Drama on the internet? People come in droves. A smack down between two powerhouses? Their minions jump in and start tearing off each others’ limbs (virtually). A tragedy (or threat of one)? Everyone chimes in. It’s how we’re wired. Why do you think that freeway traffic slows down when driving by a roadside accident? We want to look and point and make commentary and ride the wave of emotions.
I may be wired differently than most. When people are rubber-necking at a fender-bender I ask, “Seriously? You are slowing down for this?” When people write blog posts that perpetuate others’ posts about all things Internet and go into the rabbit hole of drama in order to ride the wave of traffic/comments/whatever you are striving for in this audience of mere hundreds I cannot relate. I shut my browser and walk away. If you are talking about you, I’m in. If you are talking about whatever is “hot” right now, I can’t be bothered. No offense, just stating my interest. Or lack thereof.
My friend Jen wrote a post to the women of the Internet. She asked us to tell her something. I want to tell her something. I want to tell you something.
Anyone who knows me knows that I am generally a “happy” person. I love to laugh, and do so easily.
I am happy in my life, for the most part. I have a faith that gives me inner peace. I am married to someone who balances me perfectly. I have three kids who are more astounding than words could ever convey. I am the primary breadwinner against my will but I am in an environment that makes it doable. I have friends that make me wonder how I got to be surrounded by people so cool. Relationally, I am happy.
There is a different level of happy that has been (mostly) shoved down for almost two years now.
For many years I wanted to be creative but didn’t know how. I tried making wax candles, I tried needlepoint, I tried making handmade cards. While these creative venues are all fine and good I didn’t feel like I had come home until I found photography.
Get me a bunch of flowers (or people) and my camera and I feel happy.
I will sit down to edit the photos and will get lost in the processing of the colors and the levels and the sliders and before I know it hours have gone by.
I am not a patient person (at all. ever) but I will treat each photo independently and give it all of the attention that it needs until I am happy with it.
I spend the entire time with one of those half-smiles on my face.
I have been breaking out of my (editing) rut lately – experimenting with new techniques, trying different edits, learning more about Lightroom and Photoshop.
I don’t have a lot of extra hours in the day, no, but I’ve been eking out time whenever I can (Who needs sleep?) and have been feeling The Happy. I have some photography-related things in the works that have brought The Happy to the level where I have found myself bouncing in my chair. If I were Miss Emily, my arms would be flapping. OK, fine. I might have flapped for a moment or two – I couldn’t help it. Details to follow; I promise.
What makes you happy, friends?
It is no secret to regulars around these parts that I have gotten back into fitness over the last two years. I attend a high-intensity Boot Camp two nights a week and subject myself to various Jillian Michaels torture exercise DVD’s the other days of the week. I looked into lunchtime fitness classes but with the driving/showering time (and the immense cost), they just weren’t going to work. Thus, there are a few days of the week that I wake up before our rooster crows in order to fit a workout into my day.
One thing that I’m nor sure if I’ve mentioned here is that I used to be a runner. Please paint that last sentence in a sad song of remorse and regret and longing.
I took up running when we moved here in 2001 (Nine years ago and, also! More than a lifetime ago if you are one of my children). I had been doing step classes in Vancouver when we lived there and loved the workout I got from them. We moved to our wee town and at the time, there were no fitness classes to be found. I thought that I should maybe start running and my (Amazing!) husband bought me The Complete Book Of Running For Women. He trained with me, he encouraged me and once I was up to running 5K per day he…quit. He hates running. He did it for me.
I loved running. Foot to ground, steady rhythm, a clear mind. I use “loved” in the past tense because, alas, my knees (Patella femoral syndrome, surgery at the age of twenty, old fart-ed-ness) cannot seem to bear it anymore. Believe me, I’ve tried.
While running may no longer be an option, speed walking is still on the radar. Especially since the weather is getting warmer and the sun is shining and OH EM GEE I work only a few blocks from a beautiful lake.
This past week I indulged in a pair of “straight-leg” yoga pants because the ones I already owned left nothing (NOTHING) to the imagination. I also bought a hoodie to shield me from the North wind.
I thought I should take my big camera with me but a bag that size does not an effective power walk make. I decided to make do with my iPhone camera. Besides. I have a bunch of iPhone photography apps that I’ve never used – it would be a great excuse to finally try them out. I ended up using the Camera Bag app exclusively. Vahid made me download it when I was in Portland and I now see why he was so enamored.
I headed North towards the lake and found more graffiti/art along the way.
Aw, look at the sweet vandal apologizing to the other vandals.
