Darling

When I was young, I had an intense craving to be famous. I remember it being my goal to become known by every single person in the world. This simple fact says so much—about me and about the world we live in. I was taught that my worth could be found in being known. There wasn’t anything specific that I wanted to be known for; that part changed as I grew older: from singer, to painter, to writer, to photographer.

The desire waned over the years, but even in college, I sometimes thought about what it’d be like to be a well-known photojournalist. Did the feeling wane because I realized that my worth could be defined by more important things or because the world taught me that it’s actually hard to become famous? I’m not really sure.

I do wish there were still things that I wanted with that same passion. Maybe if I was taught to value something more specific—something more useful—I’d be one of those people who say, “I’ve known this is what I wanted to do since I was a kid.”

I believe I didn’t pursue photojournalism professionally because I didn’t think I’d make it big. That it wasn’t enough to tell stories in a small community. Actually, now that I think about it, I weigh most jobs that way—is a small splash enough?

Part of becoming a woman—growing into myself—has meant finding meaning in simpler but more meaningful things, like being kind and changing people’s days. I know that this is what truly matters, but on some deep, instinctual level, I don’t.

I know that my parents would have liked to instill this in me—I don’t think this is on them. It’s on the world we live in—what we value collectively. I’m not sure what we’ll value collectively if and when I have children, but I hope I can teach them what I’ve learned. Or maybe I can change the collective mentality one day at a time—little by little—through daily interactions. Or maybe not. But it’s worth trying.

“Darling, you are a work of art.

You have the ability to fully display beauty apart from vanity, influence apart from manipulation, style apart from materialism, kindness apart from passivity, strength apart from competition & dignity without degradation.

You are a catalyst to transform the world around you through your wit, wisdom, character & courage—all the while creating beauty & embodying love.

You are not only interesting, but original, not only good enough, but exceptional—not just here, but here for a purpose.”

— Darling Magazine

The Monk of Mokha by Dave Eggers

This was my first Dave Eggers book, and while I've heard quite a bit (good and bad) about him as a person, there's only one way to know him as a writer: to read him. He's great. There's not much to say about his writing other than it does exactly what it should: tells a story without being distracting.

And this was everything I could have asked for in a story and more. The events that shape Mokhtar's life are so otherworldly, that it reads like fiction and kept me very entertained. I couldn't put this book down. But it is so obviously nonfiction as well, and I learned a great amount about coffee and its relationship with the world. I also learned a lot about San Francisco and the Tenderloin, the neighborhood where Mokhtar grew up—the roughest in the city. 

The end of this book gave me chills; I almost teared up. I believe every good book—or movie—should have that capacity. The descriptions should be so detailed that the reader or viewer can't help but feel empathetic. Everyone can learn a thing or two from this book: that one should never give up, that's it's never too late to try your hand at your passion, and that coffee isn't what you think it is.

The Wildlands by Abby Geni

“Maybe this was what her father had been trying to tell her. In his plainspoken way, he was reminding her that change was both inevitable and unstoppable. That little ripples could cause greater waves, and unfurl into unexpected patterns. He was telling her not to dwell on the past or fret about the future, since every moment was followed by another, some wonderful, some terrible, all unpredictable and unknowable beforehand, all essential components of the complexity of a vast and marvelous world.”

My bar was set high for The Wildlands because it's by Abby Geni. I absolutely loved The Lightkeepers; it was one of the first I read this year. I gave it 5/5 stars. Although I enjoyed The Wildlands—and give it a 4/5 stars—it didn't do it for me in the same way.

First of all, this book is easy to digest. It's completely opposite of The Female Persuasion—a book I recently read—as far as format. Abby's short chapters made the story fly by for me.

The beginning felt very much like Educated to me—maybe because I just read it, or because of the setting. But that definitely clouded my perception for a bit—they both have the small-town vibe with characters that pull at your heartstrings.

Like The Lightkeepers, the thriller-ness is subtle—the violence isn't in your face. And sometimes I found myself asking, Wait, did that just happen?

