Tag Archives: pictures

WM & MM & BM

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Big & Little
Big & Little
Big & Little Kisses
I made this on my iPad at 4:00am during a dreadful spell of insomnia.
Shirts I had made for the boys for Christmas
Brady William
Baby Brady
Mason on the left, Brady on the right

Ok, so, I have no earthly idea how his didn’t come about sooner, but my family is now one person bigger! In June, I mentioned my aunt and uncle were expecting their second child. A younger sibling for Mason, another cousin for me. This little person, who joined our family on December 20th, is Brady. I am over-the-moon that he’s here, grateful that he’s healthy, and ecstatic that he’s ours to love. It’s wonderful, joyful news for everyone; for me, it’s also sorrowful. I wasn’t there. I’m still not there. It wasn’t until my mom said, “I’m going to the hospital to see them after work,” and I bitterly rejoined, “Lucky you,” that I fully cognized that it happened without me. I think I had a subconscious delusion that he wouldn’t come until I could be there, or that I’d catch a red-eye flight and arrive just in time. So I cried, both because I was happy for their new family of four, and because I so desperately wanted to be there but couldn’t. I love Mason quite literally beyond the terminus of my vocabulary. I loved him from the very moment I found out he existed: before I knew he was a he, before I knew his name, before I heard his voice, before I saw his blue eyes. When Mason was born, I held him swaddled in my arms in his newborn cap and receiving blanket, looked at him, and thought, “So, you’re the one I’ve loved all along.” That’s a moment that we will always have, and I will always cherish, even if he doesn’t remember it. On the 12th, I will fly into SFO. I know that on that day, I will hold Brady and fall just as in love with him as I am with Mason, but I can’t help but wish that my first time seeing his face and hearing his voice wasn’t in pictures and videos.

One thing B. and I learned from being in a long distance relationship for two and a half years: it’s hard to be the one who stays; it’s harder to be the one who goes. Today marks one year since I moved from California to Philadelphia, and each of those days has come with a choice: to stay or to go. Every day I reenlist, choosing to continue living the life I’ve made in Philadelphia with the man I love, and I know it’s the right choice, but that doesn’t make is less heartrending that I’m also the one who goes; the one who left California and the now two little boys I love. 

I Wanna Get Back to My City by the Bay

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When the lights go down in the city
And the sun shines on the bay
Do I wanna be there in my city?

Looking out over the Bay from Hamon Tower – with B.
Fog rolling in over the Oakland Hills at Sibley – with Scooter and Blanket
Waiting for the fireworks to start near Fisherman’s Wharf, July 2009 – with LKP
Walking through the Rose Garden and Golden Gate Park – with B.
Opening Day 2009 at AT&T Park – with J.Lo

I’m feeling homesick for the Bay Area. Naturally, this means browsing through pictures of home and listening to songs about California. Yes, I have a California playlist and no, I don’t have any shame about it.

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, and even though no one asked, I’ll tell you why: It’s one of the few major holidays that is completely secular. (This blog has been profusely secular lately, hasn’t it? No apologies.) I can’t tell you how much it grates on me when I hear things like, “Jesus is the reason for the season!” or “Keep Christ in Christmas!” I so completely could not care less about Jesus Christ, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like bringing a spider-infested fire hazard into my house, snowy nights, or decorating with pretty lights. But Thanksgiving. Oh, Thanksgiving. It’s all the tradition and celebration with absolutely none of the annoying genuflection (physical and otherwise).

I wrote a list of things I am thankful for this year:
1. Snuggling up with NoeCat and Sebastiano to keep them warm
2. Hazelnut coffee and pumpkin bread
3. Plenty of peace and quiet for reading good books
4. New friends here in Philadelphia (especially thankful for this one)
5. My rapist being in jail where he can’t harm anyone else (and this one)
6. My favorite little cousin and the new one on the way
7. President Obama’s reelection
8. Beautiful autumn weather and foliage here in Philadelphia
9. My oldest friends, my family, and my wonderful fiancé

And Then I Was Like…

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“Fuck it, hair grows back.” So I cut off 7 inches.
And I really, very, truly love it.

“I’m going to timezone terrorize* my bff because it’s his first presidential election.”
 And I was glad we understood each other so well.
*Timezone terrorist: an asshole (me) who sends 7AM EST text messages to people (my friends & family) on the west coast.

“Thank God all the sensible voters that Obama won, but this nation is, as it has always been, a secular one.”
 So I followed the Freedom From Religion Foundation’s suggestion and wrote a letter to The Big O asking him to refrain from taking a nonsecular Oath of Office at his inauguration next January. And frankly, if you’re also fatigued by the politicization of religion, then you should, too.

West Philly Photo Tour

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These are (some of) the results of the expired roll I shot back in September. I didn’t get to develop this roll myself, but I did find a place that processes this type of film close to my office. In retrospect, I probably would have pulled this roll a bit during processing because I got a tad overly excited about lens flare while I was shooting. I tried to do some dodging and burning in Photoshop, but I got frustrated with it, so I’ll save that for the darkroom.

Nothing spectacular, but a few decent shots. Welcome to West Philly.

Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Frankenstorm

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Survive a hurricane isn’t on my 30 Before 30 list, but maybe it should be.

I took a few pictures from my front porch. Frankenstorm doesn’t seem very terrifying yet, but it’s not supposed to hit us with its full force until later tonight. I’m housebound for the next couple of days, so maybe I’ll actually finish Madame Bovary.

And, in case you live in a cave, I’ll just leave this here:

Damn, it feels good to be champions. Again.

Melancholia

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Small joys in what was an otherwise dreary week:
FaceTime with my cousin and the Giants clinching the NL West.

