five years

okay, so i realized after i'd posted a photo of emre's brother at one am yesterday that it may have been more appropriate to post a picture of emre, considering yesterday marked five years that we've been a couple and all. that's makes five years and 8 days that we've lived together. don't know that story? another time.

so five years. wow. i thought i'd post some photos from our picture perfect romance (taken recently by abbie during her nyc visit).

what? that's not romantic? it's just like sleepless in seattle around here every day!

um, so maybe if you've met one or both of us you may have noticed that we're a wee bit stubborn. it's our biggest debate: which one of us is more stubborn. this question never gets resolved because neither one us of will back down from our position that it's the other. i think that makes it a tie. but don't tell emre i said that. he's totally more stubborn than i am!

so being that the world and our world has been upside down and chaotic lately (and by lately i mean for the past three years), i wasn't sure if he'd remember our anniversary. no one had mentioned it, but there it loomed. i asked about his evening plans a few days ago and we decided it would be nice to go out to dinner, but of course, neither one of us would say why, sure we'd catch the other forgetting.

when we met at the subway he wore a smirk and handed me a rose. and suckka!--i pulled out a hand picked assortment of nine truffles from max brenner the bald chocolate man and he nearly fell over right there on a pile of locked up hipster brakeless bicycles as the neighborhood prophet yelled at us exactly how the world would end.

okay, better?

ah, the joys of long term love

when labels are being passed out, you may choose to call me a commitment-phobe, considering i've expressed that marriage is not my personal calling and having kids does not interest me. however, you would be wrong. i've spent a startling short portion of my adult life single. more accurately, i have been called a serial monogamist. this means i've followed one long term relationship with another and another. this is not what i've consciously looked for. in fact, i quite enjoyed being single. but what can i say, i'm a libra. i fall in love. and i stay.

this has give me the unique opportunity of being observed very closely in that way that only someone who has woken up beside you for many many years can feel comfortable expressing. generally, from the outside, these observations seem rude. perhaps sometimes they are. like micha, who told me that my spine resembled that of a greyhound, or nicknamed me 'huge' to counter his 5'6" napolean complex.

but mostly i think they are just born out of pure, boring, in depth and involuntary research. and often they make me laugh.

last night emre told me that i swallow 'wrong'.

me: wrong? how do i swallow wrong?

e: well, it's mostly when you're drinking soda or beer. i've noticed this with girls since i was a little boy. they don't know how to swallow soda or beer in the correct way.

me: wait, you've been noticing the way girls swallow beer since you were a little boy. who were these beer swilling turkish little girls?!

usually emre can recognize when he's totally cracking me up to the point that i feel the need to share it with the internet. but not last night. dead serious. which made it all the funnier as this conversation stretched on for fifteen minutes.

and now i can't swallow without listening for my lack of finesse as pointed out by my correct-swallowing boyfriend.

mr. fish

rented a fisheye lens today so i could photograph the shop for a promotional article. they are so much fun...
just love the slight warp to the guitar neck.

and okay, just in case you didn't know, let me let you in on the pun (while destroying the humor in it for those of you who do know): emre's last name means 'fish' in turkish. get it? mr. fish? fish eye lens. oh i'm too funny.

birthday boy

thirty-one.

the markers of identity

homework due today: photograph someone else as you.

what an interesting assignment! i was immediately excited by it--an unusual reaction to an assignment. my usual internal response to homework, specifically in photography classes is dread. lame, i know. what does this say about me as a photographer? answer: i'm terrified of living up to others' expectations. what do i do?!

with this one, though, i knew just what to do. emre. my lover as me. simple. on the couch.

then i reconsidered. it seemed like a cheap shot. dress a man in drag. well, i'd use a woman if she were my lover, but a man is what i got.

i felt lazy though, imagining the hyper-creativity and uber-impressive technique twists my classmates would employ to approach this assignment. but then i scolded myself for judging by comparison, just as i would discourage a friend in doing. sure, it's great to be inspired by others, but to abandon my very clear inspiration out of a feeling of inadequacy just wouldn't do. let me be inadequate, but let me be myself.

am i just making excuses? regardless, i was excited. as i said, such an interesting assignment. i was forced to distill my own identity markers. at least superficially, physically, what represents me? i discovered that these physical markers are not necessarily strictly superficial. even if you shop only at old navy, it still says something about your personality. these are conscious choices--expressions--i should say.

so i started out by giving my long red wig a haircut. this wig is leftover from my highly successful jessica rabbit costume, and has been used so many times by myself and others that it's a knotty mess anyway. no great sacrifice.

selected a nice vintage dress of the kind that stocks nearly half of my closet. a trademark since my teen years.

over-accessorized with jewelry because with me, more is always more.

a touch of make up.red toenail polish. my hands may always be a ragged mess, but you'll find my toes often brightly painted.

