Friday 30 May 2014

REVELATION

It started at Genesis

Over two years ago I began this blog, for a purpose. Because writers need to write. And I had something to say. It was Rope; my name (Rebecca!) and Hope, Orange HOPE; and my personal fight and message about the prevention and treatment of HIV and AIDS.

I learnt a lot, I blogged a lot, I took a lot of photos and it's been a great adventure. Over the two and a half years I have received overwhelmingly positive feedback and grown immensely in my writing and photography skills.

Thank you, follower and reader for being that for me. Thank you for reading my words and following my journey, it's been a tremendous source of support and encouragement for me.

But {in case you haven't guessed it}; it's time, it's time for this blog, this space to come to an end.

I've thought a lot about it, and without being overly dramatic {I mean come on, it's not a huge deal} it's just time. I got married! Did you know that?



I got married, and it was wonderful. It is wonderful, but it's a new season of my life - a huge, big, exciting one - and it's time to move on.

And I am moving on: here. bec&he. A new blog for a new purpose, my husband and I. Same adventure, same writing, same me; just with another one. A man one.

Thank you for supporting me through university, Orange HOPE, my first radio interview, my journey into the world of video making, and more, and more video making, publications, duck suit wearing, couples photography, engagement, and rants - about so many, many, many things.

It's the end, but also the beginning.

I'm moving. Follow me?

( ^ please follow Jesus (He's a MUCH better leader) but in the Bec-blog-world; I'm over here!)


Sunday 16 March 2014

the half way house

I'm in California and SoCal is SoGreat.

It's very strange for me. I don't know how to feel, and as a result - I feel at least twenty five things, all the time - all the time.

This isn’t one of those funny or informative posts by the way. It’s just outward, written processing.

I finished up a near year in Omaha, said another round of goodbyes, sold my car, moved out of my house, left my job and farewelled my fiance until the week of our wedding. I then got on a plane; waking at 2am and loosing three hours - arriving two flights later to the San Diego morning ( and we all know what that means, thanks to Anchor Man). 

Walking the halls of the airport, just after 4am, with Luke's hand in mine - slowly putting one foot in front of the other, like it would somehow help to slow time, was all too horrible, and all too familiar. So many times we have had to say goodbye - and I feel, I spend my whole life leaving.

And I didn't have a dozen hours like the others - to curl up in my plane seat, and zip up my hoodie and cry away my grieving - I only had hours, with so many people and excitement waiting for me at the other end.

I was so sad, so tired and so happy all at once - as in the airport lobby I was greeted by the loving arms, of an I-haven't-seen-you-in-way-too-long-but-I-love-you-so-much friend.

Added to shortly after by some of my favourite Europeans and some new fun ones; gathering a group who hadn't hung out since Townsville 2009 - for an incredible week, in the amazing sun, in a beautiful house, in a spectacular city. 

We busted out the jean shorts, went to the beach, ran around Disney Land, loved the San Diago Zoo, tied a million bows for wedding prep, went swimming, ate and ate and ate, went to the spa, got manicures, were spoiled at the rehearsal dinner and watched our dear friend transform from a Miss to a Mrs. 


















It was wonderful.

The beach and sun? Happiness!

Great friends? Amazing!

Relaxation? Splendid!

Disney? Magical!

The Zoo? Madagascar!

Being away from the love of my life.... 

Transitioning out of Omaha..

Packing up and unpacking my life once more...

Knowing I'll be home next week for the first time in a year..

Being a part of a wedding knowing I'll be married in six weeks...

I'm.. overwhelmed. And being hit with waves of sadness, guilt and anxiety. 

So much of my future - immediate and otherwise - is uncertain.

It's still incredibly hard, knowing Australian won't be my home.

It's very difficult, being so happy and so anxious and so excited and unsure, so much of the time. 

California has trees like Australia, and weather like Australia, and where I am - a house full of Australians, and it's like.. I can smell, and taste and feel the starts of home. It's my half way house.

Familiar! The land where I'm not weird or strange or exotic; everyone sounds and looks and speaks like me. They understand me. 

But it won't be the same. It will never, ever, ever be the same again! And that’s not an easy swob to swallow.

I have the most enormous to do list from the moment I arrive and and and and and it's hard to be here and there and back and forward and present in the moment without just breaking down and going into hiding.

I have no job to come home to, no plans, no goals, no car and no idea how to be a wife. Ah! Did I mention I'm over sensitive.. all the time?

It doesn't help, it really doesn't help, that I made the bad decision to leave my Bible in Omaha.

I have my one in Australia - and I wanted to leave one here.

Bad. Life. Choice.

Without the daily soaking in truth and the word, with familiar imprints on my prayer pink knees - I feel more.. all over the place, out of control and in panic. 

I miss my Lord. 

His still quiet voice and reassurance. 

It's hard for me to breathe, relax and enjoy.

