polaroids and digitals, impractical purse

As I slightly mentioned before, my priorities changed over the summer. Playing the never ending career game of chutes and ladders was at the last of my to-do' list, and 'doing whatever I wanted' and 'just living' made it to the top. Central America fit into this idea. However, constant reminders of the rigged board game kept piling into my inbox. Polaroids. Polaroids don't mean what they use to, what it means is a bunch of digital shots -- no makeup, bikini, all angles. These digital shots are a nightmare. If for some reason I didn't think I was self-conscious or vain, the digitals are a slap in the face, made by my very own personal ego. And this time, I had to have 'the guy' take them. He couldn't have spent his life farther away from the world I have been entangled with, so it was weird to start 'posing' for him, and I found myself saying 'well, do I look O.K.?', 'are you sure?'. But these shots are the shots that confirm contracts with agencies, they show what you look like on any given day. So we took them. And as always with the Asian market, they weren't 'clear' enough, or 'close enough', or the 'lighting was too bright' or 'too dim', so we took them again (as nothing is ever perfect, but somehow my job lives and breaths on an ideal of perfection), and again. Until finally, they were 'passable'.

We made it out of NYC just before the fake hurricane hit. We were reading the news, prepping ourselves for martial law declared on all of our dear friends, until the hurricane didn't happen and everything went back to normal. But other than that storyline, and a few emails and Skype sessions with dear friends, we were disconnected from the world we had just been immersed in. We used dial up internet, or sometimes no internet, and didn't have phones, except for one shared landline. Everything was relaxed, but we knew that at some point, I would get the email from my manager that said, 'O.K., here is when you need to be at the airport'. All thanks to the digital polaroids. Digital polariods!

I decided from the very beginning that I really wanted to go to Honduras. Mainly, I just thought it sounded cool (seriously). People go to Puerto Rico, Mexico, Costa Rica, etc. all the time, but I don't know many people who take trips to Honduras. I was also intrigued by the Mayan ruins, and decided Honduras was the place I wanted to see them. 'The guy' agreed, so while he complained that my bag was 'in no way okay for this sort of traveling', we headed to Copan, Honduras.

so many cute kids!

love street jewelry sellers.

daily food disasters for the weirdo vegan couple (us).

'the guy' (hates that i am a blogger).

cacao ceremonies, canasta.

My father, who had never met 'the guy' at this point, made sure to talk to him before our flight to Guatemala. He wanted to make sure we were flying together, and that I wouldn't be left 'unattended' for even a second in Guatemala City. He then forwarded us a bunch of information on how dangerous Guatemala City is. This is the definition of my father. My siblings and I grew up with him doing regular 'safety' lessons, where he would the role play the part of oncoming traffic, or a stranger asking us questions, etc. He is 'Mr. Safety' when it comes to his family, although I suspect that this comes from leading a pre-family 'risk induced' phase. Anyway. Instead of freaking out my new found guy (who is also 'Mr. Safety' when it comes to me, but not so much when it comes to himself on his own), he was impressed. He said if he had a daughter, he would do the same. There is nothing good to say about Guatemala City. As my guy said, 'there are just no redeeming factors'.

We spent a good portion of our time in Antigua, Guatemala. We were visiting a friend who runs an ibogaine clinic. Ibogaine, while primarily used for addiction, is also used for psychological trauma and issues, psycho-spiritual purposes, it is kind of the 'cure-all' or 'magic bullet' for whatever someone might be dealing with. I quit smoking, and can't even see a cigarette in a movie now without wanting to vomit. I also feel more at peace with myself than I have ever felt in my life. It was a life-changer, in the 'for real' way. Seriously. I urge anyone who is interested to read more about it, and anyone who is seriously interested to contact the guys we spent time with.

Antigua is a bizarre place. It doesn't feel real. I felt like we were on a movie set (a movie about a bunch of rich, western foreigners parading around spending money on overpriced, less than mediocre food). Still, it was home for a bit, and literally every single day was beautiful and fun. I taught 'the guy' how to play canasta, and I read a few 'good to great' books (including Super Sad True Love Story and Shantaram), and I got to relax, which I hadn't done in who knows how long. We were in Guatemala for their Independence Day, which is basically a 3-day long marching band and dancing parade, along with a countrywide relay style race (passing of torches included).

We didn't solely stay in Antigua. We went down to Lago de Atitlan and hippie-d out for a bit. We met people who use the word 'goddess' after every goddamn sentence, had a room next to a girl who was aiding a local in 'cacao ceremonies' (that's right, apparently enough of the stuff puts you in a trance), made friends with a Mayan family who had quite possibly the cutest kids on the planet (they made us good food and we purchased some awesome textiles and clothing from them that they had handmade), and then as nothing is too good to be true, the hippies got to us (or, one in particular, the one who was running the hippie commune) and we ditched out on our room without even paying the few dollars for our last night's stay.

Which brings me to, the hippie chic backpack culture. The primarily European (but Americans, as well) hippie chic backpacker scene was my version of a sketch comedy and we really got to be surrounded by them when we made a trip to Honduras. But that's for next time.

antigua, day 1.

boat ride, lago de atitlan.

exploring (trying to beat the rain).

our street in antigua.

helicopter dates, summer of love.

I felt inspired to start something 'new', so here we go.

2012. I never really thought past the year 2012, so it's weird to have nothing but 'post 2012' ahead of me. It was just a landmark year that was intriguing to me in my younger years, and six years ago, when I was 19, it felt a lot farther away.

In 2011, I was fairly sure I was done modeling in the 'forever' sense. However, dreams of moving back to Asia, as well as getting fed up with the often 'not real' version of life in Brooklyn, I signed a new contract with a new (awesome) manager, and decided to give it one more go -- this time with a different perspective and different goals. A means to an end, instead of being the horse chasing the carrot.

Before I get to where I am now, I'll go back a bit.

New York spring/summer was for the most part, really great. Good friends, good weather, good projects, nothing to really worry about. I was only working jobs in a freelance sort of way, so I was only working jobs I actually wanted to work. Lots of music videos and super easy shoots. Lots of brilliant, but unfinished (as things in NY often tend to go) projects with friends. Lots of trips to the beach, morning coffee in the park, lots of late nights getting into trouble. I feel like if one doesn't have something specific to get done in NYC, to do in NYC, it can be hard to stay inspired. A lot of the time I have spent in NY, it just doesn't fit into living a real life. I never have time for things that are good for me, I never seem to really get anything done. Stress level is usually high, unless I have decided that I just don't fucking care about anything, and that isn't good either.

I fell in love, and my priorities changed fairly quickly. Instead of doing everything I could just to live in New York, I wanted to just live. I use to give my sister a hard time about falling in love and getting married in the short span of a few months. It seemed unreal to me, it definitely seemed like something that would never happen to me. But it did. 'The guy', as I'll call him here, won me over as a quiet, caring vegan. But on our first real date, he was arrested, our second date he took me on a helicopter ride over NYC, and by our third date -- I realized he was outgoing, smart, and vibrant…and vegan. First time I had ever dated anyone who shared the same food beliefs as myself, and wow, was it so much easier.

After a month or so, we decided to get out of NYC. So. We left in mid-August, and promptly landed in Guatemala.

brooklyn summer

music videos, lots of them.

good friends, i miss you dearly.

helicopter dates.