Surviving and Thriving: Three Years in a Canvas Tent

When Buck and I first decided to live in a canvas tent for a year while building our dream tiny home, we were filled with excitement and anticipation. But as we all know, life likes to throw curveballs. Thanks to COVID-19, our one-year plan stretched into an unexpected three-year odyssey.

When we first pitched our tent, we envisioned a year of simplicity and focus, laying the foundation for our future tiny home. But the pandemic had other plans. Building supplies were delayed, our timeline was pushed back, and suddenly, our canvas tent became our long-term home.

Three years of tent living has been nothing short of a rollercoaster. The seasons come and go, each bringing its own set of challenges. From the biting cold of winter to the sweltering heat of summer, we've faced it all. With little electricity, no running water, and none of the common amenities most people take for granted, we've had to adapt and find new ways to meet our needs. But with Buck by my side, we've made it work and found unexpected joys along the way.

A chat with a coworker hit home when they pointed out the impact of not having our basic needs met on mental health. Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs became a real-life framework for us. We were stuck at the bottom levels, struggling with physiological needs like shelter and security. The constant stress of our living conditions was taking a toll, but it also fueled our determination to climb higher.

To get ahead, I've been working two jobs and going back to school. It's a juggling act, but it's all part of the plan to secure a better future. Each step is a building block towards our dream, and every challenge overcome is a victory. There’s a light at the end of the tunnel, and we’re inching closer every day.

Our latest step towards stability is buying a mobile home. It's not our tiny home, but it's a significant milestone. It represents progress, security, and a stepping stone towards our ultimate goal. After three years of canvas living, we're ready for a bit of stability. The mobile home symbolizes a fresh start and a solid foundation for our future.

Through all the ups and downs, one thing has remained constant: our gratitude for this journey. Living in a tent has taught us resilience, adaptability, and the importance of appreciating the little things. We've grown stronger as a team, and we've learned to find joy in the simple moments.

Our journey has had its share of hardships, but it's also been filled with growth and unexpected beauty. We're taking things one step at a time, and we're excited for what the future holds. Thanks for following along with our adventure. Stay tuned as we continue to build our dream, one step at a time.

Stay hopeful and adventurous!

Angel (& Buck)

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Adventures in Homesteading

Things are locking into position.

Buck and I have been hard at work saving money, planning for some exciting adventures, and believing for some extraordinary ideas to take shape.

These past few years have kept us learning and making room for changes. Things haven’t always gone according to plan but they’ve been going and we adapt to keep moving forward. Our plans morphed and evolved for a year before we finally settled on our greatest adventure to date.

The first of the year, Buck and I will be closing on a few acres of raw land. We decided we’re going to utilize this time to live off grid. What does that mean for us? Well, we hope it means, laughter, stories, and some hilarious adventures. We begin our build soon and with that will be highlighting the ups and downs of living off grid by using solar power, rain water catchment, and anything else we can get our hands on to give us our best experience.

This is just an example of what we’re planning. There is a TON of work to do on the land and that must happen first before we can start living out there. WE ARE SO SO EXCITED!!

I’d like to give a big thank you to Impact Contractors for the hook up on the wooden pallets that we needed to get started. If you find yourself in need of any type of concrete services, you can find their information here. If you or your company would like to sponsor any portion of this journey, please email us at hello@buckandangel.com.

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Buck pointing out the lay of the land to her cousins.

Follow us on Facebook and Instagram for real-time updates. We also offer a look into the nitty-gritty life of living off grid. You can find that content on our Patreon account. Lastly, if you want to help but don’t know how, we have some pretty fun t-shirts and merch available on our ADVENTURE OUTPOST page. Thank you for your support and THANK YOU for being part of our adventure family.

Rain.

God…I love rain so much. It brings so much peace to me.

With everything going on…police brutality, COVID-19, unrest, protests, elections, job loss, losing loved ones, personal pruning and growth, and reality checks, I have holed up like a hermit. Granted, it’s not like we can really go out and hang with our friends right now but I have taken this whole quarantine thing and applied it to my life like a healing ointment.

There are days that I am all alone and days that I am lonely. There are days that I am all alone and reveling in the quiet of my mind. For someone who seems to constantly brim with anticipation, I called an inner cease fire and just sat with myself.

Just sat.

Occasionally, there’s a moment of discouragement and disappointment that I haven’t done more with the last 5 months to “better myself and help those around me.” But for this short amount of time, so far, I feel like it was time for me to shut off. Stop thinking. Stop trying to make things happen. Stop trying to be a better person. Stop roaming. It’s been weird to not do anything. It’s been weird to not be working on a plan or an idea. I would say that I’m a pretty patient person but waiting for myself, with no real plan or idea as to why….bruh. What I leaned on for guidance in the past, isn’t useful and I’ve found myself relying on each and every individual hour to get me through the day. Inadvertently, I’m learning all over again, how to be present in the here and now AND IT HAS BEEN DIFFICULT.

My sixth grade teacher, Mrs. Brewster, one time said, “Only boring people get bored.” That single sentence shifted something inside of me that never left. “I’ll never be a boring person.” Waiting and being “still” is far from boring. It is single-handedly one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.

