Wednesday, December 31, 2008

The Heart Break Kids!

This project is dedicated in all it's comedic entirety to Rachel Pomeroy and the woman, the myth, the tyrannous legend all her characters have been to me!

Friday, December 05, 2008

silly. just silly.

Secrets and Sweets:

Celebrating our Differences:

Saturday, November 15, 2008

Friday, October 31, 2008

Music and Me

Here's to the other journey...

Sunday, October 26, 2008

Shoes a Walk presents... "Fresh Impressions"

Oh the idiosyncrasies that make us, us. A flash back to Elishas birthday takes us places we never knew we could go...

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

My Reality Television Career Has Begun

I learned how to edit. I have amazing roommates. And a very funny life. Indulge. Enjoy.

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

Monday, September 22, 2008

oh brothers.

now im not one to usually socially exploit my personal life and the loved ones that surround... but on behalf of all struggling artists out there i give the tucker-frye-body-movement-phenomena 2 thumbs up... if not for innovation then for unashamedly owning up to the unnecessary and excessive amounts of technology and free time they both have.

love you boys.
now everyone get up off your asses and shake along.

Thursday, September 11, 2008

The Brooklyn Story

Many of you friends have heard it already... but for the ones who haven't, here is a version I submitted to Jedidiah's community story prompt thingy this month. The prompt was... Give love back.

"Everybody's Somebody in Brooklyn"

Blessed Boston. I had never been before. I should start from the beginning. I spent the summer in a traveling band o' brothers (and sisters) through my school, Point Loma Nazarene University, earning money doing an array of magnificent tasks including but not limited to music, media tech business and camp counseling. I needed space. I needed to breathe. I needed to get away. I think I'll go to Boston.

I spent an entire hard earned summer pay check on a plane ticket to Manhattan where I would meet my mother who would generously house and feed me during her business trip to the big city. Baller status. I had no specific agenda, I had no big plans. I just wanted to take pictures, eaves drop, speak to interesting strangers on the public transportation, and not catch anything foul.

I was then supposed to take a midnight train to Boston to meet up with some friends, and then another to D.C. to meet up with some other friends... There was a family emergency with Boston friend and that leg of the trip was cancelled. I had to stay another night in NYC with a child hood friend who lived in Brooklyn.

I've never been into college football so a night at the sports bar across town to watch Cal's kick off sounded less than appealing. A night-in with a Brooklyn slice, some beautiful pictures to iphoto and an exhausted California girl lounging on the couch sounded ideal. You can't order a pizza and not tip the generous soul that brings it to your door, especially in Brooklyn. I'm sure it's written down in some handbook somewhere. So I set off to the ATM for tipping fuel to the powers that be from

Two steps out the door and I realize I don't have my cellular device. On this particular night in a strange city all alone I felt it a necessity. How did Californians survive before cell phones? No keys. Locked out. So stupid. I fell into a deep disappointment of all things me and my friend and sports bars across the nation. I found someone with a phone and called my friend. She told me to pick the lock with a credit card. Two Visas and a Blockbuster rewards card later I’m still locked out but lo’ and behold there’s a pizza at my door and a friendly Italian delivery man who found it in his heart to forgive me for not tipping him.

I don’t want the pizza. I don’t want to call anyone else. I just want to sit there and cry. After a slice and a few tears I decide that I should give away my pizza. I set off to find some needy. After 7 minutes of hunting, I find myself in a seemingly needy-free community. Just fancy bistros and stone wall housing. I mope back to the apartment I’m locked out of. (Cue Charlie Brown score here.) I see a tiny shadow in the distance and figure it may be someone in need of a pizza.

It turns out to be a small child. Arianna is 4 years old and her incapacitated father sitting in a pool of his own vomit and tequila is having a rough night. Arianna is beautiful, curious and sitting on a stoop alone, locked out and wishing she were at home. All to familiar of a feeling. Dad pulls out a set of car keys. I play out every social work exam scenario I could conjure forth to memory from my college years, all of 3 months ago. I give dad the pizza. Arianna grabs my hand. I’m somebody to her. I’m not in Boston because of this little hand. I’m not in a warm apartment eating pizza and admiring my “agendaless” weekend because of this little hand. Dad disappeared into the dark, shady apartment building he was sitting in front of. We didn’t follow. We found our way to the bar down the street, incidentally named Safe Haven. We sipped on Shirley Temples and lemon water while coloring on enough napkins to absorb all the tears this little girl may have to cry because of her struggling father over the next 14 years of her childhood. This has happened before.… The Brooklyn police kindly escorted us to the 72nd precinct on 4’th and 29’th and we spend the next couple hours there in a sketchy witness room. I’m the closest thing to a familiar face for her. I can’t let go of this little hand. I love her napkin pictures.

