Box of memories.
Several months ago, my mom brought down a box of stuff that I’d left at the house about 10 years ago. It includes stuff from Junior High, High School and College. When she brought it down, I barely dipped my toe into it; I couldn’t really handle all the emotions it might release.
I’ve always been kind of obsessed with Alice in Wonderland. In a box somewhere, I have some large reproductions of John Tenniel‘s illustrations from the 1st edition (1865) of Lewis Carroll’s classic novel. Wasn’t sure if it was the box that mom dropped off, so I started digging through it.
I eventually want to photographically chronicle some of this stuff, but for now I’m just going to list a few things I’ve found.
- A t-shirt I painted when I was 13. It’s so tiny–a boy’s medium. I remember it being way oversized. It has a yin-yang on the back.
- Contact sheets of the first modeling pics I took when I was 19. A famous photographer took them. They are in black and white. At the time, I didn’t understand why anyone would want to take my picture. Typical teenager, I didn’t think I was attractive. I was really happy and care-free, although in some pictures I’m def self aware. I still look basically the same except now my face is thinner and my body is not quite as cut LOL
- My photo scrap book from Senior Year in HS and the first 2 years of college. So young!
- 8th grade year book (1991). Shoved inside were 3 sets of matted photos from our district winning cross country and track teams. Someone’s parent took a lot of time to take the photos of us out on the track or on the cross country course. They also matted the pictures. Unlike the actual yearbook pics, these pictures are candid and feel more like real memories. I look at the pics and I can feel the polyester shorts, the cold wind and my tight lungs. Funny: I was so intimidated by most of the other guys on the team. Looking at them now, I realize how silly that was. I look sad and very unsure of myself. I started crying looking at these pics and thinking about how much I was going through at the time. Shocks me that that little boy was me.
- One of my sketchbooks from when I was 20. I was going through a cubistic phase.
- Le Journal de Mickey – a French comic book from 1988 in which Mickey and crew go to the Olympics!
- An autograph from 1990 from Jim Wright, former speaker of the US House of Representatives. When I was a kid, I loved him because he was from Fort Worth, went to my mom’s High School and went to UT.
Yeah, so that’s just a small sampling. My mom is going to bring another box down soon. Hoping it has those Alice in Wonderland prints. If it does, that will also include all my wall decorations!!
Six pictures of my grandmother.
Just got back from spending several days in Galveston for my grandfather’s 90th birthday. While there, I shot several pics of my grandmother. Thought I would share them with you!
My grandmother is the person who has inspired me the most. She has always been there to give me the emotional support and courage I’ve needed on my many voyages throughout life. A truly classy lady, she taught me to respect people regardless of their race, religion, social status or sexual orientation. She’s also extremely compassionate, which is why she was a superstar nurse before she retired.
A few years ago, she and my grandfather moved from their home in Dallas to an assisted living center in Galveston. Before the move, she had a very active life: personal trainer, book club, shopping at Central Market and eating healthy food. Her life is completely different now. Not sure whether it was leaving her friends, downsizing from a house into an apartment or the stress of watching my grandfather suffer through Parkinson’s disease, but she’s been off-and-on depressed since the move.
When I was living in Berlin, she used to call me every day to chat. Those calls got me through the severe depression I suffered after having everything stolen. Now I call her almost every night with the hopes that I can lift her spirits.
While depressed, she had gained a lot of weight. A couple of months ago, she decided she needed to lose the weight so that she could regain a little esteem. Over this last visit, she looked like the granny I grew up with: active and fit. For a woman in her late 80′s, she looks amazing. I couldn’t stop taking pictures!
This one is probably my favorite of all the photos I took. We were in the elevator heading out to grab dinner. Surprisingly, the light was amazing. She looked strong.
This is obviously not the best quality picture–but the situation was so beautiful. We were walking to her car. It was sunset, and the sky was flushed with pinks and purples. We stopped to admire the splendor. When I turned to look back at her, she was bathed in the pink light reflecting off the sky, as if she was glowing. Behind her, a bush with pink flowers was blowing in the breeze. I snapped this picture to remember the moment.
This is a picture of my grandmother dressed to go to dinner. She loves pink and purple, and this outfit looked great on her!
This was her outfit for my grandfather’s birthday dinner. She reminded me of a Spanish Catalan woman.
This is my grandmother with Tennille, a family friend. I love this picture because this is her natural smile. It’s so peaceful and happy. It was the only time I captured it during the trip. The joy of having everyone there for my gfather’s b-day kinda shines through. And she loves Tennille.
This is my grandfather. He is also one of my heros. He taught me that I can create my own world.
Even though he’s 90, I think he still looks very handsome. I snapped this picture before we headed to the Lone Star Flight Museum. Because of the Parkinson’s, it was tough to take a picture of him. For this one, I hopped in front of him and said “Smile, Bobby!” He smiled, and I snapped the pic!
