It’s Saturday, I was rudely awakened by someone and had to run errands around seven in the morning. Things are starting off wrong. With two hours of sleep under my belt, I drove sluggishly to my destination. “Errand complete,” I thought. Arriving home, I plopped on my bed, snuggled under my soft sheets, and swiftly slipped into a deep sleep. Ten minutes later, a blaring alarm awakens me. It’s a dumb text message, but I’m too OCD to let it slip by me.

Open text message: My close friend had just passed away.

My heart sank. Actually, it shredded into millions of pieces and dissolved somewhere in between “good morning” and “dead.” In fact, it wasn’t a good morning, it hadn’t even been a good year. (I’m ranting again)

I was just beginning to cope with the fact that this year was just going to end badly, then it crashed and burned like the apocalypse. I couldn’t breathe for a second. This is surreal. This is a dream, I’m not awake. I was awake, sadly, and it was not a dream.

After an awkward memorial where I avoided my problems and bottled my emotions, I went home and fell asleep. It had been weeks without sleep. It was starting to put me on edge. I thought maybe I had some form of psychosis. I didn’t, I don’t; I should sleep more.

Later that night, I dreamed that Patrick came back during our last year. We were in our seminar class, I slipped out to use the restroom and ran into Patrick. Ecstatic over his return I hugged him and told him that we all thought he was gone, had passed away. Angry at him, I slapped his shoulder and asked why he led all of us, his closest friends, to believe that he was dead. He said it was a hoax and that his death was fake, he had to go into hiding. Excited over his return, I “high-fived” him and ran to tell the others. I busted into Jacobs’ class and screamed that Patrick was back and wasn’t dead at all.

Max turned to me and said,”Ari he’s been gone for a year, you need to let it go.” “No, I swear I just saw him. He’s right outside in the hallway with his coke and everything,” I exclaimed. “Hun, you need to get help. You’re starting to sound crazy,” said Amanda. They all looked at me like I was crazy. I made them get up to see for themselves. When we were all outside, he was gone and there was no trace of him. Where had he gone? I was sullen.

I woke up in tears and fell back asleep with my pillows drenched in salty puddles. I dreamt of happier times, when we all went to the beach.

Sometimes, I think that I truly might be crazy because I cannot decipher what is real anymore. When I close my eyes, he’s alive and well. When I wake up, he’s gone and it’s a bitter sting that keeps throbbing.

I would have loved for this year to have ended greatly, but I cannot see anything great about the death of my close friend Patrick Cash. It’s a blow that leaves me grasping for answers, that leaves me in tears every time I think about it. We are minus one, in the “foto-fam” and it hurts, badly. I thought Candice leaving was rough, but Patrick NEVER coming back is worse. When we first started out together, I stated that “we’re family and if one is hurt, we all hurt.” I stand by that statement and pray that things will get better soon. I just want my friend back.

Peace, love, and photographs

-ari

My sincerest apologies, dear dreamers, for an untimely hiatus.  Last time I wrote, I was begging for a Thanksgiving break.  The Thanksgiving holiday has come and gone like a gust of wind.  With a successful semester behind me, I have only the bustle of last minute Christmas shopping left on my “to-do list,” all of which is NOT done at the moment. Not to worry, my dears, it WILL get done if I have to bleed and sweat to make things happen. I love Christmas shopping, truly. It delights me to find something special for my loved ones. I just wish that Christmas Eve wasn’t next week…YIKES!

Things have been quite different this winter. I’m not sure if it was the snow that put me in such a dreamy state; nevertheless, things have been picking up in my life, which is great if you knew the entire story. For once, I feel free to be and do what  I was put on this earth to do. Granted, there are those who rain on my parade every now and then, but I pay no attention to all that chatter. I find that people who cannot support your cause do not qualify to be labeled as friends; needless to say, I’ve come to the point where I just don’t care about anything that stands in my way. On the bright side, this weather has been cloudy but romantic in the sense that I find myself always daydreaming. I promise I have cozied up to a nice book and hot cocoa more this year than I ever have in years past.

In more important news, our fundraisers for fourteen11- a collective group of photographers that I am involved with- have been a success! Thanks so much for everyone who continually supports us in our second to last semesters. It has been a joy working with some of the BEST photographers, and friends, out there.

Sadly, there’s not much else to report, aside from my personal life which will remain “personal.” I find myself missing my friends who have moved on to greater things, CANDICE and DAWN. I love ya!

Until next time, dreamers!

Peace, Love, and Photographs

-ari

I’m not accustomed to sleeping. I took an allergy pill last night because it’s  peak allergy season. It made me extremely drowsy and I slept for two hours, woke up, stayed awake for four, and drifted off to sleep while watching Daffy Duck’s Island and reading T.S. Eliot.

