I often wonder how my life would be different if my mom was still alive.
What would it have been like to only grown up with 3 siblings instead of 7?
Would I have gone through the same trials?
Would I be as strong as I am now?
interesting thing is that although my mom dying has left a gaping hole
in my life, I have been so blessed because of it. The things that I have
been able to experience and do have made me into who I am. I am still
always a little lost, but don't we all get through? We can all do hard
things, but sometimes if things get extra hard, listen to James
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
For those of you that know me, you know that on occasion I like to be creative. My good friend Audrey has always been supportive of my creative ideas and for that I am grateful. Audrey is an artist herself and taught me how to draw basic 3D objects on Macaroni Grills paper table cloths at dinner two years ago. She constantly checked my drawing projects when we lived together and has always been willing to help me out when needed. It’s through Audrey that I have felt comfortable really expressing myself artistically the last few years.
Usually I’m not a drawer or a painter, but a photographer. Photography was my major for about two seconds of my college career, but it was a wonderful two seconds where I was able to keep my eye behind the lens and click thousands of photos in hours.
I feel the most inspired through writing and music. Writing to the beats and sounds of Bon Iver or Regina is always what helps me get through hard days. Not to mention that carrying Andrea Gibson’s poetry around and reading it over and over is nothing but a miraculous blessing. I have learned through my few years or rapid journal keeping and my poetry writing that keeping a notebook with me at all times is the best way to keep my mind flowing. Hopefully one day I will be able to edit my jibber jabber into something realistic, insignificantly wonderful, and touch someone else’s soul. Until that day comes though, I will keep my notebooks close, keep reading, keep writing, and keep trying to photograph.
Starbucks and a notebook. Is there anything better?
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
As most of my close friends know, my dad is Spanish. He was born in Spain and then moved to France as a young boy. It was in France that my dad gained 3 brothers, joined the LDS church and served a mission for the LDS church. After returning home from his mission he made his way over to the States where he met my mom at Ricks college. (This reason alone was why I attended BYU-Idaho in the first place.) Although English was my dad's third language I rarely ever heard him speak Spanish or French growing up. But even though I was not very exposed to languages when I was young, my dad did like to put on a little foreign music from time to time. Listening to the unfamiliar words started my desire to start learning a foreign language. As an adult I still love to listen to music from all different countries and cultures thanks to my adorable father and the Gipsy Kings.