Just Married Chilean Style

New Website - Please Go To www.kylehepp.com

2009-05-11T12:34:00.000-07:00

For all blog readers, JMCS has moved! You can now find my online home at www.kylehepp.com or can visit the new blog link here!

Please bookmark the site and visit me there from now on!!!!

Photographing a Wedding in Concepcion

2009-05-11T07:50:00.001-07:00

I traveled to Concepcion this weekend for the wedding of a lovely Canadian bride to, of course, her Chilean fiance. The trip was eventful from start to finish.

When I arrived at the airport, the place was a zoo. There were easily over a hundred people crowded inside around the arrivals area, and press and photographers everywhere. I got out my camera immediately, thinking I'd have the chance to grab a shot of someone famous. I was too far outside the crowd to really see what was happening but all of a sudden everyone began to applaud. Then the room got silent. I sauntered up to a policeman to ask what was going on and he said that the body of a 20 something year old Chilean boy, who had died in Cuba, had come back to Concepcion, on my flight. I'm so glad I didn't know that beforehand -- it would have creeped me out. The news sobered me up and after one photo I put my camera away. The family came out all sobbing, which in turn started the crowd crying. Taking pictures felt so disrespectful. I don't know how the photojournalists do it. Thank goodness my job is to take pictures of people on the happiest day of their life! Anything else, and I couldn't handle it.

So I went and sat down on a bench right near the doors outside to wait for the groom to come collect me from the airport. I felt too intrusive being an outsider on what felt like an entire city's mourning for someone that I had never met. Watching seemed like gawking. It felt wrong.

The weather upon arrival was drizzly and grey. My first impression of Concepcion was that it seemed like a sad city. Although that could be influenced by the fact that I didn't see a single ray of sunshine the whole time I was visiting and because there was a funeral in the airport when I arrived. So you know, I'd be willing to give it a second chance.

Fortunately, Kristin and Pancho, the bride and groom, were nothing short of awesome. They were just happy to be together and even the rain on their wedding didn't stop them from smiling all day long. I was a little nervous because I had never met them before, but were so cool and SO fun to photograph, even braving the rain and getting completely drenched, all for the sake of the pictures. First photograph from the wedding is here, if you're interested.

After the wedding, some kind guests drove me back from Pingueral, where the ceremony was held, to my hostel in Concepcion. The drive, along the beautiful and winding roads next to Chile's coastline was stunning. I, however, didn't take any pictures, party because it was pretty dark, but mostly because I was car sick for the first time in my life. I didn't throw up, but only because I was with people I didn't know. Otherwise I would have made them stop the car so I could puke like the exorcist. I have NEVER felt that ill in my life. It was miserable.

We arrived at my hostel, which was totally ghetto and ridiculously expensive for the crap quality, although to their credit the staff was friendly and helpful. Even once I was out of the car I still felt pretty sick, so at 9pm, I laid down and went to bed for the night. A taxi picked me up at 7:30am the next day, and that was that. Isn't wedding photography travel oh so glam? :P I wish I had felt better so I could have seen a little more of the city, but alas, it was not meant to be.

On my flight back, I was just anxious to get home, however some passengers though that taking off, turbulence and landing were all ocassions to celebrate with vigorous trumpet playing. They were three (or maybe just two, I couldn't tell) wannabe Mick Jagger types -- old enough to fart dust, long greasy hair, harassing women young enough to be their daughters. The first time one stood up to play the trumpet before we took off, it was funny. But then he kept going and the pilot had to come out and make him sit down. I wanted to take a picture, but I also didn't want the guys to notice me and start harassing me too, so I stayed low profile, slouched down in my seat with my camera safely hidden in my bag.

On the way back in to Santiago the sky was actually a beautiful shade of blue and the sun was out in full force, but I just thought I'd keep the processing dark to stay in theme with the rest of the photos. Speaking of processing, I did a tutorial on how I converted these to black and whites at my photography blog if you're interested. However, I didn't pull the A-curve quite as far to the left so that they don't come out as pink and I pulled the B-curve more to the right for cooler tones. And no grain added. The end.

True Love

2009-05-05T12:42:00.000-07:00

When I was in second grade my mom and dad were going through a trial separation that would eventually become a divorce. I was already a painfully shy kid up until that point, but when they grew apart, they also moved us out of the only home I was old enough to remember. We left our big house on Lake Isabella in the middle of Northern Michigan, aka in the middle of nowhere and uprooted our lives to a small suburb of Grand Rapids, Michigan. I had to start over at a new school.

They are so many sayings about "Oh to be a child again, " and "carefree days," and this and that, but I remember being stressed out big time during my early years at West Elementary. My first day in class, the desks were arranged in pods of 4. Our name tags were set out so we would know where to sit. The white paper with "Kyle," written across it was sitting on a desk next to "Andrew," (who occasionally reads this blog and was the stud-muffin of 2nd grade, hi Andrew!) and across from "Matt," and "Rob." The pods were in groups of all boy students or all girl students and the teacher had understandably, but mistakenly sat me in an all-boy pod. I'm pretty sure I cried and my 2nd grade teacher still wouldn't move me because there were no free seats in any of the all-girl pods. Can you imagine the embarrassment of being the new girl with a boy name and being forced to sit with boys all while your parents were going through a divorce? Stress, I'm telling you, 2nd grade stress!!!

Anyways, at that pod something miraculous happened. By accident, (I think), the boys at my pod were the smart kids. And it somehow rubbed off on me. We tested for the gifted program called Image, and that's where I became friends with Tom, and many of my other best friends from the time, some of whom I think might even be reading this blog (Hi Nashy! And Catherine, are you still out there?!?).

From the get-go Tom brought out the competitive nature in me. If the class was assigned a 5 page story to write, he would do 20 pages and I would do 21. He teased me mercilessly and one time tried to impress me by leaning back in his chair and balancing. I vividly remember the moment he fell and how happy I was to see him hit the ground. He eventually asked me out with a little note and we "dated" or whatever it is that elementary school kids do. He was my first kiss, with a peck on the lips out back behind the baseball field at the big old tree. Shortly after we became boyfriend and girlfriend he shaved his head and I was absolutely mortified because none of my friends thought he was cute anymore. Oh the irony.

I broke up with Tom after 2 years for another guy the summer before middle school and the other guy promptly broke up with me the day middle school started. Such drama! Tom and I stayed friends though. One day he did something to make me mad though so I threw all the notes he had written me (from 3rd grade on, and by this point we were in 7th) into a trash can at a Varsity football game. It was a giant stack, because man, was Tom a writer, and he still is...