I don’t know exactly what happened to Arianna. Later that evening she was taken to her mother and I was dropped off at Safe Haven… still locked out, still hungry, more tired but not so hopeless. If only I prevented a handful of hours of an incredibly ridiculous situation that she could’ve been in, then it was worth it… meant to be… and someone knows what needs to be better than I ever will. I just have to want to give.

Friday, September 05, 2008

why i dissapeared

the blogs abruptly stopped on day 4. i know you were all waiting in anticipation. there were some discrepencies in... well... my life... that i had to deal with. the following events occured... and that is why i dissapeared. and it's just too good a story to tell in one blog so here are the elements... we will get to the story later.

*i got locked out of my friends brooklyn apt.
*i left my phone in said brooklyn apt.
*i had a pizza i didn't want
*i couldn't find a homeless person to give it to
*i did however find a drunkard and his small child
*i gave the drunk a pizza and kinapped his child
*me and said 4 year old little girl kicked it at a random bar
*then at the 72 Brooklyn pricinct
*she got sent away.
*i got dropped off at the bar
*still locked out
*faught with my host
*back at bar with luggage
*took ride to penn station from bar tender lady at 345 am
*ended up in beautiful d.c. with chris duck and justin wright
*came back home and britta and mayra nursed me back to life
*attached art to this here blog is the bar napkin work of said 4 year old kidnapped child

it's been a long week. i'll get into the nitty gritty of how God uses our feeble, over-organized schedules to do God's will, become uncomfortable in our faith and make big moves in this loco kingdom.


Friday, August 29, 2008

nyc day 3

i'm in brooklyn now. park slope to be exact, at sarah's place. it was a fun trot from the subway station to the apartment with what seemed to be 400 pounds of luggage and 60 blocks. it wasn't either.

mom left early this morning back to san francisco to carry on with her ordinarily incredible labor day weekend. me and sarah trotted around manhattan earlier today but i wasn't really in a place where i wanted to be touristi. i moreso wanted to capture all the vivid colors and movement in the everyday lives of these odd and beautiful creatures called new yorkers and the tourists that follow.

i figured i would go on a hunt for cliche new york, and i'd be as incinspicuous as possible. remember c-g? look as local as possible... fortuneately, through out my many journeys around this universe, i've managed to pull local off... considering my slightly carefree style of dress, messy hair and brown skin i've managed to pull off local in hawaii, tanzania, a soho chick in nyc, and a "coloured" person named angela in capetown. true story.

cheers to day 3.

my favorite. i wanted them all. one of every color. one of every story.

st. patricks cathedral... oh the glory.

this one's for jordan. a midnorning treat if you will... and i did.

lunch of the champions. it was too pretty to really taste good though. it wasn't what i expected. bronx pizza on university in hillcrest tops it any day... i'm just sayin... :)

ordinary new yorkers and the tourists that follow...

sarah in the subway... she was overjoyed???

sarah in her office on w36th... go ahead girl... and the say cal state fashion merchandising majors gotta struggle... :)

Thursday, August 28, 2008

nyc day 2: stag in the city

i meandered out of bed this morning around 10:23 eastern time... which might i remind you all is 7:23 am our time. blast. but i didn't want to miss the continental breakfast that i brought up to my room... room 701. the bathroom has the sexiest shower situation i've ever seen. also the most awkward one. you just walk into the bathroom and there lies a toilet... to its right is a sink and to your immediate left are two glorious shower heads and in the center of it all is... indeed... a drain. no curtain. no doors. just a hygiene safari if you will. so that was the morning.

i wrestled with the idea of googling myself into an itenerary bliss of activities and tours, but a. i've been here once before b. both mom and sarah are working today so henceforth it would be me and dozens of old people and various grownups/families/people in comfortable walking shoes... and c-g. i want to look as local as possible.