I don’t know what this means but I’m sure it’s about peace, love and happiness.
Or not. Whatever. I can’t even draw stick men properly, so I’m appreciative of people who color outside the lines.
This one made me think of Emily.
What?
I’d totally sit here and eat my lunch but I may have to lay a blanket down first.
Oh, you would too.
One more for the road.
I’d like to meet this “Greg”. He appears to be highly regarded.
A mere block away I found myself at the Japanese gardens. I did not go into the gardens because (The walkway was under construction, and) I was on a mission. I did take a few photos of the artwork around the gardens.
There are Ogopogos? As in, PLURAL? “At lunch”? I’m never swimming in the lake again.
Then I saw this.
I just kind of love that one.
I carried along, arrived at the lake, and saw this group of sculptures.
I happen to love groups of three for some strange reason.
Oh, wait. The lake! You’d probably love to see the view and, lo! I took a photo. Shocking, I know.
Why, yes, I do know how lucky I am to live here.
I was wondering if I would see The Peach and then there she was.
She’s a concession stand that is put away for winter (Where, exactly, is one of the great mysteries of life) and comes out when the tourist spring/summer/season is upon us.
I kept trucking along and noticed a cherry tree that was blossoming.
Yes, Vancouverites, you had blossoms in February, but you all come here in the summer to experience a true summer, so.
The halfway point of my walk was the S.S. Sicamous.
She used to do tours of the lake until that unfortunate day where she got stuck in reverse and beached herself. I’m kidding. I think. I have no idea what the real story is because we’re too cheap to pay money for the tour.
After taking that photo I tucked my iPhone in my pocket and headed back to the office. I had an App track my progress for my walk and I think I did alright. 4.89 KM, 38 minutes, 296 calories burned.
I felt refreshed, invigorated and ready to tackle the afternoon. There were no downsides to the excursion other than the fact that I had only packed soup and veggies for lunch. Suffice it to say, I spent the better part of my afternoon dreaming of Sandwiches of Epic Proportions that might quell the unending hunger.
I’m just really happy, you guys. My hatred of winter is well-documented and my return to work has been an unending source of internal turmoil. But now? The sun is shining. My endorphins are exploding. I’m overworked and overbooked but I’m taking it all in stride.
If anyone dares bring up next Winter, there will be a flaming bag of poo on their doorstep in the near future.
I don’t know about the rest of you photographer-types, but I go into semi-hibernation during the winter months. I prefer to shoot outdoors, in natural light, which means that sub-zero temperatures and three hours of daylight per day put a bit of a damper on things. We have a house with large windows to let as much light in as possible, but there are only so many photos one can take of her children all lined up on the couch.
Yes, they’re cute and yes, Emily’s precociousness slays me but SERIOUSLY. This is not the kind of photography that gets me excited.
The daylight hours are getting longer (Hooray!), the weather is getting warmer (I’ve been outside without a jacket) and I am starting to believe that spring is truly here. (With that statement, it will likely snow tomorrow. I’m sorry.) After feeling photographically constipated for so many months the thought of letting it loose (so to speak) has been both encouraging and frustrating. I am working six days a week right now, which means that my available daylight shooting hours occur on Sunday afternoons. No pressure. And no relief.
I have thought about carrying my camera bag along with me to capture the sunrise as I drive to work or to stop and take a shot of the lake on my drive home. To haul a purse, my lunch bag and a camera bag each and every day to the office is not only impractical, it’s a huge pain in the buttocks. I would throw my camera in my purse but I paid a lot of money for my baby; I need to take good care of her. I settled for having my point-and-shot in my purse which does an OK job, but it’s not what I know I could do with the “Big gun”.
So, yeah. Bunged up creatively, as it were.
Then, a few weeks ago, I saw photos of Karen with a camera bag that looked like a purse. It’s an Epiphanie Bag and as I’ve already side-blogged it, this has nothing to do with the contest they are hosting. I actually ordered mine before the contest started because I knew (I KNEW) that the ability to carry my camera in my purse, while keeping it protected, would set me free from the frustration I was feeling. And you know what? I was right.
Last Thursday, Ginger arrived. I transferred my purse contents and tucked my 7D safely in her belly. On my Friday lunch hour, I headed out to see the historic downtown that I work in in a new light. I was not looking for sales or snacks or used books to read. I was looking for things to capture.
I noticed that there was a lot of graffiti. Scratch that. There was a lot of art. I shot the ones that made me smile/think/happy.
I could throw in some cheesy cliche about how I am like a dormant flower who is emerging after winter but, HORK.
