A Wild Ride

It's been 3 short years since I last "birthday blogged". Since then I've lost a parent, cried with friends and family through numerous tragedies, all while working through my own newly discovered insecurities.

Those were the bad parts of the last few years. They were difficult. Really, really difficult at times. But one thing I have not allowed those events to do is to define me.

I've never met a person without insecurities. Ever. And if you say you're that person, I won't believe you. Because if you're actually LIVING every day to its fullest you will find that as you push forward in this thing called life, that new insecurities will constantly find you. They have to if you are striving for something more.

When you're pushing yourself to learn a new skill...you're never the smartest.

When you're stepping out into a new venture...you have no idea what's going to happen.

When you let some stranger cut your hair for the first time...you have no idea if they are going to make you look like your mom did when you were 7 years old when she had no idea how to cut Asian hair (love you, mom).

LIVING is full of insecurities, and I don't necessarily think that has to be a bad thing. But how you decide to move forward in the midst of those insecurities is what will define failure or success.

Insecurities are like tight muscles...if you just keep walking and stretching them, they will begin to feel much better.

Don't be a victim. I will never try to minimize what people have been through. Your life story has meaning. It will always play a factor in how you see the world, but you can't allow it to define you or you will never move forward. You'll find yourself blaming everyone else each time something negative happens. Depression will seek you out - and likely find you. You'll burn bridges everywhere you go. No one will trust you. It will be the loneliest place you can ever imagine.

Ask for help. In my 40's I have seen more and more friends turn to professional counseling to help them walk through different seasons and tragedies in their lives. There's a negative stigma that surrounds accepting "professional help" - one that looks at people as being weak for needing it. I completely disagree. My friends who have asked for and sought out help are the bravest people I know. They are choosing to face issues that are holding them back, head on. They understand there are people out there who need them - need the whole, confident person they were born to be - and they have my highest respect.

The loss of a parent (whether you're close to them or not) may be one of the most indescribable feelings a person can have. The only people who can truly relate to the feeling are others who have lost a parent. I'm not saying that to minimize the condolences offered or the tears shed by family and friends, but it really is such a surreal experience.

When my mom passed away, she had been sick for over a decade. I had reconciled that she would likely die sooner than she should and had a lot of time to prepare myself for the reality. It didn't help. I found myself shutting myself away and laying in bed for long periods of time. I started feeling and getting sick more often than I had at any other time in my life. I was allowing myself to drown in my sorrows.

And then a friend lost a parent. And then another. Then tragedy struck another friend. People needed me. A lot of people needed me. How could I hide behind my own pain and pretend like the world had stopped when so many people I cared about needed some of my strength?

I remember laying in my bed one day with the shades pulled shut and in the darkness thinking to myself, "You have got to get your ass out of this bed." And little by little I joined the living again. I opened my shades. I didn't allow myself to lay in bed all day. I got a gym membership. I started talking to people again. And some days were really difficult. The darkness of a comfortable bed was alluring in many ways. But I made a decision to not allow the sorrow to define me.

If you are reading this and it resonates with you, my birthday wish is that you take a hard look at who you are, how you see the world, and take inventory of the loved ones in your life who care about you. Get help if you need it. Allow people to love you. Life is a wild ride - and it can either be a dark, lonely ride, or one filled with bumps and sharp turns, but continually filled with joy. It's your choice.

For the Birds

I've never been a huge fan of domesticated animals. I believe animals should run around in their natural state, not in zoos or cages or stuck inside a house all day. And they always seem to misbehave around me.

Dogs always jump on me and lick my ankles while their owners shockingly say, "I swear, he never does that to anyone!" And don't even get me started on picking up animal poop with only a slim plastic lining protecting the hand.

Cats and I also have an iffy relationship. In my younger years I was actually attacked by one of our family cats. It snarled and hissed and then pounced on me, ferociously clawing at me. I ran and tried to hide under a thick down comforter and screamed while I watched its claws come at me through the material. It was like being in a bad horror film.

So when my friends decided to become chicken farmers I promised myself I would never help them clean the coop, feed the chickens, touch the chickens, or collect their eggs. They all have crazy foodie names like Snack, Donut, Egg, etc. and their kids love them and they find happiness in it, so what do I care?

A few months ago, however, the chickens started to disappear. Raccoons maybe? Owls? Well, one day while I was doing some writing on my computer, I saw some commotion out of the corner of my eye. I looked up to see orange feathers flying through the air - followed by a peppy coyote carrying a large, limp chicken into the woods by its neck. It had massacred the poor thing. Chicken skin and feathers covered the ground outside. At this point, the coyote had killed all but one of the chickens.