And you know how I know that? Because he proposed to his girlfriend last Saturday with an 11 page note!!! Or actually at this stage, seeing as how we're not in elementary school anymore, you could probably refer to it as a letter. And better yet, his fiance, Sarah, just happens to be one of my very best friends in the entire world. They are actually probably the two people who had the biggest impact on my entire childhood and high school life.

I met Sarah in 7th grade. We tried out for the cheerleading team together and out of over 100 other girls we made it...well, we made the White Team (otherwise known as the Second Best Team or B Team). Sarah and I weren't the exact same height, she was taller than me, but my arms were shorter so when you put us together we matched up perfectly to become bases (stunting partners who throw people in the air). We continued stunting together for the next 6 years, though we weren't always on the same team, but we lived in the same neighborhood and were always close.

We'd go home together every day after school and eat junk food before cheerleading. Her sister, who at the time was a hair dresser in training, would practice on her, and about once a month I'd get a call from Sarah near tears after a too-short cut or a bad perm. I'd run through the park, cross the street and squeeze through the fence to console her in her backyard. When she had (non hair) issues of their own I would go over to hold her hand. And she squeezed through the fence, crossed the street and ran through the park to console me the day my half brother died. Call it cliche, but she was always, always there when I needed her.

Sarah and I were never best friends in the sense that we only hung out with each other, but I do think that we always understood each other better than anybody else. To this day we still have some kind of telepathy going on. A few months ago I had a dream that I wrote a toast for her wedding to Tom. Later that day we talked on a phone and she said that was where they were headed and they had just started discussing marriage. I was shocked slash completely not surprised at all! Tom had been madly in love with her since middle school and she'd been resisting his charms for so long. I thought she would never give in and realize how much he cared for her. Then, after high school, after college, she finally realized she loved him too. They're both living in Chicago teaching right now. Life never seperated them, because they were always meant to be together.

The day Sarah told me that she and Tom were dating, like "for real," this time, I started crying. I wanted so badly to live near them and go on double dates and celebrate with them! So you can imagine how emotional I got when I found out they got engaged. Actually, I knew that Tom was proposing before Sarah even found out (thanks Hulie!) but when I heard the story from her perspective I could barely keep it together. Two of my childhood best friends are getting married! I'm SO EXCITED!!!!!!!!!!!

Tom proposed to Sarah with an 11 page story of their love. Well, this is my story of their love and my love for them. It might be slightly different version, but it has the same happy ending, nonetheless :)

* Sorry! I'm so ridiculously excited that I had to share this on the blog, even though it has nothing to do with Chile. :)

Blink Changed My Perspective

2009-05-04T15:47:00.000-07:00

People sometimes ask me what I dislike the most about living in Chile, and that answer is pretty easy -- I hate never fitting in. I hate that I can never be treated as a normal resident of this country, one who speaks Spanish, has a Chilean husband, lives and works here. People see the color of my hair and the shape of my face, my blue eyes blink back at them, and they think one thing -- tourist.

On a frequent basis I will say something in Spanish, with an accent yes, but not an unintelligible accent by any means, and the clerk, cashier, secretary, whoever, will ask me to repeat myself three or four times.

Once at Starbucks, I asked for a "cafe frappucino light, tamano grande por favor." The woman behind the counter looked back and me said in English, "I'm sorry I do not understand you." I repeated my order, again, the exact same thing in Spanish." She looked over at her colleague, bewildered. I repeated myself one more time and she hestitantly asked, "Quieres un mocchacino frapuccino QUE?" And at that point S. got fed up and said, "Que es que no entiendes?" And I added one last time, "Quiero un cafe frapuccino light, tamano grande!" The girl finally figured out my order and from then on the rest of our conversation, in Spanish was completely understood by both parties.

This sort of thing happening used to make me furious. I mean, I would be livid, wondering if these people who couldn't understand me were trying to make me feel stupid or were just being downright mean. I thought it was odd that anyone who has previously met me, 99% of the time, can understand whatever I say in Spanish the first time I say it. I've theorized about the subject before, wondering if it's just shock value -- as in, strangers are expecting to hear English come out of my mouth so when I speak Spanish it throws them for a loop.

Turns out, the author of Blink, Malcolm Gladwell, says I'm sort of right. Here's a quick description so you have some context of what I'm talking about.

It's a book about rapid cognition, about the kind of thinking that happens in a blink of an eye. When you meet someone for the first time, or walk into a house you are thinking of buying, or read the first few sentences of a book, your mind takes about two seconds to jump to a series of conclusions. Well, "Blink" is a book about those two seconds, because I think those instant conclusions that we reach are really powerful and really important and, occasionally, really good.

He goes on to explain that many of the snap judgments that our subconcious comes to, are manifested conciously and there's not much we can do about it. To give you an example:

I don't conciously dislike black people. If you were to ask me, I'd say I feel neutral about a black person or a white person until I get to know him or her and that skin color doesn't affect my feelings towards the person. However, I took the Harvard Implicit Assocation Test. My data suggested a "moderate automatic preference for White people over Black people," and "a strong automatic preference for Barack Obama over John McCain."

The media, my upbringing, whatever it was that factored in to my social unconscious has made me biased against black people and republicans, even though on a conscious level, I don't think I am. In fact, my heart speed up as I was taking the test...I was sitting there thinking to myself, "Oh my god, I'm fucking racist," My conscious was thinking, "This isn't right. You don't really think black people are bad." And then my subconscious was making me push the button that would relate the word "Evil" with black people before I could control myself. Seriously, take the test, it will FREAK you out.

Anyways, the whole thing made me realize something important. Just like I don't want to be racist, Chileans don't want to misunderstand me. The girl at Starbucks wasn't purposely trying to not to understand my Spanish. It's just that her subconcious has been so conditioned to believe that Gringo = English-speaking that her concious heard nothing but white noise when I was speaking Spanish. After a few minutes, once she realized that I did speak Spanish, she was able to understand 100% of what I said on the first try, even though my accent hadn't changed, the words I was saying hadn't changed, but all of a sudden, because her concious had finally made the switch, we could communicate. That's why Spanish speaking people who already know me, have no problem understanding me. I've also found that people who have been previously prepped, as in, my husband has told them "I'm married to a gringa who speaks Spanish," usually don't have a heard time with my Spanish either. Nor do my gringa friends' Chilean husbands and boyfriends because their unconcious now has probably been conditioned to think that gringas do speak Spanish.

