I tend to get ahead of myself. I spend a lot of time thinking about the future.
This is sort of absurd because "The Future" is nothing more than an abstract collection of expectations and idealisms. Of course it's perfect, you just imagined it yourself. But who are we to know where we are going?
I could walk into the street and get hit by a bus tomorrow. Then what? Why all these wasted hours on what could be, when we're missing such spectacular moments happening now?
Now.
Now.
In life and in everything, The Unexpected creeps in. Sometimes slowly, sometimes all at once.
What's important isn't how well we plan for the future. What's important is how much of the present we're watching closely enough to appreciate.
Thursday, February 7, 2013
Thursday, October 4, 2012
On trying hard and slowing down.
Admittedly, I put a lot of pressure on myself.
I am guilty of all these things. When things get hard, I tend to forget myself. I slip momentarily into pessimism.
Much of this is coming from the stress this application process brings. Transcripts, test scores, writing samples. Struggling to weave together the perfect words to convey an idea that feels so important to me, so very important. I am aware that this feels like packaging myself. I try not to think about the fact that I am waiting on someone I have never met to grant me the luxury of a choice as to where I'm going to live the next six years of my life. Where I will be when my friends or family need me. Where our first house will be. Where our first child will be born.
What drives me forward is the fact that we have been so very, very careful in our decision making. This is the kind of opportunity that commands gratitude, something one does not shrug off. I believe in the decisions I have made for myself and my family. I am tired and nervous and sometimes so profoundly confused, but I am fiercely proud of how far we've made it. I will not quit on us. The only way out is forward.
When I'm feeling tired and wishing I could just stop, I remind myself how incredibly lucky I am. Here are beautiful pictures from my life, here's hoping they inspire yours.
When the going gets tough, I have a habit of putting my nose to the grind (or in my case, the textbook) and not looking up until I'm out of the woods. This is a particularly nasty problem when the woods in question are big woods.
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| Big big woods. Picture from our last trip to the California redwoods. |
When things get tough, it's easy to forget why you're doing this in the first place. It's easy to fall into that "grass is always greener mentality," and to find yourself jealous of other people's lives. It's easy to shut up and keep working, and not tell the people around you what you need. It's easy to put your own happiness aside. It's easy to forget to take care of yourself.
I am guilty of all these things. When things get hard, I tend to forget myself. I slip momentarily into pessimism.
Much of this is coming from the stress this application process brings. Transcripts, test scores, writing samples. Struggling to weave together the perfect words to convey an idea that feels so important to me, so very important. I am aware that this feels like packaging myself. I try not to think about the fact that I am waiting on someone I have never met to grant me the luxury of a choice as to where I'm going to live the next six years of my life. Where I will be when my friends or family need me. Where our first house will be. Where our first child will be born.
What drives me forward is the fact that we have been so very, very careful in our decision making. This is the kind of opportunity that commands gratitude, something one does not shrug off. I believe in the decisions I have made for myself and my family. I am tired and nervous and sometimes so profoundly confused, but I am fiercely proud of how far we've made it. I will not quit on us. The only way out is forward.
When I'm feeling tired and wishing I could just stop, I remind myself how incredibly lucky I am. Here are beautiful pictures from my life, here's hoping they inspire yours.
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| Smoke from a refinery fire in California. |
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| A single tree on my favorite hills. <3 |
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| Benny is getting bigger, and weirder. |
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| <3
Love,
Sahra
|
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Moving the McWallaces
WE'RE MOVING! The big day is Tuesday and I've just begun to get things organized. Currently, our apartment is looks like a war zone of boxes, bags, and that styrofoam stuff you put between dishes. It'd be really cool to play paintball in here right now.
Kevin and I have moved every year since we met each other. The first time was when we moved in together at the start of what was supposed to be a platonic relationship. SPOILER ALERT: That platonic relationship thing didn't work out. Anyway, the first time we moved was easy. He had very few possessions and had already settled himself in the new apartment. I was relocating from my college dorm.
The first time we moved, all we did was show up with a bunch of trash bags and shove everything we possibly could into them. I literally dragged my arm across my desk and scraped everything into the bag. We poured out dresser drawers, tossed in some odds and ends, and rolled away in his van. It took one trip.
Every time we've moved, things have been a little bigger. First the trash bags. Then the second move happened in a hurry, but we were fine because at the time we still owned next to nothing. Moving here to New Haven last year (third move) was a big one, because it was an hour away. Kevin worked the whole day, so my parents literally packed me into my own car with both snakes curled around my neck. I drove an hour trying to see over the piles of stuff in my backseat, and also trying to prevent the snakes from getting into trouble. And from choking me unconscious as I drove down the highway at 70 mph.