so i vouched for set and explore. i stumbled into grand central station and so in the spirit of historical monuments i set off to go to the met (metropolitan museum of the arts) and that was on 5'th and e81 Street. the station let me out at w47'th and lexington so i had a ways to go. i told myself i would walk as much as possible as to be frugal. i made it to about w57'th street before i hailed a cab. 10 bucks later i was there. it was glorious.

i found a near by subway and tackled that feat. took train 4 to time square and from there a cab to meet sarah for lunch at 141 w36'th. we had hale and hearty. it was both hale and hearty. salads made to order should be a thing in california. one would think. i walked the 9 blocks back to my hotel where i peeled the skinny jeans off my legs and turned the ac on high. it's very sticky here... like ob on a really gross mid summer afternoon.

so far i've seen a life size tickle me elmo (creepy) a man dressed up as freddie crougar (more creepy) and more live music and dancing on the street/subway than a girl could dream for (fantastical). even though i'm from the bay area i am still constantly amused and in awe of the different looking people, the noises, the smells (many foul) the lights and the hustle and bustle of people from more backgrounds speaking more languages than i could keep track of. it's amazing.

i've also managed to get behind at least a handful of mothers and nanny's pulling around children in busy public places... which reminds me of my age-old personal philosophy, which i'd like to share with you all now: although i love children and the joy and imagination their little hearts and minds entail, 6 years of being a nanny has been the most emotionally and financially rewarding form of birth control i could ever long for in my twenties.

2 more days of this then off to d.c. to see chris duck and justin w. for some more east coastal adventurosos.


Wednesday, August 27, 2008

new york new york

i've arrived. its warm outside... things and people are buzzing and beeping. my mom gabs on a business call while i stare aimlessly out the window of this luxury sedan. it feels like i'm in oakland. oh wait... here's the tunnel that the biker from that one will smith movie got hit by a bus in and then there's the empire state building... nevermind.

our hotel is in the cracks between an irish pub and coalition for something or other. without moms keen eyes i would have never found the place. people here walk in front of cars like it's going out of style, although i have yet to see any injuries or fatalities in this god forsaken traffic, so i suppose they can keep doing it this way.

we are waiting for sarah (childhood best friend who's recently graduated and relocated from so-cal to brooklyn) to get off work so we can all hang. our room is small. i don't know how we are all gonna fit in here for three days. it's beatiful though. pics soon. i need a chord to connect my camera to my comp... otherwise no pics til i get back. maybe ill be that idiot who walks around manhattan with her macbook face out and open to photobooth. it's tempting. there is a ton of vivid space here to capture.

cheers to day 1.

Thursday, August 21, 2008


It's dark and cold and things and people are beeping, honking, shouting and glowing. My mom lay there in here 4 star hotel room bewtween a drizzled on window and beautifully crafted door of which behind was a hall of other restless strangers, and maybe some sleeping in the wee hours of this weeknight in new york city.

Mom wasn't still. She wasn't at rest or at peace. Neither was Dad for that matter... thousands of miles away he may have been snoring, but still not at ease. Me, it was afternoon where I was. Early afternoon the following day in Moshi Town and I was most likely sitting on my porch staring at Kilimanjro laughing at my sad attempts to communicate with new friends and family in Swahili. Brother was out and about... some sort of social gathering where he was probably inhaling all sorts of vile fumes of smoke, cologne and sex drives... But Mom wasn't still.

She was crying... she was sad. She was angry. She was not at peace with her heart or her God or her failed marriage. She's an achiever. She was that achiever. The one who allegedly failed at her greatest investment for the past 23 years. Maintaining a healthy family. She was basically the only one in her bloodline that had accomplished the task thusfar. And yet she had failed? She had a broken heart and blamed herself and Dad... and so in that extremely comfortable bed with those pure white sheets and the warm colors on the wall paper in the expensive hotel that her fabulous job had accomodated her with, she didn't feel like a success. She had been in this hotel a hundred times. She had seen this city a thousand times. She had cried probably a million tears in her lifetime... but only had a heart this broken once. It sucked. She prayed. I sat. Dad sleeped. Nick danced. And all was not at ease in the Maples family.

The only other sign of God's love and peace in mom's life could have been an angel tapping on her window floating glowingly on the outside of the 17th floor brick monument... but a song I suppose will do. Her radio turned on. She didn't touch it. She hadn't set it. She wasn't even staring at it in hopes of a telepathic break through on the dial. Her back was to it, and it turned on. It sang to her... or more accurately Sarah did:

"In the arms of an angel
Fly away from here
From this dark cold hotel room
And the endlessness that you fear
You are pulled from the wreckage
Of your silent reverie
You’re in the arms of the angel
May you find some comfort there"

And that was it. That was it for my mom. She found peace. She heard God... she experienced love. In the middle of the night, some radio in some room shared with her a beautiful melody, an extraordinary truth.