I'm coming home. In two days (which turns into four with the time warp).

But!  My beautiful friend is wonderfully married.











It’s been a fabulous week, and I’m engaged to just the best man.

I’m going home!

Any tips for living in the moment, moving past anxiety, and choosing happiness in moments of stress?

I like you, Califnoria.

2014 - how are you March already?

Bring it on!


Saturday 15 February 2014

That time we met Mickey, got abducted, traded our salad for weed and woke up up at 3am.

I blame it on the hat.

 Ben’s hat – to be specific.

this one.
And while we’re on that train (of specifics), Ben is my brother, and he’s been with me here, in the US of A. Both my brothers (Tim and Ben) were over for the Winter, and discovered the joys of record breaking wind chills, frozen socks, and churro’s (for an Australian, what a hard word to pronounce).




Point being, my wonderful look alikes came for my pReception (fake wedding), which was a hundred times over perfect, and the four of us (including my dreamy significant other) had a spectacular four days together – which included being pulled over by the police, going to the zoo, and watching the Omaha train assistant ferry their bags on a horse drawn carriage (minus the horse, plus a tractor. Oh Omaha, you’ve done it again).










Sunday night was the super (bowl) disappoint, and 3am Monday was our wake up call.

We arrived at the airport just after 5am, Tim flew back to Australia, and Ben and I – the younger one – with hat in tow (I’ll get to that in a second)   - waited for our 6:22am boarding time.

At 1:30pm we boarded a plane for Chicago ( we were supposed to be going to Denver 7 hours earlier, two words: "maintenance issues") and then at 6:30pm, after watching both the sunrise and the sunset in an airport – we boarded a plane for Orlando, Florida.

unplanned trip to Chicago.
And at 10pm we shed our coats, watched our bag emerge around the baggage claim and waited in the Disney line; having been awake for 18 hours.



We eventually hopped onto the happy-happy-complimentary Disney bus, and arrived at our hotel (after assaulting the check in clerk with my facial expressions, dragging our luggage a mile through the resort and being up for 22 hours) nearing 1am; with the promise of magic and joy in the coming, waking hours.

I don’t remember much – except tipping the content of my duffel bag (saying that word makes me feel sooooo American) on the floor, being briefly excited about the Disney shaped shampoo, showering – and then waking up at 8am.

 Okay, so Disney All Stars Movie Resort? Amazing. So many things. Let’s start with the mighty ducks pool, and move onto the giant Dalmatians in the walkway. Mickey Mouse hovers over the pool in a night gown (magicians cloak?) and everywhere and everything is powered by these magic bands you get and wear, which by the way – have your name on them.  It opens your doors, it let’s you into the parks, it memorizes your finger print. Cool? Cool. 



There is movie tile in the bathrooms, and when you ring the information hotline and say ‘thank you’ they answer every single time with, ‘oh, but it’s my pleasure’!






 There were some unpleasant things.. like having no option but to eat on site, which led us to sharing one small meal for dinner between us (hello $9 nuggets) and absolutely loading up on free-side condiments.

We asked and answered the question – how many pickles can one customer take, before it’s considered greedy? A lot, is the answer, by the way. Let’s not get me started on the $9 coffee.

But in all seriousness, how could we complain? We were at Disney World. We were at a resort. We were together, on the same continent. We were housed, and fed, and on vacation, which is as we knew – as we counted our blessings - more then so much of the world.

Then Disney World! It was fun. 

Different, to how I expected and full, full, full of people. I love adrenaline, and would drink it, if it came in a can. Without sugar. I long for bigger, higher, faster roller coasters; and in that sense Disney didn’t cut it. Let’s be real; it’s a place for kids, and make up magic, and that, it is good at. Kids who loves lines, and musical rides.

Let's be honest, kids like us.








Even though the ‘enchanted tiki room’ was a less enjoyable experience then shaving my legs with a cheese grater, it was overall really, really good.

 We saw some cool shows, and felt like tourists. We ate great ice cream, and lined up for too long for a disappointing photo with Gaston. 

And most beautifully, while Omaha was having a snow storm, I was exposing my never-ever-been-paler legs to the world, and running around giddy in shorts and a tee shirt. We left when it closed, came home exhausted, and fell asleep well.



I also embarrassed Ben by performing my own version of the night time spectacular on the way to the bus line, which including twirls around palm trees and the theatrical running across bus bench’s.

The next day was Hollywood Studios, which turned out to be surprisingly awesome. Two rides in particular; the tower of terror and the Aerosmith roller coaster.

The shows were AMAZING. Fantasmic? Fantastic! And beauty and the beast on stage made my little kid heart very happy.








We got on a boat to Epcot, for 25 minutes, only to be denied entrance to the park. Apparently we only had ‘one-park-per-day-passes’.