Fast forward to a few weeks ago. Four more chicks had been brought home and were put into the garage under a heat lamp to grow. Two black ones and two yellow ones. The yellow ones grew very quickly and just yesterday my friends decided to put all four of them into the chicken coop with the original hen. When they checked up on them later they observed the four little chicks all huddled up together. How cute, right?

Two of the four new chicks

Today after returning from the gym I looked outside to find one of the yellow chickens wandering around the yard by itself. I wondered how it had gotten out and after talking to my friend assured her I was capable of catching the one yellow chick and putting it back in the coop. I had just conquered an hour long workout...surely I could do this. I was a strong, confident woman!

I put on my slippers and headed outside. Having no idea if there's a "come here chicky-chick" noise you're supposed to make, I simply started talking to the yellow chick. It didn't run away from me and I easily picked it up and carried it to the gate. The big original hen ran over to the gate, waiting for the chick to be returned. "How sweet," I thought to myself, "It's being protective of the new babies!" ...Or so I thought.

The minute I placed the yellow chick into the coop that big hen turned into Satan. She started pecking at the yellow chick, chasing it around the coop as it gawked and ran for its life. I had no idea what to do. The big hen finally chased the yellow chick into the corner of the coop where it shoved its head into the ground and pushed itself under the fence and back into the yard - obviously how AND WHY it escaped the first time! I literally stood there in shock.

Chicken Farming Hell

After debating with myself for a few minutes on what I should do, I caught the traumatized yellow chick and put her in a box. Then I decided I must rescue the other babies. Armed only with my slippers and a short stick I ventured back over to the coop only to witness the Satan chicken chasing the smaller chicks around, stomping on them, and at one point pecking one really hard and then picking it up in its beak and tossing it. I called the Satan chicken a bully. I told her she was mean and that no one liked her. I tried to poke her with the stick, but she tried to peck me with that vicious beak. I was horrified.

The other yellow chick made it over to the gate and I quickly opened the door and rescued her. That must have made Satan's Bully really mad because she then went after the two black chicks. Cornering one of them, the first black chick went into survival mode and stuck its head in a hole and pretended it was dead. The other one got chased around and around the coop, getting pecked at here and there.

It felt like hours later when Satan's Bully got bored and sauntered into her hen house. It was only then that I was able to close the door and lock her in there. I rescued the two black chicks who, at this point, were shaking from the whole terrifying experience.

The four baby chicks are now safely back in the garage, no thanks to my slow chicken responses, fear of getting pecked to death, and poor footwear choice. But I saved them. I touched them. My hands were covered in chicken poop. I can say that my dealings with chickens in that hour was enough to fill a lifetime and my opinion of chicken farming has not changed...it's definitely for the birds.

The Reason You Should Never Back Out Of An Adventure

I'm partaking in some R&R this weekend in Arizona and while making my plans I decided I would hike and photograph some of the Grand Canyon and Sedona. Every single person I've spoken to says Sedona is absolutely stunning. But I've actually heard mixed reviews about the Grand Canyon.

So this morning when I woke up at 5:30am (don't EVEN ask - I have no idea...) I decided to just start driving to the Grand Canyon and arrive early enough to beat the weekend crowds. It was beautiful and sunny in the small town of Mayer as I began my journey - but about 30 minutes into the drive everything changed. The sky turned dark and it started raining. And it kept raining and raining and raining. The drive was about two and a half hours and it rained most of the time.

As the elevation climbed to 7,000 feet I began seeing white stuff on the ground - snow. "Crap," I said to myself. Crap because I wore shorts, KEEN hiking sandals and no jacket. Don't ask me what I was thinking because I don't know. I suppose in the back of my mind I had been preparing for the 100 degree weather in the Phoenix metro area later this week. Snow and 39 degree weather did not even register as a possibility.

But I drove on.

I parked my car and had a few moments of chickening out. Let's face it...I'm a total baby when I'm cold. And next weekend I'm getting on a flight that will take me a day and a half to arrive at my destination. I can't afford to catch a cold. And I probably should have brought my hiking boots. And why is my backpack so heavy? ...and so on and so on.

But then I decided to just do what I usually do when I am adventuring by myself and have no idea what I'm doing - just go for it. So I got out of my car, grabbed my jeans from the trunk of my rental and proceeded to buy what is likely the ugliest, cheesiest-looking fleece known to mankind from the gift shop (don't ask me how much that cost - I'm still offended by it).