I wrote this in July of 2020. Apparently, I was being so still, that I forgot to hit “publish.”

Dog Pile

Someone messaged me today.

They said, “…and I don’t know you from Adam but I see you going through it and you seem to maintain such positivity. And I need that.”  Here’s the truth and I’ll be super blunt.

Just yesterday I wanted to eat a bullet.

My heart bleeds, man. I have a beautiful daughter and I could NEVER leave her.  I love her so much that I would never want to hurt her but that thought kept creeping in…and to top things off, it was National Suicide Awareness Day….I mean…(insert eye roll here).

Things were consuming me and I’m tired and I want a break. I want MORE than a break.  I want life and I want to thrive.

A bullet won’t give me any of these things…and more importantly, a bullet would take away any chance of ever living and thriving.

So I texted someone. I texted a short text that ended with “I won’t do anything to myself but I am not sure why I am even alive.”

She called me. We spoke on the phone for over an hour and a half.  She countered lies that my mind was telling me.  She countered lies that others have told me.

She spent her time building me up and encouraging me.  The conversation started off with me sobbing uncontrollably and ended with me laughing and cracking jokes.

My point…”Your words are so powerful that they will kill or give life…” – Proverbs 18:21.

I have a propensity to be optimistic. I was born this way. I am usually a super positive person and spend a major part of my day verbalizing my gratitude for whatever comes to mind.

HOWEVER… Let me paint you a picture:

When I was younger…much younger, I remember playing in the front yard of my grandma’s house. A bunch of my cousins where there. We were playing football, American football…tackle.  I was probably between 8-11 years old. I was somewhere in the middle of all my cousins.  There were a lot of older cousins and a lot of younger cousins.  I remember getting the football and running hard towards the end zone.  We were laughing and having so much fun.

And then I was tackled.

That tackle turned into the biggest dog pile. When I landed, my head had rolled where my chin was on my chest. I was on my stomach with the ball under me. I felt a pull in my neck and back. My face was smashed into the ground and I couldn’t breathe.  My cousins kept piling on. No one was being malicious. We were playing. I remember, for the first time in my life, a fear that I was in real trouble.  I was trying to scream but I had no air in my lungs.  My mouth was filled with dirt and grass; my body was crushed under the weight of my cousins.  And it kept going.

I couldn’t move and was trying desperately to let someone know that I needed help. I remember closing my eyes and hearing my cousins screaming and laughing.

I started going dim.

Finally, someone else got hurt and was able to communicate that with a bellowing scream. People started rolling and climbing off.  At this point, I remember thinking that it didn’t matter. I could feel some relief but it wasn’t going to be in time. The final kid rolled off and I couldn’t move. Someone grabbed me and rolled me over. I remember having tears but not being able to cry out. One of my older cousins slapped me so hard in the face to try and get me to take a breath in and it worked.

I cried.  I cried hard.

When you’re overwhelmed, it’s like being at the bottom of that dog pile. And it keeps going. It’s stress, it’s lies, it’s lack, it’s a broken heart…and everyone around you is still living.  You’re in the middle of it and everyone is still having fun…but you’re dying.

 “…and I don’t know you from Adam but I see you going through it and you seem to maintain such positivity. And I need that.”  Well…I have shit days. BUT, I learned that words, MY words, YOUR words, can destroy or build. SO...when I “seem to maintain such positivity”, it’s because I am building. I am building something for me to lean on. I am building something to shelter me. I am building something that is healthy. Sometimes, it’s a slap in the face that forces me to take a breath and sometimes it’s a meme that is SO freaking funny that I can’t help but crack up laughing.  Social Media is just one of those places that allows me to share good, uplifting, positive words.  SO, no, my life is not perfect. Just like everyone else, I’ve been on the top of the dog pile and I’ve been breathless at the bottom.  We all have shit days. I choose to do my best to speak life and speak hope into our lives.

We are powerful creatures. Our words are powerful. The tongue can speak words that bring life or death. Those who love to talk must be ready to accept what it brings.

“Therefore encourage one another and build each other up.” 1 Thessalonians 5:11

Build.

Indiana Jones and the Job Hunter

This post started out as just one sentence in a cover letter for a job I was applying for. It progressed into a whirlwind of emotion and near panic.

When I was younger, I wanted to be Indiana Jones.  Now that I’m a bit older, I’ve laser-focused my dream to travel writer.  A broader idea…storyteller.

If I could be paid well for doing anything in the world (other than being a mom), I would choose to travel the world and tell stories.

I’ve worked for the same company since I was 28 years old.  I’m an art director, graphic designer, social media marketer.  I love research and I love creating.  I’ve been sitting at the same desk for almost 20 years and as much as I enjoy what I do, it has slowly eaten away at my dream and my passion.  It wasn’t always like this for me.  Throughout junior high, high school, and college, I traveled the world.  I told stories.  I spoke in front of thousands of people…I was a traveling story teller.  My life was built around relating to people, helping people, encouraging people to be hopeful and ultimately help them fall in love with being alive…fall in love with themselves…who they had been, who they are, and who they were going to be.  I thrived on watching people’s countenance change in front of me from hopeless to hopeful – sadness to joy.

