I am in the midst of handling a family tragedy. Believe me, since Sunday evening I now have much to say, just not right now. Know that I'm ok, and I'll have a nice long post within the next few days.

Well, the laptop came home safe and sound from its vacation to the Dell repair center. Still haven't checked to see if the cd/dvd drive works, but I'll get around to it. Anyhoo, it's friday, and I don't have to work tomorrow, which is wonderful. I have been working up to seven days a week between Wally World, Liz, and my own photography gigs.

Dark Haired Girl is finally pretty much back to normal, now that she has recovered from both of her surgeries. It's good to have her back. Not only me, but she says that a bunch of people have described her with the word "glowing". She does now. She just glows.

I bought her a pink Snuggie last night. She LOVES it. :-)

So anyway, I'd talk more, but it's date night. We haven't really had the chance to do that since July, and it's taken a bit of a toll on our relationship. Nothing dramatic, and certainly nothing that can't be reclaimed in short order. I miss canoodling with her, and through her illness and recovery canoodleage has been a rare commodity. Not her fault, and I'm not complaining. I just miss touching her.

I'm at Winan's Coffee down by the Dayton Mall after getting off work with Liz, and have been hearing sirens repeatedly screaming by. I know it's damp outside, and my tires are damn near as bald as drag racing slicks. Dreading the drive back up I75 through downtown Dayton and all of the accompanying perils. They're completely re-doing the highway through town, and the construction redirections have the road less like a highway and more like a slalom course.

Luckily, four new tires for the Mirthmobile, especially with my 10% employee discount, will only be about $220-ish. Now that I've bought all the photo gear that I really need to get my job done, I can focus on saving more and maybe even getting out of Mom's house by sometime in the first half of next year. Still paying off the back rent from Cleveland, but I've finally got it chipped down to about $375. Since I'm still waiting for a recent wedding's print order, as well as sales from the latest group home portrait shoot, I should be able to get some new tires and have Cleveland paid off in no time.

Dark Haired Girl and I are planning to weekend in Cleveland in December when her beloved Steelers come to play the Browns. Equal parts excited and dreading it. I know I'll get emotional, but it'll be nice to see Al at the Creekside and Jimmy at the Clubhouse again. May even stop by to chat with the fine folks at my old employer. Hopefully we'll get some good wind coming off the lake and I can show her the winter surfers at Edgewater Park.

I guess I should go. It's 6:30, this chair is KILLING my butt, and there's a hot chick in Bradford, Ohio waiting to go out with me.

Habemus Laptop!

Well smack my ass and call me Sally... I, your friend and humble narrator have saved up and purchased a new 17" Dell Studio laptop! Dual Core processer, 4 gigs ram, 500 gig hard drive, 16 million displayable colors, and other impressive measurements as well.

And a webcam. Ooh! I have to show you just how hipster I am now. Check this out:



In my defense, my Mom and Chuck just got back from a trip to The Bahamas about three days ago, and they brought me back the hat. A Jamaican rasta hat. Made in Guatemala. From the Bahamas. With a nifty little stash pocket. Currently it holds a couple of CF cards.

Naturally, not all is 100% well in Andyland. The CD/DVD drive would not accept discs, and when it finally did, it would not read them. The laptop also had a mysterious rattle when shifted from side to side. In a live chat with Dell's customer support (which was awesome, by the way), a small white wire popped out of the drive. I had the tech turn on the webcam, and I held it up. He immediately said they'd replace the drive. So he's sending me a box, and I'm shipping it back to Dell for repair. For a week and a half, I'll be laptop-less again, but hopefully it won't take the full 7 business days to repair and ship back.

I lobbied him for a free upgrade to a lightscribe drive for my troubles, but I fear my plea fell on deaf ears. I'll attach a note to the unit for shipping, in hopes that the laptop falls into the hands of a more sympathetic repair tech. I REALLY want a lightscribe. Really really really.

---

Otherwise, I'm working my butt off six days a week, and sometimes seven if I've got weekend shoots like my wedding last week, and a group home day coming up on the 10th. I'll post photos when I transfer data onto this computer.

So, yay! I'm back online for a little while anyway, then I'll be off, then on again for good.

---

P.S.
I think that political commentator James Carville



is actually an alien.

I am so close to a laptop that I can taste it. ... and while a laptop's flavor may leave something to be desired, the idea of having a mobile computing platform of my own is delicious proposition indeed!

I love this time of year... the first day of autumn has passed, I'm waking up in the morning all bundled up in my blanket, and we're nearing this blog's anniversary. Yep, the 26th is ISoTRoT's fifth birthday.

Incidentally, since the inception of the title "In Search of That Rarest of Treasures", I have never made an acronym of it. Who'd'a thunk that it would make a pronounceable word?

Isotrot. Hmm... Sounds like some new slipper from Isotoner.

So, if I even have a single reader left, I promise... well, no. I don't promise, but I give you a 100% definite MAYBE that I will again rejoin the online world within the next few coming weeks.

Keep your fingers crossed and don't let go till then, ok?

(not so) Quick Update

Well, I'm typing this from an unlikely place: the waiting room at our local hospital. Don't be alarmed... Dark Haired Girl had surgery on her bladder, and the doc just came out to tell me that all went well, and that she's chillin' like a villain in the recovery room.

Ok, so he didn't say chillin', but you just know the anesthesiologist has her stoned off her ass right now.

The nurses who were prepping her for surgery thought we were married and kept referring to me as her husband. When they left, she and I just grinned at each other. The sound of that really wasn't hateful at all.

---

So, yeah. I've been trying but can't get on Blogger at home. I have a big shoot Saturday the 5th, the proceeds of which will go toward a laptop. It's become a straight-up bitch to be a digital photographer without one. Full tower desktop PC cases with CRT monitors aren't exactly the most portable of creatures. Once in my posession, which I'm hoping will be within September, I'll resume my online presence.

I miss talking to you guys. I think all these great thoughts, but have nowhere to put them, and as soon they arrive, POOF! they dissipate. I started the other night on my latest project, which I hope to turn into a book. The working title is "Steel Reserve, a Love Affair."

If you've never had Steel Reserve malt liquor, it's a real treat. Think of the last time you drove past a freshly road-killed skunk. Now take that, add alcohol, and put it in a shiny 22-ounce aluminum can.

Somehow, I managed to acquire a taste for it. Any reasonable explanation as to why still eludes me, but it happened. Anyhoo, one night Dark Haired Girl took a sip of it, and her face wretched and twisted in ways I didn't know faces could move. She looked like a butter sculpture left in the sun too long.