The entrance man said this way too quickly, and so we made him say it several times. At first because we didn’t understand, and then after..

one-park-per-day-passes. one-park-per-day-passes. one-park-per-day-passes.

Instead, we walked along the Disney Board walk, swung on the most uncomfortable beach swing of all time, ate pastries and shared an orange juice. It was bliss. 



I then found a lucky penny. In my shoe. Then Ben, trying to hand it to me, managed to drop it not only through a crack in the table, but then also, through the crack in the board walk and into the ocean. Lucky penny?

And so, in three days – we managed to have a 12 hour flight delay and a useless boat ride.

As it turns out, getting a bus from Orlando to Miami is harder then it seems.

The only option we could truly find – that would pick us up from our hotel, and take us to our hotel – was expensive, and would take 4 hours for a 3 hour trip. But, seeing no other option we booked the “bus”.

And I use the term “bus” lightly because at 6am, we found ourselves outside, when a black van pulls up, with no signage and fully tinted windows.

‘Oh look Ben,’ I laughed, ‘here’s our bus!’



Two seconds later a casually dressed Spanish speaking man comes out and calls our name.

‘Oh look Ben,’ I said, ‘here’s our bus’. I mentioned something along the lines of ‘it’s been nice knowing you’ as we flung out bags into the back, and took the four – which ended up being seven – hour trip to Miami.

He got lost, used a GPS the entire time, made no logical routing and blasted Spanish music. I texted Luke many a time, making sure at least somebody knew of our whereabouts.

Eventually, eventually, eventually we were dropped off at our hotel, and unable to check in – we grabbed a salad from 7/11 and sat down under a palm tree, in what was – we thought – a nice place for lunch.

We were tired, irritated, hot and annoyed and it didn’t take 15 minutes before we were approached by a man.

He wanted our salad, and we wanted to cry.

We said no, so he offered to trade us weed for it.

We said no, so he told us that they have large guns in Miami.

We said no, so he left us, and we about packed up, and took a taxi home.

An eventual check in, a taco dinner and a gaze at the b-e-autiful beach soon fixed our Miami misery, and day two totally redeemed the experience; as we spent the day in the sand and the waves, my absolute favourite – and we hired inline skates, in an attempt to kick it like the locals.










Our plane broke, our boat was useless and our bus was an abduction like scam.

Miami is hilarious. It really feels like we got on the bus in Florida, and off the bus in Latin America. It feels like High School, where the cool kids rule the school and everyone else is a pitiful bystander.

The locals here are unlike any human creatures I have seen before.

Being ‘buff’, or toned or muscular isn’t even standard, it’s overwhelming.

There are not just muscles here, there are body-builders, by the dozens, everywhere.

It’s like a a city wide tan and muscles convention, where the people on mass don’t work but instead spend their time working out, and buying super cars.

Every second car is a BMW, Porsche, Corvette or flashy Mustang. If you’re not in a super car, you’re on a long board, and if you’re not doing that – then you’re a tourist, being judged and feeling self conscious.

I felt like everyone wanted to kill me, all the time – and I saw more body parts in four days then the past 23 years. The drugs are everywhere, and so are the police.

Saying I was ‘out of my element’ is an understatement. But getting out of my comfort zone is also my thing.

We spent our time at the beach, hiking along the high way to the city, exploring the markets, avoiding the night life, eating Burger King, watching movies and going to the everglades.










A tour, which we booked with a company that doesn’t exist – lied to us about it’s hours, didn’t provide us with the right passes, but ended up being really, really fun.

We went on an airboat ride through the awesome, awesome everglades and saw the alligators and went on a super great city tour.











We had a 12 hour plane delay. Caught a useless boat. Took a fake “bus” and booked a tour with a company that doesn’t exist.

Miami.

Where modesty is keeping your bikini top on.

Where the Burger King employees have biceps.

Where helmets are for the weak.

Where tan is white and beautiful is average.

Where waitresses don’t wear clothing.

Where people vomit in the sand.

Where Spanish is spoken first.

Where weed is traded for salads.

Overall, it wasn't what we expected - but we had a great time.

We laughed a lot. We were together; and it was great. I miss my family, and love them lots.

It was a blessing in the midst of a gloomy season, and I'm so thankful for their generous souls.

But. Ben's hat.

This beanie?






I bought for him in Papua New Guinea.

Papua New Guinea. Do you know how hot it gets in PNG? How hot it stays?... All the time? 

Why do they even make beanies?! Exactly. 

Second, it was super thin and yet crazy warm. 

Made in the land I love, but that has a history of canibalism, tribal wars and witchcraft? I'm telling you.

We were delayed 12 hours there. We booked an abduction van, took a useless boat ride, booked a tour with a company that doesn't exist and oh - did I tell you my flight was delayed 5 hours on the way home?

It's the hat. End of story.

It was great. End of story.

Really, end of story.