Rocky

I used to view birthdays as a celebration of a new life and celebrating your sheer existence. A day to be glad that you were born. It wasn't until this year that I started viewing birthdays as a celebration that you have made it this far. It really puts a different emphasis on your age. Before I would be glad I was born and then seeing my new number, my new age would just be a reminder that I have used up that much time since the day I was born, and reminded me that I still haven't accomplished anything and time is ticking away. Though when I think of making it in life this far, for 28 years, it makes me view my age as a badge of honor. I have made it 28 years on this Earth and counting, hear me roar! Today, I  celebrate my being born but I am also proud of my age. The cake my momma made me from scratch. Mmmmm! Birthday outfit! The hat I bought in Cap Haiten. xoxo, r

I really do miss you. I have had so much to tell you about but then I let too much time go and then I have been backed up on things to share and don't know where to start. Things like my turtles and their cute pictures, going to the MadMen event at the Kodak theater, going to Las Vegas twice , finding a junk table on the side of the road and refinishing it for my kitchen, being in my sister's wedding and seeing her off to the Marines (oorah!), getting a much unexpected promotion that is daunting and exciting and completely over my head, dressing up for our final banquet, going to Haiti and traveling to new exciting places I've never been to, among so many other things. So I guess I should just start somewhere and that somewhere is my travels to Haiti and my most favorite pictures I took during that time (minus ones I did for a photoshoot because that would spoil the work I plan to do with them). Then after Haiti photographs I can organically share whatever comes to mind fro...

I don't consider myself a fashion guru by any stretch of the imagination. Though I do like making different combinations and expressing myself through clothing. I have seasons of color schemes like those couple years where I wore pretty much all black, I wasn't being goth, I just liked the slimingness simplicity of it all. Occasionally I will choose an urban vibe. Or sometimes an androgynous look. I will "go country" or "artistic." For the past few years I have been into wearing neutral solids, solid gray shirt with a solid camel color motor jacket, solid chambray shirt with a solid army-green jacket, solid black shirt with a purple sweater, etc. More recently though, I have been drawn to color, unique shapes and patterns. Mixing old and new, mixing cultures (see poncho), working with different proportions and shapes and sizes. Occasionally I will make a post here or there with "looks" I have put together. So here are some of my recent concoction...

I told you a long time ago that I would take pictures of my house and show you my humble abode but I haven't done so yet because I wanted to have everything in place beforehand. But if I wait till then, you will never see my place. So here you go. The work-in-progress home of Rachelle and Frances. Our apartment is a junior apartment which is a cross between a studio and one room. So we have a "room" that has half walls and no door that open our room into the living room. But it works for us. So in my pictures I am not going to focus on our designated sleeping "room". Living Room: Taken a while ago. Taken just about 5 minutes ago.  We had plans of putting the books on a bookshelf but haven't gotten anything yet and in order to unpack my books finally from the boxes that were sitting next to the couch for forever I put them on the built-in ledge thing. We want to put like three large pillows next to the couch for extra seating. We like that the w...

I love stories, I love listening, reading, watching and telling them. I love true stories and fanciful ones. I love the art of verbally conveying a tale using hand motions and facial expressions. I love telling stories through photography and painting and allowing the audience to come to their own conclusions. I love singing songs that share relatable story-lines so that the song becomes your own anthem. My mother and grandfather were amazing story tellers. They knew how to navigate their listeners through winding tales captivating them the entire time and always delivering the punchline at the correct climactic moment that would leave the audience in awe or bewilderment. I would overhear my mother telling a familiar story to a friend on the phone and I would find myself sitting next to her excitedly waiting to hear the response of the person on the other line. Just like any art, the response of the recipient is almost just as valuable as the work itself. I once read a biography of L...

As much as I love guest posts, I never know how to follow them because they are always so fun, creative and other-than-me. I enjoy seeing what they come up with and seeing their insight and I am always so humbled that they would take the time to write something for my blog. So thank you Jori and all my other guest posters, I am so privileged to have you in my life. Speaking about blogs, one of my guilty pleasures is going to Postsecret.com every Sunday and seeing their new posts. Before you run off and check out their blog let me warn/tell you about it. A man named Frank decided to create a project where he welcomed people to send in their anonymous secrets on custom made cards. Frank will then select a number of these mini works of art and will post them on his blog. Some of the secrets are funny, relatable, shameful, creepy, off-putting, offensive, touching, and/or freeing.  A few weeks ago I came across a secret that I really loved and I have decided to include it in my ...

(A note from Rachelle: I have known Jori since 2000 where we bonded over our lack of athletic skill in gym class. Little did we know that was the start of an awesome friendship. My bestie from the midwestie, is a fantastic story-teller and like my previous guest-bloggers, her post brings my blog's coolness up a thousand levels.) This is a story of an old taped up Pringles can that has been residing for at least 14 years in an even older, brittle red paper box. We called the can the Tine Catsul, because time capsule would be too obvious. My brother had one, too, but he was less militant about the whole ordeal, and he never even waited a whole year to open his. Charlatan. Anyway. On New Year's Eve for several years, I'd hurry up to put together a stack of papers of my writing and drawings, roll them into a tight scroll that would fit in the can, and then seal it up, along with the very last air of the year, until the next New Year's Eve. And we did this as teenagers. W...