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Oh yeah, I am this many today. Whoot.
(Also, how do you like my rap stylins?)
In an effort to "get smaaht" about my new best bud, Steve, I went and got some learnin.
And now, while I "get it", what I don't get is why stuff doesn't "work" when I try "stuff" when I get home.
The class was helpful and I did learn some things that I wouldn't not have found in the manual. And a few had I read a little more ("Oh, so that thing adjusts the shutter speed? Huh, ...how 'bout that?").
For example:
Shoot in the lowest ISO speed possible (that you are able to get away with).
For the love of God, USE A FILTER.
Shoot in RAW + JPEG (which I get why now, but seeing the RAW as compared to the low quality JPEGs, The JPEGs look better to me(specifically the color). WHy? Why is that??)
Reformat your memory card after each uploading to the computer.
Back up your stuff OFF your computer (uh, maybe I sorta already knew this one and just haven't gotten around to uh doing...that. Or buying the thing that backs it up. I've been...busy. Yeah, that's sounds reasonable.)
Naturally, after 3 hours there's more to but it probably doesn't translate into riveting reading.
Anyway, all I can tell you is working in Manual Mode and Depth of Field is going to make me weep. Openly.
On a lighter note, my first "arty" shot with the D80 which looks nothing like I was hoping it would by the way but as is the mantra of most greats (I'm sure Ansel Adams muttered this one or twice under his breath), "fuck it".
I call this "Mother, may I sleep with danger?"
Oh, and the deal with red eye? It is actually the pools of blood behind your eyes being illuminated by the flash. Ew, gross.
inGuess who showed up this week?
Let me introduce you to Steve:
"Ah-lo, my darling. You are so beautiful."
(Yeah, I have no idea why Steve here has a Spanish accent but hey, he seems nice.)
Yes, I got the Nikon D80. Admittedly, I am in a little over my head here. There is so much to this camera and I have a LOT to learn.
Like a lot.
Thankfully my friends and family with have NO problem with me shoving this thing up in their faces whenever I feel like it for the sake of my "art". (Right? ... Ri-iiiight?)
I have a book and I have a class next week. Maybe between the two I can learn how to take indoor photos in a mirror not using a flash AND have it in focus. GEEZ, is that too much to ask??
You ...you complete me, Steve.
I think everyone has to have someTHING about them: a tick, a quirk, a compulsion, and for some of us, an obsession. And it's these "somethings" that we don't want to admit to and so instead we go on about our lives quietly hiding these weird things about us behind closed doors.
Well, enough of that. The time has come!
Here is mine (well, one of mine):
Yes, I am a sneaker addict.
The thing of it is, this doesn't look that bad to me. I mean, that bad. No seriously, I could do a lot more damage if it weren't for limited shoe space.
What does kill me is that there are 2 pairs (top row, far left 2) that don't get worn. And there was another pair that got donated to Goodwill which hardly worn (thank you Marathon Sports for persuading me to buy hundred dollar white "clown running shoes"). I also (stupidly) chucked (in the "make space" movement I was feeling a year or 2 ago) some cranberry colored Adidas Gazelles. DUMB. I'm getting those back! This would have brought the total to NINE.
As with any addiction, each come with it's own unique lame excuse/justification (i.e.bottom row 2nd from right Asics bought in December were "going to make me run faster" and bottom far left Asics purchased in early January are "bouncier" and are my current favorite workout sneak and critical in my choice of footwear: they don't make my calves look fat).
So this is my stupid thing that I seem to be stock piling with no end in sight. What's yours?
View 2, if you were you know, curious (gosh, this is so liberating!):
Also, I still want these. They also come in navy. What is a girl to do?
So it's been Delurk Week all week long and here it is Friday and uh, ...right. So, if you are not familiar with the term, simply put it means you nice people who hit this site on occassion without a gun to your head* and don't ever say "Hey, what up", yeah, you people, I would be very interested hearing from you. Truly. Not even kidding.
*i.e. my sisters
Also:
So please, hook a sister up with a comment (even you, the usual suspects). Maybe add a random fact about yo'self.