In my mid 20’s, I suffered damaging trauma and was no longer able to be and do what I had built my life doing.  I tumbled into dark depression and began retreating from society.  I gave up.  Completely.

A man reached out to me and gave me a shot at becoming a graphic artist in his company and I took it.  I’ve been with him ever since, learning, growing, and evolving into the career I have today.  As the years pass, I’m still haunted and troubled by the events that brought me here.  I am grateful for what I have and the opportunities that were given to me but decades of fulfillment were taken from me and I grieve for that stolen part of my life.

To lay it all out on the table, I want more.  My daughter was born and I adopted her in 2011.  She’s 7 years old now. She is my drive to do better…to be better.  I promised her birthparents that I would work for the rest of my life to give her what they couldn’t and I will…but there’s so much more that I want to give her. There’s so much more that I want to teach her.  Our conversations at dinner revolve around business plans and brainstorming ideas to create opportunities for us to “travel, go on adventures, and help people”.  That’s us.  I haven’t been able to do that in the way that I want at the job I currently have so I have been researching, planning, and working on creating a job for myself so we CAN do these things.  I figured, if I can’t find one out there that exists already, then I’m going to have to create it.

Fear is a monster.  It has held me back for so many years.  Even now as I type this, I think about finally taking the step to make our dreams happen and how I’m going to pay the bills and put food on the table.  All I can hear in my mind is “you take the steps and leave the ‘hows’ to God”.  It is daunting and I am afraid.  I am reminded of how I wanted to be Indiana Jones…

I suppose now is my chance.  But what next? WHAT DO I DO? I’m terrified.

I feel scattered. Do I stay at my job and work on building something new? I’ve been trying to do that for years. Do I quit my job and use my time to build something new? How do bills get paid? How do I take care of my kid?

How do I trust that the great God of the Universe is going to be there when I take that step?

It's Time!

***UPDATE*** June 22, 2018

This trip has been sidelined for us.  We still plan on going sometime in the future but with any co-parenting team, when one parent isn't ready, you have to honor that and trust for future adventures to be better than ever imagined.

It was never an issue of whether or not I wanted to travel the world and change people's lives for the better.  It was always whether or not I was welcome.  I've had to rely on my faith and believe that timing is everything.  For the last couple of decades some things needed to take place before the cosmic tumblers locked into position.

I adapted.  Learning to adapt is just one of the greatest gifts I've been given and it serves me well...but I was never fully happy.

So...for the most exciting news in our little family of 2...I am welcome.  I am welcome to be a part of something greater.

Buck and I have the absolute honor to be a part of a team headed to Tanzania this summer.

We will be working with 2 organizations. Asking for the Nations, an organization focused on helping the people of Tanzania and more pointedly, the orphans in the country of Tanzania.  They have partnered with Pastor Mramba to help purchase land, build a church, and build an orphanage to house the orphans and street kids of the country. The second organization is Giving Hope for Tomorrow.  This group will organize a 3-4 day medical clinic during our trip. This will provide free medical care to locals including the Maasai tribe! We are currently looking for a dentist and an eye doctor to go on the trip with us. They do not have to stay the entire 10 days unless they want to. They are welcome to come for the medical clinic portion only. Please help us by asking people you know! 

This summer, July 20-30 2018, Buck and I will travel with this incredible team with the goal to begin building the church and work on building relationships with the orphans in the town of Moshi.  

Moshi is a town in northern Tanzania, near the Kenyan border. It's known as a gateway to Kilimanjaro National Park, home to Africa's highest mountain, Mount Kilimanjaro. Trails run up the mountain’s cloud-ringed, snow-capped dome, through alpine forests and meadows home to elephants and leopards. One of Tanzania's major coffee-producing hubs, Moshi is known for its coffee farms and auctions.

To be a part of this great adventure, partner with us by clicking the donate button above. 

We are so grateful for your support and generosity.  All donations are tax-deductible!

When making a donation, please type our name (Buck and/or Angel) in the"Add special instructions to the seller:"section.

The cost of the trip is $3500.00 per person.  This covers everything for the 10 day trip except personal spending money.  Any money raised above this amount will be used for mine and Buck's suggested travel vaccinations, supplies, and gear.

Payment schedule per person:

• November 5, 2017 - $300 (non-refundable deposit)
• January 1, 2018 - $1000
• March 1, 2018 - $1000
• May 1, 2018 - $1200

If you have any questions about the trip, please feel free to drop us a line on our contact page. 

John Legend Saves The Day.

So...maybe it's me getting older.

I have always seen myself as a hopeless romantic.  A believer in storybook romance and star-crossed lovers.  Now...at 40, not so much.

I think it exists.  But it exists in the ways that people are born into extreme wealth or geniuses or prodigies.  It's not for all of us AND it's rare.

For most of us we have to bust our asses just to keep our existence together.  Life's curve balls are more like sucker punches to the groin.  You must become a champion of quality time and you fight. You fight for your spouse.

One of the most difficult things to watch is my friends and family go through a break up or a divorce.  It's hard to watch the relationship deteriorate.  It's hard to watch one spouse harden their heart or not believe that the sucker punches are hitting while the other spouse quietly grieves the death of their relationship.