I was reading The Cocktail Party and ventured into this fantastic dream where we were all dressed in cocktail dresses, sleek suits, finished off by way too much wine. Hmmm…I wonder if this is what Thanksgiving is going to be like?

Block midterm critique is this week. I presented on Tuesday. It was a nightmare putting together a film, several prints, and an art-based website, but I survived and with much work to present. I lost way too much sleep but it’s not like I sleep regularly anyways. It was a real kick in the pants, because it forced me to focus on my body of work. Don’t misunderstand me, I didn’t procrastinate I just had camera failure at the last minute. It was the most heartbreaking thing to wake up and find that your video camera no longer works, especially with your project due the next week. HEARTBREAKING, I TELL YA!

When is Thanksgiving break??? I’m sure my lovely friend Amanda can tell me the exact days, minutes, seconds.

I’m excited for:

A long deserved nap

Friday

Where the Wild things Are with Ishy

Buying film on Saturday morning

Nethaneel’s wedding on Saturday

Pics of my stressful week and current work coming soon. I promise I’ll post it in my next blog.

Peace, Love, and Photographs!

-ari

I woke this morning missing my grandmother that passed away. I’m grateful for the legacy she has left me. I miss her.

Letting summer pass me by is as difficult as leaving the embrace of a sweet lover.  I’m sad to see it go but am so ready for cooler temperatures. I don’t know how I ever survive Houston’s scorching summers.

On a better note, I’m glad that things in my life have finally turned around. I’m so much happier and more confident in my dreams than I have ever been in my entire life. It’s funny how we easily assume that things are “supposed to be a certain way” and surely nerve wrecking when those things fall through the cracks or take an unexpected course; nonetheless, I am happy with the course that God has placed in front of me. I enjoy life a little more each day, as I leave the past behind me.

I’m done teaching the photography classes, which almost felt like torture for a few weeks. I’ve never met such hyperactive kids in my entire life and have formed new notions on “parenting.” Classes start in two weeks, my birthday is in two weeks and Candice leaves for Germany in about 5-4 weeks. It’s tragic letting a member of the “foto-fam” leave because they become as close as real family. It pricks the heart a bit but it’s exciting watching your friends move on to bigger and better things; I just wish I could go along. Maybe Phil and Candice can adopt me as their pet or something and hide me in their luggage. Things are winding down now as summer lulls us into the colorful “autumn.” I’m also grateful to have met the most wonderful guy in the entire world. I dream bigger when I’m with him and find myself laughing a whole lot more, nowadays. I never thought that I’d actually agree to be with someone with my whole “ms. independent- always-on-the-go” lifestyle; another “change in pace” for me. I’m not complaining, he’s the cutest person in the world.

I hope all is well with all of you, my friends. Hopefully I’ve taken enough of your time, with this entry, to entertain you as you sip your coffee and transition out of your morning stupor. I haven’t touched coffee or tea in days. *High Five!*

Enjoy the week, dreamers.

Peace, Love, and Photographs!

-ari

I am, currently, in the last week of teaching my last photo class for the children’s college. With only two more days left to go, I can finally relax and enjoy the rest of my summer vacation with a huge sigh of relief that I survived these hectic two months. During all this “lesson planning,” I managed to jot down a few anecdotes in my journal that were worthy of mention. The following statements are excerpts from my journal.

(My students are from the ages 6-8)

Monday, July 20, 2009

Today was painless. I walked into a class full of timid and well mannered kids. They are the cutest things in the world and I have to frequently supress the urge to pinch their cheeks. Those diversity/sensitivity/sexual harassment classes seminars paid off. The first discussion amongst the little “sprouts” was about death by plane or car crash and which one was less painful. Why are they so morbid? Why are they talking about death? They’re only six-years-old. What are their parents letting them watch?

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Chris, a hyperactive six-year-old, discussed his fascination for Star Wars with me today. We talked about the Death Star and the androids. He has all the Lego versions. I wonder how much that set his parents back? I can’t judge, I had millions of Barbies and vintage furniture for them. I now recognize him as the “scribble-scrabbler.” I’d like to think that he’s just very reminiscent of Jackson Pollock at an early age. Maybe not. He wrote on the tables and it’s not coming off. FAIL kid, FAIL. Gavin, my blonde haired seven-year-old, stuck his index finger up to my face today to show me his “bump.” He said that the doctors had recently “stuck a big neeeeeedle in it and yellow stuffs came out.” “Wow,” I said. “You must be a super hero because only super heroes are that brave!” “I am,” he replied. Another incident where I had to resist the urge to pinch his cute little cheeks.