Once I picked myself up off the floor, regained my breath, and returned from the vaguely purple color I had laughed my ass into, I was immediately inspired to create a series of photos. The first two were taken Tuesday night, Shaggy and Blonde Haired Girl. I haven't laughed so hard in months. Wasn't expecting to be online, so I don't have any web-sized previews to show you. You're in for a real treat...

---

Speaking of Tuesday, it was my 31st birthday. I've really downplayed things this year. I don't know, turning 30 was fun, but the prospect and lead-up to this one (and probably most hereafter) has been markedly dreadful. Yes I, your friend and humble narrator, have acknowledged and begun to feel my mortality.

---

So, the Spanish Learning is going well, I'm really trying to train my brain to stop thinking in French (leftover from high school) and start generating original thoughts in Spanish. Mystery commenter of several posts prior, feel free to leave more titillating tantalizing tongue-twisting translational tidbits.

Hi all. I decided to go (after a fair bit of research and some advice during an unexpected encounter with a weird new-agey healer) to embark on a regimen of B vitamins and this stuff called 5-HTP, which I gather is the amino acid your brain uses to create seratonin, the "feel good" chemical. Thus far, it has done a decent job of taking the edge off of my anxiety. My teeth feel better as I have greatly reduced my jaw clenching, and I simply don't feel so damned uptight about work as I had been. Subtle effects, but noticeable.

Of course, it doesn't help that at this time last year, I was living in Cleveland with a career and adult life steaming full speed ahead like an ore freighter across Lake Erie. I felt like I had my life ahead of me then. It doesn't feel much like that now... more like somehow the best that life had to offer has already come and passed by, and now it's just down to existing from day to day. But deep down I know that's not really true.

At least I have a job, albeit part time and with the Evil Empire. After two rounds of layoffs at my store alone, as well as the last remaining Fortune 500 company (NCR) in the city of Dayton now having announced plans to leave town within the next year, a whole lotta people can't say that. That, and Liz wants me to work more hours with her. I haven't lost my perspective on things, which is why although it sounds like I'm all boo-hooing and full of despair, at worst I'm really just kinda bummed about the state of things, and am otherwise keeping my chin up, riding my bike a lot, losing weight, and getting some SEXY-ass muscular legs. ;-)

I still have the slow trickle of occasional gigs coming in, which helps quash the feeling that I've lost my profession. That's my worst fear. Worse than spiders.

eek.

---

I did something the other morning which I haven't done in what feels like a very long time... I took pictures. Not for a gig, but just because the spirit moved me to do so, which is something I haven't felt in a good while. I had woken up early at Dark Haired Girl's house to go home and get dressed for a day working with Liz, and was stunned by the scenery of sunrise over the misty fields of her father's farm.







It felt good having even a fleeting moment of inspiration, like meeting an old friend again.

That Rarest of Treasures?

For starters, let me say just this: I am on an internet connection so PAINFULLY slow that I have played four full games of solitaire (and won two) in the time it has taken this page to load. Every single page loads at about this same rate... on a good day. Some days, it's not even worth hitting the reload button ten times.

I was just laying in bed, sleepless so late now that my alarm clock will be going off in about five hours. I hate having to get up at 3AM.

There has been some psychological weirdness going on at my end of things, and yesterday I made an appointment for August 20th with the local Free Clinic's absolute SAINT of a volunteer psychiatrist. I realize now the extent to which I have anxiety issues, and they really came to smack me in the face this past weekend.

I damn near had a panic attack friday afternoon at work as I was told how many multiple extra dozens of donuts were needed for the following Saturday morning. Simple donuts. Freaking DONUTS! And I was creating more drama than a teenage girl whose boyfriend just dumped her for the cheerleading squad captain. I mean, I fell to a million little pieces. Dark Haired Girl came to visit me and drop off my phone that I left at her place, and her first words were "Oh my God, what's wrong?? Your face looks horrible!" I was in the thick of a totally inappropriate and uncalled-for "flight or fight" physical response.

Then Saturday, As I was headed to Liz's wedding (!!! Story to follow when I have more time) I found that even in a car with the air conditioning cranked at full blast, I was sweating buckets and wanting nothing more than to turn around, go home, and curl into a little ball. I was scared to death at the idea of being around so many people, whether familiar or not.

It became clear to me that my anxieties had become a major hindrance to my everyday functioning.

Then I had the lightbulb, epiphany, eureka revelation: My life is ruled by anxiety. Suddenly, I looked back on the last 25 of my 30 years, beginning with the shy kindergartner and elementary school student who would rather bum around in the corner of the playground or swing staring at the ground or sky rather than suffer the fear of having to try to play with the other kids. Then I moved on to high school, where I joined only two clubs, both of which I quit because I couldn't handle the pressure and responsibility of belonging. And math class. OH MY GOD, math class.

The only reason I'm not a brain surgeon or subatomic particle physicist right now is the such horrible anxiety over math class, which triggered and exacerbated my ADD trips and complete lack of ability to focus over the frustration and fear of numbers, that I in my senior year couldn't even pass ALGEBRA amongst all the freshmen and sophomores who could.

I used to (and sometimes still do) get heart palpitations. Once in my sophomore year, my heart was flip-flopping so bad that I went to the emergency room and spent time in the hospital.

And my marriage! Fear, anxiety, fear, anxiety, fear, anxiety, fear and more anxiety. By the time I got out of that mess, beaten down worn thin as cellophane, it's a wonder I hadn't already suffered a heart attack.

I am a photographer. I take pictures. That's my chosen profession, and admitted obsession in life. Yet, I DREAD photo assignments. My first reaction to the proposition of a new gig is a huge surge of terror. Fight or Flight. I have to force myself to say yes, and while I'm there, I'm mentally hanging on by barely a thread. It's not a confidence issue. I know I'm good. But for some reason, I get this unchecked anxiety that causes a little mental breakdown, which causes more anxiety, thus snowballing into a total shit-storm in my head when I'm supposed to be the college trained and degreed professional. That's straight fucked up.

My entire life has been (and to a degree is still being) dictated by anxiety and fear. That's why I'm a thirty year old boy still living with his mother and working part time at Walmart with no workable career to speak of. I'm sick of it, the prodigious self-medication with alcohol, and I'm going to do something about it.

My social anxiety has caused me to drop contact like a hot potato with more dear friends than I dare count. You've no idea the guilt I've felt. Oh, the guilt. And remorse.