I changed in the public restroom and then hopped the orange bus to the South Kaibab Trailhead on the South Rim. I'm feeling good at this point. That is until the bus driver makes a joke telling everyone to look out the window at the Grand Canyon...you can see NOTHING. It was so foggy I could have been anywhere in the world on a bus full of strangers. As we exited I started speed-walking towards the trail. I wasn't going to allow myself a moment to back out.

As I started the decent I decided that even if I didn't see anything, I was still getting good exercise. So that's good, right? Then, at about the 10 minute marker, something happened that always seems to happen on adventures - things changed. The fog started to lift. Bits of rain came down here and there but with it the fog seemed to dance in the Canyon and within a half hour a majority of it had lifted and gave way to some absolutely spectacular views. I proceeded to do what any good Asian would do - I took a lot of photos.

As I continued down, the fog lifted completely and the sky opened up presenting fluffy white pillows rolling on the bright blue sky. I stopped at the edge of the trail overlooking the Canyon and could not believe what I was seeing. With the sun bursting through the clouds and a bit of rain still falling, a rainbow had formed. I took some photos and then just sat on a rock in awe.

 

I am now more excited then ever to do a rim to rim hike some day. For those of you who told me the Grand Canyon was "so-so"...I'm not sure we can still be friends. I only saw one small part of it but I'm writing this hours later - smiling, and thinking about the breathtaking beauty I witnessed today on an adventure I almost backed out of.

 

8 Things My 40 Year-Old Self Would Say to the 20 Year-Old Me

Well, it finally happened. I turned 40 today. I remember when my parents were 40. I thought it was old. As a teenager (you know, being invincible and all) I think I thought I would never actually turn 40. I'm not in a state of shock about it. I see no gray hair. In fact, the one gray hair I found a few months ago was actually reversing back to black roots - go ahead and hate me. I think the only issue I have truly encountered is when I sit cross-legged for too long and my legs feel like they're stuck. 

Since the beginning of 2016 I have been thinking about what I would tell myself if I could travel back in time to when I was 20 years old. What would I say to myself? What advice would I give? Would I listen to myself?????

As I was walking around Jersey City today with the sun beating down on my face, almost getting hit by cars as I jaywalked, I continued to contemplate the advice I would give to myself. And this is a compilation of three months worth of being inside my head...enjoy!

You're not the smartest person in the world. And you never will be.

When I was in my late teens and early twenties I was smarter than my parents. Actually, I think I was smarter than every living adult. Now, at 40, I am fully aware of how stupid I was at that age. My "now" self would tell my "then" self to be more "teachable". Seek out "those old people" and glean knowledge from them. Gain perspective from people who have lived long lives. And never, ever, claim to be the smartest person you know.

Value people.

People are interesting. You will meet some along the way that will bore you out of your mind. And others that you will always want to be around. Some people will offend you, some will inspire you. But just remember that all people are valuable. You don’t have to agree with everyone but you should treat people with respect. Don't ever think anyone owes you anything. Flick that chip off your shoulder. Dig deep. Do the work. Don't burn bridges. 

Eat well and exercise regularly.

When you're 20 you will hear a 40-year old say something like, “Wow, the weight just doesn't come off like it used to.” And you'll smirk and chuckle to yourself, convinced that person must eat way too many carbs and ice cream at every meal and that's why they can't lose the weight. But when you get to your 30’s, and then your 40’s you’ll see that they weren’t lying. Your 20-year old body is different from your 40-year old body. So take care of yourself.

Find the good in the bad.

There's going to be some super crappy stuff that will go down in your lifetime. Don't become jaded. In every story of tragedy there can be found testimonies of bravery, compassion, kindness, love, and generosity. Focus on those things. Applaud the good. Herald the heroes. Focus on the positive.

Study more history.

So you may have had a high school history teacher who let you do open book tests. Please don't be okay with your shallow knowledge of history. Learn as much as you can so you understand the social and political landscapes that will occur in the future. History will always play a significant part in the world you live in. Understanding it will give you the ability to see compassion in the frustration.

Thank you for not ruining tequila.

My dentist and I recently had a conversation about tequila. Yes, this is what I do at my dental appointments. When I mentioned my love for a double Patron (neat) he looked like he might lose it. "I can't do tequila," he said - with that face that also said 'something bad happened to me at some point in my much younger life that had to do with tequila.' Thank you, younger self, for not being stupid when you were in your 20's. Sipping tequila is an amazing experience and my 40-year old self loves it.