My grandfather is the love of my grandmother’s life. They’ve been together for 65 years. The compassion she has for this man is amazing. I can’t imagine what it’s like to watch as your loved one slowly deteriorates in front of you. But they have each other. And their love is so beautiful.
This is the best picture I think I’ve ever taken of them. My grandmother looks devoted and strong. <3
The writing process–Starting the idea generation cycle for the next series of stories.
Today was the first day working on the next series of fiction writings. It basically involved immersing myself in the subject during what I call the “sponge phase” of the idea generation cycle.
The sponge phase involves filling your head with as much information as possible until you reach the point of sensory overload. For all of you athletes, it’s kind of like when you are loading up on carbs before a marathon. In the case of idea generation, you are loading up on information, images, writing styles and experiences that will help push you through the story writing process.
When you’re training for sports, you don’t want to fill you body with junk. Same goes for the creative process. Here are some of the things I do during my media diet:
- Limit Facebook and other social media use.
- I’m already filling my head with tons of things–and I dont really need to be exposed to all the extra stuff facebook pushes out. Plus, it’s a huge time suck.
- Limit my personal interaction to people that are positive influences.
- The creative process is like giving birth, and you don’t want your baby to be exposed to negative things. Some people also can be a drain, stressing me out or weighing me down.
- Limit movies, novels or short stories to things that I’ve already read, focusing on those works that resonate with the story I want to tell.
- It comes down to too much stimulation. It also helps put you in the right state of mind or mood to match your story.
- If you’ve already read/seen the work, you know what to expect. I don’t like outside influences affecting my writing in unexpected ways <—This goes for all of the above.
The last novel was very dark and semi-autobiographical. It was also kind of avante garde. This new series of short stories (or maybe a novel) goes back to being true fiction based on several ideas I’ve had over the last few years during my travels.
As most of my faithful readers know, I had 4 years of journals and photos stolen while I was living in Berlin. I can’t look at pictures, drawings or writings from those times. All I have are memories:
- Iceland: wall of snow advancing across a sunny field from purple mountains; fairy villages in a tree stump and stones; glaciers
- Camping in a cabin in a valley outside of Heidelberg with Jasmine. Hiking to the city through the forest in the morning and then back to the cabin at night. Trees had eyes. Spawning white bugs swarming us. Castles, fountains, fairies, flowers.
- Watching shooting stars from high atop a mountain in North Carolina
- Dancing naked in a summer storm
As much as I’d like to go back to those places and immerse myself, I can’t right now. Thankfully, the memories help recall parts of stories that I wrote at the time.
Here are some snapshots of what I’m filling my head with 
I’ve also been watching different movie versions of Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream and Alice in Wonderland (not the new one). Can you guess what I’m writing about?
A flash of lightning–or why I’m trying hard not to be a zombie.
My grandparents at my grandfather's birthday in June 2009.
Just got off the phone with my aunt. My grandfather is in the hospital again. He was up all night vomiting, so they rushed him to the ER. At the hospital, they put a tube in his throat, but he pulled it out. He’s telling family members that he’s going to die.
My grandparents raised me. My grandfather taught me about being a man. My grandmother taught me how to love. They’ve been together for more than 60 years. When my grandfather passes, it’s going to break my grandmother’s heart.
It’s been a rough 2 weeks. My stepfather went into the hospital a couple of weeks ago with a kidney problem. He’s going to be in a nursing home for 3 months on dialysis recovering. And while I wasn’t as close to him as I am to my grandfather, it still makes me reflect on mortality and death.
On top of that, all of my material objects have decided they want to break: My laptop randomly reboots whenever it feels like it; my still camera’s lens grinds when I turn it on; my phone’s screen and volume are broken–and it drops calls; one of my flip cameras has a broken, unusable screen; AND my soap dispenser is no longer pumping. Top that off with a week long stomach bug, and it’s hard to feel like I’m not drowning.
I’m trying hard to understand my emotions right now. I can’t let myself go numb, and I can’t escape into depression. I know I should feel this. I need to be in the moment, acknowledging what’s happening and understanding that it’s life.
People die. We all die. It’s written into the contract of life. Nothing lives forever. Things change. Things break. Nothing is permanent–especially flesh. It’s hard idea to swallow–and it sounds cold–but it’s the only truth in life.
photo by Loerex. The city is Cologne. <3
The seasons always change. Summer doesn’t last forever, and neither does the winter. We have to enjoy every moment during the summer: bask in the sunlight, complain about the heat, and fill our hearts with swimming and sunsets. But we always know that fall will come. And then winter. No matter how hard we try to hold on to summer, it still goes. So it must be with people and things.