Watching someone close grieve the loss of their spouse is gut-wrenching.  It's one of the loneliest things I have even seen.  The one person they had to rely on, to lean on during such an intimate loss is the one who is "gone".

Today while sitting at my desk I was listening to some random playlist on Spotify.  John Legend's All of Me started playing.

What sappy lyrics.

Here's the chorus:

Cause all of me Loves all of you Love your curves and all your edges All your perfect imperfections Give your all to me I'll give my all to you You're my end and my beginning Even when I lose I'm winning Cause I give you all of me And you give me all of you.

But here's the deal...it's a beautiful song.  I've heard it a million times probably.  Today though...today I HEARD the lyrics.  And as silly as it may seem, I am falling back into love with the idea that romance exists.

So...if you're struggling with the belief that romance exists here's John Legend and his song All of Me.  Someone somewhere felt these words enough to write this song.  Someone. Somewhere.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=450p7goxZqg

How my Strength caused My Paralysis.

We all want to be strong. Right? Am I right for thinking this way?It seems that we all have a desire to be physically, mentally, emotionally, and/or spiritually strong.  Most of us anyway.  For me, it has always been important to "have a good head on my shoulders".  I have modeled my life around being as diplomatic to situations as I can possibly be...sharing multiple points of views and relating to many sides of the story.  I grew up this way. I was the first born child in my household and had a very strongly opinionated and hard working mother. It became necessary to understand that there were more sides than just 2 to any given story at any given time. I had to take on the task of being "momma" while Momma was at work and also act as liaison and advocate for my siblings once Momma came home because ultimately she was the final authority in all things.

Momma taught us that we were leaders. Momma taught us that we were strong.

What happens when it all backfires?

I've shared before that we were exceptionally poor. Growing up in a house that had only one room...just a box that we played in, slept in, and ate in. No electricity or running water.  I know that all we wanted was to escape.  For a couple of my siblings, their escape was writing.  For me, my escape was physical and the moment that I met someone who told me I could do it...I did it.  I left.

I was ushered into a life of travel and I LOVED it.  I also loved the idea of helping people. I had already "roughed it" most of my life so to travel to 3rd world countries to help build sewer systems or water towers to help others seemed like a dream.  I was introduced to an organization that honed in on my eagerness to lead and my desire for traveling.  At this point, I knew what it was that I wanted to do for the rest of my life.  What I didn't know was the power that had tapped into me.

It was January of 1993. I had been groomed to attend what was called a Discipleship Training School.  To most Christians, the title of the school seems harmless enough and looking back on most of my training, it was really an amazing school.  We learned about diplomacy, public speaking, travel, working and living communally. We learned about humility and patience...it was a very hippy-esque school but I liked it and this lifestyle liked me too.

Here's the rub.  See, in all of this, we were getting ingrained to learn a school of thought about chain of command. I had already gotten a good grasp of this while living at home but here at the school, I was one of the younger and newest recruits.  I had MANY people to answer to and many voices to obey.

Head down...don't ask questions.

It's so weird to type this out.  My memories of this time in my life carry a desperation and it's hard to know that I was so easily paralyzed.

We lived a very strict life.  We couldn't do much without the consent of our leaders. We couldn't go home to visit family, we couldn't choose the jobs we wanted, we couldn't date, we really couldn't do much of anything...unless we had the approval of our leadership. To this day, it's still hard for me to see that this WASN'T ok.

I was considered one of the "rebellious" ones. Not so much because I rebelled but because I followed questionable orders with a grimace on my face.  Trust me, I get protocol.  I get the need for a chain of command.  However, I didn't understand why I needed to be told what to wear, how to wear my hair, who I could date, what I could do with my leisure time, who I could and couldn't be friends with, when or if I could leave the base to visit my family...and on and on and on.

We weren't a military base.  We were a Christian organization of missionaries and our leadership had overstepped it's boundaries from leading to controlling and I had been brainwashed.

I had been brainwashed.  I had been brainwashed.  I had been brainwashed.

Here's the deal.  Before I left for missionary school, I had been treated for homosexuality.  That's right, I was gay and had been put through a gay to straight program.  I was told that in order to fulfill my "life calling" I could never act on my homosexual tendencies and in order to learn to be straight, I had to listen to and do everything I was told or I WOULD FAIL.  I would fail at life, fail my family, fail my God, fail at being a leader, fail at being strong.  So... I did what I was told.  I obeyed.

After living in this cult type atmosphere I started to test the waters. I had climbed the ranks in the organization, so to speak, and decided to act on an attraction I had towards another girl in the organization. After a few weeks, our relationship was exposed to the leadership and after 2 years of blindly following their every dictation, including a humiliating "outing" to the entire organization, we were sent home packing.

Photo Credit: Yannick Bouchard

Have you ever witnessed someone experiencing drug withdrawals or someone grieving?  Writhing in pain, unable to think, unable to breathe, unable to sleep, unable to bear being alive.  This is what it was like for me.  Everything that I had built my life around and for was taken away.  And it was easy for them to do so.  I thought at this moment that I had forever ended the life I was meant to live.  I was back to square one.

The very thing that I had strived to leave behind...the very thing I had desired to escape became me, once again. I was an outcast.