I used to feel that people were actively thinking, "This girl's blond, she must just be another stupid tourist, I bet she doesn't speak Spanish, I won't understand her." And that that was why they don't understand me. But I'm now feeling way more tolerant towards people who expect English to come out of my mouth -- blame it all on their unconcious.

PS. If you take the Implicit Association test, post your results in the comments, I'm fascinated to hear!

PSS. Thanks, Allison, for loaning me the book!

*Updated: In Blink the author speaks of a man who gets a result in the IA test that's totally neutral after he watches black athletes competing in a track and field event. I just went on Youtube, watched two videos of Barack Obama and took the test again. This time my results were: a "moderate automatic preference for Black people over White people," and a "strong automatic preference for Barack Obama over John McCain." Now I'm racist against white people. This is nuts!

Still No News

2009-05-01T20:10:00.000-07:00

Still waiting...

And I'm sorry I haven't even attempted to post anything interesting or insightful about Chile or life as an expat this week. I feel like I'm letting the readers down. To try and appease you I'll leave you with photos of my absurdly cute doggy. She made friends today with a nice Italian man's puppy and wore herself out playing.

Quote of the Day

2009-04-30T15:43:00.001-07:00

Today S. looked a little stressed so I asked what was wrong.

His response:

"Honey, I'm only worried about two things in life...money and Swine Flu."

HAHA.

Just got back from a photo shoot to do headshots for an awesome British lady and her business partner, now I'm heading out for a double date. Love my life!

Email From a Kind Reader

2009-04-29T19:14:00.000-07:00

Email from a kind reader:

Hello Kyle,

Where have you been? I miss reading your new post @ your blog. can't wait for updates.

Thank you to Shue in Kuala Lumpur for reminding me that I HAVE a blog!!! Normally JMCS at least makes my To-Do list even when I get busy. I'll look at it and then cross it off even if I don't get to it because staring at things on the list that don't get done, stress me out. However, the blog didn't even make it that far this month. I haven't even considered that I should feel guilty for not posting because I've been so busy.

All things considered, that's a great thing. Remember? I lost a lot of income in this past month. Fortunately, I've had an extremely busy month with photography. Every time I think that the slow season is about to start, I keep on booking. I am set to make a record 600,000 pesos in April. It sounds like a lot, and really, if I could get up to 1 millon de pesos a month I'd be almost completely replacing my lost income. However, the one thing about photography income is that you're always having to invest in new equipment. I paid off the 3k camera that I put on my credit card with non-photography income so I have a zero balance. I don't like debt. But, in terms of personal money versus photography money, my photography balance shows that I've still spent about $1k more than I've earned this year. If I ever want to go full-time I'd have to work out a good business plan.

Anyways, back to what I've been doing, I may not have been updating this blog, but I've been busy over at my wedding photography blog. For the past three days I've been averaging 3-4 hours of sleep a night so that I can finish client photos. I don't want to fall even further behind because I have another session tomorrow and Friday. I've been working really hard and I'm proud of my latest engagement session and wedding that I just posted, so if you feel like it, head on over and leave me some love. :)

PS. The weatherman LIED!!! It was not 60 and sunny, it was freezing and the beach at La Serena looked like this! However, the plane did not crash and for that I'm eternally grateful. :)

La Serena for a Photo Shoot

2009-04-24T23:14:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow I have a photo shoot in La Serena with Mr. and Miss Rye Bread!!! I'm so excited to get out of Santiago for a little bit and see some new places and meet some cool new people. I love shooting in cities I've never been to, it's always great inspiration to see something with fresh eyes.

As I sit here on my couch, literally gasping for air and using and abusing my inhaler, a smog free weekend is sounding pretty damn good right about now. Plus, just checked the weather forecast -- sunny and 60 degrees sounds like perfect weather for a photo shoot. :)

I have another wedding to blog pretty soon, and when I get back I promised Miss Rye Bread I'd put a rush on her pictures so she can get her Save-the Dates out for the wedding, so lots of eye candy coming to my photography blog soon! In the mean time, feast your eyes on my latest Brazilian bride and her Chilean husband!

PS. Send me safe flight vibes, I hate flying alone!!!!

Group Blog: Travel Experiences

2009-04-24T07:00:00.000-07:00

Comment when yours is up and I'll add your link!

Sara: What happens in Puerto Rico stays in Puerto Rico.
Aimee: Mumbai changed her perspective on life.
Clare: Nightmare travels in Romania.
Heather: Discovered an interesting culture within a culture in the U.S. in a small town.
Renee: Her greatest hits in travel.
Shannon: A walk down memory lane back to when summer vacation was the only thing on a kid's mind.
Lydia: A wild Brazilian goose hunt all for a tambourine.
Abby: Her very exotic travels in...Canada!
Lauren: You won't believe me but her adventures involve a bidet shower and alpacas.
Emily: An actual travel story in Chile, finally!

____________________________________________________________________

Since this group blog post is a pretty open theme -- Travel Experiences -- I've decided to post mine on the hostels we stayed at while traveling through Costa Rica for two weeks. I actually took this from the travel blog I started specifically for that trip.

Hostel Warm Water. We gave it that name, because after visiting about ten other hostels in Costa Rica, its the only one that has had warm water.

Hostel Towels. A giant fan is installed in each of the rooms so high that you can't change the speed it's set at, and the speed it's set at is HIGH. It's like having your very own personal tornado in the room. The hostel does not provide you with blankets or sheets to use against this force of nature, so shivering and freezing cold, S. and I slept covered up in only our towels...still slightly wet from our showers, how pathetic is that?

Hostel Broken Bed. Not as dirty as it sounds, we weren't doing anything naughty when it broke. We arrived at Playa del Coco after a long day of traveling and headed to a hostel recommended by a friend. Some friend he turned out to be! S. was so excited to lay down that he collapsed on his bed the minute we got in the room. That very second the entire thing came crashing down to the floor, completely falling apart. No problem, S. is a construction man, he knew how to fix it. He put the bed back together and lo and behold, as S. went to take a shower I sat down to read a magazine, and the second my butt hit the mattress, I too hit the ground. Fatties! We changed rooms and get beds that weren't broken. End of story.