(Confidential to Wassau insurance peep, I am esp. curious - Do I know you? Do you know me? Do you, like me, when asked what is it that I do for a living want to make something up like "trapeze artist" or "photo journalist" or "Starbucks barista" (they always seem like happy people, ya know?) rather than explain insurance and/or underwriting to someone? I swear my friend's husband still thinks I'm an actuary.)
Anyway, a slow week over here EXCEPT for one day that I did something which will make for a GREAT FUCKING WEEK (month, year(s)) starting next week and that is all I gotta say about that. And I must leave it at that because, as you know, counting chickens before they're hatched and I'd hate to jinx my future joy. But the post's working title is "Steve", so be on the lookout.
Speaking of slow week, this is as about as exciting as I get (less the "Steve" thing which will totally fucking rule):
One night I went to the gym (true story...no, really) but prior to I was STARVING because, dumbass here skipped lunch. This state left me finding myself in line ordering a really thick slice of pepperoni pizza which is a brilliant idea just before hitting the gym.
Okay, I knew I was playing Russian Roulette here. At a minimum, I was looking at some solid heartburn as I bounced around from exercise to exercise. But I chanced it anyway (btw, this rates up there with the time in high school I downed a McDonald's 2 burger meal deal on the way to a TRACK MEET WHICH BY THE WAY IS NEVER, EVER A GOOD IDEA. DID I MENTION I RAN THE HURDLES??) So after a round of sit ups, I stood up, and the over-quoted "I just threw up in my mouth a little bit" came into play. Gross, I know.
Naturally, this gets me to thinking of that movie Dodgeball and how that line said by that girl really needs to be retired. Sure, it was kinda, sorta funny when she said it, and it makes its point but I read and hear it all the time when someone is offended but honestly? I think it's about time we all move on. Seriously. And besides, "you're about as useful as a poopy-flavored lollipop" should really be getting more press.
This is the kind of shit I mull over/obsess about on the bus ride home.
Anyway, I walk in the door STILL in obsessing mode over the retirement of that line, and what is the first thing I see?
The movie Dodgeball playing on the TV.
I know, I know...y'all just got *chills*.
(See, I told you it's been a slow week.)
Anyway, delurk if you think of it. I would love to hear from ya.
"Damn you, vile woman, you've impeded my work since the day I escaped your wretched womb."
Help me out here: am I cheap or does this happen to everyone?
I workout/run with my iPod. For the past 3 years, my iPod has been my saving grace when it comes working out. It almost makes working out, dare I say, not that bad. And yet, I've been having this problem: the earphones.
I switched out the original earbuds that came with the iPod because I felt like they kept slipping out of my ears. The type I prefer are the kind that go into your ear and have a hook that latches over your ear (looking like a hearing aid). I will admit, I don't spend more than 15 bucks on these deals.
What happens is, after a number of months of use (less than 6) particularly when I am running, though eventually it's a matter of time when it's when I'm walking, and then just sitting, I get shocked. In my ears.
I won't sugar coat it: it hurts.
To the spectator at the gym seeing me run, the scenario they witness is such:
Run, run, run, run, run, ...OW...run, run, OW!..run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, ruh-He-EY!!..FUCK ME, THAT HURTS.... run, run, run, run....
(along with a lot of ear touching, face contortions, and adjusting of the earphones)
If anyone is a Cheers fan, the whole thing starts to eerily take shape of one of my favorite episodes. You know the one where Cliff is trying to secretly rework his personality so that his friends like him more/find him less grating? In that episode, he seeks out a "therapist" who is willing to go to the bar with him, and from across the room, send a shock signal to him every time he says something annoying. The experiment starts out okay, but then the man shocks Cliff accidentally ("Hey! I didn't even say anything that time!") and this is where things begin to unravel for Cliff as starts to annoy the man holding button. By the end, the shock man/"therapist" can't stand Cliff, and chases him around the bar yelling (one of my favorite lines from television), "DANCE, MAILMAN!"
The mailman, he no like to dance.
