One of the days we were in Mammoth for president's weekend we went to the hot springs with our friends Basia and Filip to soak our sore muscles after snowboarding. Around all of this natural beauty I truly felt insignificant.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Monday, February 27, 2012
No it wasn’t the Oscars. And the most common fashion trend of the evening was jeans paired with flip flops, but I’d be lying if I didn’t tell you that I treated this night like it was my Oscar moment.
One week ago I found out a short film I made called Glimpses was selected to show in the San Diego Surf Ladies first annual short film festival called Board Shorts (cute name, right?). I was thrilled, to say the least, and began preparing what I would wear with your help. As you can see I went with dress #2 since it turned out to be a brisk evening and I could wear tights with it. I really appreciated all of your input! If I had given an acceptance speech I would have thanked all of you.
You've probably been in a similar situation at some point in your life, maybe it was a spelling bee, a dance recital or a sports performance. So you know what I mean when I say my heart was in my throat, my hands were quivering and my ears were deaf to every sound around except the beat of my heart. You know all of these things, perhaps you even know me in small ways. You know I quit my job to follow my heart; to dream and create things like this film. I actually made this short during the first month I was unemployed and to see it on the screen made me feel like all I had done and worked for, had purpose.
It might sound cliché, but I don’t care, because it’s true. As I was sitting there watching one of my dreams come true, I felt God, I felt my family, and I felt every bit of who I was.
|San Diego Surf Ladies President Michelle Ocampo started the night off right|
|My friend Christine is an amazing artist!|
|She makes handplanes for body surfing, like the one shown here, and many other unique creations. Check her out here|
|With one of my biggest fans|
|There was a Q&A session after the films showed. Note to self: work on posture|
|Blurry shot of Mom, Kevin, Dad and Me|
Here's the video in case you haven't seen it.
Friday, February 24, 2012
As you may know by now, since I put it all over twitter and facebook, my film "Glimpses" will be featured in The San Diego Surf Ladies First Annual Short Film Festival. I am stoked, to say the least. Mainstream surf media, in general, doesn't typically portray the role of women in the sport accurately nor give them the attention they deserve, but San Diego Surf Ladies is changing that and I am thankful to be a part of it in any little way I can.
But now to a more important topic (joking):
What the should I wear?
What the should I wear?
I love clothes. Come Christmas and my birthday I fantasize about what new outfit I might get to ask for. But I typically like clothes for road trips, playing outside or chilling at a bon fire. Which is one of the many reasons Roxy is a great sponsor for me. I, however, have an extraordinarily hard time dressing up for fancier events. Fortunately this is a surf event so the fact that I refuse to wear heals will be entirely acceptable. I tried on a few of my favorite Roxy dresses and now you, if you will be so kind, can help me make my decision. Roxy is brand that really promotes women and I feel so proud anytime I wear their clothes.
So here goes...
Not an option
So here goes...
Not an option
This is what I wear around the house. Comfortable, but obviously not the best choice for actually leaving the house. And don't judge me for the stuffed animals in the background. I warned you I have issues with change and growing up (and if you weren't around then, considered yourself informed).
Option #1. Roxy's Ice Rink dress.
This dress will be a warm option since the event is at night, but I will have to avoid stuffing myself with the wonderful food on offer, if you know what I mean.
Side note: I have no idea why I look so melancholy. It is one of my favorite words to say, though.
Option #2 another great Roxy dress.
I have a black sweater I can wear with this//There's a bit of a smile.
Option #3 by Roxy
This is when I realized I should put the camera on a timer on our dresser.
I only worry about this choice because I think I might be cold.
That's it. What do you think? My stuffed animals showed no interest so I need your help!
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Monday, February 20, 2012
A film I made about our family trip sailing the West Indies for two weeks in January on a Moorings charter. Music: Years Around the Sun “Miles Away”; Filming: Scott and Devon DeMint; Editing: Devon DeMint
Friday, February 17, 2012
My mind was awake before my eyes were open. I felt a wave of sadness fall over me. I breathed slowly as it hit, embracing the reality that we would be leaving the Caribbean today. Leaving the warm air, leaving the aqua waters and the bright sea creatures, leaving the sailing winds and our sailing boat, leaving each other.