This blog is titled "In Search of That Rarest of Treasures". I never mentioned exactly what that rare treasure is because I've never really known. It's always been one of those situations where I've not been able to find any answers because I've not even known the question. I think I have a better idea now, and that treasure may just be those ever-so-fleeting moments of clarity where my mind is unfettered, and is free to shine like the sun, like it should.

Things will get better. Just bear with me.

With the aid of my trusty stepfather Chuck, I installed an air conditioner in my bedroom window. This presents many problems, leading this to be the first summer since my divorce and subsequent move back into Mom and Chuck's, that the unit has graced my sill since the late 90's. For starters, I have one of those windows that slides side-to-side. Therefore, I had to grab a tape measure and scientifically guesstimate the size of the hole that needed filling (stop giggling!) and go to Lowe's and buy a treated plywood board. Well, after a good long afternoon's struggle that involved me climbing a ladder to the garage roof outside my bedroom window, and Mr. Chuck entering my greatly embarrassing disaster area of a bedroom, we managed to vaguely wedge in the air conditioner and WELL out of proportion board.

It is now no longer hotter than the ninth circle of hell in my bedroom, although it remains as unsightly.

Well, it's getting hotter. See, this house was constructed with materials and electrics that I can only describe as shoddy, at best. God bless the thankfully out of business Federal Pacific and their pieces-of-shit breaker panels. This from a former (briefly, in the early 2000's) electrician's apprentice.

So I have to turn it off to run the computer, lest I overload the notoriously "no trip" breakers and either trip the damned thing well prematurely, as was the norm back in the day, or else spark a towering inferno causing me to have to jump out of the house in my birthday pajamas.

And the last thing this neighborhood needs is a 285 lb naked guy running around.

---

I don't think I've told you yet.... I'm teaching myself Spanish. I'd been wanting to continue learning since working at Chipotle and picking up healthy-sized bits and pieces of it from the Mexican workers. Now, you have no idea the resistance and even subtle hostility I have received from people for this. One glance at me with a Spanish Basics book, and on several occasions I have been greeted right of the bat with a terse "They should learn English."

Gotta love small-town midwest Ohio. Anyhoo, I actually can think of a whole host of good reasons for this:

1) I'm jealous as hell of people who can speak more than one language.

2) I'm fucking sick and tired of obsessing over photography. My brain needs something else to chew on, and this new hobby is a God-blessed relief. I picked up a Spanish-language edition of People Magazine, and with the help of online dictionaries learned that Maybelline's new mascara brush will give your eyelashes the boldest look, as luscious as patent leather. You learn something new everyday.

3) It's actually very therapeutic. The self-discipline and the openness to learn that it requires has improved my mental sharpness, and has greatly extended my short term memory span to just slightly longer than that of a goldfish.

4) The Latina women at La Raza, a Hispanic grocery store here in Troy with attached foodservice trailer, are hotter than hell. ...and now I have an excuse to flirt with them aside from just stopping by for lunch. I do recommend, though, the chicken burritos and the tacos with chorizo-beef combination. Cilantro, queso, sour cream, a generous splash of their homemade hot sauce, and a squeeze of fresh lime juice. ¡Damn!

5) From a business standpoint, whether with my own photography, at Liz's studio, or even at Wally World, I want to be able to provide customer service to Hispanic customers who may not be quite fluent in English.

6) Since I volunteer my photography for the United Way, I thought it would be nice to also be able to volunteer my time at their HelpLink hotline once I become somewhat fluent.

7) There is an ever increasing Hispanic and Spanish-speaking population here, due to the transient workers who pass through this area, as well as the many new citizens. Yes, they should learn English. English is a beautiful and vibrant language. But I'm not going to be a total dickhead like everybody else and stand here all stubborn with my arms crossed expecting them to linguistically come to me. At Chipotle, each of the immigrant citizens were in their own personal phases of learning English... some like Fabiola took to it readily and went from basic vocabulary to fully conversational in less than a year. Some like Nallely struggled with its intricacies. English is a difficult language, and I felt irresponsible for not being able to meet them halfway. Latino immigrants are an invaluable (and permanent) part of America's ever changing cultural landscape. It's unforgivably ignorant, and just plain wrong not to be able to both teach and also learn from them.

I'm sure that any number of things I just said could be construed as politically incorrect or even offensive, but fuck it. You all know I speak from an honest (albeit characteristically naive) place in the spirit of brotherhood and good will. I'm not on some crackpot crusade to "save the poor Mexicans". I just want to embrace the new facet of America, hopefully make some new friends, and have fun in the process. :-)

---

I have to be up at 3 to make doughnuts, and I'm late getting to bed.

Buenas noches, y sueños dulces mis amigos.

Fifteen Hundred blog posts, and not one mulberry to speak of.

Of course, I'm absolutely sure that you, dear reader, upon first glance at the above map said to yourself "Self, that is undoubtedly a political map of Europe in the year 1500."

And bien sûr, you are correct. I'm proud of you. "But why?", you may be asking yourself.

Well... as I logged onto Blogger, I noticed the dashboard statistic stating that as of my last post, I had written 1,499 blog entries. So here we are. 'TREASURES' POST ONE THOUSAND FIVE HUNDRED!!

Seriously. Have I nothing better to do with my time?

---

I have noticed a disturbing trend in the evolution of the English language. Before, it was the gross abuse of the word "literally", as in those irritating motherfuckers who literally use the word literally in, like literally, every goddamn sentence.

This blight has begun to wane. I am pleased. But, as Kathleen Turner said in 'Romancing the Stone' "... but bastards have brothers who seem to ride on forever."

The phrase in question: "At the end of the day"

I mean, seriously! Listen to NPR. This toxic virus of an idiom has infected English speakers everywhere, from China to America to India to Iraq to South Africa. More often than not, twice in one sentence!!

OMG, it was such a wonderful way of stating a summary... a boiling down of nonsense into a simple continuum... but it's been thoroughly abused ad-fucking-nauseum!

---

It has been brought to my attention that on a recent road trip involving Dark Haired Girl, Blonde Haired Girl, and their late teenage daughters, that a particular game was played whereby the participants in turn add one word upon another to form sentences. It was also brought to my attention that subjects of said game (played in a car full of bored women) were almost exclusively of an, *ahem* adult nature...

... often (but thankfully not centering around) the topic of my less-than-impressively-sized member. Most men would freak out and start begging the nearest plastic surgeon for possible options, but I actually am kind of ok with this. See... I once found a dusty long-expired condom in one of Dark Haired Girl's junk baskets. It was a Trojan Magnum...

