2012 in review

2012 was a long year.

drops on branch

In 2012, I:

  • quit fashion blogging.
  • opened Water Lily Thrift (and sold more than 50 items on etsy alone!)
  • quit the craft store where I worked as a framer for nearly a year.
  • got poison ivy and experienced ‘roid rage.
  • celebrated Daniel’s and my two year anniversary in St. Augustine.
  • considered many academic and career options.
  • sewed a lot of things, including curtains, pillows, skirts, and a dress.
  • cooked more than ever before (and kind of enjoyed it).
  • became passionate about fair trade and buying second hand.
  • converted almost all of my makeup to organic.
  • learned barista skills.
  • photographed my newlywed friends.
  • became a better photographer.
  • won a couple giveaways.
  • wrote a few poems I’m proud of.
  • went antiquing often.
  • read 25 books!
  • moved to Charlottesville.
  • felt lonely, became better friends with myself, and made awesome new friends.
  • hosted Thanksgiving.
  • visited the Shenandoah Valley.
  • toured Florida Caverns and Luray Caverns.
  • kayaked with Andrea.
  • wrote 252 blog posts.
  • bought some pretty good clothes.
  • went on a country road adventure (and crossed the FL-GA line) with my sister to photograph old barns.
  • played a lot of Barbies with the seven year old I babysat (I miss her).
  • went to Lowry Park Zoo.
  • attended two weddings and a high school graduation.
  • had my wedding featured on Ruche’s blog.
  • was featured in the company newsletter for great customer service.
  • took nearly 1,000 photos (maybe more).
  • dyed my hair blonde (not doing that again).
  • ate lots of wonderful Asian food.
  • photographed some grad school graduate friends.
  • photographed a baptism.
  • quit church and found a church I love.
  • took adult ballet classes.
  • expanded my graphic tee collection (narwhals and elephants and cats, oh my).
  • painted, scrapbooked, modpodged, and canvas-stretched.
  • became a pet mice and rat owner. Oh, rodents.
  • saw a Bluegrass legend in concert.
  • felt defeated and uncertain.
  • felt confident and content.
  • had Christmas with part of Daniel’s family.
  • visited Baltimore.
  • experienced snow for the first time in a long time.
  • experimented with varied depths of field.
  • had horrible and wonderful work experiences.
  • felt humbled by the love of companions and the beauty of the natural world.

It’s not often that I feel that a year carried its full weight in time. But this year held a lot of change of both the psychological and the physical sort. I changed jobs three times, moved several states away, blogged a lot, opened an online business, doubted myself, loved myself, read many books, practiced patience and self-control, hosted parties, cooked real food, ate at good restaurants, played with Barbies, went to bars, discussed personal struggle with great vulnerability, put on fronts, argued, cried, practiced compassion, found a church community, adopted causes, voted, felt stupid, felt brilliant, slept in, woke up early, put my foot in my mouth, and spoke eloquently.

I overheard a woman at a restaurant in Baltimore telling her friend that she was glad 2012 was over. I have no desire to redo any part of this tumultuous year but I’m thankful for how the experience, transition, and room for contemplation have changed me. I feel that I, and my life situation, have changed for the better this year. There’s no reason things won’t keep getting better. Thanks for everything, 2012:  the chaos and the calm, the tears and the laughter, the boredom and the ecstasy.

4 simple goals

4 simple goals(based on a misreading of A Beautiful Mess blog’s challenge)

2013 goals: 

  1. Grow my online business: be intentional about advertising, sourcing items, bookkeeping, and having an online presence. 
  2. Put money in savings every month: emergency preparedness and stocking away for the future are always good things.
  3. Buy fair trade/second hand as often as possible: stop making excuses and consider all my consumer options.
  4. Travel to a new place: go somewhere I haven’t been before.

I did my best to establish achievable goals that I really want to pursue. 2013 will be a good year as long as I stay motivated and don’t overwhelm myself. One thing at a time.

 

Baltimore

Land of poverty, yarn bombers, abandoned buildings, and a thousand beautiful churches.

abandoned building baltimore

girl in sunlight church victorian chandelier steeple greek orthodox churchyarn bombingstained glass leaf keep space for peace indie shoppingThere seem to be more abandoned buildings in Baltimore than occupied ones. People linger in crowds on street corners and in alleys, boards nailed to the entryways of row houses, barbershops, and neglected historical buildings. Church doors are locked. In Baltimore, you see the effects of the recession in every direction. In Baltimore you see what apathy looks like. But you also see pride – and a firm resolve to love your home unconditionally, to stick by it even though your lack of resources prevent you from restoring it yourself.