It was certainly entertaining, but I think it went deep in the wrong places. The details of the actual crimes went on and on at times, but I didn't get to truly know Cora and Tucker—and Darlene's love for Roy.

It all did seem like something that could truly happen—perhaps because of the way Abby chose to write in first person for Cora and in third for chapters focusing on other characters. Overall, it was an easy, entertaining read, but I know Abby is capable of more :)

The Female Persuasion by Meg Wolitzer

Well, I knocked this 454-pager out in a week and a half. I never thought I'd be able to read so much. Replacing driving with riding on public transportation—and scrolling endlessly on a phone with readings—will apparently do that for ya!

This one sent my emotions all over the place, but looking at it overall, I think I have to give it a 3 out of 5. This book was long and repetitive. The chapters from different characters' perspectives meant getting a lot of information more than once, for no apparent reason.

As I've read in many reviews of this book, it has a lot of good stories and ideas, but they don't come together to form a nice takeaway. I think it reads like someone's journal—a wordy retelling of events.

It is worth mentioning, however, that I could relate to a lot of the themes, and that certainly always feels nice. Unfortunately, this wasn't a favorite, but I do believe it's worth reading—to form your own opinion.

Educated by Tara Westover

This is a powerful memoir—a gripping story. I overuse this phrase but it's true: I devoured it. Her stories are a bit fragmented, so it feels like binge-watching a TV show. Each chapter is like a short episode. You could watch one separately and it would be deeply captivating, but the story is obviously more powerful if you finish the whole season.

The disjointedness bothered me a bit, but I suppose it is realistic. Our memories aren't formed linearly—especially for those of us who don't want to recall parts of it—although that's how our lives play out. 

The story unfolded well, and Tara is an incredible writer. I really enjoyed her use of similes and metaphors. I also enjoyed her retelling of events without blatantly passing on any opinions about it all—allowing the reader to draw his or her own interpretations.

If you like stories about family struggles, mental illness, feminism, religion, and education, this one's for you.

Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng

I was first drawn to this book because of the dichotomy illustrated between two types of people: those who live in gated communities with rules and cookie-cutter houses and those who don’t. It very much reminded me of my own upbringing in a small southern town, where everyone knew everyone, even the exact cars they drove.

The story was very much about that—how someone’s upbringing can define them, but it was also about many more dichotomies: those who follow the rules and those who don’t, those who are good parents and those who aren’t, those who get abortions and those who don’t. People often operate as though you have to pick sides to go through life, and while reading this book, my first instinct was to do just that—to pick the characters I liked best and try to understand why I liked them. How did they relate to my own life?

But with more complexity in the narrative, that became harder to do—just as it’s hard to do in real life. Things aren’t black and white. And if you look at life that way, you are probably going to miss out on a lot and end up resenting the people around you who see the world truly—through all the different shades of color.

This book will make you feel a lot of things—will make you emphasize with almost every character—while questioning your own beliefs. I often asked myself, What would I do in that situation?

The narrative became a bit predictable but not without enough interest to keep me going through the end.

Four out of five stars.

"She could see the similarities between these two lonely children, even more clearly than they could: the same sensitive personalities lurking inside both of them, the same bookish wisdom layered over a deep naïveté." 

"The thing about portraits is, you need to show people the way they want to be seen. And I prefer to show people as I see them. So in the end I’d probably just frustrate us both." 

"Even her hair was the same: piled in the same careless bundle right at the crown of her head. Beauty rolled off her in waves, like heat; the very image of her in the photograph seemed to glow." 

"The next morning, at school, everything seemed back to normal, but she knew something had changed, and she held this knowledge inside her like a splinter, something she was careful not to touch." 

"The young are the same, always and everywhere, he thought, and he shifted the card to gear and drove on." 

"What Mia remembered of those moments was watching the blades of grass in the breeze, changing color as they went, from dark to light, like the nap of velvet when you brushed your hand over it; the way the stream of water broke itself into droplets as it splashed against the cup’s rim." 