the toe ring--a necessity. a nerdy little detail (thanks for noticing, kim!) back in 1995, when i worked at a metaphysical bookstore in good ol' nor-cal, a roaming silver salesman pulled up to my counter with his giant suitcase of glitter and gave me a silver toe ring. i put it on right there in the store and for thirteen years it's never left my toe.

the tattoo is a jackpot. a gorgeous marker. i was amazed at how decently i was able to render it, considering i can't draw to save my life.

the mug? a nod to both my huge desire to sitck my nose in everyone's business in the name of help, as well as my stubbornness and sometimes cocky (!) self-confidence. i admit that i am a strange mix of self confidence and insecurity.

so all of these 'me' details populate the couch where i write, where i read, where i slouch with my laptop. they populate my 'other half'. emre was surprisingly co-operative, as i attempted to costume him in dress after dress and necklace after necklace that wouldn't nearly fit around half of him. he's not the skinny emo-looking guy i met 5 years ago. he only softly mentioned, "you know, i've never done this..." what? imitate your insane, camera-wielding girlfriend? not surprised. no complaints though.
oh. except the wig. the wig! when i put it on him, its synthetic red strands combined with the aggressively, well, aggressive, beard and muscly body shoved into a polyester sheath to look abso-frikin-loutely hideously disgusting! like the most amateur drag queen. like the most pathetic bearded freak show lady (no offense to freak show ladies--surely you all look better than emre did with this wig on).

the wig was bumming me out about the whole project. and emre too.
"it itches! can i take it off while you draw the tattoo?"

okay. okay. already he was agreeably listening to my indie rock whatever i listen to that he hates, to 'channel kitty'. a pretty effective way to force your boyfriend with polar opposite taste in music to listen to yours, by the way. try it sometime. it garnered even less complaints than my old standby--the 'driver always controls the music in the car'. note: this one only works when your boyfriend (like mine) grew up in the city, therefore does not have a drivers license.

so the wig came off. temporarily. and when it did, emre pointed out, "i look more like you without the wig. i mean, we have the same haircut..." true. and really (hopefully), i don't look too much like the drag queen he was conjuring up. so the wig stayed off.
and aha! i decided to use the wig in the shoot anyway. t his was the eureka moment. i would let the wig fall onto the couch below his head area, like i was discarding my red hair, my feminitity. it wasn't emre channelling me, it was me channeling my masculine side, pulling off the mask of kitty....

do you see where i'm going with this? it was the twist i felt i was missing.

and after the tattoo drawing and the extensive coaching of positioning....(can you close your legs? and let me see the tattoo. but not like you're displaying it. oops, and can i see the lettering on the mug, where did the mug go? oh, and foot down so i can see the toe ring. wait, can you close your legs again?)....i forgot about the damn wig. i remembered it when emre was back in his normal clothes and i was wiping the tattoo off with rubbing alcohol. and i imagined the last three hours all for not.and i thought: well, maybe i don't need a twist.and finally, me, the day before, practicing. emre is far more glamorous than me. and prussia? yeah, she refused to pose with emre. she wasn't fooled by the dress. and by the way, this purple dress didn't wrap around half of emre's torso...

don't hate me because i'm going to paradox lake

paradox lake has become a sort of mecca for emre and i. could it have been three years ago that ten or so of us first stormed 'the cedars' for a weekend of cabin improvement and beautiful water? emre and i are so grateful that the cedars is still a destination for us. we're lucky that chelsea calls us up every year and says, "the adirondacks are calling us!" oh yes they are. and we're on our way. to share in our joy, to reminisce or to feel envious, check out a few photos from that introductory trip below.
missing kiyomi and skip a lot right now!



ah! and how could i almost forget the high jinx from last fall starring eddie and emre! check out the boys of paradox lake--a school project photoshop that ran so linearly i had to make a little movie out of the stills...
by the way, one of these 'men' is about to become both a doctor and a father (hint: it's not emre). be very afraid.

everyone's favorite--words of wisdom from emre

in regard to passing up the free wooden bookcase on the sidewalk:

emre: we have a phrase in turkey.
the one whose tongue gets bitten by the hot milk
will eat the yogurt with blowing.

me: very catchy.

you know you're turkish (or just my boyfriend) when....

you can differentiate between black, white, red, green and yellow ground pepper in a dish.
and you have a strong opinion about it.

boyfriend bragging time

you know what i admire so much about emre? he is exactly the opposite of me when it comes to any kind of art project. when i get an assignment--no--when i merely think about taking a class in which i might be assigned projects--i panic. panic. my brain melts. i cry. there can't possibly be a single worthwhile idea in me. and if there is, it's stupid or it's hiding. i'm sure of it. that's how much confidence i have in myself.
emre, on the other hand is completely nonchalanct in such situations, tricking me into thinking that he is underachieving, or he will never finish, never figure anything out. deadlines approach, time runs out and still there is no stress. just out pops something whole, complete and awesome.
this past week when we hosted his father from turkey was no exception. while i was cursing the god's of transport and lack of time, he casually multi-tasked a fall colors family trip up to lake minnewaska--slash--video editing class shoot without nary a mention of his idea in advance. thankfully, it's not only his sister who has a flair for drama. his father, you can see, had too much fun running through the snowy (!) trails at the stunning lake minnewaska while emir and haley patiently stood by freezing, and i bossily scouted locations and shots while emre said, yeah, that's what i'm going to do next. except emre wouldn't say yeah. 'cause his english is better than mine. did i mention that he beats me in scrabble and that's just not fair, considering this is my native language, not his?