Let me break it down:
So the thought of actually running without my music is actually so hee-deous an option (thinking, "What is this? The NINETEEN FIFTIEEEEES?" ), that I will continue to try to run while my ears are, you know, being electrocuted. Eventually due to the pain associated with being chronically zapped, I am forced "deal with it". Because the shocks comes at such random intervals, it's hard to say what's going on. And it's in the longer reprieves that suck you in and give way to hope that it's only temporary, that you have some control over it, and it'll go away. Note to all: no, no you don't, and it never does.
Not that any of these answers ever stop me from trying. Oh no! Yeah, I try out a few theories (all of which are PhD-level "or greater") in the hopes of circumventing these mini-electrocutions. First, I try to run LIGHTER (if that makes any sense, which on the one hand kind of does, on the other kind of makes me sound like a total moron), my thinking is that it's my clunky pounding on the 'mill that's the cause. This theory is usually blown to shit after about 30 seconds of pure, sparkriffic hell. Next, I begin to think that it is I that is holding some kind of surplus static charge (if you'll pardon the technical jargon), stop running, touch my hands to the sides of the machine (sometimes in the process shocking myself YET AGAIN), and then jump back on and continue running. Naturally, this also highly regarded scientific theory is blown to smithereens as quickly as method one. Lastly, I try the "well,...it isn't THAT bad", "Martyr-up" (TM), and see how long I can suck up the Bic lighter flicks in my ear canal. It's usually another 30 seconds until I exasperatedly rip the earphones out and throw them over the side of the machine, telepathically communicating (as I wouldn't want to make a scene), "I fucking HATE YOU!"
So, I am either cheap and just need to buy better quality earbud hooks, or I need to quit running and take up yoga.
For the third year in a row now, New Year's Eve for me was spent sipping champagne cocktails, trying meals I've never eaten before at a beautifully decorated table, and announcing resolutions and predictions for the upcoming year {the only real notable in this last category was Meg predicting Pope John Paul II dying in 2005, which not for naught, but uhhh...wasn't he on the way out anyway? I digress...} in the home of my dear friends, Jess & Jeremiah.
The first day of 2007 quite frankly hasn't been all that. I think I'm getting sick, and I only make mention of this because I think this is the Universe's way of flipping me off for even carelessly bouncing around in my mind that, "huh, I don't think I ever got sick in 2006." A back problem, a few sucky hangovers, some soccer injuries, but never sick-sick. So just to be a little punk and sneak in under the wire, the Universe 2006 tapped me on the shoulder all, "A word, madam" resulting me actually being the first to leave J&J's party because I couldn't hang. Pisses me off, that. So for those anticipating pictures of dancing and shenanigans and tomfoolery, I don't have any because I wouldn't know. I had to go home, nurse my sore widdle throat, possible fever and sleep for what would be approximately 18 billion hours. (Seriously, as of 6 p.m. EST I still haven't showered and I'm still in my pj's.) The silver lining, if one is to be had here, is that I am posting a lot and uploading pictures in a more timely fashion and my butt has been fashioned to the couch for most of the day.
As far as resolutions go, I make them. Like the deals I cut at Lent, I try not to shoot for the moon and keep it manageable and measurable, else it wind up an exercise in lip service in front of my friends.
Anyway, here's what I came up with for 2007:
Work on some of my manners... specifically timely Thank You notes (and not just for gifts, proper old school ones) and RSVPing for events that require mailed responses (I'm usually pretty good with the Evites, the others, um, it could be said I have failed parlessly. Not happy about that.).
Get back to writing letters. I used to do this some consistency, but then with the advent of e-mail it's pretty nonexistent. Understand, letters for me aren't these like Rachel's letter to Ross novellas where, "you had rambled on for 18 pages....FRONT. AND. BACK!" but a sincere page or 2 with a few thoughts of one's goings ons and you know, something considered better to get in the mail amidst the bill statements, jury duty summons and Jiffy Lube fliers. Okay, so maybe this resolution is a little self-serving in the hopes I can also get letters. Whatever. I still think it'sa good idea.
