Rebecca + Matt, Los Angeles, CA
These two. Rebecca and Matt are gettin’ hitched this fall in northeast Georgia but wanted to do their engagement session in Los Angeles, where they live and fell in love. We started downtown where we stumbled upon the Last Bookstore, an awesome spot with a huge collection of used books and records. After Matt snagged a few records, we headed to the spot in Malibu where he first popped the question (and the champagne). We ended the night at the Colorado Bar in Pasadena, where they had one of their first official dates.
I like when two people you really like like each other enough to get married.
Also, check out that tie clip. And that ring. These two are classy.
Rebecca posing Matt a la school pictures.
These images were my first go with VSCO Film. To my surprise and delight, me likey.
waiting
If I could sum up my twenties so far in a word it would be “waiting”. Anyone who will tell me that it shouldn’t feel like waiting, that your twenties are a time of great adventure and carefree happiness obviously a) inherited a large sum of money early in life and therefore have no legitimate ability to speak to the rest of us on the subject, or b) has gotten too old to remember what their twenties felt like. Because I’m willing to put money barter on the fact that their twenties probably felt just like this: waiting. Waiting for a “real job” (what does that even mean?). Waiting for the time to come when money is not so stressful. Waiting for a stable place to live, to garden. Waiting for the end of transience. Waiting for one to come along, willing to be a faithful, exciting, kind, honest, funny and interesting partner in it all.
And then there’s the doubt that the waiting will ever end or, if it does end, pay off. But that’s for another post.
A hopeful poem by Wendell Berry, read the other night:
there is a day
when the road neither
comes nor goes, and the way
is not a way but a place.
a place, my place
Malibu, CA
On Sunday I noticed my first real, carved out, impossible-to-ignore, there-even-when-I’m-not-smiling smile line. It’s camped out just to the left of my mouth (well, let’s be honest. It’s more settled than “camped”. It’s at least at yurt status. Soon to be double-wide. Then, eventually, it will be a full-on suburban housing development). And then, on Monday, I turned 25. It just seemed like the right way to celebrate the smile line.
My birthday itself was a rather uneventful day. I made myself these cupcakes. And since then have averaged a three-a-day consumption rate (rationalizing each consecutive cupcake because they contain quinoa flour, which means they’re basically bran muffins).
My birthday was uneventful but I guess that was alright—the last year of my life has been eventful enough. This was the year, I think, that I realized I have a place.
I entertained a lot of post-grad school options over the course of the last year. All options lead me to the realization that California is my place. It’s where I want to be. It’s where I’m happy. It’s the place that makes me want to get out and explore places and plant things. It makes me want to read books like this and this and contemplate getting this tattooed on my body (way too chicken, though).
(This, of course, is a big and relieving realization for me who grew up living everywhere and being rooted hardly anywhere.) California is the first place I want to put roots down. I’m with my parents on the east coast until I secure full-time work in LA then I’m headed back. And oh god the heading back can’t come soon enough.
weekend outtakes
1) little boy, the Last Bookstore, Los Angeles
2) found driftwood, Malibu
sweet spot
I’m back in LA, back in my sweet spot. I arrived on Saturday and hit the ground running with dinner with some of my favorite people, a hike on Sunday morning on my favorite trail and an engagement session on Sunday that took us downtown and then to Malibu. I think this place was made for me (or, perhaps, I for this place).
p.s All of the above images were taking with my iPhone and processed with VSCOcam, a new app from the developers of VSCOfilm. You can download it from the app store for just a buck!
chop chop
Last October, John, the great soul who had been cutting my hair since I moved to California, died suddenly. John had seen me through a million haircuts, made me confident enough to rock a pixie and, on our last encounter, said some of the most comforting, post-break up words to me.
I’d been letting my hair grow out ever since he died. Last week, 6 months later, I decided it was time. My before hair was the longest it’s been in years so I made Jason photograph it to document it (and my nerves). My after hair feels wonderul. In John’s honor I’m working hard on rocking it (and on not tucking it behind my ears. “It makes you look like an news anchorwoman”, he would say.)
afternoons with Em
I’m missing afternoons spent with my favorite niece (my only niece), with toys scattered everywhere and non-stop baby babbling. She liked how I made the whisk hit the side of the bowl while scrambling eggs, and I liked the way she would climb up to my knees when I was sitting nearby. It was a win-win, really.
MEM > LAX
Jason (the infamous penpal), Memphis, TN
I’m currently 32,000 miles above the ground, moving at some 700+mph from Memphis, TN to Los Angeles, CA. It’s been two months since I road-tripped east from California. Sometime around month one I shed tears I was so homesick for California. I’m so glad to be heading back, even if it’s just for a few days this time.
I have big plans for my few days in LA including a trip to my favorite solo beach spot, dinner with the people I love and some time to figure out what I’m doing in this world.
the Mancaris–a family session
I may be biased but isn’t this little family absolutely adorable? The four of us had a family session late one Sunday afternoon in Old Town Alexandria, Virginia. Just a few days after this session baby Emerson turned 1 year old. I’m so glad I was able to capture such a unique time in their family’s life.
in between
Well, my time with this precious being is up. My last day on the job was last week and I already miss her like crazy. In less than two months I watched her change so much. She nows says “hi” to everything, knows how to swipe open an iPhone and rocks a sippy cup like a champ. She just turned one and is starting to stand on her own. She’ll be doing full-on jazzercise routines in no time, I’m sure.
Now I’m in the in-between. I’ve got no address, technically. My dog is with my parents for the next two weeks. My stuff is Los Angeles. And I’m currently hanging out in Memphis. I counted it up yesterday and in the past 6 months I’ve applied for 46 different jobs.
I go through most days just hoping no one will ask me questions containing the words “what” and “next”. (Seriously, I think I’m going to start turning the tables and ask the same questions of people who have been in jobs for 10+ years. Give them a taste of their own unnerving interrogations.) I keep having to remind myself that my life isn’t the thing that I’ll live when I’ve got things figured out, but that I’m living it constantly, right now. My dog in Virginia, my stuff in Los Angeles and my body somewhere in between, this is my life right now.
To make my transient-ness more logistically feasible, I’m getting rid of a bunch of my belongings. If you’re local to LA and interested in a full or twin bed, a smattering of vintage furniture or a pretty small 1980s Fuji road bike, let me know. It’s all up for grabsies.
Do you think fortune cookies are prophetic?