Haunted Hostel. Returning to Iberia where we had already been once and had stayed in Hostel Towels, we decided not to suffer again thinking it would be wiser to go somewhere else. WRONG! Walking up to a quaint looking building, some very nice Costa Rican girls showed us to our room where we had a bed complete with a mosquito net. Exciting and tropical right? The place looked a little old in the daylight, but charming nonetheless. Later on that night we were to think otherwise. Nightfall hit, and suddenly the old run down statues in the patio looked like evil gargoyles, suddenly the hostel's one other guest, who during the day we thought had just been eyeballing us a little too long out of curiosity, was suddenly transformed into creepy guy lurking and staring at us, the flickering candlelight in the wind was just too much. I could practically feel the ghosts breathing down my neck. The wind howled and the walls creaked. The bathroom was outside, a little ways away from our room and after showering I was almost too scared to leave the bathroom alone to walk back to the room. Fortunately S. was too scared to be in the room by himself so he was already on his to look for me. Surprisingly enough, when we woke up in the morning nothing looked so scary anymore and we both realized we're nothing more than giant wimps!

Hostel de la Gran Perdida (the Great Loss). At our most upscale hostel we thought everything was perfect. A giant TV, air conditioning, cheap prices, comfortable beds, clean showers, a good atmosphere(so good people didn't even leave to go out to bars, they just hung out at the picnic tables out front), we could not have asked for more. Things were going smoothly until one day S. asked casually, "Have you seen my bathing suit Kyle?" No, I had not, we looked for it all over our room, asked the cleaning ladies if it had been left in the bathroom, asked the front desk if it had been turned in to the lost and found, all to no avail. S.'s beloved red bathing suit had been stolen! NOOOOO! Tears formed in his eyes as the reality that his bathing suit was lost and gone forever began to set it. "It was more to me than just a bathing suit," he said tragically, "I will never be able to replace it." We left the Hostel of the Great Loss in mourning.

*Edited to add: To this day S. is still upset about the loss of his bathing suit. He refuses to buy another, and that's his excuse as to why he never uses the pool at our building. Please note, this trip was 4 years ago.

Best Gift Idea EVER

2009-04-23T12:31:00.000-07:00

S., please don't read beyond this. Thank you. :)

I MUST BUY HIM THIS TOY!!!!!!!!!!! (Says the girl who's income has just been cut in half).

It is a camera that you put on your dog's collar so you can have a little video of what life is like from his or her eyes. As blog readers may or may not have realized, S. and I are obsessed with Papito. And S.'s other favorite thing in the world is technology and gadget stuff. It's ideal! I'm pretty sure Papito wants it too so she can show us what she does while we're out. :)

Thanks to Julia Alison's blog for the genius idea.

Overcoming Homesickness While Living Abroad

2009-04-23T07:55:00.001-07:00

Here's another topic that is bound to come up at one point or another amongst the expat crowd -- being homesick.

"I miss my friends."

"I miss my family."

"I miss ____ (fill in name of hometown or college city)."

It happens to most, if not all of us at some point or another. The longing to be with people who know us in a place that's familiar becomes overwhelming.

I don't get homesick often, but when I do it runs me over harder than a micro barreling down Alameda on a poor kiltro (stray dog) wandering in the middle of the road. Missing all those things can be a black hole that's hard to crawl out of. You start to wonder what your life would be like if you lived somewhere else. You start to idealize the people you used to know and the places you used to go. You start to focus on only what was in the past, forgetting to appreciate what you have in the here and now.

I've learned too important things that help me deal with being homesick.

1. Nobody is ever homesick forever -- or at least nobody I know. You might feel a strong urge to go back home for a while, but it will pass. Yes, the age old wisdom really is true, "This too shall pass." Eventually you'll start to appreciate your life as is again, instead of wishing you were somewhere else. And if you have been homesick for an inordinate amount of time, maybe that just means you really should go back. But, homesickness for me has always passed within a month, and once it took two, but never more. So I comfort myself in knowing that homesickness too, shall pass.

2. Life goes on without you -- accept it. At first when you live abroad, your friends start getting married, relatives start having babies, somebody's grandma dies. And you miss it all. That feeling can be devastating, I know. Sooner or later, though, you'll plant your own roots wherever you are. You'll live through your own births and deaths and weddings and divorces and happiness and sadness. Those won't replace what's going on with your childhood/college friends and family back home. But, again, it comes back to living your life in the here and now, as corny as that may sound.

3. The beauty in being an expat is that you're always missing someone, something, somewhere. Yes, I said beauty, that's not a typo. In a sense it's a little heartbreaking that you're always far away from people and places you love. But, I really do think, that very few people are as appreciative of the friends and family they do have as expats are. When you miss someone or somewhere so much only then do you know how strongly you really love him/her/it.

Blogging/Writing for a Living

2009-04-22T09:24:00.001-07:00

I found a fantastic article from the Wall Street Journal touching on several topics I've posted about here before, such as long hours and no job security but with more in depth information.

1% of all U.S.Americans make a living blogging! I find that news really exciting. I think it means that as the profession goes mainstream, it will A. Be a more respectable thing to have on your resume, and B. Possibly move towards a different system, where bloggers are actually hired by companies rather than contracted as freelancers (meaning benefits and job security).

Here are a couple quick facts about those of making a living online:
Demographically, bloggers are extremely well educated: three out of every four are college graduates. Most are white males reporting above-average incomes. One out of three young people reports blogging, but bloggers who do it for a living successfully are 2% of bloggers overall. It takes about 100,000 unique visitors a month to generate an income of $75,000 a year.

The barriers to entry couldn't be lower. Most bloggers for hire pay $80 to get started, do it for about 35 months, and make a few hundred dollars. But a subgroup of these bloggers are the true professionals who work at corporations, serve as highly paid blogging consultants or write for sites with substantial traffic.

Pros who work for companies are typically paid $45,000 to $90,000 a year for their blogging. One percent make over $200,000. And they report long hours -- 50 to 60 hours a week.

The story also goes on to report that bloggers, in general, report very high job satisfaction. I felt that way up until recently, which probably has to do with the fact that the rug was pulled out from under me, metaphorically speaking, and my job is no longer as financially sound as it once was.

WSJ adds:

But for how long can nearly 500,000 people who are gradually replacing whole swaths of journalists survive with no worker protections, no enforced ethics codes, limited standards, and, for most , no formal training? Even the "Wild West" eventually became just the "West."

This has me thinking about where I want to go in life. Ideally I'd love to make a living being a full time wedding photographer/blogging for myself. Realistically, how many of us out there have a shot at becoming Dooce or Pioneer Woman? No matter how easy it seems in theory to start a blogging empire, no matter how many people think they can just start a website and make some money, truth be told, it's not likely. Heather and Ree are both extraordinarily talented writers, Dooce is married to some kind of internet geek who makes her site look amazing (and saves her thousands of dollars in web design fees). And Ree seems to have a fantastically interesting life story. In another article I read recently about blogging, which I can't remember, or I'd link to it, the author said something along the lines of, "If you want to make a living off your blog you better either have an extremely interesting life, or be able to make your boring life sound extremely interesting."