And still I longed for the escape. I longed to travel and to help people and I longed for the only way that I had learned to do so.

After being relieved of my position, I agreed to complete another gay to straight program in fear that I would never fulfill the purpose God had for my life.  And really, when you're in that situation, your only thought is do what you're told or give up living all together.

So...I did it again. I obeyed.

It's been over 20 years since that journey began.  And since then, I have battled the resentment, the failures, the damage, the brokeness.  Sadly, it wasn't until today that I realized how much of my life has been affected by what happened during that time in my life.  I still struggle with confidence and standing up for myself.  How do I recover when the desire to be strong backfires? How do you trust yourself to have the ability to make good decisions?  How do you trust yourself to trust the right people?

I have recently stepped back into my career of public speaking. It has been nearly 10 years since I stood in front of a crowd and shared my heart.  I was all but banished from the arena of public speaking in the way that I have always known it. But today, I refuse to count myself out.  I refuse to give up my dreams.  I refuse to be told that I am broken.  I refuse to believe that I have nothing to offer.  My story may not line up with yours. You may not give two cents about anyone who is gay or their journey.  You may have never been so low in your life that you allowed someone from the outside to paralyze you.  I don't know. But what I do know is that there is someone out there who needs to hear that someone else knows what they are going through.

I will be your someone else.

I have decided that I will be vulnerable by my own volition. I will share my heart again and I will help people again.

I speak on these very topics of Shame, Guilt, Vulnerability, Poverty, and Overcoming Gay Reparative Therapy.  If you have an event that would benefit from these talks or an event that would welcome these discussions, please contact me at Angel Adams Media Services.  And please share this with others...My heart is that no one be paralyzed by someone else's doing.  We are supposed to be free. We are supposed to be different.  We are supposed to be strong.

Be strong, my friends.

My name is Angel...not Anger.

Today, I am struggling with anger.  Something with which my Mom has said I have always struggled.  I am angry that in true Adams fashion, we have swept so many things under the rug that I may never know why I've been angry for so long.  Sure, I can pin point certain instances and situations that foster anger but what happened when I was so very young can only be speculated.

Today, I am angry at my job.  I am grateful that I even have one but after working there for 13 years, it is on it's last leg and we've been in talks of closing down for good.  I'm angry about watching my team work diligently to keep things alive and feeling like they will never be compensated for their loyalty and effort.  I'm angry about the stress that it has dropped on our COO, my brother in law.  I am angry about the stress it has dropped on my spouse.  I'm angry.

I'm angry for being so scatterbrained.  I'm angry for trusting the wrong people.  I'm angry for having to be patient.

I'm angry because my songs still sit on paper. I'm angry because I am not confident to do things myself. I'm angry because I have to rely on people.

Relationships, family, home, petty petty things...

I am angry.

I have tried typing my name a few times today...just working on different projects...and each time I accidentally typed Anger instead of Angel.

I figured that I needed to get some of the infection out so...I write.

ANGEL'S HALL OF FAME: My ever growing list of kindness.

Here it is...the announcement of the day.  Hold on to your butts...it's a doozey.

I'm not perfect.

There it is...in all its glory.  Announcement #2?  I don't know how to spell "doozey" but...well...hopefully, you get what I'm trying to say.

I have been reminded everyday how blessed I am despite my awkward existence.  Last week I was reading posts about one of my unwitting music mentors, Amy Grant, releasing a new album next month ("How Mercy Looks From Here" will be available May 14).  This of course, reminded me about the time my sweet friend, Eric worked diligently with my friend Lionel to arrange a meeting with Amy.  A meeting that was so surreal and meaningful to me that even today, I can not be reminded of it without having to wipe a "happy" tear from my eye.  I am so grateful for the thought and work it took to make that moment happen.  I thought about Amy and her music.  Her strength...that pulled me out of dark and sad times during my childhood.  I know that I've said this before but to see a woman so young writing and commanding a stage...it changed my life.  It changed my direction.

straight ahead

I will be ever in debt to my friend Angela Calhoun for introducing me to "Angels Watching Over Me" and the Straight Ahead album. :)

This led me on a two week course of gratefulness and reflection.  Something that I have spent hours a day on as of late.  The more I got to thinking about how blessed I am, the more faces I could see.  People who have impacted me in such great ways.  People who pushed me to be better and raised the bar of compassion, intellect, thoughtfulness, and encouragement, the list is infinite.

From arranging lifetime meetings, buying cribs, car seats and stollers, replacing stolen Christmas money so I could buy my daughter's first Christmas gifts, hugs and laughs, unexpected letters of encouragement, kicks in the ass that I really need, a surprise coffee, smiles galore at just the right time, a look in the eye that says, "you can do it", a job, Facebook messages that say, "you're better than that.", teachers who make leaving my daughter every day just a little bit easier, French lessons just because, to cleaning my backyard because it looks like a ghetto zoo exhibit <<<yes, that's true, and did I mention laughs?  Your random and not so random acts of kindness and genuine love for me and my family have built a better human being.  Not quite a bionic Jaime Sommers but SUPER close.