Her marriage didn't solve itself... her kids didn't come back home... her husband did not stop snoring. Her heart was not healed... but peace isn't the resolution for all those things. From what I understand, an active experience of peace is the capacity to bear these things and know that God is much bigger than we may or may not ever feel; bigger than our tears and the things we are afraid of; bigger than our struggling relationships and beautiful hotel rooms... our doubts our fears and our distance. Our misunderstanding of our past, present and future.

God is bigger than us. He or she loves us enough to sometimes shine glimpses of her glorious light through our dark, drizzled on windows.

So really, peace be with you.

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

My sisters in India!

One of my dear loves has taken a journey so far from us all but so close to our crooked little hearts... lets keep up with her, love, support and pray for her...

Monday, July 07, 2008

dear britta and others i suppose....

jordan knew this pic would be for you so he is taking an awkward one

here's what we shared for lunch. i ate the applesauce. we abandoned the veggies. :(

for breakfast i laid by the pool and looked at these beautiful ladies and seom trees.

then here's my first japanese bbq experience... fun fun for everyone yeah?

here has been my days. love you. enjoy these windows.

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

smt adventures!

i'm a part of something spectacular this summer!

p.s. that's me and my awesome team in maui a few weeks ago. booyah.

Monday, June 02, 2008


when i first came to loma i found refuge in a handsome, lanky kid with a mohawk who i soon came to know as "j-bo" which later got shortened to "bo-bo" which turned into now just "bo". justin bordley, chemistry/christian ministry double major extraordinare, would become one of my best friends during/post my time at plnu and we would share so many amazing memories... including but not limited to, dance parties (too many to count), gospel choir adventures, bsu shennanigans, family dinners, family breakfasts, conversations about life, love, liberty, missions, homeless, the church, kissing, not kissing, b-friends, g-friends, dating, not dating, chemistry, ministry, the rich, the poor, the inbetween over lunches in the caf or other random places in our world. he would be the one to see me on the way not to class and then convince me to go.

no he hasn't died or anything... he's on a plane to africa. to tanzania. to moshi. to shanty town on the base of mt. kilamanjaro where i spent some of the most developemental times in my life... this place with mary and peter and jill and alice... and all the emmanuel center boys... it shaped me... it brought me to who i am and where i am today. i've chosen not to go back because there are other oppurtunities i need to/want to engage in while i can... but he and i would talk of our hearts for africa and just a little pebble of a vision has caused a ripple affect that has taken him there... i'd like to call him my proxy. :) i can't be there... and part of me wishes i could. most of me wishes i could be in like 5 different places at once this summer, but i'm sure my experiences would be comproomised and henceforth cheapened.

needlesstosay (sidenote, why when we say "needlesstosay" we still feel the need to say what we were needing to say in the first place? we are odd and wordy) justin or bo, is starting an amazing journey that will be such a pivotol landmark in who he is towards ministry and jesus and people and roommates and the rich and the poor and the white and the african and all that's between. my thoughts are with him. my huge, sporadic prayers are as well. so is my envy of his journey. and my joy that one little conversation with a missionary named mary while standing in a blockbuster in bunk-ass pinole california led me, my heart, and the hearts and bodeis of my friend her way all the way to tanzania east africa. shangalia tanzania. karibu justin. nini naku penda sana.

Tuesday, May 27, 2008


my life this weekend at home in norcal. oh the joys...

Saturday, May 24, 2008


so lately my love song to the lord has been along the lines of "fix me, fix him, fix us... help me help him help her what's next?!... will this work out? where will i be? where can i go? what can i do?"
i've been worrying a lot about the future lately... which i suppose is a bit normal for us almost college grads.

good 'ol oswald said so gracefully that jesus' word to his disciples was abandon . can i have it? can i have your word jesus? can i do this abandon thing? abandon fear and pride and worrying and remember that there is none of that in pure true worship like love.

in the meantime i'll just keep taking pictures of pianos in old bay area churches and coloring them with my thoughts... love songs pull on my heart strings.thankyou old church for being beautiful. thankyou piano for making so much noise. thankyou over exposure for making pictures more intense and thankyou oz for making jesus' words more vivid to me and all my little love songs.

writing songs again...

so britta and jordan have thoroughly influenced me to write more music. i'm working on a song and yesterday at dad's work at this amazing church in oakland i had some fun in the sun with it. enjoy!