I'm not there yet. I'd love to go back to school and do a degree in Writing. Then again, I'd also love to do a degree in Dietetics and become a nutrionist or get an MBA so I'd have a freaking clue how to actually make money from my photography business. There are a lot of things I wish I could do, but life's too short!

Anyways, I just thought that was a cool article and wanted to share since I know a lot of you are also interested in blogging for a living.

Group Blog Topic For Friday

2009-04-22T08:50:00.000-07:00

Alright, everyone...the topic that everyone seemed the most enthusiastic about is sharing a travel story. Plus, that sort of combines some of the other ideas that were tossed in the mix, like "favorite weekend destination," or it can also be a childhood memory WHILE you were traveling. :) I mean, really this could be anything...your scariest, funniest, most memorable, prettiest, most romantic travel story, whatever you want.

FYI, the reason I'm not going back to the poll method to choose group blogs is because I'd rather only the people who are actually going to write on the topic choose it. If I have a poll it's open to all the readers (not that that's a bad thing) but I think they sometimes choose topics that you all don't necessarily want to write about. Twice, in the past we've had group blogs that were clear winners in the polls but everyone was complaining that they didn't want to write about those topics, which is probably because the readers chose it, not the writers. See what I'm saying here? Plus, we also made it pretty far down our list of topics from last time so I wanted to get some fresh ideas!

I like the idea of having a Chilean guest post but unfortunately I've been trying to get S. to guest post forever...so until he "feels inspired," that probably won't be happening around here anytime soon. :)

PS. Big news, coming VERY SOON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Next Group Blog

2009-04-20T22:43:00.001-07:00

Anybody up for another group blog?

Leave suggestions for a topic in the comments!!!

The Great Expat Dilemma

2009-04-20T10:13:00.000-07:00

Last year I received an email from an angry Chilean reader. He said that being friends with expats was hurting my perception of Chile and that if I wanted a "real" experience in Chile, I should be friends with only Chileans. I wish I had saved the email so I could quote directly from it, but alas, all negativity that comes into my inbox gets a courteous reply and then goes straight into the trash bin. But, I wanted to touch on the topic, just because I also see gringos and gringas who write about how proud they are that they only have Chilean friends and never hang out with fellow U.S.Americans. They think it's the only way to live a "real" Chilean experience.

It's true, I hang out regularly with other expats. We'll grab a drink, talk and laugh about our lives, sometimes about Chile, but contrary to popular stereotypes about expats, we do not get together exclusively to bitch and moan about this country. Of course, if someone is having a bad day and they feel the need to complain, we all listen and commiserate. But, more often than not our conversations don't revolve around hating this place.

When we do talk about Chile, I genuinely enjoy our conversations and feel like I usually walk away with a new or improved understanding of the country. I think that Chilean people might be surprised at what they could learn from foreigners who come in with a different perspective on the world, just like we learn from them about their way of life here. The truth is, like Renee said the other night, nobody else gets it quite like a fellow expat. The Chileans don't understand the way we see things because they haven't been in our shoes, and gringos that don't live here permanently or semi-permanently might be able to sympathize but they can't walk that mile either.

The other day, an email went out in Chilespouses (a group of women married to/dating Chilean significant others that live here). A woman was upset with herself that she was having problems with the Chilean immigration system and not being able to get her paperwork done, having to wait in long lines, having employees jerk her around, etc. Within hours, she had received an overwhelming number of responses of people who had all been there. My Chilean friends don't know what the immigration system here is like, nor do my gringa friends who don't live there. They can't quite fully grasp just how frustrating it can be. You just can't get that kind of support elsewhere.

Of course, surrounding yourself with only foreigners and not making an effort to learn the language and culture isn't the best idea either. I know people who have been here for years, and barely speak Spanish. It amazes me. I'm proud to say that of all my close expat friends, every single one speaks great Spanish, far better than the average gringa, or if they don't, they're actively learning. The people I know are integrated into Chilean society, work jobs at Chilean companies and have Chilean friends. We all make an effort to be a part of this country. Hanging out with expats does not make our experiences any less authentic.

I found the email sent to me laughable, to be honest. How can you define what a "real" experience is. Sure, there are folks who live up in La Dehesa in their gated communities, no stray dogs on the street, everyone driving around in shiny cars, living with a staff of 3 nanas, a chaffeur and a cook, sending their kids to the most exclusive private schools. Is that not real? Because there are Chileans living that life. Just because it's not standard doesn't mean it's not real.

I have Chilean friends, I have Chilean family, I have a Chilean mutt. I have a Chilean husband for Pete's sake...I have enough Chile in my day to day life to last me a lifetime. I like spending time with my gringa friends because the rest of my life is Chilean. In the first year of my time in Chile, I thought I wanted to be like those people who say they have no gringo friends whatsoever. Most people who come on study abroad go through that phase -- or if they don't, they probably just came to party and aren't here longer than 6 months.

If you need to find more Chileans to be in your life, I heard a good friend giving advice to a newly arrived gringa in Santiago, "Say yes to everything." It's true. Say yes to the nerd from your bio class when she asks if you want to study together, say yes if your host family invites you to the beach for a weekend with them, say yes to the creepy guy who asks you to a party. I'm not saying you have to make out with him -- I mean you can if you want, nobody's judging you, even if he has a mullet -- but I'm just saying, you live an authentic experience by saying yes to do things that Chileans do with Chileans.

However, that doesn't mean you have to say no to the gringos. Now that I've been here for almost 4 years, I've realized that neither way is a good way to live. You can't have all Chile in your life with no grasp to your own roots and culture. And you can't stay planted in the past never coming to grasp with the culture and reality of where you're currently living. There has to be a balance -- and saying that you won't be friends with an entire group of people, simply because they do (or don't) come from the same place as you, is just silly. Everybody has something to offer.

Photography Session

2009-04-17T21:58:00.000-07:00

I did a photo session of Chile blogger Katina and her husband recently. She wrote a whole post in her blog (thank you, Katina!!!) about what the session was like for her. So if you've been wondering what it's like to be in front of my lens...now you know. :P I was really proud when I read what she wrote about how much she loves her photos. I love photography and I'm glad to hear that shows through in my work.