since emre had to compress this considerably to get it on you tube, the image is tiny, so try 'full screening' it by clicking the lower right hand icon on the little screen--that was clear--to enter full screen mode. could someone find me a job writing instruction manuals? clearly i've missed my calling. click here for 'feeble' by emre balik.

and by the way, if anyone wondered at my exhausted state of late, maybe you understand a little better now after seeing emre's unstoppable ball of fire dad in action. even this self-approving tour guide can't keep up!

fun quote of the week

emre: "can we throw this soap away? where did you get it? it's terrible--so cheap! it doesn't even foam!"

me: "um...you gave it to me for christmas in my stocking."

emre: "oh."

i'd like to thank god, the academy & evan

this post serves duals duty as:

1) something ridiculous to share with my adoring audience

2) a big fat thank you to evan, who 'loaned' me his canon powershot a95 point and shoot when he upgraded to a gorgeous leica p&s.

why, you ask, would i want a point and shoot when i spend all my loot on my nikon dslr system? the answer is the above photo, taken last night at midnight as emre and i tottled back from our favorite new bar, the mark bar, WHICH HAS SKEE BALL, darts, pool, candyland, an ouiji board and very often FREE FOOD. emre had a true 'beginner's luck' moment, nailing the impossible 100 slot on his first ball, which crushed his heart with each subsequent 10er. the sad news--no tickets for redeeming swirly candy sticks.



anyhoo, in another part of greenpoint, where i don't often tread, we came across the above 'chinese musician' restaurant. wow. what a name. where did it come from? was it opened by a proud chinese musician? can you only eat there if you are a chinese musician? or are the diners graced with the music of a chinese musician? first i had my usual, 'man--i wish i had a camera with me!' moment. my d70s is just to bulky and valuable to tote everywhere i roam in this city. then disappointment gave way to excitement and supreme thanks to evan for the loan. yeah, i suppose, relating to my last post, that a camera phone would do the trick. but did i mention how much fun i'm having with the video?

i just want to mention that the following segment was not coached (except i asked her to repeat it for the camera). one day my friend kim reported that ginger just came out with the following statement, and now periodically declares:

new jersey is for lovers

it's annoying to me that after all of these years i am still the stick-in-the-mud cautious one. i was always the kid who paced uncomfortably while fonta spray painted the inside of that board that came loose on the back of the barn (shame!), whose heart beat out of control when rafter and i snuck onto the grounds of mt. gilead bible camp and drew pentagrams in the sand. i was the goody-two-shoes whining "guys! i don't think this is such a good idea!"
i seem to have been born with a highly overactive sensor for wrong-doing. i never wanted to get drunk, smoke pot, cut class, shoplift, or even walk on the wrong grass. this attitude still resides in me like an unwelcome parasite. why am i the one concerned that emre and emir will break haley's mother's collector plates while they wrestle and do their best bruce lee?
so i decide to throw caution to the wind and join in the horseplay at the botanic garden. i grab emre and pretend to push him into the koi pond he's squatting over, trancing out on the fish. but apparently i actually am supposed to listen to this nagging voice in my head, because instead of laughter ensuing, i get emre's super forceful reflex reaction--a fast elbow in the mouth as he jumps up.
cartoon stars. a little blood. the overwhelming desire to sob. and i guess i can stop saving up for those lip enhancing injections because angie jolie's pout has nothing on me.
born to nag. born to follow the rules. sexy.

i went to new jersey and got punched in the mouth and all i got is the chance to make endless domestic abuse jokes.


emre looking guilty...me--before the swelling took on elephant man proportions--trying to be forgiving, but still looking like i might strangle him. photo courtesy of haley

tile scum, beware!

i may get in trouble for insinuating that it was the first time he'd cleaned the bathroom in our nearly four years living together...but certainly never so thoroughly or with such gusto and whining. baby, can you re-tie the t-shirt around my nose?! i can't breathe! i'm dying! the chemicals! ahhhh!

fun quote of the week

distressed me: "we need to put these boxes out on the fire escape for three days in the hot sun (don't ask why!), but the forecast says it will thunderstorm every other day until we die...."

cute-foreign-boyfriend: "maybe we could put one of those plastic things over it. what is it called....a turd?"

laughing me: "a turd? do you mean a tarp?!"

cute-foreign-boyfriend: "oh yeah--not a turd--a tarp. what is a turd, again?"