And do you know what I love about these people?  If any of them were to read this, they would ask themselves how they got on this list.  These are the humans that act out of goodness.  They show selflessness and without a thought of what anyone else may think,  they just do because they can.

hall of fame

Vicki Peters, Steve and Lori Nance, Michelle Davis, Eric Himan and Ryan Nichols, Erika Hardin and Natalee Pendergraft, Julie Nikel, Lionel Vargas, Stephanie and Joe Christiansen, Cheryl Lawson, Michael and Catherine Ray, Barb Hauxwell, Joel and Kelly Russell, Stacy Acord, CC Lawhon, Kristi Perryman, Virginie Gill Dejour, Staci Walkup, Michael Shoopman, Travis Jackson, Howard Stump, Jessica Butchko, Billy Sauerland, Steven Nix, Kimi Hann and Chris Lieberman, Miranda and Phil Kaiser, Missy Wilson, Chrystal Kelly, Betsy Chase, Courtney and Casey Nichols, Michael and Amanda Mitchell, Janice Sawatsky Sahr, John and Jane Ray, Rebecca Smith, Deke Coop, Stephanie Schrepel, Caleb Taylor, and Jennifer Jako.

To my Hall of Fame:  You have been rocks to lean on and hands to pull me up.  You have been a crutch, a counselor, a clock, a mirror, a party, an icepack, a rope, a map, a compass, a hope, and my teacher.  I have been changed forever (for the good) for knowing you.

Thank you all for your compassion, kindness, and grace. You give me courage and I will never be able to adequately thank you...but it's a start.

MY terrifying reality of "in-laws".

in-law (nlô)

n. A relative by marriage.

I was sharing a funny story today about the video below with a friend of mine and some of the details were about a drive from my house to my in-laws house...which is a pretty good distance.

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Lug_IxFKo8]

Now, I know that when I say "in-law", we all get different pictures in our heads and we've all had quite a bit different experiences as well.  There are jokes galore.

A lot of us have heard the term, "Monster-In-Law" and most of us have seen the movie Meet the Parents.  We get that there's been some less than stellar relationships out there.

So...my story.

I actually have amazing in-laws.  I'll admit that it was a bit rocky at first.  Their eldest daughter comes out of the closet and reveals that she is gay AND is in a relationship with yours truly.  We had our moments as everyone was evolving to this revelation and the true reality of who my partner is...

It's 6 years later and I look forward to the times that I get to spend with them.  They treat me as one of their own and I am humbled and blessed to call them my family.

As I was thinking about all of this and in light of the 2 cases that the Supreme Court of the United States, I came to a terrifying reality.

THEY ARE NOT MY IN-LAWS.

My partner and I are not married.  I've called them my in-laws for years now...it's what everyone understands...it's our social indicator, our culture.  When referring to our spouse's/partner's/husband's/wife's family, they are our in-laws.  These are the words we use but by the very definition they do not represent my relationship with my partner's family.  This was a sad moment for me.  I want to be able to call them my "in-laws" and what its very definition means - a relative by marriage.

With all of this rolling around in my head, it all became clear to me.  Marriage Equality isn't about religion, pro-creation, science, politics, or even love.  We don't say, mother-in-religion, father-in-science, sister-in-love. We say IN-LAW.  Marriage is about protection.  Protection under and by the law.  That's what I want.  That's what I want for me, my partner, my daughter, my sisters, my brother, my parents...and my in-laws.

It's not just about me and my partner...this is about my family.

The Love part?  Well...it's a bonus.  A great and wonderful bonus.

Oscar's statue of frozen vulnerability.

SO...I'm sitting here at midnight on a Tuesday evening watching the Oscars on Hulu Plus.  Congratulations to Hulu for creating such urgency for me to sit here and watch the awards show in it's entirety simply because you said "only one day left for viewing".

Well, here I am blubbering and smiling for all the winners.  I do this because for me, all awards shows bring such inspiration.  I love these shows.  Even the ones with terrible hosts, technical difficulties, and... when my favorites don't win.

I've been beaming for Adele.  It's not because I think that her song Skyfall is the best song ever written.  Nor is it because I think that she is the greatest singer.  Although, I can say without a doubt that I really appreciate the gift of her voice.  She is remarkable.  What I saw tonight was a young woman who stepped out and took a chance to follow what her heart was leading her to do.

I gotta say...I, at different times tonight, went from elated to super pissy.  I was so inspired to write and sing and compose that I got all excited and anxious.  And then...it started to spiral.

I'm just going to throw this out there. I'm really frustrated that I haven't put any music out in a record or single or even freaking cassette tape.  I'm frustrated that I feel like I'm waiting. And waiting. And waiting.  I'm frustrated that I see so many of my musician friends recording all the time.  HOW DO THEY DO THAT?  How are they able to get the people together to learn the music, to go to the studio, to do their part.  How come I can't seem to pull my shit together enough to make this thing happen.  For crying out loud, I don't want to be a superstar.  I just want to write songs and let other people sing them and become superstars.  I'm angry.

Then it hit me.

People might crap all over what I have stressed over and poured over and cried over and shared from my guts.  And then I tried crawling back in my shell.  What the hell.  I realize that this is just a stream of thought but follow me.

