I almost forgot

... yesterday was this blog's third birthday.

Happy birthday 'Treasures'.

Definitely some crazy shit gone on and documented in these hallowed pages during that time...

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I was thinking. I heard one of Duran Duran's "new" songs on the radio. You know, from their comeback in the 90's? I just realized that although I considered it their new music, the time elapsed between now and when they did that CD is the same amount of time passed between their initial fame in the 80's to when they had their comeback.

And then I thought of a girl I rode the bus with back in junior high, Allison Locker. I ran into her years later, and she looked so much older than the freshman girl I'd remembered. Seems like it wasn't that long ago, but I just realized that in thinking back to seeing her again, that was twelve years ago when I was a bagger at a grocery store here in town.

Lots of 40- and 50-somethings tell me that their 20's sucked, and that their 30's were the best years of their lives. I certainly hope so. My 20's keep blowing up in my face despite best efforts otherwise.

The only constant is change....

Hi all. Greetings from my old bedroom. Yeah, the living together thing didn't work out for Dark Haired Girl. No, we're not breaking up. Don't worry. It's just that things got too routine and cramped for her comfort level. Mine too, for that matter. I'm just really really good at pretending something isn't bothering me. It's that fierce independence of hers... she just needs her space. Truth told, things had cooled off considerably between us, and I'm hoping this will bring back a bit of the fire in me that existed previously when I lived here at Mom's.

And I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy being back in my own little private corner of the world today, eating carrots and dancing naked to offbeat music.

ewww.

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Did a portrait session with a good friend, Heather, on friday. While editing her photos in photoshop, I had a EUREKA! moment and created a new effect. Selective blurring and lighting. Deals with layer masks and radial gradients... if you're curious ask me and I'll describe in more detail. Anyway, here's a few of my favorites from the day. I think these represent the next level in my photography:







Her only complaint... she didn't like the blurring on her chest in the last photo. I agree, and I replied in an email to her that with that new selective blurring technique I'm like a kid with a cool new coat, using it all the time even when it's not really necessary. But I think it works in spades on the others. Whatcha think?

My new website is up that I designed from scratch and by hand for my Web Design for Photographers class. It's at this link. There's a few things I don't like about it, and a few things I wish I'd've done, but when I said that to my instructor, he said "That's why my website is on its seventh version." Lemme know what you think.

Speaking of, if you want to see some "holy crap, that's good!" stuff, check out his digital art (specifically the clockwork creatures) at this link to his website.

Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road...

Sometimes there comes a point in a person's life where one is forced to look at oneself from a completely outside perspective, throwing into question the very fabric of one's soul. Just recently I was forced to look at myself with a fresh pair of eyes, and I found I didn't like at all what I saw.

Last saturday night I got drunk. Sloppy drunk. In the process I entered a state of blackout and apparently acted comlpetely out of character and said some unbearably mean things to a very dear friend. I remember none of this, and that's what scares me. In fact, it wasn't until monday night that I was made aware of what transpired. Even worse, I had spent all day Sunday acting nonchalant and perfectly casual around the very people I lashed out against.

So I'm off the sauce 100%. This isn't some personal prohibition. There were no big ceremonial gestures of popping open the rest of my beer and dumping it down the drain. I'm not even making it off limits. There's still beer in the fridge, an arm's length away if I want it. Thing is, tonight on the way to class I stopped by a gas station for a bottle of pop, and right next to it was the beer. I looked at it and recoiled in contempt. Instead of appealing to me, it just looked like poison.

With my current state of being thrown into such sharp perspective, I realize just how much alcohol has begun to affect my life in its insidiously gradual way. No, I don't think I am an alcoholic, but I most certainly saw myself starting to walk down that path. No way. I'm turning around and walking right back to sanity before this monster can grab hold of me and cause more damage.

So I already feel like another person. A profound change has come over me, and I don't feel the same. Maybe I'm being too dramatic, as is so often the case, but I just can't help but feeling a real sense of personal metamorphosis.

I just heard that George W. Bush's daughter, Jenna, is getting married. Ironic, isn't it? The Bush family gets the joy of planning their child's wedding, while because of Bush's Vietnam-nouveau, thousands of American families get to plan their childrens' funerals.

tell me I'm wrong

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Took a volleyball to the head last night shooting a match. Came straight down on me. Didn't really hurt at all... just a stunning, dazzling thud. It felt a little fuzzy where the ball hit and because of that, for a brief instant after impact, I thought it was winter and I was wearing a knit toboggan before blinking myself back to reality.