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

We made 3-D pictures in class today. These kids were less hyperactive yesterday. What happened overnight? What do their parents feed them? Seena, the raven-haired boy with curly locks, has been labeled the “tattle tale” and no one will sit by him. He also says very violent things like “I will print this picture in negative filter to scare my brother and punch him til he bleeds.” Shocking, I know. I registered his mother and remember strongly disliking her. She’s abrasive and rude. I cringe at the sound of her voice. I fear for what her kid will become. Clearly there are issues at home. Who’s raising who here? Actually, who’s NOT being raised? That’s more like the profound question of the day.

It’s a sweet and sour experience but I still love this last class. Summer don’t leave!!!!

Hope your summer is as equally “interesting.”

Love, Peace, and Photographs!

-Ari

Warm greetings, my fellow dreamers!

It has been a while since my last entry. Summer is zooming by like a bitter-sweet dream. I’ve been busy basking under the sultry summer sky while trying to survive heat exhaustion on other days when it’s too hot to breathe. Work has been busy, which makes me sad that my visions of a vacation are dwindling from  “possibly” to “not likely.” Mini-vacation maybe?

I’ve been spending alot of time with my family, which is nice because I don’t usually see them once class is in session.  Still, I miss my extended family and am homesick for my “second home.” I miss boat rides with Ludy and subway trekking with Carla. I miss the pastel colors of the houses and viewing the lights in the city from the mountains at night.

Changing the subject to avoid tears

I like how the current economic status has redefined the fashion world. It has caused people to recycle clothing in “going green” and encourages more people to fashion their own style. More and more people are starting to make their own clothes instead of picking up  mass produced replicas. Some designers, in their innovation, started using eco and fair trade clothing, sticking to recycled and organic fabric in efforts to be “environmentally friendly.”  People are reinventing and discovering their personal style, which is music to my designer ears.

London Fashion Week

Speaking of “going green,” there’s a place in Australia that has recently banned the use and production of bottled water. Now, citizens have to fill up or refill their water canteens from fountains. I don’t know about this. It’s great for the economy and environment, but it also opens the door for terrorist capabilities, meaning terrorists can target the water source if they wanted (my conspiracy theory for the day).  Then again, they could have done so before with the bottled water, so let’s see how this plays out.

I’m really enjoying my friends and will be sad once school starts up again. I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep normally until after grad school. Aside from my insomnia, other interests have kept me daydreaming, but that’s another story for another day.

Enjoy the week, friends and stay hydrated.

Peace, Love, and Photographs!

-Ari

Disclaimer: I have only had thirty minutes of sleep.

After having the worst dream of the year, I tossed and turned, woke up every ten minutes, and finally slid out of bed this morning. With one eye open and the other squinted, I got dressed and sluggishly drove to work.  Taken back by the air freshener, I peeled open one eye with one hand and started the ignition with the other.  Surprisingly, I’m very chipper,  as I update all of my five billion websites. Recently, I’ve been having one of those “horrendous months,” where it didn’t just rain on my parade but appeared to have a freakishly odd, torrential downpour  that did not cease to disperse. Oddly, I woke up this morning and EVERYTHING turned around completely. Everything that I was stressed over was suddenly taken care of.  All my problems just disappeared as if they never existed. I’m baffled and grateful. Thank God.

On this fine morning, where I would normally be asleep in my somewhat comfortable bed, I find myself catching up on my blog (That’s code for I’m too sleepy to do paperwork at work this morning and will push it off til Monday). No online shopping today, aside from that one book that I found for a good price this morning.

ON TO MY PROFOUND REFLECTIONS OF THE MORNING: I find it odd that the older we get, the more we regress and cling to toys and objects of the past. For example, I still love and sleep with my stuffed elephant (Mr. Effy, I will keep you FOREVER). I’ve kept all my favorite bedtime story books from my childhood and refuse to sell them. I STILL play with sidewalk chalk and draw mini-murals next to my car in the driveway. My co-worker made a profound statement that “as we get older, as each year passes, so the sense of age hits us and we realize that we really just wish that we can go back to our childhood days.”  I’m not certain if this statement is true for everyone, but it’s true for me. I’m not fearful of old age, I just wish that great responsibility didn’t have to come with growing old.  (TANGENT: WHAT’S UP WITH EVERYONE POPPING UP PREGNANT NOWADAYS? FIND A HOBBY OR GET FIXED! ) I feel that with my major “situations” in life, referring to trials and tribulation, I get by only by the grace of God. Is this really what growing up feels like? I feel like I cheat death on more than one occasion, or that I succeed when there’s clearly no possible way. It sends chills up my back. I’m amazed.

Enjoy your day, dreamers.