This time, our move is a multiple-day process with to-do lists, appointments, and at least some attempt at an organizational system. We have a U-Haul (I'm hoping I don't get the one with the spider painted on the side. I hate that guy.) and about a million boxes and we're doing the whole thing around his sacred work schedule. Seriously, getting him to take time off is impossible. Tomorrow I will pack more boxes, and Tuesday we'll move all the furniture and follow with the boxes, then the odds and ends. We're expecting to be out by this weekend, thus concluding a year in the SMALLEST AND MOST BROKEN APARTMENT EVER.
At this moment I am sitting here reflecting on the progression of our moves. So simple at first, and now we have furniture, dishware, books, art supplies, etc. Our material possessions mean nothing, in the end. Yet, the increasing difficulty of these moves makes me think of how our relationship has gone through a similar progression. With each year, we have collected more stuff but also more memories, more trust, more of the indescribable connection we have today. We do not need material possessions to be happy, instead we are grateful for the sense of security that comes from having the other person there. The juxtaposition between what we had and what we have is startling, and of course I can't help but feel some sense of pride. Not because I have more things, per se, but because we have done such an amazing job of infusing our lives with meaning. With purpose. I realize that my life is exactly what I want it to be.
Sitting in the home my husband and I have built together, I am full of love and gratitude.
Kevin and I have moved every year since we met each other. The first time was when we moved in together at the start of what was supposed to be a platonic relationship. SPOILER ALERT: That platonic relationship thing didn't work out. Anyway, the first time we moved was easy. He had very few possessions and had already settled himself in the new apartment. I was relocating from my college dorm.
The first time we moved, all we did was show up with a bunch of trash bags and shove everything we possibly could into them. I literally dragged my arm across my desk and scraped everything into the bag. We poured out dresser drawers, tossed in some odds and ends, and rolled away in his van. It took one trip.
Every time we've moved, things have been a little bigger. First the trash bags. Then the second move happened in a hurry, but we were fine because at the time we still owned next to nothing. Moving here to New Haven last year (third move) was a big one, because it was an hour away. Kevin worked the whole day, so my parents literally packed me into my own car with both snakes curled around my neck. I drove an hour trying to see over the piles of stuff in my backseat, and also trying to prevent the snakes from getting into trouble. And from choking me unconscious as I drove down the highway at 70 mph.
This time, our move is a multiple-day process with to-do lists, appointments, and at least some attempt at an organizational system. We have a U-Haul (I'm hoping I don't get the one with the spider painted on the side. I hate that guy.) and about a million boxes and we're doing the whole thing around his sacred work schedule. Seriously, getting him to take time off is impossible. Tomorrow I will pack more boxes, and Tuesday we'll move all the furniture and follow with the boxes, then the odds and ends. We're expecting to be out by this weekend, thus concluding a year in the SMALLEST AND MOST BROKEN APARTMENT EVER.
At this moment I am sitting here reflecting on the progression of our moves. So simple at first, and now we have furniture, dishware, books, art supplies, etc. Our material possessions mean nothing, in the end. Yet, the increasing difficulty of these moves makes me think of how our relationship has gone through a similar progression. With each year, we have collected more stuff but also more memories, more trust, more of the indescribable connection we have today. We do not need material possessions to be happy, instead we are grateful for the sense of security that comes from having the other person there. The juxtaposition between what we had and what we have is startling, and of course I can't help but feel some sense of pride. Not because I have more things, per se, but because we have done such an amazing job of infusing our lives with meaning. With purpose. I realize that my life is exactly what I want it to be.
Sitting in the home my husband and I have built together, I am full of love and gratitude.
Friday, February 17, 2012
Philadelphia Tattoo Convention 2012: The good, the bad, and the ugly.
The Good:
We had an amazing time at the Philadelphia Tattoo Convention! Unfortunately, we missed out on the first day, but we were able to catch some of the action on Saturday because of some late night driving. We left New Haven just before midnight on Friday and got to bed sometime around 3:45 in the morning. The next morning we met up with our friends Shawn and Claire for some deliciously greasy sandwiches and convention exploration!
The convention itself was pretty huge. I'm guessing around 400-500 booths, including some piercers, vendors, and even a booth for all your tattoo-themed hot sauce needs. In retrospect, I really should have snapped a picture of that.
I was fortunate enough to get tattooed by a favorite artist of mine, Gentleman-Joel Molina. I happened upon him at his former location in Illinois while looking for some distraction from a horrible conference I went to. He has since relocated to Virginia and I was thrilled to be able to catch him again.