Monday, May 12, 2008

Last Week..

This is what got me through...

16Therefore we do not become discouraged (utterly spiritless, exhausted, and wearied out through fear). Though our outer man is [progressively] decaying and wasting away, yet our inner self is being [progressively] renewed day after day.

17For our light, momentary affliction (this slight distress of the passing hour) is ever more and more abundantly preparing and producing and achieving for us an everlasting weight of glory [beyond all measure, excessively surpassing all comparisons and all calculations, a vast and transcendent glory and blessedness never to cease!],

18Since we consider and look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen; for the things that are visible are temporal (brief and fleeting), but the things that are invisible are deathless and everlasting.

2 Corithians 4:16-18
Amplified Bible

Life Together

So me and my Loma "family" started a community blog... a family thought spot if you will. It's bound to be full of great thoughts from a plethera of interesting and lovely persons... including yours truly. :)

Check it out at

Saturday, January 05, 2008


“Hope is not about proving anything. It’s about choosing to believe this one thing, that love is bigger than any grim, bleak shit anyone can throw at us.”
-Anne Lamott, Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith

When I was 12 and feeling vulnerable, awkward and unattractive I remember wanting to wear flip-flops to church and from my mothers reaction you would have thought I wanted to plant a pole on the altar and do a naughty dance. We would always have big fights about little, stupid stuff. My parents did not believe in slumber parties, or Hanson concerts. I remember being able to have a slumber party but I could never go to one and stay the night. Maybe she was aware of possible overnight childhood traumas I wasn’t aware of at the time.

The biggest slumber party of the 4th grade was going down and I couldn’t t stay the night. It was always so humiliating to have to leave in the middle of the Alex Mac marathon to go back home to my safe, controlled environment. I told my mom I hated her that day. I told her right before I got in the shower as she walked out the door to work. I told her I hated her and that I hated being a part of this family and I wanted to be adopted into a new one. I was a fierce 9 year old. I knew which dagger to use on which heart and I made her cry. My dad yelled into the bathroom that I had really hurt her feelings and that I ought to think about my words and apologize.

I know now that my mom and dad didn't withold Hanson concerts or slumber parties out of hateful, spite. They loved me the best they knew how. They gave me rules and dress codes because that was the most amazing parenting they could conjure up at the time. I never hated them or sincerly wished to be adopted into a new family... out of frustration I threw whatever stone I could get a hold of. I am constantly throwing these stones at the ones I love the most. I am agonizingly human.

I'm actually very grateful for the loving boundaries set on me as a kid. I am reminded by earthly boundaries that I have a loving parent called God that sets all sorts of boundaries up in my life to love and protect me. This gives me hope. Even moreso because I know that my loving God has a loving sense of humor as well.

Yesterday I was in the grocery store parking lot and I just so happened to shoot up a prayer to the good Lord in all Her splendor for a date, or boyfriend, or kiss... or just something romantic. I walked into the grocery store and shopped around for a bout a half hour... then a somewhat creepy meat man with fuzzy hair, peircing blue eyes and a ghastly hickie on his neck repeatedly hunted me dow to make conversation with me and even requested I come back in more often because there just aren't enough sweet, pretty ladies like myself coming through the Point Loma Vons. He even made sure I found the frozen berries. He met me in aisle 3. Whoever gave him that hickie on his neck must be a lucky girl. I laughed to myself on the wayback to the car with my boosted ego and frozen berries... "Lord... not that kinda romance!"

These two funny stories are just lint in the joy pockets of my life. I get hope from these little lints of joy. Hope that makes me smile and hope that reminds me that I am loved. I am loved by my parents, the good God on high, the people who are probably reading this silly blog, and the meat man at the Point Loma Vons. What more could a girl ask for?
I leave you with this benediction! :)

Why are you down in the dumps, dear soul?
Why are you crying the blues?
Fix my eyes on God—
soon I'll be praising again.
He puts a smile on my face.
He's my God.
Psalm 42:11
- God, The Bible-: The Original Thought on Faith