I’m hopelessly adrift in ennui. No job, no school, no friends, no bueno. I’m slogging through Dead Souls, which is a worthy and enjoyable read, but dense like the war in War & Peace.
Today I left the digital XSi and took the Rebel T2 out roaming. The film has expired, so I’m a bit extra excited. You never know what surprises you’ll get from an expired roll.

It felt incredible, but it’s also a sad reminder that I don’t have easy access to an analog darkroom anymore. Every school since high school has had a darkroom into which my troubles and I could withdraw. I did find a studio here that rents darkroom space by the hour, so I’m planning to go there once I have a few rolls to develop, but it’s just not the same as popping into the studio between classes. But, when I really feel like I’m struggling to hold on to what seems like a relic while the digital age progresses around me, I remember this:
The darkroom is my sanctuary. I live for the weight of the camera in my hands; the sound of the film as it advances; the clatter of the canister as it pops apart and falls to the floor; the smell of familiar chemicals on my hands; and the way developer washes over a blank sheet of paper, slowly turning grey lines into an image.
I wrote that in my admissions essay to Berkeley, and the sentiment is just as true today as it was then.

Happy Birthday, Cousin!

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Dear Cousin,
Hooray! You’re three! That means there are only 18 years until I can take you out and buy you something a little harder than chocolate milk. Believe me, Cousin, one day you’ll learn that chocolate is the least exciting thing you can add to your milk, but for now just enjoy the chocolate. Of course, by the time you’re 21, I’ll be 40 and you won’t want to go out with me because no 21-year-old wants to go out with a 40-year-old. It’s ok, no offense taken. I’ll probably just buy you a bottle of Jäger and show you how your dad ended up with a tree branch up his nose. Or maybe tell you about that one time your mom and I… never mind, some stories you just can’t hear until you’re actually an adult.

I’m sorry I’m not there to celebrate with you, but I wish you the happiest of happy birthdays!
I miss you and think about you every day.
LOVElovelove you,
Cousin

In Florida…

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The beach was literally just out our front door.

We toasted Coronas to beautiful sunsets.

I wore my teeniest bathing suit.

B. Showed off his awesome bar tan.

I got my acceptance letter to UPenn.

I also watched dolphins in the surf, got stung by a jellyfish, finished Atonement, ate Twix and vodka for breakfast, and saw The Dark Knight Rises. All in all, solid vacation.

PS: I finally caved and made a Twitter account for mini-updates between full posts.
Follow me @whitney_jm!

What’s in Whitney’s Bag?

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I loathe purses. Never have I seen a purse and thought, “Oh, hey, I like that.” It’s not surprising, really; I’m hardly a trendy person. I own one dress for formal occasions, two pairs of dress slacks, and zero skirts. I like jeans, cords, and the occasional pair of shorts. My shoe collection, if you can even call it that, is one pair of dress shoes and two pairs of Toms. So it’s only fitting that the first bag I’d fall in love with is a utilitarian men’s messenger bag. When I saw it in the Fossil store in fall 2010, I almost immediately purchased it. Then I looked at the price tag. $160. What the eff?! That’s more than I’d ever even considered spending on any one non-electronic item. I left the store, a little sad, but proud of myself for not spending so much on a messenger bag. A few months passed, and my mind kept going back to this bag. Then one day in December 2010, I was back in the Fossil store, and there it still was: the bag that was tantalizing me in my dreams. I bought it, without a moment’s hesitation, and I’ve never regretted it.


I have romantic fantasies of one day passing this messenger bag down to my child as he or she goes off to college.

I thought this blog could use a lighthearted post, so I present to you: What’s in Whitney’s Bag!


I’m just an asthma inhaler away from being the nerdiest person in West Philly.

So, I have:

Obviously, my wallet, which is also Fossil. After I got robbed the first time I came to Philadelphia, I consoled myself by buying whatever wallet I wanted, even if it was stupid expensive.

California magazine, the official publication of the Cal Alumni Association; Atonement, which I have started and not finished more times than I can count – (I’m going to finish it this time, damn it!); The Russian Reference Grammar because I never get tired of studying declension and cases (ha!)

Two sets of lanyard and keys: the Penn Law lanyard is Bobby’s and has our house key on it; the Cal lanyard is mine and has the keys to my mother’s and uncle’s houses on it, along with my Cal1Card mini-light and Berkeley key chain. Have you figured out where I went to school yet?

Hand sanitizer because everything, everywhere is disgustingly gross and I always feel forever unclean; hand lotion so my obsessive-compulsive need to sanitize my hands doesn’t dry them out; Chapstick because my lips are perpetually dry; pepper spray because no way in hell I’d go anywhere without it. Funny tangent about the pepper spray: I forgot it was in my bag and got through airport security with it on my flight from California to Philly. Yeah, the TSA is really doing its job.

My driver license which entitles me to all the booze I can handle (and even the booze I can’t); my Cal1Card which is probably my favorite card in my whole wallet because, while it doesn’t get me booze, it’s a testament to my hard-earned degree; my Cal Alumni Association membership card, which you’d think would be a little less flimsy considering I paid $30 for it; my FAMSF member card, which I love because I love museums, which is obviously why I got a membership in the first place; my very poor check card; my awesome lion credit card; and the Best Buy card that financed my computer interest free for two years

Starbucks card and a coupon for a free Refresher; Refreshers are some new concoction that Starbucks was giving away for free on Friday. It wasn’t that great – I definitely wouldn’t pay for one – but hey, the coupon gets me another one for free, so I’ll take it.

There’s also my Berkeley water bottle, which I am rarely spotted without; a stray cherry Jolly Rancher from my doctor; 8 leftover stamps I had to buy just to send one letter; my iPhone and ear buds, and (out of shot) my Clipper card for BART and Zipcard for, uh, Zipping?