It's not about people not liking my music, my voice, or my songs.  I already know that not everyone is going to like my stuff.  Every time I try to write or sing, I hear the voice of a childhood friend tell me that I "shouldn't quit my day job".  I know that even some my closest friends aren't going to like it.  It's just the way things are and I'm really okay with that.

It's about where these things come from....my life, my experiences, my emotion.  Raw and  visceral.  By sharing any part of yourself, whether it be acting, music, writing, painting, blogging, you name it ...when you choose to share this part of you, you lift a veil.  You lift a veil that so perfectly encompasses your ugly, dark, beautiful, and bright self.  You are no longer protected by what shields you.  This scares the shit out of me.  And I mean this in every sense of the phrase.

Vulnerability.  Being vulnerable.  What a tragically horrifying and beautiful thing.

So, Mr. Oscar, you are a statue of sweat, tears, triumph and vulnerability and if I ever get to place my hands on you, may it be because you have frozen my very self into your being.

"You Killed Your Sister".

This is what I was told after the accident that left my little sister burned on over 50% of her 22 month old body.

It was 1977 and I was a sassy almost four year old with a curiously sweet and shy little baby sister.  We were living in a place that has survived only as pieces in my mind's eye.  I don't remember much of my childhood at all.  I don't remember much of anything unless it's a story that's been told over and over again OR if it was something that was documented in a photograph...but this, I have held onto this memory for 35 years.

Sisters

The accident happened when Jammie and I were in a kitchen and trying desperately to find a way to some chocolate donuts on top of a counter. In the midst of our endeavor, a crockpot was knocked off the counter top.  The contents poured down the left side of my sister's head and face, down her left arm, and completely covered her back. I have no recollection of this catastrophic event. All I know of this moment is what I was told. Little Jammie was whisked away and taken to Hillcrest Burn Unit. She wasn't expected to live and what happened to her from that point, we only know from medical records. I am certain that the quick response of our mother is what saved her life. Sometimes we think, that in moments like these, we'll remember all of our training, all of our senses, all of our "know how" and for some, it's true. Regardless of what choices were made in that moment, I will never know how my mom was able to do what she did. Through shock and panic, she saved Jammie that day.

I don't know what happened to me in the moments after the accident. I don't remember anything but the feeling of suffocation.  All I do know is that after absorbing the words, "you killed your sister", my mind shut off.  They tell me that I quit talking and walking.  My mom, who never left the hospital (except for when the orderlies dragged her out so she could "get some rest") didn't know what was going on with me until my aunt told her. Once again, it was my mom that came to the rescue. She took me to a therapist who, at that point said that the only way I would recover is if I knew, beyond a shadow of doubt, that Jammie was in fact, alive.  The ONLY memory I have of any of this tragedy is the moment that I saw Jammie's face. They brought her frail little body to the doors of the burn unit. It was a typical hospital double door with the long and thin rectangular windows. I remember seeing her face through one of those windows and at that moment, a nurse opened the door so that her tiny hand could pass through the opening.  They let me touch her.  It's been 35 years and I still can't recall that instant without tears.

Adults do weird things in times of panic and mayhem. Placing the blame and guilt on my shoulders was one of those things. I need to say that my parents never made me feel guilty or made me feel the blame of the accident. They never uttered the words used to title this post, but when someone did utter those words, it changed my life forever. I walked through our school years hearing the taunts and watching bullies pick on Jammie because of her scars...I also beat the crap out of some of  them. I carried the shame and guilt of this accident for a very long time. Now that we're adults, it's so weird to look back on that time...on all of it. She's such a strong woman. I am learning to be.

It wasn't until Jammie and I attended the World Burn Congress, presented by the Phoenix Society of Burn Survivors that I was able to shake free from an accident that was never my fault. Our time there was very emotional...we were forced to take a look at a very hard time of our lives...parts that had holes, stories with pieces missing. She and I were able to put the together some shattered, broken parts of ourselves. I learned that Jammie had moved past the accident way before I ever thought possible. She taught me that I am a survivor too. That it was ok that I survived. She also reminded me that we were just babies and that neither of us could possibly be held accountable for the accident. I was able to take a look at 4 year old Angel that still hid deep down inside and tell her that everything will be ok. That everything IS ok. That it was an accident. A terrible accident.

So...a chunk of my life that I carry, but that I no longer have to carry so harshly.

I don't know why I share this story now...maybe it's because my own little one is coming upon the age that Jammie was when all of this happened. Even now, it's kind of hard to look at my daughter and see how little she is, knowing that Jammie had to brave such a travesty with that same tiny frame.

I am so proud of Jammie. I am proud of the woman she has become. She is a brilliant writer, a fascinating mother, a cherished part of my heart.

For more information on Phoenix Society of Burn Survivors click here: www.phoenix-society.org.  To discover the unbelievable talent that is my sister, click here: jammiekern.com

Sure, I'll jump off this cliff...and hope I make it.

Yes.

Allow me to define it for you.

yes - adv. : It is so; as you say or ask. Used to express affirmation, agreement, positive confirmation, or consent.

1. An affirmative or consenting reply. 2. An affirmative vote or voter. tr.v. yessed, yes·sing, yes·es  To give an affirmative reply to. interj. Used to express great satisfaction, approval, or happiness.