Just Do It. I need to MAKE that doctor appointment. (oh, wait, that's right, I need to FIND a new doctor). I need to GET THINE ASS TO THE GYM. I need to CALL that person back. I need to QUIT that bad habit. I need to GET OUT OF BED ALREADY and GO TO WORK. Good God, there is a list, and you bet I procrastinate all of it. Changing my mind set of stop bullshitting/setting myself back. Baby steps, I guess.
Take a photography class. Just because I think it would be fun to learn some new stuff and I feel like I have hit the wall with my current working knowledge.
Buy an SLR camera and retire the Nikon Coolpix 5700 before I throw it across the room smashing a window that I'll only have to replace. I am torn between Nikon and Canon. Nikon's lenses I'm partial to I guess...The Nikon D80 has caught my eye, the D50 is supposed to be pretty great for the buck, abut the Canon EOS Rebel from what I've seen on Flickr is also taking some great shots. Any opinions on this topic are more than welcome.
Take better care of my skin. Okay, age 33 was the year I have seen some noticeable differences, none of which make me want to jump for joy. While I get that change here is inevitable, I don't exactly want to roll over just because of that fact. So, more water I guess (duh, I know but I HAVE cut the soda by a bit and God bless the makers of FIGI Water), SPF moisturizer (doing now, level 30), facials every few months (to-do), and getting a dermatologist (also to-do).
Here are some of the last pictures I took from Year 2006.
(If you want to cut to the chase and skip a few stories, the complete set is here.)
My, look at the size of that head. Like an orange on a tewthpick. Yes, I'm including me. Being that I was camerawoman, there are none of me from the party. I took this actually to test out my new camera's various settings, little did I know that these snaps pre-party would be the ONLY ones of me. Man, I really liked that top, too. Too bad I couldn't get all of it.
Jess, I got a few pictures of the place setting for you for next year...
Our hostess, Jess, who I'd learn made a back up dish with me just in case me and my picky eating sensibilities didn't like the chicken marbella (a Mediterranean dish). As it turned out, I did like the Marbella and backup went untouched. Though I must admit, hearing that she went thru the trouble of a backup dish makes me my heart melt a little. (dude, save it for The OC/The Office night and I will eat all of it!)
Our kind, tall host, Big J.
Bram & Suz toasting to someone's resolution. They are cute, no?
Oh, how I fucking LOVE this one. Meg (with head buried) had made the resolution to get up earlier (and do this and do that and walk the dog...) as she admitted to us all that she GETS UP AT 9:00!! (OMG!!1!) and is in the office for 10:00!!! And she's the head cheese! While Meg's a woman after my own heart in not being a morning person and also being on her side of "that's a soft '9:00', right?", I am with Susan's face on this one. Did I mention she also lives 5 seconds from work?
Truly, girlfriend really has no shame. I will LOVE to see how this plan panned out come December 31, 2007.
Just a cool shot I thought. I think Jer and Peace Corps guy were the only ones drinking this 40+ year old lighter fluid.
Another shot I liked. My friends' tables are always elegant. I could take a few notes from these people. Maybe first step: get a dining room table. No wait, first step GET A DINING ROOM.
Susan horrified YET AGAIN as I believe Jer (attendees correct me if I am wrong here) just used the word "twat". Oh yes, that word was uttered at this fancy table. If memory serves, it was in reference to hoping the Brits and Co. not showing said business by doing the world a favor and buying some damn underwear already. (Who was it that said, "Seriously, how old are you? 'Twat'??")
No seriously, with the group, it isn't offically considered a party until something spills, breaks or both. And don't let Jess' look of intensity fool you, on the inside Mrs. Donna f'n Reed here is giddy to be showing off her Dyson's magical powers. Man, all she's missing here is a strand of pearls and a martini in her free hand for her husband who's surely to be arriving home from work any minute now!
"Tick Tock, Stubborn Clock"... Yep, that's our parting gift right there. Besides being a generous, thoughtful bonus for the night, I love the fact that there's actually a band out there called Say Hi to Your Mom. The song's not bad either.
Well, that about wraps the night up.
Here's to hoping 2007 kicks a little ass for y'all. 