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Ok, how do you pronounce the word 'syrup'? I tend to say "seer-up", while Dark Haired Girl pronounces it as "sirrup" (rhyming with 'stirrup'). Those of the southern persuasion around here just say "serp".

While we're on the topic, yes, I acknowledge that caramel is "care-uh-mell". I say "car-mull". That's midwest Ohio redneck in me. Carmel is a mountain range in Israel and there are several cities by that name in the US. I don't care. Car-mull car-mull car-mull. :-P

At least I don't say "nekkid". I hate that. Or call Cincinnati "Cincinnat-uh"... because it ends with a fucking I. Or worst of all, "uh-hiya" for Ohio. Gack.

Up and running again

I'd hoped to pay on a few bills, tuition, and maybe even buy another monolight kit with my three coincident paychecks, but no... instead ($400+ later) I now have a screamer of a computer. Intel Core 2 Duo processor, 1 gig pc5300 ram, and two hard drives. Oh well. Photoshop and Bridge run without skipping a beat now. I'd hoped to start saving for an expensive ($1700-ish) but crucial lens for what I'm doing:



Canon L Series f/2.8 70-200mm with image stabilization. Just plain sexy, isn't it?

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Did an event for another local charity (alongside several other students), and technically I don't own any of the photos I took, but I just have to show you this one of a taekwondo demonstration:



How cool is that?? I love the whisps of dust curling from the force of his strike.

... and the icing on the cake is that my computer died two nights ago. I'm on Dark Haired Girl's in her kitchen right now. I think it's my motherboard. Luckily I'm coming into and unusual alignment of the planets and getting paychecks from all three part time jobs in the same week. Gonna hafta pay The Computer Zoo a visit. I've got 2 gigs of the latest DDR2 memory at my disposal, so all I need is a new motherboard and processor. I'm sticking with an Intel brand board for maximum stability with a Core 2 processor.

I really wanted to dedicate this money to more flash gear, but shit happens, and I'm going to end up with a screamingly fast system by the end of the weekend.

So, yeah, this sucks, but I think it's for the best. I'll let you know how it works.

Photographer pissed off, handles situation well.

Hi all! I think I've bitten off a little more than I can chew. Not only is the primary "part time" job working me about 30 hours a week, but also I have the job cleaning my uncle's machine shop, and now a third part time job with Bossman since the fall sports season has kicked off. (pun intended) ...on top of going to school full time. I could complain about being on the brink of stark raving lunacy, but instead I choose to compare myself to a medical student in the midst of his residency working those horrific 36-hour shifts for a handful of peanuts. A legend in my own mind, I am...

No new photos to show you. I've been shooting project work almost exclusively, and I've been tapping the pool of girls I work with for models. The last few have been 17, and therefore I feel a wee bit icky about posting their portraits. Did I ever show you the antenna ornament I spied on a car that I parked next to earlier this summer?



Welcome to smalltown Ohio. It has a certain homey charm.

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Shot a fund raising concert for a national charity at a decent local venue. I felt all big-as-you-please sporting my first Press Pass. But let me tell you that the ushers at that particular Pavilion which will remain nameless were a bunch of Nazis. It was a funk band. It was the guys who invented the Motown sound. But God forbid the audience stray from their seats to go dance in an open area, though, or immediately the ushers swarmed the wayward people, tapping them on their shoulders and sending them back to their seats like a bunch of kindergarten teachers herding their little kids.

Then they kept pestering the other photographer during the show. They did a good job of leaving me alone during the performance. But the kicker was afterward, when the band did a meet-and-greet to shake hands and sign autographs.

Ok, let's get this much straight: The Charity threw this event. They booked the band. Their organization's name was in the title of the event. And I was their official photographer.

So I kneel down a few feet away from the table where the band members were signing autographs and started snapping pictures. I wasn't getting in anybody's way. I wasn't pestering the band or trying to shmooze with them. I was doing my job as a documentarian, keeping my distance. But some power-tripping snide little Nazi women came over and tugged on my shoulder, looking down at my PRESS PASS. (Helllloooo?)

Her: Press pass? Who are you with? You with the [charity]?
Me: Yeah.
Her: They didn't tell me anything about shooting after the performance, so are you about done, honey?
Me: Oh, uhh... [standing up and walking away]
Her: Umm. Yeah.

I was fucking LIVID over how rudely she behaved. I walked back to the main booth to pack up my stuff. The president of the charity suggested I take photos of the meet-and-greet upon which I, doing everything to maintain professional demeanor and not appear ready to slap somebody, relayed what was said to me. He wasn't happy with them.

A few moments later I was allowed back to take photos, while that usher just stood there glowering at me. Andy feels triumphant. I shot all that I needed and walked away without a fuss.