"One had followed the rules, and one had not. But the problem with rules, he reflected, was that they implied a right way and a wrong way to do things. When, in fact, most of the time there were simply ways, none of them quite wrong or quite right, and nothing to tell you for sure which side of the line you stood on."

The Immortalists by Chloe Benjamin

I just finished The Immortalists, and it was lovely. A book has at least three stars for me if it makes me think at the end. This book, written in third person, is split up into four different sections, one for each sibling: Simon, Klara, Daniel, and Varya.

As children in New York, they go together to see a traveling fortune teller who tells them the days they will each die. It's an incredibly impactful event for them as children and shapes the rest of their decisions in life.

It's a bit of a sad book and feels rushed at times, but I think it's a beautiful look at how we should live our lives, even though we all know we are going to die. It's also an enjoyable meditation on family—specifically with siblings—and how choices affect their relationships.

This book made me long for those relationships and appreciate the ones I do have. It's a reminder to take an extra beat to reflect on the small things in life—the smell of your sister's hair or the way your brother's arms feel when he pulls you in for a hug.

Read this book if you like a little bit of everything—mystery, crime, romance—in one package. 

Don't read if you prefer not to feel a bit melancholy at the end of a book.

Four out of five stars.

Simon's section:

“They sit in companionable silence. Freestanding wood piers rise from the water like tree trunks. Every so often, a bird lands on one, screeches dictatorially, and departs with a thick flapping noise. Simon is watching this happen when Robert turns, dips his head, and kisses him on the mouth. Simon is stunned. He keeps very still, as if Robert might otherwise fly away like the gull.”

“Who is his Lord, his refuge? Simon doesn’t think he believes in God, but then again, he’s never thought God believed in him. According to the Book of Leviticus, he’s an abomination. What kind of God would create a person of which He so disapproved? Simon can only think of two explanations: either there’s no God at all, or Simon was a mistake, a fuck-up. He’s never been sure which option scares him more.”

“They spend two years like this. Simon makes the coffee; Robert makes the bed. Everything is new until it isn’t anymore: Robert’s frayed sweatpants, his groan of pleasure. How he trims his nails weekly—perfect, translucent half-moons in the sink. The feeling of possession, foreign and heady: My man. Mine. When Simon looks back, this period of time feels impossibly short. Moments come to him like film slides: Robert making guacamole at the counter. Robert stretching by the window. Robert going outside to snip rosemary or thyme from the clay pots in their garden. At night, the street lamps shine so brightly, the garden is visible in the dark.”

Klara's section:

“Most adults claim not to believe in magic, but Klara knows better. Why else would anyone play at performance—fall in love, have children, buy a house—in the face of all evidence there’s no such thing? The trick is not to convert them. The trick is to get them to admit it.”

Varya's Section:

“Varya has had enough therapy to know that she’s telling herself stories. She knows her faith—that rituals have power, that thoughts can change outcomes or ward off misfortune—is a magic trick: fiction, perhaps, but necessary for survival. And yet, and yet: Is it a story if you believe it? Her deeper secret, the reason she doesn’t think she’ll ever be rid of the disorder, is that on some days she doesn’t think it’s a disorder. On some days, she doesn’t think it’s absurd to believe that a thought can make something come true.”

“To look forward or back must have felt ungrateful, like testing fate—the free present a vision that might vanish if he took his eyes away from it. But Varya and her siblings had choices, and the luxury of self-examination. They wanted to measure time, to plot and control it. In their pursuit of the future, though, they only drew closer to the fortune teller’s prophecies.”

“Varya knows that stopping aging is as improbable as the idea that a compulsion can keep something bad from happening. But she still wants to shout: Don’t go.”

Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine by Gail Honeyman

This is why I read—what a lovely book.

I devoured it. Not like I would a suspense or thriller but simply because the story was so good. I wanted to have it all as soon as possible.

It's a sad and unfortunate story but one that works out for the best. Not in a fairy-tail sort of way but in a real-world sort of way.

It's a reminder that a little bit of care can go such a long way in the hardest of times.