When we landed Scott and I would return to San Diego, Maddie to New York and Danielle and my parents to Orange County. I knew that when I got out of my bed today I would want to sail to a new harbor, not fly back to familiar land. I didn’t feel ready to go back.
Don't get me wrong, there were plenty of things I loved about home. I missed our bed. I missed our kitchen and its helpful appliances. I missed our friends and our neighborhood. I missed burritos. And pathetically enough, I missed the Internet and its marvelous amount of useful and useless information. These things were a comfortable part of my life at home, but I craved more of what I had found here-the uncomfortable moments that came from true adventure.
At the start of this trip I had reflected that the landscape surrounding us seemed familiar, but the more we traveled around and learned about the winds, the seas, the island culture and each other, the more I realized that we were miles away from places that we’ve been before. The feeling was addicting.
I sat up and reached for my journal. With a dull pencil I wrote:
I knew a part of my heart would always be in the waters of the Caribbean Sea.
I will come back someday to find it again.
Trip Tale Index:
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
1 big fight
The reason for most arguments is usually forgotten once anger takes control, but I wouldn’t forget the start of the family fight that ensued on the next part of our Caribbean journey simply because it was so ironic.
It all started when we took our dinghy over to an island made of conch shells in the late afternoon. Yes, it was an island made of conch shells. A few Rastafarians constructed it in the seventies, called it Happy Island and have been living there and running a restaurant and bar ever since.
The drinks were strong, the music was blaring and the view was one I’d never imagined I’d see. We were out in the middle of a harbor overlooking rolling Caribbean hills on an island made out of seashells. It was a lawless paradise in my eyes, but what my mother experienced was far different. She tasted way too much alcohol in her drink, heard deafening music and saw lawless chaos. It was an unhappy island for her. After our second round of piña coladas we left.
There was no place for your emotions to hide on this trip, unless you had an enormous amount of practice at hiding them, of which my female family members and I did not. No, we were in fact experts at showing our emotions.
Although my mother attempted to hide her off mood when we were back onboard the sailboat, my sisters and I were on to her and tried to coerce her into talking about it. It wasn’t Happy Island that was truly bothering her, that just started her mood off on the wrong foot. It was simply her turn to give into the frustrations surrounding her.
She had a right to, after all each day she identified with the moods of each family member; she wore our emotions and carried them as if she were wearing our clothes to see how they fit. She did this to identify with us, to help us be our best and to keep the happiness alive for everyone on the trip. Like I said in the beginning, she was the supporter and with this role came this burden of feeling everything around her.
Now it was her turn to feel her own emotions. She talked to us about little things that were bothering her. It was a domino effect after that. What was bothering her was bothering someone else, and the fact that this was bothering anyone annoyed someone else until we were all mad.
So there we were, raw and vulnerable, sitting around the table on the back of the boat showing and telling each other how life made us feel while the boys swayed back and forth on the front of the boat drinking beers and keeping out of our storm of emotions.
Ironically, in this moment where I felt irritated at all of the people around me, I also felt a strong understanding of what I loved most about them. I loved my sister Danielle for her passion and sincerity, I loved my sister Maddie for her empathy and compassion, and I loved my mom for her patience and devotion to her family. I also felt a deep love for family vacations and their ability to remind you what was in the hearts of all of those you loved. I realized as we covered topics like responsibilities, insecurities and irritations that family vacations are the perfect occasion to let your guard down and release the heavy things you carry through life. Whether the purpose of doing so was seeking a lighter heart or a closer bond with those listening, you usually got both.
The night was clear with a welcome breeze that attempted to cool our sticky skin. I felt that breeze on every inch of my body. All of my senses were as heightened as my emotions. These moments of raw vulnerability made me feel fiercely alive.
Once our frustrations and angers were free from us they drifted off into the darkness with the wind. The emotional storm had passed and our rightful roles came back to us. Danielle gave of herself, Maddie comforted, Scott was optimistic, Dad was in charge, Mom was supportive and I was there to write the story, knowing that it already meant something. And all around us was that vast ocean, accepting us for what we were.
Trip Tale Index: