I came back from Cambodia in January a different person. The experience changed my values, my relationships with my husband and kids, my view of money, my view of my own country and it's government and it's definition of poverty, and most of all, it changed my thoughts. I returned home feeling like the luckiest person in the whole world.
Stuff just didn't bug me anymore like it used to. I saw the positive side of every situation. For months, I rode that high. It was the best feeling ever (well, one of the best, heh). I saw the world through new eyes. I was grateful for everything. Knowing my children have access to education, opportunities, health care, food, and clean water. And hope. I'll never have to endure the helpless feeling of watching my children starve or die from treatable diseases. I'll never have to make the unthinkable decision of abandoning them or giving them up with the tiniest bit of hope that they will find a better life. They'll never loose a limb to a landmine, or sleep under a mosquito net, or be forced into slavery, or prostitution, or work for pennies in sweatshops so Old Navy provide us with the latest styles.
I was thankful for my home that provides me warmth, safety, security, and protection. I don't have to grill rats on the railroad tracks directly behind my shack built of sticks, right next to the bushes where I defecate. No, I don't have to do any of those things, and I knew I was lucky.
I was thankful that I have a good job. And a nice car. And a president who wants the best for my country. And freedom.
Seriously, you guys, I'd stand in my closet and think to myself, I'm so lucky to have shoes.
Do you know what it's like going through life feeling like you've struck gold? It's a feeling you never, ever want to loose.
But as I feared, I am starting to loose it.
I am starting to get hung up on stupid, trivial shit like I used to. The other day, I was in the drive-thru at my favorite coffee shop. And it was a Sunday, and it was taking forever. Why do they only employ one gal on Sundays when the rest of the week there's always two girls working? Why not spend a couple extra bucks for the second employee so the line can clip along like it usually does?? Ugh, so annoying.
Yesterday I sat down to do some photo editing, so I opened up Photoshop, and what's this? My format couldn't be recognized? As it turns out, because I have a new camera but a two-year-old version of Photoshop (I know! So ancient!) my RAW files cannot be edited. There's no way around it. Wait- there is. Upgrade from Photoshop CS3 to CS5 for a couple hundred bucks. The world heard a steady stream of expletives over that one. I was SO mad. Fuming. Pissed. Furious. Why can't life be fair!?? Why does stuff like this always have to happen??
I read a comment on an Adobe forum over this exact problem that contained the line "If you can afford the 5D Mark II, than you can afford to upgrade your software." That just made me more pissed!! I wanted to tell that guy, Look! I finally saved enough for that camera! You know, good old fashioned SAVING!! Not on credit, not borrowed, not given from mommy and daddy, but saved!! And I didn't buy it until I had enough! And I don't want to drop a few hundred more because Adobe changed the system!
The old me would have instantly thought...It's not the end of the world. I have the jpeg files as a back up. Jennifer Skog encouraged us to not bother shooting in RAW anyway. Shooting strictly in jpeg from here on out will actually improve my photography skills, since I won't rely on RAW to save my images. ...And how lucky am I to have access to such technology?
I miss the old me.
Sorry for the rant. Where was I, again?
Oh yes, Cambodia.
I can't wait to go back to Cambodia...so I can again have the feeling, every moment of everyday, that I've won the lottery.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Thursday, July 1, 2010
I Could Not Think of a Title for This Post. I Really Couldn't.
This is Darold. Remember him? From my mission?
Yes, I know that was MONTHS ago, but still. I think the moment he met me he decided that it'd be his life's mission to torture me. On our trip, there wasn't a minute that passed between us when there wasn't some form of teasing, fun-making, ridicule, or joking.
The first few days in Cambodia my ankles swelled to unbelievable proportions. It must have been caused by the flight that lasted longer than the Bush Administration, then made all the worse buy the stifling heat. This was simply delightful to Darold, as it provided him with all the more to tease me about. One time he said, "Ya know, Jess....I'm trying really hard to picture you with normal sized ankles. I just can't. Maybe someday when they return to normal, you could send me a picture?" And so I actually did. A few weeks after the trip I sent him the following email and picture:
Hi Darold. I tried to take a picture of my own ankles. As one could imagine, that is a difficult shot to capture, since you have to contort your body into unnatural positions. I drew a picture of my ankles instead. They have slimmed down quite a bit, as you can see. Love you.
Anyway, I endured this harassment then entire length of the trip. Sometimes I'd get fed up and say, "Can't you be nice? Can't you JUST TRY???" Then Darold would look off in the distance, squinting his eyes as though deep in thought, wait a few moments, then look back at me and say no. Then the torment would continue on.
In other words, we got along great.
Each day after eating our lunch, a few of us would go for a walk around the neighborhood of dirt roads surrounding the orphanage (remember the alligator pit??) One day towards the very end of the mission, I was walking along with Jim (who is Darold's partner). I don't remember what led up to this, but out of the blue Jim says, "Darold is putting Ratha through school, you know." I didn't know that. But in an instant it did make perfect sense. I mean, realistically, how would an orphan have the resources to go to dental school? He wouldn't.
Here I'd spent almost two full weeks with these people and it was the first I'd heard of this. As it turns out, Darold has done this Cambodia dental trip several times and met Ratha years ago when he served at Ratha's orphanage in Phnom Penh. I don't know all the details or timeline of how this all went down, but either way, it doesn't really matter. This whole thing is just right up my alley. Maybe it's because I've always cheered for life's underdog.
Later that day I confronted Darold about what Jim had told me. Honestly, one could really brag about this. Darold could've be all Why yes, it is quite noble of me to do this, you're right, but he wasn't. When I brought it up, he was pretty nonchalant about it. What he said was along the lines of "Well..you know Ratha is just such a great kid..." He simply passed along the compliment. While I do think Darold is fat, ugly, and stupid...there's a tiny part of me that thinks he's pretty awesome. Sometimes.
And Ratha IS a great kid. I call him a kid, probably because of his stature, but he's actually 24. He is the kind of person that the moment you meet him, you just want to tuck him safely under your wing and protect him from the perils of life. He has had, buy American standards, a pretty crappy life. But like he told me, he knew how lucky he was to be given up to the orphanage at age 11 because it saved him from child prostitution. Ratha is always laughing and smiling. Always. The second day we knew each other he said, very matter-of-factly, "You are my sister." And that's what he calls me. To me he is wise beyond his years. One day we were riding along in the truck and I was wearing flip-flops. I have this little patch of spider veins along the inside of my foot that was caused by my two pregnancies. I am a little self conscious of this, so when Ratha pointed to it, for a brief moment I braced myself to be teased. "Sister," he says. "This happened because you are a mother." In his emails he writes things like, "Thank you for coming to my country with your love, skill, and kindness."
Recently Ratha shared some very exciting news. He is getting married! And he said, "Sister, I love for you to come to my wedding. But I know this very hard for you."
He's right. It would be very hard for me. I mean, go all the way to Cambodia for a wedding? Who does he think I am? That's just crazy!!
Crazy.
There is this lens that I have been saving for. It's the Canon 70-200 2.8 with Image Stabilization. Do have ANY idea the beauty I could create with a lens like that? It is HAW-SOME. And I have wanted one since I was about 12.
But lately I've been thinking...I mean...like...how bad do I really need that lens anyway? I've survived so far without it, and I can always buy it later. Someday, when I reflect back on my life, will I even think about it? In my dying moments, as my life flashes before my eyes, will I see a picture of the UPS man on my front porch with a box in his hands from B&H Photo? (Although it is entirely possible. That lens IS pretty fantastic.)
But isn't life about living? Isn't it more about the people we love...our friends, our family, our experiences, our adventures, our memories, and less about our stuff?
I made my travel arrangements yesterday.
Yes, I know that was MONTHS ago, but still. I think the moment he met me he decided that it'd be his life's mission to torture me. On our trip, there wasn't a minute that passed between us when there wasn't some form of teasing, fun-making, ridicule, or joking.
The first few days in Cambodia my ankles swelled to unbelievable proportions. It must have been caused by the flight that lasted longer than the Bush Administration, then made all the worse buy the stifling heat. This was simply delightful to Darold, as it provided him with all the more to tease me about. One time he said, "Ya know, Jess....I'm trying really hard to picture you with normal sized ankles. I just can't. Maybe someday when they return to normal, you could send me a picture?" And so I actually did. A few weeks after the trip I sent him the following email and picture:
Hi Darold. I tried to take a picture of my own ankles. As one could imagine, that is a difficult shot to capture, since you have to contort your body into unnatural positions. I drew a picture of my ankles instead. They have slimmed down quite a bit, as you can see. Love you.
Anyway, I endured this harassment then entire length of the trip. Sometimes I'd get fed up and say, "Can't you be nice? Can't you JUST TRY???" Then Darold would look off in the distance, squinting his eyes as though deep in thought, wait a few moments, then look back at me and say no. Then the torment would continue on.
In other words, we got along great.
Each day after eating our lunch, a few of us would go for a walk around the neighborhood of dirt roads surrounding the orphanage (remember the alligator pit??) One day towards the very end of the mission, I was walking along with Jim (who is Darold's partner). I don't remember what led up to this, but out of the blue Jim says, "Darold is putting Ratha through school, you know." I didn't know that. But in an instant it did make perfect sense. I mean, realistically, how would an orphan have the resources to go to dental school? He wouldn't.
Here I'd spent almost two full weeks with these people and it was the first I'd heard of this. As it turns out, Darold has done this Cambodia dental trip several times and met Ratha years ago when he served at Ratha's orphanage in Phnom Penh. I don't know all the details or timeline of how this all went down, but either way, it doesn't really matter. This whole thing is just right up my alley. Maybe it's because I've always cheered for life's underdog.
Later that day I confronted Darold about what Jim had told me. Honestly, one could really brag about this. Darold could've be all Why yes, it is quite noble of me to do this, you're right, but he wasn't. When I brought it up, he was pretty nonchalant about it. What he said was along the lines of "Well..you know Ratha is just such a great kid..." He simply passed along the compliment. While I do think Darold is fat, ugly, and stupid...there's a tiny part of me that thinks he's pretty awesome. Sometimes.
And Ratha IS a great kid. I call him a kid, probably because of his stature, but he's actually 24. He is the kind of person that the moment you meet him, you just want to tuck him safely under your wing and protect him from the perils of life. He has had, buy American standards, a pretty crappy life. But like he told me, he knew how lucky he was to be given up to the orphanage at age 11 because it saved him from child prostitution. Ratha is always laughing and smiling. Always. The second day we knew each other he said, very matter-of-factly, "You are my sister." And that's what he calls me. To me he is wise beyond his years. One day we were riding along in the truck and I was wearing flip-flops. I have this little patch of spider veins along the inside of my foot that was caused by my two pregnancies. I am a little self conscious of this, so when Ratha pointed to it, for a brief moment I braced myself to be teased. "Sister," he says. "This happened because you are a mother." In his emails he writes things like, "Thank you for coming to my country with your love, skill, and kindness."
Recently Ratha shared some very exciting news. He is getting married! And he said, "Sister, I love for you to come to my wedding. But I know this very hard for you."
He's right. It would be very hard for me. I mean, go all the way to Cambodia for a wedding? Who does he think I am? That's just crazy!!
Crazy.
There is this lens that I have been saving for. It's the Canon 70-200 2.8 with Image Stabilization. Do have ANY idea the beauty I could create with a lens like that? It is HAW-SOME. And I have wanted one since I was about 12.
But lately I've been thinking...I mean...like...how bad do I really need that lens anyway? I've survived so far without it, and I can always buy it later. Someday, when I reflect back on my life, will I even think about it? In my dying moments, as my life flashes before my eyes, will I see a picture of the UPS man on my front porch with a box in his hands from B&H Photo? (Although it is entirely possible. That lens IS pretty fantastic.)
But isn't life about living? Isn't it more about the people we love...our friends, our family, our experiences, our adventures, our memories, and less about our stuff?
I made my travel arrangements yesterday.
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