Unconditional love—it's very important so that people may develop into their true selves and then flourish.

It was also a reminder that self-care and self-love are important too. It's so helpful to talk to someone—anyone—about how you feel.

I didn't relate to Eleanor at first, so it was hard for me to get into this one. But I think that was deliberate on Gail Honeyman's part. A lot of people have a hard time relating to Eleanor—and to people like Eleanor—in the story and in real life. But if we just take the time to get to know them we see that we all need connection, love.

I admire Eleanor. Her unapologetic determination to be herself. Like is too short not to be. She sees the gift of being alive, of the little details.

“I wasn’t good at pretending, that was the thing. After what had happened in that burning house, given what went on there, I could see no point in being anything other than truthful with the world. I had, literally, nothing left to lose. But, by careful observation from the sidelines, I’d worked out that social success is often built on pretending just a little. Popular people sometimes have to laugh at things they don’t find funny, do things they don’t particularly want to, with people whose company they don’t particularly enjoy. Not me. I had decided, years ago, that if the choice was between that or flying solo, then I’d fly solo. It was safer that way. Grief is the price we pay for love, so they say. The price is far too high.”

She also has a love of grammar and language—a girl after my own heart. 

“Emily Dickinson’s beautiful poem is called ‘Wild Nights—Wild Nights!’ and combines two elements of which I am inordinately fond: punctuation, and the theme of finding, at long last, a soul mate.”

This gem is littered with lovely quotable moments and beautiful descriptions of everyday details:

• "Such small coincidences can pepper a life with interest."
• "The light was soft and gentle—summer was drifting ever onward and the evening seemed delicate, fragile. We walked in silence, the kind that you didn't feel the need to fill."
• "The air was grassy, with a hint of flowers and earth, and the warm, sweet outbreath of the day sighed gently into our hair and over our skin."
• "Noticing details, that was good. Tiny slivers of life—they all added up and helped you feel that you too could be a fragment, a little piece of humanity who usefully filled a space, however minuscule."
• "Everything was there, obvious to us both, but it all remained unsaid. Sometimes that was best."
• "Sometimes you simply needed someone kind to sit with you while you dealt with things."
• "The moment hung in time like a drop of honey from a spoon, heavy, golden."

Read if you like stories about friendship, resilience, and the persistence to be truly oneself.

The Great Alone by Kristin Hannah

The Great Alone—it's the first book I've thought about long after finishing it, not just while reading it. I keep wondering, "What's Leni up to?"

When I had just gotten the book and started reading reviews online, I heard the beginning was slow. At first, I didn't agree. As an only child with somewhat of a turbulent childhood, I could relate to the early story of Leni—listening to her parents, not understanding all of what was going on but picking up enough. Those first few chapters weren't slow at all. I cherished them... UNTIL I got into the good stuff.

If you compare the beginning of this book to its later chapters, then yes, it's very slow. The rest of this book flew by for me—I couldn't get enough. Kristin Hannah has a wonderful way of building suspense, leaving the reader wanting to devour every page. And what's better—she explores really valuable themes, important topics to consider in the world today.

Here are the key questions or topics on my mind while reading:

• If the man I loved suddenly changed for the worse because of a situation out of his control, would I stay with him or would I leave? Could I leave?
• Could I uproot my life and live in a place that challenged me everyday—mentally and physically?
• It's so important and valuable to have a support system of men and women around you for life's challenging moments.

This is a story about strong women. Exploring. Triumphing. Doing whatever it takes to survive. If you like novels with strong women protagonists, this one's for you.

The Lightkeepers by Abby Geni

The Lightkeepers by Abby Geni. It's one of the first books to make me feel compelled to write a detailed review. It was my goal to finish it in January—an ambitious one for me. I hardly ever finish a book in a month. It did take me a few extra days... but still. I finished it.

Before I get too far into this review, let me just say, a huge part about why I enjoyed this book so much, I think, was the element of surprise. So don't go much farther if you're seriously considering reading it yourself.