X L

I unwrapped the damned thing and rolled it over my hand and forearm, nearly half way to my elbow. Upon interrogating Dark Haired Girl on this, she stated to me flatly that before I was in the picture, just about every guy she'd been with was Magnum XL-sized.

Any normal man would freak the hell out at that point, but not I.

Instead, I realized that I am a dorky white guy of statistically average size (yes, I've measured and researched), and yet have managed to satiate and otherwise blow the mind of a woman who has had chewed up and spit out other men with dicks enormous enough to make a porn star blush with envy. And Blonde Haired Girl jumped to my defense with just that reasoning during the story game.

You tell me that isn't one HELL of an ego booster for I, your friend and humble stud muffin.

---

On a more sensitive note, there has been a baby robin living in the vicinity of my back patio. I first saw it in a tree, and got a wonderful closeup photo of it. Just a few days ago, it was perched on the patio railing. Again I grabbed the camera as Momma Robin was nearby with a mulberry in her beak, and I stood perfectly still so as not to spook her, and to take pictures as she hopped closer and fed her baby the berry. Then, only two days ago, it was perched on the bird bath. As Shaggy and I walked by only inches away, the little avian bambino just watched us walk past, and then looked up at me and opened its bright yellow mouth as if to say, "Well, don't just stand there. Feed me something."

I have to say, its trust in me was deeply moving. I felt really guilty for not having any treat to give.

---

Uh-oh. Lightning. Time to log off and unplug the computer.

G'night.

Nikon, NASCAR, Rush Limbaugh, and Darth Vader...

I just finished watching the NBC special on a day in the life of the Obama White House, and I have to say it was a fantastic PR piece. Not like I needed it. Just the other day the President was on NPR and I realized just how comforted I was by his voice. I used to claim that hearing Dubya annoyed me, but not until recently, within this new Barack context, have I grasped the full extent of the emotional distress that the mere sound of the prior President's prattle invoked. I now fully admit that listening to President Bush speak was about as agonizing as being anally impaled by a rod of splintered balsa wood.*

While we're on the topic of politics, I would appreciate if Mr. Limbaugh would either run for office or shut the fuck up. Of course, he'll do neither. There's far more financial gain to be had in hiding behind his "e-i-b golden microphone" than there is in any congressional lobbyist handout(s). Much like Barack, I take Rush (and all the other famous talking heads, Dem or GOP) like a WWE wrestler. It's all an act, and they all have their little testosterone soap opera parts to play. Of course he doesn't really possess the courage of his convictions. But hey, that's the beauty of capitalism, and part of me has to admire his hustle. There's always a Darth Vader-esque Yang to the fairer Yin. Oh well. C'est le capitalisme Américaine.

One thing about the Barack TV special, though: Throughout, to accentuate the energy and hipsterness of his 20something west wing staff pool, they repeatedly played an upbeat and catchy disco-like bit of pop music... which just happened to be the intro to The Ting Tings' breakup anthem "Shut Up and Let Me Go".

Hmm...

---

There was also a commercial for NASCAR depicting an automobile race with the sound of thundering horse hooves. That's all well and good, except that I seriously doubt that when a stock car blows a tire, they put it to death. Fucking Kentucky Derby.

---

Liz had me follow her on a location portrait shoot today, and gave me her second camera with which to shoot alongside her. You have no idea how wonderful it felt to hold in my hands and operate a premium Nikon D2x camera. Recently, I (your friend and humble narrator) have to admit to a sense of losing that lovin feeling with regards to photography. I just don't have the oomph that I once did to take pictures of the random crap surrounding me here in Podunk Ohio. Perhaps because I now have a deep seated grasp and understanding of the once esoteric principles of composition, light, color, exposure, depth of field, etc., the fascination is lost on me. There's no mystery.

I dunno.

But today was an amazingly liberating experience... a catharsis, if you will. To work with Liz creating her (and now, my) brand of high-end professional portraiture is to take every bit of my valuable experience gained at Woodard in Cleveland, strip away all of the cookie-cutter-picture-factory rules, rigidity, regulation, and otherwise bullshit that they leveled on me stifling my creative process, and let her Nikon sing in my OIP trained hands as a violin in the caress of a Juilliard-disciplined musician.

(Oh, the drama!)

We, dear readers... you and I... are on the ground level of something big. I can feel it.

:-)

___

* 1000 bonus points (and a congratulatory "shame on you") to whomever can identify the artist and song title of the preceding reference.

Anti-WHAT powder??

Thanks for the great comments on the last post, y'all. Shutterbug, it's always especially nice to hear from you. :-)

---

Well the switch to Boost Mobile, and their awesome $50/month unlimited plan (which I have been talking up nonstop to people whether they want me to or not), has an unplanned and pleasant side effect: I got on Motorola's site and found a way to use my phone as a modem. A free dial-up provider later, and I'm back on the internet! Now, this access is only about half the speed of normal dialup, mind you, but it's the internet nonetheless, and from the comfort of my own home. Yay!

For about the last three or so weeks I have been working part time for Liz, and that seems to be going well. I'd really missed hanging out with her. We'd initially discussed going full-time beginning in June, but that got put on the back burner. For now, I'm still doing the whole work-with-Liz-on-my-days-off-from-Wally-World routine. I must admit I kinda like the pace of the schedule, and the pay is nice. I'm now basking in the warm glow of a buzz from Guiness instead of Milwaukee's Beast.

I've really gotten into bicycling lately, and have on several occasions ridden my bike the 19 miles out to Dark Haired Girl's place just outside of Bradford, Ohio. I was hoping to enter the Strawberry Festival's bike tour this next weekend, but they shifted my schedule around at Wally World and I now work Sundays. I can still do the route later, they paint markers on the roads. I just wanted to experience the camaraderie among the riders, as well as the frequent stops with water and carb-y fuel snacks like doughnuts and bagels and bananas and whatnot. There's still the one Mom and Chuck go to every year in August... the Amish Land and Lakes tour up north. It always sounds like such a blast, so I'm dead-set on going with them this year. Should yield some great photo ops as well.

Anyhoo, I broke down the other day and bought a pair of tight stretchy spandex-y bike shorts. They're really nice because they don't bunch up, they've got a nice soft chamois on the inside for your undercarriage, and gel padding on the outside. It was awkward as hell though, taking my first tentative steps out of the house feeling like I was wearing nothing but a shirt and shoes. It felt kinda exhibitionistic, actually, and a little sexy...