Beanie Boo’s Tiny Adventure

Beanie Boo travels out of doors for the first time. Images captured with my new 50mm lens.

beanie boo macro

Beanie Boo traveled from a distant land in a big, brown crate to bring Christmas cheer to all in her new household. She journeyed out into the big world for the first time on Christmas day. First stop, the ledge by the door for a cautious look at her surroundings.

bush macro

She saw blossoming bushes

fern

and outstretched fronds.

cat in treeShe tentatively climbed a tree. At first she felt exultant, but then she realized she couldn’t get down by herself. A friendly passerby assisted her.

pinecones

She journeyed on through the yard and happened upon tiny pine cones.

c7

She saw acorns hanging from a twig high above the ground.

cat black and white

She stopped to rest by some gnarled vines

cat grass

then chewed on the tall grasses.

What a wonderful adventure!

the storm

tornado dream

I was warming up for police training at a church recreational center on Virginia’s coast. There were nearly 100 of us there, all dressed in gray and navy, doing jumping jacks and anticipating the events of the day.

The sky was overcast through the large, south-facing windows, built high into the wall of the gymnasium. Someone shouted. The wind picked up in a cacophonous symphony of howls and rustling sand. My eyes grew wide in terror: an enormous tornado was headed toward the building. We sat down, some huddled together, myself apart from the group, knowing that following a safety procedure at this point was futile.

The tornado passed the building then, barring our view of the coastline for a few minutes. From the windows in the northern wall, I saw a girl in a red cape running, but it was too late. She was swept up as the winds racked and swayed the tall grass between our building and the church sanctuary. It tore through the sanctuary, demolishing the eastern wall.

I knew that it was bound to head inland, toward Daniel. I texted him:

“I hope you survive. It’s headed your way. Know that I love you very much.”

As I hit send, the howling I’d endured for close to a half hour stopped suddenly, giving way to eerie silence. The stillness was interrupted only by the sound of my heart beating furiously, high on adrenaline.

And then I woke up, convinced my dream had been prophetic, convinced the end was nigh. After several minutes of lying there, overheated and frozen in fear, I woke up Daniel, told him I was afraid, and snuggled into his side, thankful for him, thankful we were both together and alive.

*photo found here

that’s what’s up

 

I first heard Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeros at Daniel’s friend’s house several years ago. We chose Home as our wedding reception entrance song and attended a concert in Savannah, GA the first day of our honeymoon. Their music is joyful and thoughtful. This particular music video is adorable. If the end of the world is still imminent (today isn’t over yet), let’s dwell on what’s important.

lately.

outfitI haven’t really talked about the day to day here lately and that’s really what this blog is all about. Here’s an update on the past couple of weeks:

  • I rediscovered my computer’s Recycle Bin after accidentally deleting it two+ years ago. It feels good to know those 3,761 items are gone for good.
  • A man walked into the shop near close last week and handed my coworker and me a single pink tulip each. It brightened my day.
  • Daniel survived the end-of-semester panic and is now safely within winter break.
  • Most of our friends left town to visit family for the holiday; it’s a bit sad.
  • A small portion of Daniel’s family is coming to visit just in time for Christmas.
  • I restarted work on a scrapbook of lithograph prints from nineteenth century biology books; it’s tedious work for someone who doesn’t enjoy scrapbooking, but I’m pleased with the results so far.
  • I started Reading Women’s Stories: Female Characters in the Hebrew Bible. It’s a nice introduction to literary theory and Biblical poetry.
  • Daniel introduced me to Deadwood, an HBO series about the post-Civil War, American gold rush. It’s fascinating, humorous, and disturbing.
  • I bought a few American Apparel pieces on ebay.
  • I made a few decisions regarding future educational and career goals.
  • A new friend (and former Zumba instructor) invited me over for a weekend Zumba class.
  • I miss ballet.
  • This is my first year formally partaking in the Advent season; I’m convinced it’s a necessary first step toward Christmas. It encourages contemplation and separation from the Christmas rush. I think participating in Advent is the reason I look forward to Christmas this year.
  • I’m loving British fashion blogs.