Time For a Change

2009-04-16T16:33:00.000-07:00

By the way, for anyone who's looking for a good haircut in Santiago, the guys who did this is Benoit. He's French, he's worked in London, Paris, NYC and now...Santiago. He seriously rocks and is great at what he does. He's very professional and fun...and he cuts hair out of his house which is a really cool loft in Bellavista. I definitely recommend him for anyone who needs a hair stylist. Email me at kylehepp at gmail dot com and I'll send you his contact info if you want the dato.

General Musings

2009-04-14T22:28:00.000-07:00

First of all, thank you to everyone who took the time to comment on my last post about Chileans at an individual level versus Chilean society as a whole. It was incredibly interesting to hear your answers and follow the debates (which turned into debates within debates). I've never kept track of how many comments each post gets, but I know that 87 comments must be some kind of crazy record, even if 15-20 of them were probably mine. :)

I am still waiting on my big news, and it just keeps getting bigger...but nothing I can share with you all yet. I'm sorry for those who have asked me. I don't mean to keep you waiting, and trust me, I'm impatient too. But, if I blog about any of it too soon, I'll jinx it!

And in other news, I mentioned the other day that I had lost one of my blogging jobs...well another one of my blogs also cut back. So basically my income will end up being cut in half. On one hand, I care, because well, it's money. On the other hand, the whole thing has definitely made me sit down and reevaluate long term where I want to be. Do I want to be at other people's mercy, getting my salary raised or lowered at will? Do I want to be freelancing, not knowing whether a piece will be accepted or rejected? Do I want to continue writing about topics other people tell me to write about, whether I find them cool or not? The uncertainty of being a non-contracted worker slapped me in the face this month. And yeah, the financial loss sucks big time. But, at the same time I felt a certain relief being fired from one and having less work to do for another. Churning out stories like a machine isn't fun. It isn't the kind of writing I'd like to be doing. And it ultimately made me question whether or not I'd like to be doing any kind of paid writing long term. If I could do it on my own terms about topics that interest me, of course! But how likely is that really? And as soon as I start blogging for another person about a topic that interests me that sort of sucks the fun out of it anyways.

The problem here is my budding photography business. I love it too much. It makes me realize how other things pale in comparison. I still like blogging, very much so. And if I had never picked up a camera I would probably even think I loved being a blogger.

At first when I started doing photography, I thought, "Maybe photography and I are in the honeymoon stage, and that's why I'm so crazy about it." But, come May 9th, I will have been working weddings and sessions steadily since the month of Jan. almost every single weekend -- which has meant that because I've still been blogging professionally while trying to do this, I've sacrificed sleep and sanity for my photography. The honeymoon stage is over, and I still love it.

And of course, I'm spoiled by my clients. They let me do what I want to do and it's so freeing. It's not like a story where someone says, "Can you focus on this angle, could you write this piece up, can you quote such and such, could you do that and this and that too?" The majority of my clients have said, "We hired you because we trust you." They don't ask me to take pictures in a specific ways or to change what I do (although I naturally alter my style with every client because no two couples are the same and I try to create a session that fits each different personality). This is such a blessing and I realize that I have it SO good. I am ridiculously grateful to each couple as they put myself in their hands, and I always put my heart and soul into making sure that I do their love story, their wedding story, or their family story, justice with my photos.

I don't really think of myself as creative. To me photography is actually a very non-creative art. Creative people are those who...wait for it...wait for it...CREATE. People who draw or people do graphic designs are creative because they take an idea in their head and they make it real. They create a tangible version of whatever is in their head. Photography, for me, is simply my way of showing people my vision of the world. I don't have to create a whole new reality, I just have to show you mine.

Most of my clients are happy to let me do that. At my last meeting with a bride and groom, they said, "We trust you. We're in your hands." This total lack of constraints makes me elated, and excited and nervous all at the same time. And more importantly it makes me realize how much I do feel constrained with the type of professional blogging I do. I am always trying to write in the voice of whatever site I'm writing for. But photography is my voice, with no one there to tell me to reword the story. Yes, I love it. I'm more certain than ever that being a wedding photographer is what I was meant to do.

Then again, just 5 years ago, I was completely 100% convinced that I would one day work on the Olympic Organizing Committee for the U.S. And when I was 3, I was just as sure that I would be a mermaid when I grew up. So you know...things change. But at the moment, I'm as sure as I've ever been that photography is "the one," because I've definitely never felt this way before about anybody.

Photo of an Iglesia in Santiago

2009-04-12T10:56:00.000-07:00

View large here. You'll also find an easy photoshop tutoral at the link on how to get the same effect.

If you celebrate the holiday, hope you have a great one. And if you don't celebrate, like me, have a lovely Sunday and enjoy this photo of a church. :)

Chileans On an Individual Level Vs. Chilean Society

2009-04-09T07:01:00.000-07:00

I've had this topic on my mind lately, but Tamsin's angry post from yesterday has finally spurred me on to write about it.

As most of us come from the U.S. or the U.K., in her case, it's safe to say, that on a societal level we are used to people standing politely in lines, saying please and thank you and behaving in a manner that we would generally consider well-mannered (we definitely have our own set of problems but politeness doesn't rank high among them). And on a societal level, if your cultural standards are are U.S. standards, Chileans are rude. They'll push you and elbow you out of the way on the metro, cut in front of the line at the grocery store and then act like they don't hear you if you try to call them out for it. They don't always return phone calls or show up to planned appointments, never worrying about wasting another person's time.

Time and time again, I've heard gringas comment, "My husband isn't a typical Chilean." They argue that their mate is _______ (nicer, more polite, you fill in the blank). If you're saying that your Chilean is less mulletier than the average, than yes, you're probably right. But otherwise,

I beg to differ.

I think that kind, polite, happy Chileans are the standard of Chile, on an individual level. It's not completely fair (ok, yeah, it's a little fair) to judge the Chilean who nearly knocked down an old lady running to catch the bus. This city gets to people. This life changes people. I'm guilty of it. We're all guilty of it.

Don't tell me that you have never once gotten so fed up that you've bumped into someone and not said sorry. Don't try to deny that you've never been so completely annoyed that you've been short with a cashier. I've pushed people out of my way accidentally when I used to take classes in Campus Macul and lived in Estacion Central. During rush hour it would take me 1.5-2 hours to get there. I'd be flying trying to catch the second bus on a crowded street and sometimes I'd run into people, shoving them without meaning to. I always shouted back to apologize but who knows if they'd hear me. And I can see how it'd be easy, doing that commute day in and day out, to become numb -- to forget to apologize or look out for people in that rush and stress every weekday morning of your life.