Okay, so, I picked this book up on the way home from a trip to Lake Tahoe at Barnes and Noble. I liked the cover—that's how I often choose my books—and I was intrigued by the fact that there was no synopsis on the cover—just good reviews. Something just told me to get it.

I read the first few pages in the car, and I was instantly hooked. I'm the type of person that needs to be hooked quickly or I won't go far—this one did it for me. First of all, it's set on the Farallon Islands, not too far from San Francisco. This piqued my interest because I live in Oakland, right beside SF. Secondly, Miranda, the main character, is a photographer, as am I.

The story captured me right away and not only because of similar interests but also because of Abby Geni's writing. It's so descriptive without being unnatural. I could see everything so well with my mind's eye and relate to many of the passages. Here are a couple of my favorites:

“There were no words. The words were unready, unripe. I could never find them on my tongue or the top of my pencils. They were somewhere else, floating, slippery, half-formed.”

“My work is the enemy of memory. People often imagine that taking pictures will help them recall exactly what happened. In fact, the opposite is true. I have to leave my camera in the drawer at important events, since snapshots have a way of superseding my recollections. I can either have the impression in my brain or the image in my hand—not both. To remember is to rewrite. To photograph is to replace. The only reliable memories, I suppose, are the ones that have been forgotten. They are the dark rooms of the mind. Unopened, untouched, and uncorrupted.”

The biggest surprise for me, though, was that The Lightkeepers is a thriller—and that I enjoyed it. At the beginning, it hardly felt like a thriller at all, but as the story unfolded, I got hints of bad news to come.

My idea of thrillers used to be limited—I thought of the paperbacks my mom used to read when I was a kid: cheesy and entertaining at best. I never believed they could be so complex, so full of themes about loss and what it means to truly know someone or yourself.

If you're up for a surprise—and for learning a little bit about yourself alon the way—I truly recommend this book. This is what my 5 out of 5 stars looks like.

On the road—Ukiah

If you talk to anyone from California long enough, you'll probably hear him or her say something like this:

“California is the best. Within three hours, you can be lying by the beach, climbing a mountain, driving through the dessert, or seeing a new city.”

It's true. There's just so much to see and do, and it doesn't take that long to get from place to place. In this case, Joe and I started our day where I live in Livermore, a suburb about an hour east of San Francisco, and within three hours of driving north, we were on Orr Hot Springs Road, a curvy road that runs through farmers' hills, Orr Hot Springs, and Montgomery Woods State Natural Reserve.

We were there to visit Running Springs Ranch, a true gem in Northern California and a working lavender farm. I needed to photograph the land and yurts for Hipcamp. And Joe was there to film. Little did we know it would be our favorite Hipcamp site to date and probably one of our favorite experiences in this part of the state since we moved here.

Alan, Steff, and Tyler have been at Running Springs Ranch for about 20 years, but they just started growing and harvesting lavender about a year or so ago. I'm telling you—the level of detail and quality in everything at this farm, especially in the yurts, was incredible. Steff used to work in antiques, so everything in the tents was carefully selected and placed, making it feel incredibly homey.

Joe and I had the opportunity to hang the harvested lavender to dry with Alan and Tyler, next to a fire while drinking Scotch. There was something magical about working with this plant, getting the scent on our fingers, while talking to these people. It was one of those experiences that makes you stop when you leave and think, "That just went by way too fast. Was I present enough? Did I soak it all in?"

Luckily they were all nice enough to invite us back, and without a doubt, we will be soon.

---

On the road—Mariposa

Shooting for Hipcamp has given me the opportunity to explore my interest in camping while continuing to do something I love and don't always get to do—photography. I've done three assignments so far, and this post features my first one to Raw Roots Farm in Mariposa, just outside of Yosemite. 

On the Road | Ventura

Dad and I drove down to Ventura -- a place that's very dear to my heart -- to celebrate my Uncle Kurt's birthday. Here are the photos from that trip.

Photos of Home

Lately, with Dad

Family Vacation, Fourth of July

My favorite shots from my family's vacation to St. Simons Island for the 4th of July.