Things have been a bit dull, but there’s nothing to complain about. I am grateful to live in a place I love near wonderful people, even if the bulk of them are currently out of town.

review: Erzulie Cosmetics Cream to Powder foundation

organic foundationI discovered Erzulie while searching for organic skincare options on etsy and have been using their products for several months now. Recently, I purchased the Mineral Cream to Powder Foundation in Light on the seller’s recommendation. I have used it every day for the past few weeks, so I think it’s time to review it.

You should know before I start that I have sensitive, combination, acne-prone skin that gets very dry in patches during the winter months. I turned to organic skin care initially in order to avoid artificial fragrances, but there are so many other benefits (and there are so many great products) that I’ve stuck with it for additional reasons.

My rating: 4/5

Pros:

  • blends really well into skin
  • provides even, medium coverage
  • easy to apply
  • seems to last all day (at least when set with powder)
  • unscented
  • not greasy

Cons:

  • provided sponge is poor quality
  • a bit shiny without the addition of powder
  • texture makes it hard to maneuver inside compact
  • makes dry skin more pronounced due to nature of application

I used Erzulie Liquid foundation before trying this kind. I like the coverage this provides better, but the liquid is a bit easier to use. I use a nice quality thick sponge applicator for this instead of the provided pad. I knocked off a point due to the poor quality provided applicator and the firmness of the product. If it were a bit wetter, I think it would be easier to apply.

In conclusion, I will continue to use Erzulie Cream to Powder Foundation and will likely buy it again once I run out of my current supply.

Becoming Wise

wise wedding

Hello, my name is Leah Wise and I have a confession to make:

I’m a feminist who took my husband’s last name.

“How could you?!” my feminist sisters cry. Well, because I wanted to.

Let me acknowledge that I’m right there with you when you say that taking on a husband’s name implies an unequal balance of power between the sexes, that it’s part of an archaic patriarchal system, that it arose within a tradition that passes women as property between father and spouse. I agree; that’s why Daniel didn’t ask my father’s permission to marry me. Independent adults can make their own decisions.

I’ll admit that I really didn’t think about not taking Daniel’s last name until after we were married. It took me 6 months to make all the changes to my legal documents, in part due to laziness and in part due to the fear that everything would be different with a new last name (it wasn’t, but more on that later).

I considered (and consider) myself the academic sort and I didn’t want to confuse my professors with a new last name. But, for the most part, my hesitation wasn’t due to the fact that I felt I had built a name for myself as a supreme scholar using my maiden name; I was afraid more that they’d question me for my age. I was 21 when I got married. That’s young by a lot of people’s standards and I didn’t want their condescending judgment. I hadn’t really considered that the name change itself would produce that response.

Back to the point. I acknowledge that patriarchy is bad for women and that the name change developed within that system. But I changed my name because I wanted to have the same last name as my husband. I don’t want to sound like a cliche, young-and-in-love moron, but I was wooed by the idea of creating a family unit with my husband (not the child-bearing family unit necessarily, just being identifiable as a married pair). I like that people call us The Wises. I discussed the subject with a friend and mentor earlier this week and I liked the way she phrased this point: getting married is choosing your next of kin. You tell the world, by marriage, that you have chosen a life partner who is closer to you than your parents or siblings; you have taken them on as your family. Having a uniform last name symbolically represents this bond.

I changed my name because I had the open space – the freedom – to make that choice for myself. I’m sure I was influenced by custom, but I married a man who believes strongly in fairness, equality, and egalitarianism. We both received departmental awards as undergraduates in the same field and graduated summa cum laude. We’re equals and we know it and we’re proud of it. If he had suggested that I had no say in the name change, I more than likely would have broken it off altogether; that’s straight up male chauvinism.

Additionally (this may come as a surprise to some of you), changing my last name had its perks. For one, I felt like I could become something better than I was as a Wells (I should have mentioned that my new last name is very similar to my old last name). Because changing my last name was my choice, I gained a fresh outlook on my identity (it feels similar to moving to a different town or graduating high school). I also symbolically shed the burdens and ideologies of the family I grew up in. College changed me profoundly from an ideological and religious standpoint and I think the superficial move away from my past helped me admit my new identity to myself and my family. It helped me gain the footing to stand behind my beliefs. The family name I took on doesn’t represent a family that is less broken than my own. It represents the pact I made with my husband to stand beside him for the rest of my life.