Evolve Body Jewelry had some seriously tempting pieces. Kevin didn't get tattooed, but he did pick himself up a pair of plugs.
This was admittedly the first convention I've been to in a while. I may or may not be out of touch with the body modification community. Either way, I saw a few things that I found to be objectionable.
There was a booth at the convention that belonged to a pitbull advocacy group, who had volunteers walking dogs throughout the convention floor. Of course, I'm hugely pro-adoption, but the floor of a tattoo convention is no place for a dog. This is a crowded event where hundreds of people are getting tattooed, and whoever thought it was acceptable to introduce an animal into that environment wasn't keeping the health of the attendees in mind. The photo above was taken while I was getting tattooed. The volunteer in the picture lifted the dog up to table height and allowed him to put his front paws on the artists' table. I don't think I'm alone when I say that despite their good intentions, they would have been doing everyone a favor by bringing a photo album instead.
Another thing that really irked me was the number of price-shoppers walking around. I understand that kind of thing happens in general, and that's fine. People are going to haggle, especially during tough times. But at a convention? Do they really think an artist at a convention specifically for the propagation of art would shortchange his own work for a total stranger? Of course, this isn't true for everyone. A number of artists and clients probably negotiated and settled on a price they were both happy with. That's totally fine. I'm talking about people who usually want something they found off the internet, or a name/single word, or a simple shape like a star or a heart. They want those tattoos for personal and valid reasons, and that's great for them. But they are discrediting their own modification decisions by not bothering to consider different artists on the basis of anything other than price. Of course it's also just plain disrespectful to walk into a tattoo convention and tell a tattoo artist he's not worth the price of the tattoo he's quoting you.
Enough of that. Now:
The Ugly:
No convention is complete without some horsefaced shenanigans. Why are there so many horses in this post?
Love!
seth
We had an amazing time at the Philadelphia Tattoo Convention! Unfortunately, we missed out on the first day, but we were able to catch some of the action on Saturday because of some late night driving. We left New Haven just before midnight on Friday and got to bed sometime around 3:45 in the morning. The next morning we met up with our friends Shawn and Claire for some deliciously greasy sandwiches and convention exploration!
The convention itself was pretty huge. I'm guessing around 400-500 booths, including some piercers, vendors, and even a booth for all your tattoo-themed hot sauce needs. In retrospect, I really should have snapped a picture of that.
I was fortunate enough to get tattooed by a favorite artist of mine, Gentleman-Joel Molina. I happened upon him at his former location in Illinois while looking for some distraction from a horrible conference I went to. He has since relocated to Virginia and I was thrilled to be able to catch him again.
I love getting tattooed by Joel for many reasons. He has a deep love for his traditional American style of work, and it shows in his technique as a tattooer and his work as an artist. He is also one of the most congenial and humble artists I've met. Getting a tattoo from him is a great experience because you feel both in good company and in good hands.
Here's the piece he did on my left forearm at the convention:
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| Thanks Joel! |
Joel's mentor, Tilt, is a man with an impressive body of artwork. He is also a man with an impressive horse labcoat:
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| That's right, horse labcoat. You wish your tattoo artist wore a horse labcoat. |
We also got to spend some time with Megan Jean Morris and Ricky Borchert, two talented artists who are conveniently located in a studio about fifteen minutes from our house in New Haven! I'm drawn to Megan Jean's work not only because her colors are SUPERBRIGHT (which they are), or because her portrait skills are astounding (which they are), but because her work is emotive. It's got a soulful, complete sort of quality to it. I wasn't able to get a finished picture of this piece, but when we found her at the convention she and this client were beasting through an eight hour session. Respect!
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In general, the whole weekend turned out to be a memorable time. We saw good people and great artwork. It was completely worth the three days of naps we had to take to make up for lost sleep.
The Bad:
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| Dogs at tattoo conventions: CUTE BUT ALSO BAD. |
This was admittedly the first convention I've been to in a while. I may or may not be out of touch with the body modification community. Either way, I saw a few things that I found to be objectionable.
There was a booth at the convention that belonged to a pitbull advocacy group, who had volunteers walking dogs throughout the convention floor. Of course, I'm hugely pro-adoption, but the floor of a tattoo convention is no place for a dog. This is a crowded event where hundreds of people are getting tattooed, and whoever thought it was acceptable to introduce an animal into that environment wasn't keeping the health of the attendees in mind. The photo above was taken while I was getting tattooed. The volunteer in the picture lifted the dog up to table height and allowed him to put his front paws on the artists' table. I don't think I'm alone when I say that despite their good intentions, they would have been doing everyone a favor by bringing a photo album instead.
