Venture Still

Where are you now.

I could say I'm in boxer shorts and a light pink sorority t-shirt, throwing every outfit that reminds me of a late 60's hippie into an over-sized suitcase. A suitcase I'll be dragging down the street tomorrow evening two-handedly towards the uptown local E train. And outfits that will be perfectly suited for my week-long trip to Amsterdam to visit my Kenyan sister, Neema Ntalel. I'll get to the train entrance and figure out how to haul the bag (that will most certainly cost me an extra $50 and be marked with a big red tag that reads: "HEAVY") down three flights of stairs and through a turnstile during end-of-day prime commute hours.

I enjoy riding the train to the airport. It's therapeutic as I shove my ipod speakers into my ears and mentally prepare. Anticipate. Feel the beginning of the venture.

It's midnight. Typing at my computer and looking out my first windowed room that faces a brick wall, I try to summon the state of emotion I was in the last time I packed my bags for JFK and another life. But I can't. It's easy to speak vividly of change when you need it. It's easy to dig down, so deep into the belly of belief systems and philosophies when you question your own; when life goes dark and history turns pitch black and we fumble blindly through the journey just to grab onto anything we can in order to survive (BREATHE). But right now...right now I feel pretty fucking great.

But just because I don't need it, I still want it. I want the extremity and novelty of a new experience and a new world and a reminder of all things raw. Another update of my mental state and reality check with perspective. Sometimes we need a little magic in our lives. And if you don't believe in magic...you'll just have to make some of your own.

Dagoretti Corner Tour

I can't stop reminiscing lately! Austin takes us on a tour of one of our many homes while living in Kenya...

Mothers and Their Daughters

There’s a photo of my mom and I...I was about two or three years old. We’re in Little Grass Valley camping for the week; I was dressed in overalls. I’m sitting on her lap with my hands wrapped around her neck and she’s swinging me back to make me smile. In the photo both our mouths are open and we are mid laugh. My dad is in the picture too, he’s cooking breakfast for us all. I think this is one of my favorite photos of all time. Whenever I think about how much I love my mom, I picture this photo. It’s perfect; it explains everything that my mom means to me. Then I picture all the times I wake up in my parent’s house to find my mom in the kitchen or living room, and before I’m awake enough to speak any words, she comes over and just hugs me, and rubs my back. How can one person have the ability to just know everything, and be everything you need?

To be loved by my mom is the best feeling there is. I will never stop needing her. She knows when something is wrong or right before I even dial her number from across the country. The one faith I will always have, there is no substitution for her. None.

Nothing takes the place of a mother-daughter relationship. The good, the bad, and the ugly. I've heard it's not easy, but hands down my mom wins. The amount of love I have for her is completely intangible, owed only to someone who taught me that kind of love herself. To all the mothers out there teaching real love, thank you...for making this world a better place.


Happy Mother’s Day Mommy. Thank you. I love you <3