understand myself. In any case, Zack immediately noticed my pale face and quivering lip and softly said, "hey...what's wrong?" You know when you're fighting tears and you'd probably be able to suppress them- but then someone gives you a kind glance or a warm touch and you just lose it like you've never lost it before? That happened. He wrapped me up in a tight hug and asked me again- "what is wrong?" All I could manage to get out was, "I'm...sad." 

"I'm sad." What a small phrase for emotions- for a day- so big. It barely seems appropriate to simply say, "I am sad." But I am- I am so deeply sad for so much, for so many today. 

Every single person I know remembers that day- how can we not? It ripped itself into America's history book, leaving a deep, smoldering mark across the pages and chapters for years to come. It's been 11 years and the wound still aches for us- maybe not the searing pain we felt in the cold months of 2001, but it's a quiet ache that I don't think will ever go away.

I was wearing pale blue corduroy pants with a white t shirt that had a pink eagle on it and said "All-American girl." I walked into my science classroom and immediately knew something was not right. The TV was on, and my teacher- Mr. Bryant- was frantically pushing buttons on his cell phone in the hallway. (I later learned he had a daughter at NYU, hence his panic.) Normally without a teacher present in the classroom, we would take full advantage to act like heathens. This day was different. Even though we didn't really know, we knew the world was changing- something horrible was happening. We sat in silence watching the second plane hit. I remember being so cold. I couldn't stop shaking. 

We moved to our next period, and then the school put us on lock-down. We lived in an Air Force base town, and waves of unfounded rumors rippled through the hallways that we would probably be targeted by the terrorists. Terrorists? I tried that word in my mouth, saying it a few times, letting the three syllables roll over my tongue. It was a somewhat foreign word to me, to a lot of the American youth. Terrorist. I still don't like feeling the word in my mouth, but it's no longer a stranger. 

My mommy took me out of school early that day. I still don't know if she was worried for my safety or just wanted to hug me tightly. My parents always did an amazing job of letting me and my brothers know how much we were cherished, but that day in particular I remember so much love flowing through our home.

As the days wore on, we began to resume our everyday lives. The images of planes hitting buildings and people leaping from windows no longer consumed my morbid thoughts and eventually people stopped wearing American flag t-shirts and being overly nice to each other. But the day still haunts us- 11 years later, and it is still a dull throb.


There really was no point to this post- I have no clever words or nice tidy way to wrap this post up. I just wanted to say that on this day, I am sad. Tomorrow I will be happy, but today my heart hurts. 

our timeline

August 1998- We met & became friends quickly. I've always been able to read people, and sense a person's heart. He had a good one.

May 2005- Had our first kiss at our high school graduation party. I accidentally rolled down a hill afterwards because I was so excited. We spent the night in the back of his pickup truck in a field in the middle of Georgia. When I woke up the next morning, I had a feeling the world would look different from that moment on. It did. It does.

June 2005- He came to visit me in North Carolina before he left for Beast at West Point. We sat on my roof at night and he had electric blue hair. I fell so hard.

March 2006- Officially became "boyfriend/girlfriend" even though we had been "talking" for almost a full year, and I had accumulated a box brimming with love letters postmarked from New York. 

April 2007- We broke up. It was a Sunday afternoon and I had just returned from the gym. I was an RA at my college and was chattering on the phone to him about something that had happened in my dorm earlier that day. He stopped me and quietly said, "We need to talk." I don't really remember the next few weeks, that kind of hurt does a number on your senses, on your spatial awareness, on your whole universe.

January 2008- He & a friend came to visit me at college. I had a boyfriend at the time, so nothing emerged between us, but it was there. Oh it was always there- I just had enough dates, enough nice guys, & enough frozen margaritas to keep me laughing so I wouldn't turn around and catch it staring me in the face. 

27 December 2009- He was flying into NC to attend a friend's wedding, so I picked him up from the Greensboro airport. I was wearing my Hollister work attire- skinny dark jeans & a navy sweater that I kept tugging at nervously. I saw him come down the elevator in jeans, a white thermal shirt, and a UGA baseball cap and my heart went straight to my throat. I had not prepared for this. We ate dinner at an Applebee's and both of our hearts seemed to have forgotten the last 2 and a half years. This was not the plan.

31 December 2009- On 2 hours of sleep, I drove him halfway to Atlanta. We joked nervously in the car about me moving to Germany with him. I dropped him off at a Waffle House, expecting to never see him again. I could hardly read the text message he sent me, for all the tears blurring my eyes. "I can't even eat my eggs. All I can think of is you." 

22 January 2010- Again, he flew to NC. Again, my heart leaped to my throat, this time in the Guilford County courthouse. I was in jeans and fake pearls, he was wearing khakis and the most genuine smile I've ever seen. We had matching gold bands, and the world couldn't touch us. We were married. It was the craziest, yet most sound decision I have ever made. 

2 May 2010- I moved to Germany to be with him. He gave me a rose at the Frankfurt Airport and from that moment on, I was enamored with him and Europe. We joke that we had a two-year European honeymoon. I guess we really did.

31 December 2010- We had our "real" wedding for all of our family & friends. It was wonderful having everyone together for such a special New Year's Eve, but it didn't come close to that blustery January day when he & I stood in an empty courtroom, shaking & crying & saying yes a million times over. 

22 February 2011- He deployed to Afghanistan and I thought my eyes would never dry. I've never ached so physically for another person. But we became much stronger, both as a couple and as individuals.

14 February 2012- He came home. Still the same sweet and sincere Zack that left one year prior. I didn't take my eyes off of him for days. 

Present- Living in the middle of Missouri, trying to figure out the future, and still looking forward to forehead kisses in the morning & the sound of his truck coming home.

Sometimes I just feel like I have won the husband jackpot lottery.

That is all. 

wack/wonderful Wednesdays

wack

1. Did you know it is possible to eat your weight in watermelon? Because it is. I achieved this feat today.

2. I have been sleepy all day, because Coley & I stayed up until 2AM talking & laughing (which in my old woman world, might as well have been an all-nighter.) Worth it- I was seriously blessed in the little brother department.

3. Facebook was even more obnoxious today than usual. Here's the thing y'all: I get on Facebook to stalk your pictures & maintain a mild interest in what is going on in your life. It is not possible for me to care any less about your political views. I have my opinions- plenty of them, in fact. But I prefer to shove my kissy pics down the throats of my Facebook friends, not my beliefs on whether or not I think eating a chicken sandwich makes me homophobic.

wonderful

1. New yoga mat.

2. I actually went running today- in the midday heat, nonetheless. For the laziest of lazies, this is an accomplishment. I will get to my goal weight.

3. I got to have a fabulous dinner with my parents & grandparents at 2520, an awesome restaurant in Clemmons. Chicken livers (yet another food I thought I didn't like that I do), lobster nachos (y'all..), & blackened chicken over corn & black bean ravioli with an avocado cream sauce. It was so nice getting to visit with them. 

4. A glass of sparkling white wine. I have been doing really well with not drinking my calories (as per usual) but tonight I was craving some wine. So I had some. And it was delicious.