On an individual level, I've rarely met a Chilean that I downright don't like. S.'s friends are amazing, like brothers more than friends really. They've been nothing but good to me since the day we met. His family is wonderful and open-minded and loving. Admittedly a lot of the women in this country are harder to get to know, and while I haven't had the most success making amigas Chilenas, the ones I do have are loyal and kind and everything you could ever ask for in a friend.

Yet, just like many of the expats living here, or in any country, I'm sure, I've had days when I've said, "I hate Chile and all the Chileans in it except one." Not fair. That's just about as fair as the people who judge citizens of the U.S. based on what President Bush did and said. Did I agree with any of what he did? No. Have I had Chileans judge me based on a Bush as a cultural representation of country? Yes. Not fair.

Just the other day I posted on Needish asking if anyone would be willing to tutor Marcelo in math. Within 24 hours I got 3 people responding. They don't me. They don't know Marcelo. But they all offered, more than happy to help. The profile of one of the students who is going to tutor Marcelo says,

¿Por qué ayudas?
1.- Por sentirme bien como persona.

2.- Para que Chile sea un mejor pais. Se desarrolle y mejore su nivel de vida.

Translation:

Why do you help?

1. To feel good as a person.

2. So that Chile becomes a better country. So that the quality of life develops and gets better.

I cried. That's why I like to help people, not just in Chile, but anywhere. On an individual level, this person is going to help change someone's life -- a complete stranger to him -- but he is willing to spend his free time lending a hand.

These amazing Chileans and the Chileans taking mass transportation and being rude and making your life miserable are one and the same. When someone pushes you out of the way, maybe they don't do that every day. Maybe they're just as fed up as you are and this day was the straw that broke the camel's back. But on an individual level, I'm willing to bet they're just as generous and friendly and generally awesome as the Chileans you know.

PS. On an unrelated note, if you haven't done so, go back and read the comments on my Top Five Reasons to Live in Chile post. They are some of the most hysterical comments I've ever read and all spot on!!! Thank you all for making me laugh SO hard!

Going Green in Chile

2009-04-08T15:12:00.000-07:00

Hey everyone, I hope I'm not annoying you with all this self-promotion, but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.

I just wrote a new post on TONIC, and it's actually about a service that I'm sure a lot of you could use -- a bike messenger. If you have just 30 seconds to click and take a look I would be super grateful, and if you have a full 60, leave a comment and I'll love you even more!

I wrote up an interview with Mario about his company Velociti. He's a really great guy and honestly, his services are top notch. He comes to your house to pick up your package and delivers it the same day. Better yet, it's eco-friendly because he's on a bike and reasonably priced as well. If you need to send something in Santiago, I don't know why anyone would use snail mail anymore when you have same day bike delivery!

My interview with him is all about the challenges of starting a small business in Chile. I know all too well just how difficult it is, especially when you're trying to do something outside the box. Check out my story at TONIC and then check out Velociti!

Top 5 Reasons for Living in Chile

2009-04-07T19:58:00.000-07:00

1. You can hire a nana! And trust me, all nanas are like golden gifts from god. They make your house cleaner than you could ever get it even if you spent all day, every day scrubbing the toilet with a toothbrush. You'll fight less with your husband and have better sex. Money-back guarantee.

2. This place is ripe for entrepeneurs to start up businesses. I mean, just look around you -- they're everywhere -- on the streets hawking pirated CD's and movies off blankets on the sidewalk. They're men walking around Bellavista trying to rub your head with one of the above. They used to be on the bus, selling pencils, mirrors, tupperware and dental floss. Small businesses flourish in Chile!

3. Forget buying a fancy dog from a breeder. Chile offers bigger, better, cuter pets for free. Just look around you. Walking down the sidewalk in any barrio bajo is like being in a doggie zoo. It's a veritable puppy buffet in Santiago or Valparaiso. You want a pet? Just take your pick of the litter!

4. If you're female and foreign, even if your face looks like a foot, odds are good that you can still find a husband to your liking in Chile. Once you've spotted a guy you like, just shave off his mullet, burn all his fanny packs and walk that weon right on down the aisle.

5. While growing to love Chile, you'll also find many new things to appreciate about your home country. We wait in orderly lines (!!!). Our windows have screens (GASP). Once you've lived at the end of the world small wonders will never again cease to amaze.

Hamster In a Wok

2009-04-07T10:07:00.000-07:00

Haha. Funny. This is how I feel right now. It's tiring.

Thanks to PastaQueen for sharing this!

Santiago Half Marathon

2009-04-05T18:01:00.000-07:00

I did it!!!!

Yeah, baby, feeling good. :)

I just spent the last half an hour on the computer trying to figure out the next race I can run. I had so much fun doing this one. I mean, at the time I didn't exactly think it was fun, but as soon as it was all over my mind instantly blacked out all the painful parts and made me want to do it all over!

I finished the Santiago Half Marathon with the respectable time (in my humble opinion) of 2:11:04. That put me at a 10minute 5 second mile. ARRRRRRRRRRGH. Now I have to do another one because I know I can break 10. I'm annoyed with myself for not having done so this time around.

I came in 194th in my category (Damas 20-34 years old) and 3338th out of every person who ran the half. Those numbers mean nothing though because I have no idea how many people, or specifically women in my category, ran.

According to my iPod this was my break down of each mile:
Mile 1: 9:48 (this first mile I was with the masses and I couldn't run at my own pace so that was a little frustrating).
Mile 2: 9:21 (still in the pack, slowly breaking free)
Mile 3: 8:43 (downhill and felt awesome!)
Mile 4: 8:50 (same)
Mile 5: 8:44 (same)
Miles 6: 10:21 (stopped for water)
Mile 7: 9:45 (stopped for water, to say hi to S. and put on a hat)
Mile 8: 10:25 (severe uphillage action going on)
Mile 9: 11:55 (same)
Mile 10: 8:48 (a guy sprayed me with a hose and I got cooled down and reinvigorated and I think it wasn't as severly uphill)
Mile 11: 9:39 (hip starting to hurt)
Mile 12: 10:23 (hip hurting badly, stomach hurting badly because I had to poop)
Mile 13: 14:21 (had to stop and walk so I didn't go into a full blown asthma attack)

I feel like really the only two miles I should have sped up were Mile 6 and Mile 7. In Mile 6, a big group of marathoners must have passed right before the tidal wave of people I was running with arrived, because none of the stands had water pre-poured in the glasses. They were pouring it as people arrived and there were short lines and then people were walking, instead of running, like they did in other water break spots, through the whole area. And in Mile 7, S. was waiting for me on the corner with more water and my hat, and I stopped for probably 45-60 seconds to give him a hug and kiss. If I could've skipped the water breaks there I would have broken a 10 minute mile, which was my goal. I'm a little disappointed that I didn't, but looking back at the rest of the race, all miles except for those two, I was absolutely going as fast as I could (without pooping my pants).