;-)

Oh, and BTW there is this great product they sell at Tractor Supply Company: Anti Monkey Butt Powder. I kid you not. That is a legitimate product made up of talc and calamine powders, and it works like freakin magic. The last ride out to Dark Haired Girl's house... I was monkey-butt-saddle-sore free!

---

Anyhoo, I haven't really done much personal work with the camera lately, save for a profitable headshot session with a local MR/DD agency. I've really been letting it gather dust lately because I simply have been in an inspirational void since coming back to Troy. I did have this great idea for a project, though... it's no secret that I drink (and, inexplicably rather enjoy) Steel Reserve beer. Once, Dark Haired Girl asked for a sip of that stuff I'm always drinking, and her face contorted in disgust in ways I didn't know faces could move. I died laughing. So Shaggy asked about it the other day, and I said he's not allowed to try it until I have him in a studio setup so I can photograph his initial reaction to it. I think it would make a great book, to get people who have never had it before to try it and let me shoot their disgusted grimaces. I'll call it "Steel Reserve... a love affair."

---

Have you guys seen those new commercials for Dos Equis centering around a figure known only as "The most interesting man in the world"? I should find them annoying, as I do most commercials meant to make men feel insecure, but I think there's a perfect amount of tongue-in-cheek B.S., and they're just cheesy enough that I really think they're clever and funny as hell.

"He lives vicariously... through himself."

---

It's 8pm, saturday night, and I have to get up at three to do doughnuts tomorrow morning. Spent my day off golfing with Mom and Chuck (almost parred one hole, but missed the putt and bogeyed it), and then putting in 10 miles on the bike. I am tired.

Good night, sweet dreams, and stay thirsty my friends.

From bad, to better, to "hell yeah!"

So Liz has offered to take me on full time at her studio. Yesterday was my first day training there. I'll finish the month on my regular Wally World schedule, working with Liz on my days off while I train. My next day off is in about a week and a half. (whew!) I'll go full time with her on June 1st. Well, Wally World wasn't keen on the idea of me leaving, to the tune of the personnel manager joking "No, you're not allowed to leave. We won't let you!" So I worked something out with them, and I will still be on part time there. I'll work one of my two days off from Liz's, and/or also short evening shifts stocking the floor, writing names on cakes, and whatnot.

I have also just been flooded with a slew of paying photo gigs, the latest of which has garnered orders totaling several hundred dollars. This is a true instance of "when it rains, it pours."

So... full time job + part time job + occasional gig = mucho dinero for I, your friend and humble narrator. Do you know what this means? It means that roughly by the end of the summer, providing I get Cleveland paid off in a timely fashion, I WILL BE ABLE TO GET A PLACE OF MY OWN AGAIN. You have no idea how thoroughly orgasmic an idea that is to me.

And I also found a wine and spirits store that carries the oh-so-ubiquitous-throughout-Cleveland Genesee Cream Ale! ...and it's still cheaper than dirt, smooth as silk, and sweet as honey. It's the perfect beer.

Life is good. :-)

'Doughnut', or 'donut'? You decide...

You are now reading the blog of Wally World's latest "doughnut guy". It's actually a decent gig. My supervisor is a really cool guy, and my doughnut co-conspirator(s) are all upbeat and quirky. The shift is from 4am to 1pm, but before you say "ouch", it's not that bad. By the time I get off, I have the whole afternoon to myself. It's 32 hours a week with 8 hour shifts which leaves me with three days off per week.

Aside from lulling myself to sleep at 7 or 8 at night with various combinations of melatonin, a dose of my flexeril, or the big silver sleeping pill (a can of Steel Reserve), getting up that early isn't nearly as painful as it would seem. Getting up at 5 when I worked for Tim Hortons was far more painful because I was tempted to stay up later. Admittedly, the first day I came home and pretty much passed out upright in a chair, but this morning I woke up all bright-eyed and bushy tailed with Dark Haired Girl. Her alarm is set at 6:30 on work/school days, and normally on days off I barely notice anybody has stirred.

Well, aside from when her alarm goes off. It's a clock radio set at full volume, and it's loud enough to wake not only Dark Haired Girl, but also at least half of the residents of the Sugar Grove Road cemetery. Frankly, I'm scared to death of it. Often, I'll wake up just minutes before it's set to go off, and watch nervously as the minutes tick down to detonation.

ANYHOO, back to the job. It's laid back, nobody bugs you, and you get to be creative with the icing and decoration. Turns out I'm handy at piping icing. Yesterday (which was my first morning "flying solo"), my boss reviewed my doughnuts in the case and told me that he's had people working doughnuts for months that didn't look as good as mine.

I pointed at my belly and asked him "Do I look like the kinda brother who takes doughnuts lightly?" Truth be told, I really don't care for them... but it made a good laugh.

---

Liz wants me to come work for her studio. I guess things are really taking off for her, and she needs somebody to do sales appointments and answer phones while she's off shooting. Basically, she needs a secretary, and now my afternoons are free (plus three days a week off) to go work for her too. Plus, if her latest senior marketing ploy succeeds, she'll need another shooter. Hope for photography is not lost! Plus, it'd be cool as hell to work for her.

She's getting married this summer. I promised to her that I wouldn't bring my camera and be that annoying guy who bugs everyone (and the hired photographer), but c'mon, you know me. I am so bringing at least a point-and-shoot. ;-)

----

You know, the news media needs to stop using the word 'blasted' when politicians criticize each other... unless it actually comes down to some good old-skool congressional fist shaking and deep chest bellowing on C-SPAN, or straight up fisticuffs. 'Blast' is too extreme, and its overuse is sucking the intensity out of the word. When I think of a BLAST!, I think of those guys that demolish skyscrapers, mines that obliterate mountainsides in one TNT swoop, Dark Haired Girl's alarm clock, or footage of that burning rocket fuel factory in Nevada that explodes like an atomic bomb.

What I don't think of is some redneck republican's anemic little two-line statement released to CNN expressing disagreement with Obama. That just does not a blast make.

Tee hee!

So here in this ripe old year of 2009, I (your friend and humble narrator) am finally living out a sort of "guilty pleasure" fantasy. You know, the kind of thing you have always wanted to do, but were too afraid to admit, lest you let slip a peek of the kinks in your carefully crafted public facade?

I, Mr. I-Hate-Hipsters-And-All-They-Stand-For, am sitting in a Panera. Listening to the jazz quietly playing. Smugly tapping away on a Wi-Fi connected laptop. Blogging. (!!!) WITH MY $1.85 COFFEE!