The only way to explain it is that I feel like me.
If you have a personal website, or a BLOG as it were, you have likely encountered some resistance from the people around you. Many do not understand this thing called Blog and are not sure what to make of it. Instead of just classifying it as another hobby, they want to judge you to a higher degree than is even remotely fair. Writing words on the Internet is WEIRD and AWFUL and makes you OPEN FOR JUDGMENT.
If your experience is anything like mine, then you have met someone in church, or at a playground, or at your kids’ school who tells you that they read your blog. You blush a little, say a “Thank You” and then hear words that are Passive-Aggressive at its best:
I don’t know how people have time to blog.
I always feel like I need to justify it, somehow, even if they are practically strangers. I don’t watch much TV. Daytime TV isn’t an option with the kids (or at all in my radar, actually) and there are only a few evening shows that we watch. Most of the ones we do watch, we watch with the kids. Once said kids are in bed, I like to sit at the computer and do what I do.
That never seems to appease them.
There isn’t much I can say. People are judgmental by nature. I personally have no idea how people can spend hours on Facebook and play games like Farmville or how people would want to go ice fishing (Honey) but, eh. To each their own. Or so you would think. It seems as though personal websites are something that people have deemed acceptable to attack.
For the most part, I have been able to brush it off. My family and close friends have no issue with my site. Not only that, they like it because it keeps them up to speed on what the heck is going on over here. I don’t know about you, but I find it far easier to sit down for twenty minutes and bang out a post that spend hours upon hours phoning everyone in my life in order to fill them in on the minutiae of our days. The added benefit is all of the friends I have made via my little corner of the Internet. I am blessed, indeed.
During the Christmas holidays, everyone comes back home to hang out with their families. One of our friends was in the Christmas Eve service. She is someone that we’ve known forever and whom usually comes over for a visit when she’s here. We generally suck at keeping in touch during the rest of the year and that’s OK. Christmas makes up for it.
When the service was over I made my way over to say hello. I put forth our usual apology for not keeping in touch as good as we could. Then, out of nowhere, came the questions.
I see via Facebook that you post, like, seventeen times a week.
Um, not really. It’s usually only two or three times a week.
Well, you also have your recipe site.
I haven’t posted there since last February. I created it four years ago it as a way to keep track of my recipes but have failed at keeping it up.
There’s your photography site as well.
It’s something else that I’ve let slide. I’ve shot a lot of things this year but haven’t had time to update it. I keep meaning to…
What about those other sites you write at?
Those are freelance jobs of mine. I love to write and as an added bonus, I’m getting paid to do so.
(TOTALLY FEELING UNDER FIRE, HERE.)
That “paying gig” deal seemed to appease her. Somewhat. Because getting paid for your hobbies makes them acceptable. Or something. I wished her a Merry Christmas and left the church with my family. Upon arriving home, I sent an email to tell her that her words had hurt me, and why. We had an open exchange and she apologized for how she came across. We’re all good. Open communication is where it’s at, folks.
So here I sit, inspired to lay it out for any of you reading who may be sitting there and wondering, “how I have time to blog.” The irony, here, is that you are reading these words I am typing. I’ll lob it back to you. How do you have time to read blogs?
It really is simple: You do what you love.
I, Angella, love to write. I love to take photos. I love a sense of community. All of these things (and more) come together in my little corner of the Internet. Those who comment here seem to get that. Others, sadly (for them) do not. They are quick to judge me by some standard that doesn’t even make sense.
If you love to bungee jump, or knit, or cycle, or perform taxidermy, or snowshoe, or go to Star Trek conventions, or do woodworking, or rebuild cars, or paint, or run, or bird-watch, or figure skate, or hunt, or belly-dance, or…one of the million other hobbies that exist on this great Earth, I applaud you. I may not understand it, or chose to try it, but I do not judge you for it.
I only ask that you pay me the same respect.
My new baby arrived yesterday.
She still needs a name and I’m still figuring her out, but I foresee a long and happy life together.
Consider me inspired.
Also.
(Click on the photo to get the translation via Flickr.)
Consider me amused by my children, yet again.
Speaking Pointedly
Date: Thursday December 3, 2009Posted in: Emily, Photography, Random thoughts, diesel, me
I keep thinking that I want (need) to keep writing in this here space, regardless of external commitments. Yet I spend many late nights working on both the boring accounting stuff and the fun freelance stuff. Before I know it my eyes glaze over, my body starts shutting down and I have nothing left in me to spend on writing a post. I then get frustrated because I have so! Many! Ideas! but cannot eke out any time in a day to purge my brain of all that’s bouncing around in there. My brain is about ready to burst and so here I sit, ready to dump it out and start tomorrow with only the usual five hundred (or so) things that I spin on each and every day.