One lesson I learned is that I NEVER want to run another morning race. Or if I do, I should train in the mornings. But that just wouldn't happen so I think it's out of the question. My whole system felt out of wack. My body was as tired as could be expected while running, but the whole time I felt SO tired, as in sleepy tired. And I had a headache from not getting a good night's rest. Plus, and this is TMI, so stop reading if you're grossed out by bodily functions, I poop every morning, like clockwork when I wake up around 9am, and my body did not decide to change it's schedule just because I had a race to run. So towards the end I really had to slow down because I had to poop so freaking bad that I would've crapped my pants. And then my lungs started feeling insanely constricted, and as much as I want to sprint the last mile all out, I knew that if I didn't stop and walk an ambulance probably would have ended up taking my non-breathing body off the track had I not. So yeah, a 14 minute mile isn't great, but I don't feel like there's anything I could have done about that. Miles 8, 9, and 10 had the worst uphill action going on, and that was really tough, but I was plugging along. I felt like I continued to exert the same steady amount of energy the whole time.

There weren't a ton of spectators, and those that were there were fairly quiet. At a few points I actually yelled out "VAMOOOOOOOOOS!!!!" at the top of my lungs to try and motivate myself and the people around me. A few rowdy groups stood on corners and yelled out, but other than that, most people just stood along the sidelines and watched. And there were long stretches were there wasn't anybody around. Around mile 3 or 4, there were absolutely no spectators but one awesome volunteer was trying to make up for it. She was one of the folks who went out and waved a bright orange flag so nobody got steered off course. But this woman was yelling out at everyone who passed, "Vamos hijos mios, SI SE PUEDE!!!!" I loved her. But not as much as I loved the two families who were out spraying people with a hose. I wanted to kiss them! It was hot as hades and the temperature of my pale white skin was so high you could've fried on egg my forehead. On an uphill mile with no shade and almost no spectators this ancient little old man was standing out in his front yard with the hose spraying anyone who ran over to him. I did and it completely breathed new life into me. If I could, I'd go back and give him a big kiss! Instead I just grinned and said, "Se paso!" And then about a half a mile later there was another family doing the same thing and the little kids were in charge of spraying so I told them, "Les quiero mucho!!!" I wasn't lying.

And in another random observation, there seemed to be a disproportionate amount of Brazilians running. I saw a few people who looked like gringos, never even saw the Kenyans (who took first and second place) but man did I see a TON of people from Brazil -- and they all wore something with the Brazilian flag on it so you could easily tell them apart. What I loved about them was that as they passed each other they'd all cheer each other on, and I'm assuming that not ALL these people knew each other from beforehand. I tried to get up the guts to cheer fellow gringas on, but maybe because we weren't all wrapped in the American flag, I wasn't sure if they were actually from the U.S. or Europe or just blond Chileans, so I didn't. And there weren't very many of them, that I saw, either. Females were few and far in between. Actually at the pre-marathon site where we had to go pick up our chips and t-shirts there were about 4 or 5 giant booths for men to pick up their t-shirts and then there was one small half both for women to get theirs.

At the very end of the race, I thought my actual time was 2:30 and I was so incredibly disappointed. I kept doing the math over and over on my iPod disbelievingly. 2:30 was what the clock said when I ran under it, which is why I was confused. And when S. came to pick me up I believe my exact words were, said through tears and sniffling, were, "I SUCK and I am NEVER going to run again." It wasn't the specific time I was disappointed in, just the fact that I thought I ran soooooo much slower than I had been training. I thought that when it came to crunch time I had let myself down. And I'm also the sorest sore loser you'll ever meet. My senior year of high school my cheerleading team lost by 3 points after nailing our routine, to a team who dropped a stunt, and yes, I am STILL bitter about that. I should have been a State Champion, damn it! I fully realize that things like state championships and half marathon times, in the grand scheme of things, don't mean jack shit, but I'm just a competitor. I like to do my best and be rewarded for that. :)

And a big kudos to S., who dropped me off in the morning, then drove to meet me at about the halfway point where we was waiting with water, a hat, my other running shoes and crackers, and a big hug and kiss, just in case I needed any of those things. He was planning on waiting for me again at the point where the race ran by my house, and then again at the finish. But we were big time failures when it came to meeting near my house. I actually got out of the crowd and ran on the sidewalk because I wanted to make sure not to miss him, and he had went out into the middle of the road, to stand next to a policeman to make sure that he would see me in the middle of the crowd. Needless to say, we did not connect. And he stayed out there waiting and waiting, wondering if I had died somewhere along the way. When the ambulances passed him picking up the stragglers he started getting really worried. He thought it was impossible that I had passed without him seeing me. And in the mean time I had been waiting for a half an hour at the arranged meeting point at the finish line, getting angrier and angrier, not at him, but just because I was so tired and thirsty and had no way to get home, no money and no cell phone. He says for the next one he's going to get out a huge flag and scream and yell so I see him. And then he prefaced that by adding, "But in order to so, I'd have to start drinking rum at 7 in the morning."

Anyways, I've been rambling and I'm still really too tired to think straight, so it's best I end this post now. I'm going to celebrate with a big glass of champagne. Hope you all had a great weekend!

PS. Don't forget to congratulate Emily who also finished the half marathon!

Looking For a Good Math Tutor

2009-04-04T12:20:00.000-07:00

Hey everybody. Marcelo wants/needs a math tutor. He is struggling big time and so far he's only on the basics, but he has to take a math class every semester to graduate and if he fails now he's just going to get farther and farther behind.

Right now he's just on fractions and percentages and very basic equations. S. and people who work with Marcelo have been helping him at lunch time, but none of them are tutors. They just say, "Here's how you do it." But they can't explain the reasons behind why, in order to give him an actual understanding of the concept rather than an equation to memorize.

We're looking for someone to do this as a volunteer. And it would have to be on a Saturday afternoon or anytime during Sunday since Marcelo works days and is at class nights. We have a few possibilities of people who might be able to help, but none are sure bets yet so I wanted to post here to find out if any math geniuses who read this blog would be interested in doing a good deed. :)

I'll pay you with a free photo session if you want! Please send an email to: kylehepp at gmail dot com if you're interested.

Thanks so much!