Unsolicited Advice.

Death is hard to talk about. It's scary, awkward and uncomfortable. I know. But, if someone close to you is dealing with losing someone, please, get over yourself. They will never remember how awkward it was. They will only remember that you were there.

I will never forget how appallingly I was treated by my friends after my mom died. I know we were only 16, but even teenagers should know common human decency. My sister, who was 22 at the time, had friends driving and flying in from all over the country, and I couldn't even get anyone in the same zip code to return my phone calls.

Thank you to the two friends who did attend my mom's funeral. It was too hard for me to talk to you, but I still remember it, and it meant a lot to me.

Back to our regularly scheduled programming soon.

For Ben.

Nine years later.














Note: this picture was taken my Freshman year in college for a Photography class I was taking. I don't exactly remember the assignment, but it was somehow appropriate. I also later used this picture, along with some other things, to gain entrance into the Texas Creative sequence. I know it's kind of dramatic, but I really love this picture.

#12 This...

I don't even know how to describe this. It is something so personal, so completely irreplaceable. My sister is the only person I've ever shared it's existence with, and I'm not even sure if she's seen it with her own eyes.

This was written in my day planner from 2003. I don't remember if I found it quickly after her death, or if years had passed, but regardless...

For as long as I can remember, my mom, sister and I have written each other little secret notes in the other's planner or notebook. We would snatch it up while the other was in a different room, flip to a random page, and write something, some little token of affection, or just a simple "so-and-so was here." Written in the space for July 11, 2003, the day she died, is a simple "I love you! Mom" in her gorgeous, unmistakable, familiar handwriting.

It freaked me out beyond words the first time I found it. I mean, WHAT ARE THE CHANCES? I actually threw the book across the room and refused to go near it for a while. It still sort of creeps me out, but my sister insists that it is beautiful. I have to agree that it is so remarkable, and because I feel as though I must save every thing she ever touched, I will never get rid of this little token.

#11 1001 Rules For My Unborn Son

Maybe I'm putting too much emphasis on online things, but blogging has changed so much since 2003, and my mom loved being online, so I tend to focus on that subject a lot. 1001 Rules For My Unborn Son gives me hope for future generations of men, and it makes me wonder if she would've had a conversation with me about characteristics that make a good man, how to tell the difference, and how I deserve to be treated.

#10 SKYplay

Because. why not?

SKYplay photostream

#9 The Way I Spent My Inheritence

In January 2008, very impulsively, I applied for an internship at Paramount Pictures in London. I had never been abroad. I had never thought about working in the Entertainment industry. It just seemed right. After months of trying, pestering and interviewing, I got it, and in June 2008, I was off to London. I got on the plane by myself, and 14 hours later, I met up with strangers in Amsterdam. (They were in my program, but we hadn't met before then, so it just sounds cooler if I say it the other way..)

I spent the summer working at the most exciting job I could ever imagine, going to movie premieres, traveling to different countries, making new friends, trying new things, and taking on new adventures at every turn. I even met up with one of her online friends in Ireland that she was never able to meet. I know she would've loved that, too. I was so overwhelmed with beauty everywhere I went. I appreciated everything, and being alone a lot of the time was such a soul-searching and amazing experience.

On the 5 year anniversary of her death, I walked to St. Paul's Cathedral. I walked up the 900 stairs to the very top of the Cathedral dome and stared at all of London. I watched the Thames. I admired the Millennium Bridge and the Tate Modern. I soaked in the moment and captured every detail. When I finally went back downstairs, I went into the gift shop and they had the Desiderata and the 23rd Pslam on little wallet-sized notecards. I had done really well all day, but I almost lost it right then and there. I bought two of each and a card. I sat right smack down in the middle of the Cathedral, directly under it's magnificent dome, put in my earphones and set my iPod to play "Into the Mystic" by Van Morrison as I wrote my sister a note on the notecard, and included the Desiderata for her.

As I was leaving, I remember that I wanted to stop and light a candle for her and say a prayer. The prayer area was closing, but the attendant let me in anyway. I sat silently for a few moments, lit my candle, wiped away a few silent tears and left. As I was standing outside, admiring the Cathedral a few minutes later, an older man came up to me and said something very profound and comforting. I don't remember exactly what. He had seen me in the prayer room a few minutes earlier. As I walked away, I was filled with such remorse for not telling him what the day was. I felt like I should've told somebody. Like it would've matter more. But I didn't. Because I never tell anyone.

I have so many amazing memories, and I know she would've loved to hear about every single one, but this in particular--it is just so, her. Me being there also would not have been possible without her (or without my dad and stepmom, who also helped more than I could ever thank them for!). I wasn't getting paid much at my internship, but I was able to make the summer happen by spending a good chunk of my inheritence and I don't regret it one bit, not even for a second, and she wouldn't either.

Why this, Why now?

I am constantly inspired by my mom and my memories of her. Although I may not be strong enough, still, to paint a portrait of her (which I am determined to do one day), I have written, collaged, photographed, and expressed myself through every other creative outlet I could think of... None of it has ever been public, which is just the kind of person I am, and I'm not sure why it feels different now or why I feel like doing this.

This idea came to me when I was driving fast down a backroad in Austin a few weeks ago--windows down, music blaring, the scent of my new pina colada air freshener catching the wind just right. It was such a moment. Maybe it's just a quirk, but I always stop to notice perfect moments. I have a long list of the perfect moments in my life (see #7), and sometimes they are so simple, like the one that day. I thought of how much I would love it if she were there experiencing it with me, and then my mind started to wander... and this is what came of that.

Maybe this is a social experiment. Maybe this is my attempt at telling my story, letting people in, come out of hiding--whatever you want to call it. Or maybe I just need a new outlet to think. Whatever this is, I think that blogging about it is very appropriate, and is yet another thing my Mom would've loved.