Another thing that really irked me was the number of price-shoppers walking around. I understand that kind of thing happens in general, and that's fine. People are going to haggle, especially during tough times. But at a convention? Do they really think an artist at a convention specifically for the propagation of art would shortchange his own work for a total stranger? Of course, this isn't true for everyone. A number of artists and clients probably negotiated and settled on a price they were both happy with. That's totally fine. I'm talking about people who usually want something they found off the internet, or a name/single word, or a simple shape like a star or a heart. They want those tattoos for personal and valid reasons, and that's great for them. But they are discrediting their own modification decisions by not bothering to consider different artists on the basis of anything other than price. Of course it's also just plain disrespectful to walk into a tattoo convention and tell a tattoo artist he's not worth the price of the tattoo he's quoting you.
Enough of that. Now:
The Ugly:
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| LOOKOUT. |
Love!
seth
Friday, February 10, 2012
MCWALLACE goes to Philadelphia!
In half an hour (yes, at 11:30 at night) Kevin and I are driving down to Pennsylvania to the Philadelphia Tattoo Convention. I'm so excited! I can't wait to see old friends, meet some new people, and and and I'm getting tattooed! Gentleman-Joel Molina is the artist who tattooed me when we were "at a conference" (read: skipping the conference to get tattooed) in Illinois last year. Lucky for me, he's going to be at the convention and I'm pumped to get more work from him.
We also bought a better camera, so we can have better photos for this and all of the other things you need good quality photos for in life.
So, we're off! Definitely photos to follow, and hopefully some stories worth telling.
love,
seth
We also bought a better camera, so we can have better photos for this and all of the other things you need good quality photos for in life.
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| Kevin in HD VISION!!! |
love,
seth
Friday, January 27, 2012
First post! First blog!
Hello!
I am Sahra James Wallace (call me Seth! Or don't!) and I'm a 23 year old newlywed living in New England with my husband Kevin, two snakes, and a large collection of houseplants. I am one half of the duo McWallace - that is, McGuire/Wallace for those who don't care for catchy abbreviations.
I used to think I knew what I was doing with my life, but lately I'm realizing that I have more questions than answers. Since our wedding in June of 2011, Kevin and I have been on a mission to find out who we are, where we belong, and what makes our family (at this point I would add the question "WHAT AM I GOING TO DO WITH MY LIFE!?" but I've realized I'm not getting anywhere with that kind of desperation).
The greatest thing about this existential expedition is that there are so many other people who are searching for answers to the samenerve-wracking decidedly abstract questions. It seems like every one of our same-generation friends are similarly questioning everything about their positions in life. Whether it's a change in location, lifestyle, career, or attitude, I hear all of you when you say that you, just like me, have a lot of exploring to do.
My only answer is to write down everything. That's right, everything. I'm a firm believer in the idea that you can't accomplish anything without writing it down. That's why every adventure, every idea, and every step we take together is going down here.
I hope we can look back one day and find that all of our effort has, in fact, amounted to everything. I hope we'll fill this thing with beautiful photographs and crazy ideas. I believe that we must keep our experiences close to us, and that doing so will give us all the answers to all of our millions of questions. Maybe you will learn something from us, and maybe we will learn something from you.
Love,
Seth
I am Sahra James Wallace (call me Seth! Or don't!) and I'm a 23 year old newlywed living in New England with my husband Kevin, two snakes, and a large collection of houseplants. I am one half of the duo McWallace - that is, McGuire/Wallace for those who don't care for catchy abbreviations.
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| This is us! Or rather, this is the picture that made me realize that we have no photos of us. |
I used to think I knew what I was doing with my life, but lately I'm realizing that I have more questions than answers. Since our wedding in June of 2011, Kevin and I have been on a mission to find out who we are, where we belong, and what makes our family (at this point I would add the question "WHAT AM I GOING TO DO WITH MY LIFE!?" but I've realized I'm not getting anywhere with that kind of desperation).
The greatest thing about this existential expedition is that there are so many other people who are searching for answers to the same
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| We went to see the redwood trees in California for our honeymoon. It was my favorite place we've explored so far! |
My only answer is to write down everything. That's right, everything. I'm a firm believer in the idea that you can't accomplish anything without writing it down. That's why every adventure, every idea, and every step we take together is going down here.
I hope we can look back one day and find that all of our effort has, in fact, amounted to everything. I hope we'll fill this thing with beautiful photographs and crazy ideas. I believe that we must keep our experiences close to us, and that doing so will give us all the answers to all of our millions of questions. Maybe you will learn something from us, and maybe we will learn something from you.
Love,
Seth
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