People come into our lives. They share time with us. They touch us. They affect us. Sometimes they hurt us. Sometimes they love us. In the end, they all pass out of our lives. Impermanence is the only constant.
As much as I want to fight the death of my grandfather, my brother, my grandmother, my good friends, it’s futile. This life is a flash of lightning, a summer rainbow, a flower in bloom: beautiful, ephemeral, precious. We can’t be scared or sad. We can’t control the future. We can only enjoy our time now.
Cherish it, my friends. Love your life. Love your friends and family. Take note of every moment: the light, the dark, the smell, your feelings (good or bad), the sounds, the colors and tastes. At the same time, know it’s all fleeting.
All of this is easier said than done. Small steps. Remember: It’s a miracle each morning when we wake up and are still breathing.
Thank you all for the joy you bring me.
V + <3
Transformation.
I’m about to transform. I’ve been here before. I can feel it.
I’m so full of restless energy. I’ve been stuck in my cocoon and I want to burst out of this shell–but I havent finished forming. And I can’t write because I have too much to say. I don’t know where to start.
Things are about to crystalize. In this moment, all I can do is absorb the energy of the universe. Absorb places, people, stories. Flashes of memories. Moments of inspiration.
It’s always hardest right before it comes. The transformation. So for now I have to be patient and let my conscious finish growing. Stay in the now. For tomorrow everything will come together and with a BANG the new ideas, my new self, the next chapter will emerge.
I’m ready to soar. Are you?
On the nature of being humble.
I used to think that being humble meant being subservient–kinda like a dog with its head bowed and its tail between its leg. A sort of posturing, it was more of an act rather than an action.
Being humble means:
- Not talking about things that might make someone feel inferior.
- Listening with all your heart and not thinking about what to say.
- Respecting relationships.
- Not always having the spotlight or being the alpha dog in the room.
- Doing things that might be “beneath” you out of respect or love.
- Patience.
- Losing your ego.
Because I had a low self esteem, I used to feel like i had to prove myself by talking about places I’ve been, things that are successful, etc. Now that I’m comfortable with myself, I don’t want to talk about myself. I just want to be in the moment with my friends and the people around me. I want to help them be the best they can be–and I can’t do that if I’m always talking about my own successes or thinking about what to say next.
Being humble means letting go of yourself so that someone else can have a moment to shine.
I’m learning.
Appreciate the value of friendship.
Just got home from the Roaries, our first Austin music awards. It was awesome. The people who came really got it.
So many amazing people helped put the show together. So many people surprised me with their support. And a few people made my heart explode with thanks.
Sometimes things click, and you realize: These people care about me. They want me to win.
Those are the people that are keepers.
And I love them. With all my heart. Without them, I am nothing.
Thank you.
Why Journalism Is Still Important–My Submission For the National Press Foundation Awards Dinner
So I just submitted an essay to win a trip to the National Press Foundation Awards Dinner. The assignment was to explain why journalism still matters in 100 words or less. Here’s what I wrote:
In an age in which it’s easy to peer through the anonymous and lifeless window of the computer monitor, we need journalism to wake us up from information overload. By connecting us with victims of war or natural disaster, or simply with members of our own community, journalists take the world and break it down into digestible pieces of people and places, emotions and events. They help us remember what’s important: We are all connected by our own humanity. As the world becomes increasingly more global, we need that reminder now more than ever.
Wish me luck! This is part of pursuing my goals more courageously. If I win, it’d be a huge opportunity. If I don’t, I’m proud of myself for putting it out there. A younger Chris would have rationalized all the reasons NOT to submit, or would have just let the opportunity pass me by.
If you don’t ask, you wont receive.
For most of my life, I was scared to ask for things. I used to think it was because I didn’t want to come across as needy, but now I’m starting to realize that I was scared of rejection. Since rejection is another form of failure, it was easier to NOT ask for things and not risk anything than it was to perhaps be a failure.
Well, that’s all changed. I’m not scared of failure. In fact, I’d rather fall on my face trying than play it safe in the corner. And this thinking is new to me. It’s something I’ve wanted for years, but until I started living and doing–and asking–I never really understood.
Sometimes it feels like riding a wave. It’s going so quickly. If I hesitate, I’ll fall. But at times I’m scared I’m gonna flip over, or crash into something. But I have to relax and know that it’s totally ok; if I crash, I can just pick up my board and get back on the next wave.
So that’s the first step: Addressing the fear of failure. Now I’m moving to step 2: Asking for what I want. It was awkward at first–and I think it came across as awkward. But I’m starting to get the hang of it. And if someone says no, that’s cool. I’ll just figure out how to change my approach, and try it again on someone else.
And no, I’m not talking about dating–but that will probably be affected by the sense of confidence that the experience of the last year has given me.
Do you have problems asking for stuff? Or fear of failure? How did you overcome it? Or are you still struggling?