Love,

Ari

]]> http://arianabenihanna.wordpress.com/2009/06/27/smile-and-the-whole-world-smiles/feed/ 0 Ari http://arianabenihanna.wordpress.com/2009/06/23/cafe-en-el-cafe/ http://arianabenihanna.wordpress.com/2009/06/23/cafe-en-el-cafe/#comments Tue, 23 Jun 2009 06:09:36 +0000 arianabenihanna http://arianabenihanna.wordpress.com/?p=200 ]]>

Good evening dreamers,

I’ve been reading several novels lately. I always enjoy a good read and will one day retire just to have time to read all the books I want. All these novels have sent me traveling to my favorite coffee shop. There’s this one café, in particular, that I drive to simply because I find one of the workers extremely attractive, plus he makes one wicked iced latte. I’m reminded of Landon Pigg’s song, “Falling in love at a coffee shop.”  Wouldn’t it be nice to fall in love at a coffee shop. It sounds so romantic.  An, I know you’re already shaking your head. Coffee brings people together (decaf. in my case), truly.

I was watching the movie “Laura,” the other night while reading this mystery novel when I drifted off to sleep. I dreamed that I was in a reform school, a university. It was a Catholic school. This one priest was giving a lecture when a nun came to relieve him. In the dream we bowed our heads to pray. Being the full gospel person that I am, I remember being outraged by something that I can no longer remember. I was so taken by it that I began debating with the nun and even ventured off into a full blown argument. I started yelling at her until she scurried off, crying. I followed her down the corridor and continued making my speech. After she faded off in the distance, I sat on the marble steps that wrapped around a large pillar and wept. The next day a few nuns informed me that she killed herself. I woke up. How awkward is that?

Was this the coffee, the movie, or my sick twisted mind that caused this dream? I was jotting all this down in my journal at the café when the cute bartender walked in. I smiled and took my leave. It was too much of an abrupt change in atmosphere, from awkwardness to delight, in too short of a time span to formulate anything meaningful at that moment. I drove home in haste. I’m exhausted and pray that I don’t dream about reform school tonight.

Goodnight,

Ari

I started this new job yesterday. (Is it considered “new” if it’s in the same place but different department?) I’m the summer advanced digital photography teacher for the children’s college, which, in my mind, is similar to a form of “dignified daycare.” I’ve worked with kids before but it has definitely been a while.

The class is fairly small with about thirteen students from the ages of nine to twelve. While teaching, I noticed the typical stereotypes of the students.

#1  The talker. This would be a girl named Kaia, who adds personal anecdotes each moment  I speak.

#2 The apathetic. I’d say it would be Brandon, the boy who is there because his “mom was trying to be cool like her friend and enrolled her kids in discovery college, like the other moms, to fit in.”

#3 The hyper-intense child. His name is Chris. Luckily my other assistant sparked an interest in him when he brought up the subject of online games.

#4 The know it all.  Ashish-the boy that thinks he’s king because he has a Nikon coolpix. Give me a break, kid! You are not Ashton Kutcher!

#5 The chatter boxes. That would be the rest of the class.

After brief  introductions, I stated that I “[was] going to be teaching  digital photography, not the old chemical process” when I was rudely interrupted by one of my assistant’s retort that,” old photography would just be boring.” It took every bit of patience to calm myself down and refrain from punching him in the teeth!

The class is definitely interesting. The way I see it is “no blood, no problem!”

A good day, I’d say.

-Ari

P.S. I’ll post pictures later.

Yesterday was my day off, or so I thought. I was, obviously, wrong. Flying in under the radar about forty-five minutes late, dodging in and out of rush hour traffic, I arrived just in time to catch the lines of people wanting to change their schedules. It was the first day of summer school at the college that I work for, which meant a steady work load.

Luckily, the mob of people wasn’t as “angry” compared to years past, excluding this one obnoxious fellow.

A tall, thin man, with ash brown hair came in looking for his room number. He had registered for classes the week before but did not pay. To my misfortune, he came in without anything. He simply gave his name and expected me to find all his information. It would have been nice had he not had the most generic Hispanic name in the world. Three minutes into my search, he called his wife and chatted away in Spanish about how I didn’t know anything. “YOU IDIOT I SPEAK SPANISH! I CAN UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU’RE SAYING!” were my thoughts as he ignorantly became annoyed. Finding his name was like picking out a specific grain of sand; in my case one “Juan Whatever” out of a list of ninety people.What was worse was the fact that his shirt was unbuttoned and his chest was showing. As I was scrolling down the list, a pale piece of man boob was peeking at me. I wanted to die laughing, which slightly intensified his irritation. OH WELL…IF YOU WOULDN’T HAVE FLASHED ME I WOULD NOT HAVE SNICKERED! C’MON GUY YOU KNEW I WAS GOING TO LAUGH. I MEAN YOUR BOOB IS BASICALLY SLAPPING ME IN THE FACE! LOL

Such an odd day!

-Ari