Pretty soon I'll end up with a sport jacket over my t-shirt.

And a liberal sprinkling of the word 'postmodern' in my daily conversation.

And a sudden and inexplicable love of The Magnetic Fields and/or The Moldy Peaches.

... where will it all end??

___

Ooh! I just figured out what that weird little red button in the middle of the keyboard does. I'd been afraid to touch it till now.

I applied to, and got an interview with, the evil empire and commercial juggernaut that is Wally World. Turns out they have a position open making doughnuts. Full time, 4am to 1pm. That's gonna sting, but I think I can learn to live with the 8 o'clock nightly bedtime. I interview tuesday. Wish me luck.

If all goes well, hopefully in the next few months I'll afford some form of internet access and be online regularly again. I've been taking so many great photos, and I miss posting them. If all goes even well-er, who knows... maybe I'll even be able to get a place of my own by the end of the year. Wouldn't that be peachy? Cleveland was a dry run... a practice adulthood. Time for the real one to begin soon. I'm sick of being thirty and living like a seventeen year old.

I mean, in the three plus years that I've known Dark Haired Girl, on not one single occasion (and family picnics DO NOT count) have I been able to say "Hey, DHG, come on over to my place tonight." Never.

She commented on how changed, confident, and grown up I was after I came back from Cleveland, and I felt it too. But all that has vanished in a poof of fading memory, and I feel like I've reverted to being just the same old dork that I was this time last year.

...only with gray hairs. Which I don't mind. I like finding new ones, and they're appearing with ever-increasing frequency. Soon enough I'll be all Einstein-chic with a big curly messy tangle of shiny silver hair. And I'll gleefully flip off those god-awful Just For Men commercials.

Speaking of hair, What's with Seth Rogen? Just as he brings the whole chubby-guy-with-glasses-and-curly-hair look into vogue (which I just happen to match), he goes buzzed with contacts in his latest movie. Dammit! :-)

Hi all. Once again, I'm down here at Mom's office for a quick peek online. I'm typing up a price list because tomorrow I'm going to visit a couple and put in a bid to photograph their wedding. This is the first time I've ever actually met for a consultation, and frankly I'm SCARED TO DEATH. See, Liz referred me to them since she is already booked for their weekend, so any impressions I leave on them (good and/or bad) will also reflect on Liz's reputation. So yeah, I'm kinda freaking out a little, but it's a good freak-out. Beats fretting over not having any potential gigs.

Wish me luck.

Hello again from my Mom's office. Still no internet access but here (and the library, but I owe them a small fortune in late fees before I can get on), and I just wanted to check in with you. You know, just in case you were getting concerned or something. You were worried, weren't you? Oh, poor thing. shhhhh...there there, it's ok.

ANYWAY, I've been cultivating a good friendship with someone I've known for a while, but has previously only associated with through Ruben (Zen Master, and all-around swell guy). She's just started a photography course at a local college, and I've volunteered to be her go-to guy for Q's and A's. We've been hanging around a lot going out and shooting projects, and it's such a trip because I remember going through the same learning pangs that she is now... figuring out aperture and shutter settings, focal lengths, depth of field, equivalent exposures and whatnot. So... without further ado, I introduce Brey (pronounced "bree", like brie cheese) to the cast of characters here on "Treasures". I've been taking tons of great photos, but don't have any way to post them. :-(

Aside from all that, I'm just keeping on with the keeping on. Life has gotten pretty non-eventful since the holidays ended: Wake up, have Mom's Wii Fit tell me I'm obese, maybe work out at the Y, come down here and check the normal gamut of job sites, maybe submit a resume or two, get coffee with Ruben, maybe go out to Dark Haired Girl's place... my standard quotidian routine of late.

I've started volunteering my photography for a local Dayton agency, but am still otherwise struggling for photo gigs, not pulling much bread, and am having snags with the unemployment system. But I still have a roof over my head living with the folks, and I'm trying not to fret too hard over the sorry state of our economy.

It'll get better. It has to. :-)

Wow... you actually checked in. I feel loved. :-)

I am in digital limbo as my computer is now no longer at Boss Man's, and nobody I know has internet access save for down here on my mom's computer at her print shop. So... this has to be short and sweet as she needs to get back on. Anyhoo, it may be a good while between posts for the time being. I'll keep in touch.

My beloved L&V had their grand opening last night, so I figured I'd make an appearance (camera in hand of course), have a nice date night with Dark Haired Girl, hang out with Ruben & Co., and maybe pass out some business cards. I played dress-up with my black t-shirt under black striped collar shirt, and (eek!) gel in my hair. Ruben, Brie (left), and Jess (right) had already arrived and snagged a section of the super-comfortable overstuffed leather chairs up on the balcony. I've been in weird head space about going out over the last few weeks, but last night was truly the most fun I've had for as long as I can remember... and I had exactly ice water to drink all night.






I got flagged down by a table of guys, and turns out they're a band needing photos, so we exchanged cards, shook hands on a deal, and I got gig for next saturday night! Anyway, all night long in the chairs behind us, this couple canoodled up on the balcony. As I was standing outside to catch some fresh air and chat with Ruben while he had a smoke, the couple left, but not before stopping for a kiss.

Hi all! As expected, business with Bossman has dropped to nearly nil post-holidays, and I, your friend and humble narrator, am in a bind as to finding income. I DEARLY wish to stay the hell away from foodservice, although in this economy, Tim Hortons still wants me back. I've been reading a book called "Guerrilla Marketing" in hopes of generating ideas for Bossman, and I figure why not try to employ some of those tactics myself. I think a grassroots marketing blitz may just be in order.

The good news is that I have befriended and made a repeat customer of the new owner of my beloved L&V, and she has already given me several photo gigs to shoot for her and the new website. We're bartering photo sessions for free pizza. It's a good setup... I still have three free pizzas to cash in. :-)







Spent saturday night shooting a rather well known band in the Dayton area, so hopefully that will generate some attention.





Shot a short couple's session for friends Anne and John the other night. I think they'll make nice portfolio pieces.




Shaggy was up from Cincy visiting for the weekend, so as Anne and John were previewing their photos, I set the lights up for a nice dramatic headshot:



---

Getting back to resolutions, yeah... I think I know what mine is: I'm going to market myself more for 2009. I even created a nice tagline for the high school senior market: "Show your seniority with AHP"

(Do I have to put one of those little [TM] doohickeys behind that?)