Listen more, speak less.

It is amazing what people will tell you when you learn to become a good listener. That doesn't mean nodding your head while you're thinking of a witty response. It means actually hearing what they are saying and taking it to heart. Please, learn to be a really good listener.

Don't ever stop hugging.

You might make a few people uncomfortable with your extreme passion for hugging. And one day in the year 2011 you WILL have someone stiff arm you when you go in for a hug. And trust me...your feelings will be hurt. But don't stop hugging. Hugging makes the world a better place.

a portfolio.

You can visit my website for more recent photos. 

Swientek Maternity Shoot, Austin, Texas 2011

The Florida Everglades, 2011

Two Jordans Engagement Shoot, 2010

CARRY-ON LUGGAGE.

I love to travel. By the end of March I will have boarded/de-boarded an airplane about a dozen times in a six-month period. I'm usually quite happy with myself if I can keep my suitcase under the 50 pound weight limit but for my next trip, a wedding in SoCal, I decided to "carry-on." And for the last 24 hours I have been analyzing the best way of packing for six days with only a laptop bag and my REI (30) backpack.

Taking into consideration the TSA's rules on 3.4 ounces or less of liquids/gels, two "dress-up" events I need to attend, and work-out shoes that always seem to take up half the space, this task proved to be impressively daunting. And, after laying out all my outfits for the week (including the shoes and accessories to go with each) I came to one, neon-sign flashing, slap-in-the-face, conclusion...I had too much crap and there was no way it was all fitting into my bags.

I needed to downsize. I needed to decide which items were the most important for this trip. I needed to prioritize...

Life is...CARRY-ON LUGGAGE. Like that "one carry-on" we are allotted on the airplane, we also only have this one life. We should be selective and thoughtful about what goes into each because those things will eventually play a part in shaping our futures.  Each choice we make represents an item that is stuffed into our carry-on. It takes up space...It goes on a journey with us...It plays a part in our lives, however great or small it may be.

I challenge you to inventory your life. It's a great time of the year to do it. Make sure you are living life purposefully and passionately and doing things that are making a difference in the lives of others. Make sure you're packing things into your life that will help you and get rid of those things that aren't. Life is too short to be taking part in useless activities...and there's only so much room in those overhead compartments...

Happy Trails to You,

Heather

ABSTRACT ART.

I love art museums. I find they fuel my creative side and support my need for some occasional introvertedness. While in New York City I fell in love with a piece of art at the MOMA by Giuseppe Penone. It was entitled, Marble Skin and Acacia Thorns, and was made from veined marble and acacia thorns. Deep, huh? I was completely drawn to it because of the simplistic use of materials as well as the complexity of what I thought to be its meaning.

If you've ever asked an abstract artist to describe their work your eyes may have glazed over at some point during the delivery of the explanation. While your thoughts wander off as their mouth is still moving you most likely come to one of the following conclusions:

1. What the artist is describing is simply too deep for you to understand OR
2. They have no idea what they are saying and the more they talk, the smarter they think they sound.

I believe art, in general, is a powerful thing. It becomes alive only in the mind of its creator and then is manipulated and birthed by the author resulting in pure, undefiled ingenuity...a thought come to life. And then it gets put in a museum...and suddenly everyone and their mother has an opinion about what the true meaning of the piece is. What was the purpose? What was the artist feeling at the time? What was he/she REALLY trying to say?...

Sometimes life is abstract art. It resembles that masterpiece you stare at while tilting your head from side to side trying to make some sense out of it. There is brilliance in it but it may not be evident to everyone. So our lives are at times. I may never be able to tell you why planning concerts, serving up hot espresso, working in a salon, or yelling, "Bob to the showroom, Bob to the showroom, please," has anything to do with who I am today but I can tell you one thing...those job experiences have EVERYTHING to do with who I am today and most of them have contributed to the skills I use in my current job. I would NEVER have been able to say that while working in those other fields.

I know my life has purpose. I know, with or without knowing YOU, that YOUR life has purpose...that it's meaningful, unique, and full of potential...the people around you just may not "get it." And you know what...you need to be okay with that. If a couple naysayers blow the wind out of your sails then maybe you need to think about getting a motor...

Life is...abstract art. Some people are not going to "get" what you are about. Your dreams will sound absurd to them. But don't let that hinder what you know God has created you to do. Dream big. Plan well. And know that your life has purpose!

Go Big or Go Home,

Heather