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Here's my thought:  I've been knocking around the idea of new ventures for years now but I've become quite complacent with my job and content with the security that comes with it.  Back in the day, I thought that I was a super hero of sorts and because of that, took on adventure after adventure without ever having blinked an eye.  I thrived on adrenaline and the "sport" of travel.  Before I was 25, I had discovered 13 countries for myself and lapped up every cultural morsel the world had to offer.

After returning to America, I took on my first dream job and worked as a minister for 4 years (I know, I know...I was a Rev. and some of you are giggling).  After realizing that I didn't fit into the ministry culture, I resigned that position to work at my next dream job...graphic designer.  Here's the dealio, I've been doing graphic art for 12 years and moved into an Art Director position 8 years ago.  I freaking love it.  In the midst of doing this graphic design stuff, I became a member of an indie rock band called Eric and the Adams. That was four years of adventure, travel and creativity all wrapped into one.  Crazy town.

The last 6 years of my life, I have become happily engaged, bought a home, was the drummer in a rock band, had a child, raised money (not because I'm amazing but because my friends are) for a solo album, worked on tour with a phenomenal musician - learning the hard work of a stage hand, and now....

Well.  Now what?

The message of what I'm trying to convey is that all these humbling opportunities came to me and I had to make a decision.  What do I say?

"Angel, would you like to travel all over the world?"

"Angel,  would you like to come work for me as a graphic artist?"

"Angel, would you like to be the drummer in my new band?"

"Angel, will you record your music?"

"Angel, will you marry me?"

YES!  I said, "Yes."

Things have been a little strapped because of the way the economy has fallen and I have found myself scrambling to make ends meet.  With that and the very real fact that I mentioned earlier that I just don't fit the culture of where I am. I realize more everyday that I don't fit into the traditional role that a patriarchal socially structured environment would want me.  I need to redirect my path.

I have been looking for a way to open doors for myself so that I can step into a new phase of life.

Not too long ago, I was given an opportunity to take a class at a community college here in Tulsa.  It was a radio class.  The class was paid for...all I would have to do is enroll and show up.  If any of you have known me for long, you know that I really enjoy entertaining (when I was younger, I would practice my award speeches out in the yard - I've accepted countless Emmys, Tonys, Oscars, and Grammys).  Here's the sad part...I got wrapped up with too many things that don't matter, instead of focusing on the stuff that will get me on track.  I didn't say, "Yes".  This class would have gotten me on track.  It was my next step and I missed it.  Have you ever done that before...a few weeks later you wish you could go back in time and slap yourself out of your slumber?  Things change for me when I say yes.  No more missed opportunities...

SO, I'm in full preparation of a new chapter...a new "dream job".  I'll work diligently at my 9-5er until I can fully step out on my own but let me tell you this...it is not without fear, anxiety, adrenaline, and hope.

My partner and I have a running joke from a familiar cliché.

The cliché?  "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it".  Our variation?  "We'll jump off that bridge when we come to it."

I'm lucky to have a partner who supports my ever growing need to push the boundary, break the glass ceiling, smash socioeconomic class, and jar the mindset of poverty.  I'll happily jump off this cliff.  I've jumped off of so many and it has taken me to places I've never dreamed.  My way of opening doors for myself is to say, "Yes".

SO, I say yes to the things ahead.

Words For My Eulogy

There’s a guy in Tulsa, Oklahoma who is one of our city’s nicest.  His name is Jeremy Charles.  I don’t get to spend a lot of time with Jeremy now that he’s nearly super famous and now that my band no longer exists but, he is still someone that I treasure.  I spend a lot of my social media time creeping his photographs and catch myself grinning at the mere fact that one of the good guys are being treated so well in this universe.  He’s one of those creatives that keep me on my toes to do better…to be better.

Yesterday, while getting caught up on my Twitter, I caught a picture taken by Jeremy at the recent KISS/Motley Crew concert at our beloved BOK Center.  As are most of Jeremy’s photos, this was extraordinary.  However, it wasn’t his photo that caused me to stare into empty space for the next 5 minutes, it was his words.  On two separate occasions, he used words that changed my guts, or what my mom calls my “knower”.  You know that place that exists in you where you “know that you know that you know that you know”?  Yeah, that place lit up…like it was on fire.

I started thinking about the greatness of these words and I realized that if I want these words to be mine…if I want these words to ever be used to describe me then I had better start fitting inside their definitions.  In this case, it was used for KISS and them being titans of rock and their empire of success.

To be known as a titan of anything or be equated to having anything remotely connected to the word empire…can you imagine that?  My mind started racing…the kind of racing where I’m certain you could hear whistles and clacks of train tracks.

I think that I’ll start writing my eulogy and once I get it, it should be a piece of cake…right?  Working backwards from the answer in math was a flawless technique...as long as you freaking understood math.  Let’s pretend that I’ve got my mind wrapped around this universe and go from there.

What do I want for my life, my legacy, and how do I get it?  It only makes sense to start conforming to the words I want people to use to describe me.  Today is the day.  However, it's not just "the day" for me...it is for you as well.  And I'm curious...what are the words you want in your eulogy?