There are numerous other arguments that neutralize the name change: when you keep your maiden name, you keep your father’s name, thereby re-affirming patriarchy; future children are easily added to the family without name confusion when you take on a uniform last name; a uniform names provides social legitimacy; etc. I agree with those sentiments, but ultimately it comes down to personal choice.

It strikes me that feminism has always been about choice. To paraphrase my friend again, feminism is about equal pay, respect, civil rights, and self governance – all, at their root, about freedom. While I believe that American women are still beaten down by an unjust patriarchal system, while I know women oftentimes don’t reach high enough or stand up for themselves or gives themselves credit, we cannot lose sight of the original heart of feminism. Don’t shame your sisters in this struggle who think differently or choose differently. The beauty of creating an expansive landscape of choice is that we can journey out in an increasing number of directions and still be within our rights. The last thing we need is to restrain those beaten-down women who came to feminism to find room to grow.

I became a Wise because I wanted to. If I felt strongly that I was encouraging patriarchy by doing so, Daniel and I would have made up a new name or co-hyphenated.

We would have resolved it together because we’re in this together. That’s why they call us Wise.

backyard

pebble photo s2 s3 s5 s6 s7s8I haven’t been able to get out much lately. Between being poor, the weather looking like the above every other day, and Daniel being bogged down with schoolwork, we’ve been hesitant to get out there and enjoy the Virginia landscape. But I’m pleased to tell you that even our meager, rented backyard holds treasures: a pebble-encrusted walkway, a rotting pumpkin, mangled vines, and a bit of yellow in the neighbor’s yard.

open arms

church

I stopped going to church for nearly a year for a variety of reasons. I didn’t feel that my academic knowledge was appreciated, I was limited by my gender, I wasn’t at all comfortable with opening up about real struggle, I didn’t fit in. I think Daniel and I feared that we would never really feel at home in any church despite wanting to fellowship with other Christians, despite having chosen our majors because of our faith, despite it being a daily topic of conversation and reflection.

When we got to Charlottesville, we went to a few churches and sat in on a few small groups and just didn’t feel it. I grew up in various evangelical churches, so I know the whole rhetoric about not leeching off the church, about how “feeling” it isn’t enough. But, honestly, after struggling so much to fit into a church in college, I think that mentality covers up a real problem. People in the church, very often, are exclusive in their friendships, judgmental, and afraid to engage issues they deem too controversial. Even for two, born-and-raised Christians, the church began to feel foreign.

But we put in the effort to stick it out somewhere. We started going to an Episcopal Church, a denomination neither one of us grew up in. Known for its progressive/liberal (you choose the connotation) policies, we didn’t really consider it until we sort of fell into it. We found a group of young people who are willing to deal with controversy, doubt, and all the complexities of Christian thought head-on. We found thoughtful, compassionate, loving people who welcomed us in. We found community.

I realized last weekend, as a large group of us sat around the table at a local restaurant sipping drinks and talking about theologians, Russian television, feeling accepted, and avoiding cynicism, that I feel unencumbered – accepted – at last. Really, I laugh without inhibition, I listen, I reply, I learn something new, I think about things in a different light. I feel weightless and unimposing. I become a part of the moment instead of an acutely self-aware bystander. I realize that I’m finally fitting in. I’m at home. I don’t have to fight anymore.

The church needs to stop crossing its collective arms and start opening them to embrace all who enter in. I really believe that there is a place for doubt and skepticism in the church, that it’s a part of everyone’s spiritual journey. Without transition and struggle and stagnancy, there is no incentive to push forward and keep developing as a follower of Christ. I’ve found a group of people who know that, who walk with me in that, who lead me forward to hope and faith again.

I encourage you to seek out a community of followers who love without inhibition.

anguish

anguishAnguish by Malaquias Montoya

It’s not about gun control or letting kids “keep their childhoods” or pointing fingers. It’s about allowing ourselves to grieve – fully – for very real heartbreak, for immense suffering. I’m beginning to think people talk these kinds of things to death to numb themselves. Don’t change the subject. Bathe in it. Take it in. Force yourself to recognize and feel the immeasurable darkness of tragedy.

And read this, too.