Just got back from Michigan where I finally got to meet Dark Haired Girl's family up there, after hearing about them for years now. She's so much like her mother, my eyes just kept darting back and forth between the two, catching all sorts of commonalities... from hand gestures to the way they form certain words with their mouths.

So I guess it has been unusually cold up there, and the pond which normally finishes freezing in January was already frozen a good solid 10 inches down, so I played the guinea pig while the kids watched in anticipation, and I put on my skates. I'd never skated on a pond before, only artificial arenas, and I've always always wanted to. It was so amazing, the bumps and irregular curves of the edge of the water... and the little pops and bumps that resonated off my skate frames. I was in heaven.

Only I would be sweating in 25 degree weather

So all the girls (Dark Haired Girl has adoptive sisters as young as her own daughters) and I were out there either skating or scootching around in shoes, and we took chairs and pushed them around ice, giving the back a good sideways shove and sending them spinning across the surface.

And I got to try venison chops which a neighbor brought over to share. Very tender and delicious... not at all what I'd expected. See, I thought we had a lot of deer around here, but up there, they're as thick as mosquitoes. So hunting is a common part of daily life up there, and driving around you can see all these little ramshackle deer stands just larger than phone booths are all over the place. I personally don't think I could bring myself to actually kill one, and I joked that I don't hunt deer with a rifle, I use a cannon. (cannon -- canon -- my camera.... get it? har har.)

ANYHOO, wouldn't you know, but just as we get back to Troy, Dark Haired Girl's car pops not just one flat, but later in the evening, the back end starts sliding around as the other back tire goes flat as a pancake. I mean, both these tires were totally FUCKED. The steel belt was exposed on the first one, and the entire goddamn tread was about to separate off the other. And to change it, it took Blonde Haired Girl's husband and I about a gallon of penetrant oil and a twenty minutes of beating the rim with wood beams to get it off.

And to think, while we were up there, she and I got lost on the way to her brother's house. There we were in the pitch darkness, totally lost in a network of iced over dirt roads with no houses in sight (but lots of deer), and no cell phone service. If we'd have popped a flat there (and provided we didn't careen off the road) I'd have had to leave her in the car while I hoofed a couple of miles in the middle of winter in Michigan to the nearest farm. And the speed limit up there is a lot higher than down here, so on the highways, we were cruising around 75-80 miles per hour. And we did all that without skipping a beat, and made it back home to Troy just as the tires gave out.

Now, I'm no churchy person, neither do I identify with any particular religion, but you try going through that and not feel like somebody was watching out for you.

---

It's hard to make plans for new year's eve when you start trying around 7pm that very night, and Blonde Haired Girl's husband Ray had a migraine from the seventh circle of hell, so we walked across the yard to their place and got drunk at her table while Ray agonized on the sofa. After the ball dropped, we went back, and then Dark Haired Girl got this weird idea to start cooking, so we spent the rest of the night goofing around in her kitchen.




---

I have been on a pretty good track of keeping my new year's resolutions. Last year, as you may recall, I resolved to be out of my mom's house and in my own place by my thirtieth birthday... and as of August 25th, 2008, I was. The fact that I'm back at Mom's notwithstanding, I'd count that in the "kept" column.

The problem is thinking of one for this year. I was thinking maybe piggybacking off of my resolution two years ago to not let my view camera just gather dust (which it has been doing since I finished school), or maybe not letting my enthusiasm for going to the Y to work out fizzle... but I dunno. I'm having trouble thinking of something inspiring. For the most part, I don't really feel the need to make any grandiose declarations.

Aside from the normal day-to-day bumps in the road, things are going pretty well.

I don't think that I told you guys yet, but under their scholarship program (and with a 90% discount), I joined the YMCA. See, my back has been hurting since before I left Cleveland, and it hasn't stopped yet. Coupled with the fact that I'm also the heaviest I've ever been... I don't think that's just a coincidence. So... I've made a new best friend: the elliptical machine. Oh my God, that thing kicks my ass...

---

Saz was at the studio the other day, and I was helping him work out some issues with his camera settings. He's a Nikon shooter, but we still like him anyway. :-P Actually, his D200 was a joy to shoot with. It was ergonomic in hand, and his Tamron lens took a surprisingly sharp image.



I'm an abomination in the photography world... a Canon shooter who speaks well of Nikon. It's like being a werewolf bitten by a vampire, or publicly drinking a Pepsi in Atlanta.

Fire and brimstone coming down from the skies! Rivers and seas boiling!
Forty years of darkness! Earthquakes, volcanoes...
The dead rising from the grave!
Human sacrifice, dogs and cats living together... mass hysteria!

---

So I'm listening to NPR the other day, and again someone is berating the west, calling us infidels. I just want to ask... is that supposed to hurt my feelings or something?



---

Now that Dark Haired Girl is living out on the other side of her parents' farm, and there is almost no city light contamination, the night sky truly is an amazing sight. I don't know if anybody else has been blessed by the spectacle, but the last couple of nights have been not only crystal clear, but also with a full moon. For several evenings now, the moonlight has been so bright that not only does it illuminate the midnight landscape to the horizon, but I can actually read a magazine by it. Last night, armed with a wide angle lens borrowed from Bossman, I decided to see what the world looked like when leaving the camera shutter open for thirty seconds at a time.

These photos were taken around 11pm.






I would have taken more, but it was all of 12 degrees outside, and my feet were starting to ache from the cold.

Hi all!

Things are going ok. Been working with Bossman a lot. Not shooting a whole lot of photos, but rather have been mostly acting as his photo lab tech. Been hanging out a lot with Ruben (Zen Master, and all-around swell guy), and he's actually made a couple of introductions for me that may just bode well for the ol' career in the form of band and fashion/glamor model shoots. I'm excited about that.

A friend asked me to do her Christmas card photos, and these are what we produced:



Nice portfolio pieces, I think.

---

Since returning, I've been really making an effort to jump back into the band scene.







---

Ruben's "home base", so to speak, is the Waffle House. If he's not home, he's there with his requisite cup of coffee, and all his books and pens spread out on the table. Often I'll join him and we'll just be bored, hanging out and BSing with the employees. The other day my trigger finger was itchy, so I brought in the camera and was taking nondescript photos while wondering what I could do with them. I thought that while each individual photo may not amount to much, together as a montage maybe I could capture the feeling of a typical bored night out with friends, hanging out at the Awful Waffle.



Now, the arrangement wasn't completely arbitrary as I tried to make sure two similar photos weren't right next to each other, but otherwise it's pretty random. It was more of an internal exercise with myself because despite that, little patterns, recurring themes, and storyboard narratives started happening as my eyes moved from photo to photo, and I realized that was the whole I'd been searching for that was greater than the sum of its parts. Expect more of these.