-Christmas is three weeks from tomorrow. Every year, we try to scale back on the plastic crap gifts our kids get. Relatives who mean well shower them with presents, some of which end up breaking within days. This year, we used Christmas money from my Mom to buy all of their fall/winter clothes when we went to the States. We’re using Christmas money from Matthew’s parents to buy them little Canon Powershot point-and-shoot cameras. They love to play with mine, and why not get them one gift that they can bring along on our adventures, instead of loading them with toys that will soon be sent to the thrift store? Matthew and I are planning on buying them one or two toys each, plus stocking stuffers (Which we’ve done since each of them was born). We’ll spend the balance of our Christmas “budget” helping those who need it more than we do. This is not a “pride” thing. This is a “reality check” thing. We have it good, and others don’t. See also: The Advent Conspiracy
-After preaching about how we want to help others, I feel a little sheepish talking about some of the other things going on. However. We really do give a lot of our time and financial resources to others. (Not gloating! Just stating facts!) We also work insanely hard, so it seems only fair that we reward ourselves a bit. We always do so within our means. (Canadian guilt here, over-justifying everything. Sorry about that.)(Canadians say sorry a lot too.) (Um, sorry about that.)
-I ordered a new camera this week: the Canon 7D. Matthew told me to just order it already, yet I hesitated for over a week on submitting the order. (Canadian guilt!) After many (Many!) talks about it, I think I made a wise choice. I have been pretty busy with photography and photography-related gigs. My photography/freelance income more than covered the cost of the camera. Added bonus: Within an hour of telling Twitter and Facebook that my Canon 40D was for sale, I had a buyer for it (My niece, no less). Hooray for the Internet.
-The firm that I’m returning to in January is hosting their Christmas party on Friday and we’ve been invited to join them. I’m ridiculously excited about the opportunity to dress up and go to a fancy party. I bought some pretty new black pumps and jewelry to glam up my Little Black Dress. I’m also planning on wrangling my hair into an up-do for the first time in two years. There will be cursing involved, but it will be worth it. At least that’s what I keep telling myself.
-I’ve had my fair share of meltdowns this week. (Tears! Snot! Heaving chest!) I’m still generally happy, but really do have too much on my plate. Nothing out of the norm, but throw in that “thing” that turns even the most rational woman into a hormonal fireball of CRAZY and I may or may not have lost it. More than once. On the worst day, I threw Miss Emily (gently) into the stroller, clipped Diesel onto his leash and went for a power walk. It’s amazing what sunshine, fresh air and exercise can do for your psyche.
-Speaking of the dog, he no longer fits in the palm of your hand.
He has the same pea-sized brain that he had when we got him, but it is now housed in a huge, awkward body. He trips over his own two (four) feet and has a tongue that cannot help but lick you from chin to forehead. I keep venting about what a stupid dog he is, but my cold heart is melting. A little. It’s our secret, ‘mmkay?
-We haven’t had more than the occasional slight dusting of snow, which is par for the course around here. We get snow, but not like those crazy prairie-dwellers do. However. The temperatures have dropped and the walk to and from the kids’ school is enough to make me question why on Earth we don’t live in a tropical climate. These frigid temperatures have made it necessary for us all to bundle up as much as we can. The toque we bought Emily while on our trip to the States has mysteriously disappeared. I blame the dog. He likes to eat cotton (Socks, face cloths, underwear (Mine, especially)) which makes me think that he ate her toque and shat it out in the woods behind our house. Silver lining: I got to buy her a new one, complete with a matching scarf:
I would maim people in order to get one of those sets in my size. I’m kidding! But only a little bit.
The word “toque” caused quite the kerfuffle on Twitter and Facebook. Apparently Americans call them…hats. Or, winter hats. Which seems pretty nondescript and also, a little bit boring. I tried to share the pronunciation through typed responses, but was asked to share a video of how to say, “toque.” I can’t believe that I’m doing this (as I state in the video), but here you go:
I think I should stop here, because really. What more is there to add? I hope you all are well and are ready for the crazy that is December. The Holiday Event Fairy has thrown up all over my December calendar and I’m wading through her mess. She owes me one. Or five.
Eden over at Fussy posted about a Photoshop tutorial that makes your photos look like they were taken of miniature models. I thought I’d use a few photos that I took while at the Navy Pier with Linda this summer.
Original:
Edited:
Original:
Edited:
How fun is that?