I have fallen into a new addiction over the last several mornings. Now my day isn't complete without my pre-work fix. About a week ago, I woke up early and turned on the TV for some news, and landed on Headline News Network... and their show Morning Express, anchored by this woman:



Robin Meade. Sorry Rachael Ray, but you have been supplanted. I have a new TV girlfriend. Now, there are a million and one really really ridiculously good looking women out there, but for some reason, Robin Meade stands above the crowd. It's a heady blend of attitude and sass balanced with professionalism. It's the dark hair. It's the mischievous little twinkle to her personality... and for God's sake, it's that she's built like a brick house, man! She ain't no skinny minnie; there's some serious substance to her frame. I just want to take a big ol' juicy bite out of those curves of hers like a turkey leg at the Renaissance Festival.

¡Aye chihuahua!

---

*whew!* Ok, back to sanity. Anyway, a friend of Bossman's (and fellow professional photographer) was visiting the studio yesterday, and I asked him to sit as a test subject while I was setting up lights for some yearbook sessions coming in. In the process, I took this portrait:



---

I spent Saturday night shooting bands at the B, and hanging out with Dark Haired Girl. A couple of weekends ago, she moved to a house at the far end of her parents' farm, and now she lives about a half an hour's drive away instead of five minutes. This has created an interesting new dynamic, as access to one another isn't so ready. I think it kind of keeps things regulated, and keeps us from slipping into the "sleepover effect".

You know, like when you'd have marathon sleepovers with your friends as kids, and by the third day together, you'd want to rip each others' heads off?

Anyway, saturday was a date night of sorts. I was "on the job" with Bossman's generous donation of his gear for me to use, but it was also a great night spent NOT MOVING ANYBODY'S HOUSEHOLD together.



---

I got a student loan collection letter from Citi yesterday, the same company that just accepted billions of dollars of government bailout and then announced that it's going to proceed with a $400 million deal for naming rights over the Mets' new stadium. So I'm going to write them a reply:

Dear Citi,

The government just handed you billions on a sterling platter, and you're proceeding to flush hundreds of millions down the toilet to slap your name on a sports building. I just lost my career, and without a luxurious golden parachute from the government. I will pay you when I can, which isn't now.

In the mean time, as a taxpayer, you can take my percentage from the federal handout you just received and apply it to my loan principle.

Sincerely,
Andrew R. Hutchinson

I'm still here...

... it's just that since I moved my computer to Bossman's office, and he hasn't had work for me since that last post, I really haven't had a whole lot going on. Both Dark Haired Girl and Blonde Haired Girl have moved, so I've moved three households in as many weeks, and I'm SICK OF MOVING. :-)

I've befriended the owners of a recently opened mom 'n pop coffee house, and they would like some prints for their walls, as well as post cards to sell, so that's a chance to get my name out a bit. That, and I'm going to pitch my services to a new manufacturing business that's just finishing construction of their new facility.

I've filed for unemployment. They're begging me to come back to Tim Hortons, but I really want to try to stay a photographer. Once you've held (even if ever so briefly) a well-paying professional career position, it's a truly dismaying thought to go back to being a fast food cashier. But I'm just being a snob. Take away the camera, and I'm just your average unskilled hillbilly with a screwed up back.

So... things are pretty much back to where they were pre-Cleveland, save that my old apartment complex is charging me exorbitant fees for breaking the lease early, and they claim that is hasn't re-rented. I'm going to have somebody call to inquire and see if it really is available or not.

Back to my roots

So I've been back in Troy for just about a week now, and Bossman has wasted no time in putting me to work. I didn't realize just how uncomfortable I was at the old studio until I came here and could speak freely, hang out in my jeans and sneakers, and just settle in and get the job done. That last place was run less like an outlet for the creative arts, and more like a fine jewelry boutique. Very stifling. I can breathe now.

Shaggy came up with his dad's Sonoma and helped me get all my stuff in one trip, which was a great relief. The very last thing I did was to cast my ballot downtown before hitting I-71 south and putting Cleveland, Ohio in my rear view for the last time.



Goodbye dear Cleveland. I'll miss ya, baby!

It's Official...

... I've been laid off. I'm packing up the Mirthmobile, visiting the Cuyahoga County board of elections to cast my ballot, and I'm driving my first carload of belongings back to Troy tonight. Mom cut off her land line at home, so I won't have internet access for a while, save for the library, but I'll keep in touch.

Cleveland has been the grandest adventure and learning experience, and I'm ten times the photographer (and twice the man) I was just a short handful of months ago. I've made tons of acquaintances and several good friends, but Cleveland is part of my past now. Thus ends this particular chapter of my life.

Bossman has mountains of work waiting for me when I get back home to Troy.

Well, in preparation of the worst, I called old Bossman today explaining Monday morning's possible revelations. Asked him if I were to come back to Troy, would he have a spot open? He gave me a very enthusiastic yes.

So...

Either way, I have a job in photography. In a move that sounds like something out of a movie, I got a voicemail message Friday night. After locking up the studio and getting in my car, I listened as my friends from Troy called me from our old hang out spot. They all shouted "Andy! We miss you! Ditch Cleveland and come back to Troy! It's not a party without you!"

The same night my boss tells me I should be worried.

My head has not stopped spinning all weekend, but I've already started to think of Cleveland in the past tense. I'm almost hoping that they lay me off so I can go back home to Troy and start my life as the hometown photographer. While I will not retract a single statement I've made in praise of this town, living here just isn't what I'd expected. Working for this studio couldn't be ANY farther from what I'd expected it to be, either.

I meet with my current boss tomorrow morning, well before the studio opens, so he can relay this dooming worrysome information to me. Whatever it is, I hope it's a solid stay hired, or get fired. None of this nebulous "The Big Guy wants me to tell you we're in layoff season, so keep working on your studio portraits because... well, you know..." bullshit. I'm sick of this mindfuck.

---

I had a date saturday night. It was a wonderful time spent with a beautiful sweetheart of a girl, with whom I really connect. In a call about the job situation, I told Dark Haired Girl about it, the relaying of which devolved into a completely unnecessary almost-apology in the most awkward and dunderheaded terms possible, concluding with "...but she wasn't you."

From the other end of the phone came a long sigh, and a change of subject.

My boss called me at work tonight, and told me to meet him first thing Monday morning. I asked if this is something I should be worried about. He said yes.

Welcome to Cleveland