Perfect Moment Monday is sponsored by Write Mind/Open Heart and is described as "...noticing a perfect moment rather than creating one. Perfect moments can be momentous or ordinary or somewhere in between." I think it's a great way to make us all more mindful of the good things that happen to us. There's always at least one perfect moment...!
This week's Moment is as simple as they come, and I didn't have to put forth any effort in order to have my 2nd one this week. It is simply the beauty and peacefulness of a house in the early morning - or on a weekend, the early afternoon - before anyone else has woken up. The sun is streaming in through the window, the only source of light, filtered into softness by the curtain. The rest of the apartment is settled in darkness. There is no TV on, no music blasting from a laptop. Even the sounds of the neighbors, living upstairs, doesn't bother me.
These are rare moments in my home. As I lay in the living room, in the center of it all, I take it in, thoroughly enjoying everything about this uninterrupted quiet time. I think about how peaceful and perfect it is, and I love it.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Perfect Moment Monday: Moments
Perfect Moment Monday is sponsored by Write Mind/Open Heart and is described as "...noticing a perfect moment rather than creating one. Perfect moments can be momentous or ordinary or somewhere in between." I think it's a great way to make us all more mindful of the good things that happen to us. There's always at least one perfect moment...!
Moment #1: By the time I got home last night, I was in a less than wonderful mood. And by less than wonderful, I mean upset, sad, lonely and disillusioned. I sat on the floor to play with Ciela and within a couple of minutes, gave in to my true desire, which was to just slump over to the left, hug the floor and cry. I wondered if she would run to my lap, lick my face and comfort me. Isn't that what dogs do when their human is sad? Instead, she continued about her business, jumped over my legs, back into her play pen, jumped back out, ran around, played around, acted as silly as she wanted to be. I couldn't help but laugh through my tears, once, twice, again as she continued to make the expressions and movements that define Ciela, absorbed in her own little world. In that moment I realized one of the gifts of having a dog. She hadn't given me what I thought she would, but she made me feel better in her own way, in what turned out to be a better way. Laughing instead of more self-pity, which is what the result would have been had she just babied me. It pays to realize you can get what you need in ways you weren't expecting to get it. A Perfect lesson for someone who tries to be as in-control as me.
Moment #2: I made a mad dash for the crosstown bus, stupidly making a run for it in front of oncoming traffic. It was 31° and I wasn't dressed warmly enough, and there was no way I was missing this bus just to have to wait endlessly in the cold for another one. When I got to the other side of the street, I leapt up on the sidewalk and kept running for the front of the bus - this weather was no joke. I jumped up and down to keep warm as passengers boarded, more people got off, and a man rummaged in his huge gym bag for his metro card. I got to the front of the line. A little boy, couldn't be more than 11 or 12 years old, motioned to the door of the warm insides of that huge machine and said "Go ahead". Young chivalry in its simplest, finest form. "Aww, thanks sweetie," I said, more than a little surprised, and gave him a genuine smile before I climbed the stairs ahead of him. Sometimes it really is the small things in life.
Moment #3: For way too long now, I've been talking about making moves, but it's been mostly talk and very little action. Today I made the decision to stop wasting time and finally set things in motion. I'm hesitatingly excited, pretty anxious, a little scared and a lot antsy! But I'm happy to have finally made a decision that's been sitting stagnant too long while I tried to do what I considered enough research, figure out everything I possibly could, envision every scenario and plan every detail. Sometimes you just have to take the plunge; what's the worst that could happen? I'm getting ready to leave NY y'all! (Just typing that scared the shit outta me, by the way). For so long I've been making every excuse to dillydally, trying to make perfect plans before I could make a final decision. But sometimes you just gotta hold your breath and jump, and the wonderful feeling of finally doing that is more perfect than any extensive planning I could have done.
Moment #1: By the time I got home last night, I was in a less than wonderful mood. And by less than wonderful, I mean upset, sad, lonely and disillusioned. I sat on the floor to play with Ciela and within a couple of minutes, gave in to my true desire, which was to just slump over to the left, hug the floor and cry. I wondered if she would run to my lap, lick my face and comfort me. Isn't that what dogs do when their human is sad? Instead, she continued about her business, jumped over my legs, back into her play pen, jumped back out, ran around, played around, acted as silly as she wanted to be. I couldn't help but laugh through my tears, once, twice, again as she continued to make the expressions and movements that define Ciela, absorbed in her own little world. In that moment I realized one of the gifts of having a dog. She hadn't given me what I thought she would, but she made me feel better in her own way, in what turned out to be a better way. Laughing instead of more self-pity, which is what the result would have been had she just babied me. It pays to realize you can get what you need in ways you weren't expecting to get it. A Perfect lesson for someone who tries to be as in-control as me.
Moment #2: I made a mad dash for the crosstown bus, stupidly making a run for it in front of oncoming traffic. It was 31° and I wasn't dressed warmly enough, and there was no way I was missing this bus just to have to wait endlessly in the cold for another one. When I got to the other side of the street, I leapt up on the sidewalk and kept running for the front of the bus - this weather was no joke. I jumped up and down to keep warm as passengers boarded, more people got off, and a man rummaged in his huge gym bag for his metro card. I got to the front of the line. A little boy, couldn't be more than 11 or 12 years old, motioned to the door of the warm insides of that huge machine and said "Go ahead". Young chivalry in its simplest, finest form. "Aww, thanks sweetie," I said, more than a little surprised, and gave him a genuine smile before I climbed the stairs ahead of him. Sometimes it really is the small things in life.
Moment #3: For way too long now, I've been talking about making moves, but it's been mostly talk and very little action. Today I made the decision to stop wasting time and finally set things in motion. I'm hesitatingly excited, pretty anxious, a little scared and a lot antsy! But I'm happy to have finally made a decision that's been sitting stagnant too long while I tried to do what I considered enough research, figure out everything I possibly could, envision every scenario and plan every detail. Sometimes you just have to take the plunge; what's the worst that could happen? I'm getting ready to leave NY y'all! (Just typing that scared the shit outta me, by the way). For so long I've been making every excuse to dillydally, trying to make perfect plans before I could make a final decision. But sometimes you just gotta hold your breath and jump, and the wonderful feeling of finally doing that is more perfect than any extensive planning I could have done.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Friday, January 21, 2011
I Could Have...
I could have been born anywhere, as anyone. I didn't have to be me.
I could be living in an African village, playing in trash-strewn dirt streets, knowing little of the world outside of my immediate surroundings. I could have been born in Syria and never stepped foot in America, and I wouldn't have been part of a family known as mughtareebeen* every time I was introduced to someone new. I could have been non-independent, following what others told me to do blindly because that's just the way things are supposed to be. I would have saved myself the pain & anger of all those fights with my parents to let me have my own life, let me do things my way. I could have been meek and quiet and obedient, and for a while I was.
I could have been someone who didn't stand up for her ideals, who didn't believe people shouldn't be judged by their skin color, their religion, how much they weigh or who they love. I could have been prejudiced, racist, a bigot, a bitch. Instead I continued to dance "like Blacks" in our kitchen as he questioned me disapprovingly, marching to the beat of my own drum at 9; had best friends of 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, I can't even count how many ethnicities, by the time I was in junior high, not giving a damn what the neighbors thought; explored true love at 16 because I didn't believe God cared that we didn't worship in the same place; found my second sister in my 20's because I know those connections transcend race. I have traveled and learned and seen and been and lived. I have been blessed and I know it.
I could have been an underachiever, spending my days sitting on the couch doing nothing, not earning an income, not aiming for anything, not having a career, not achieving a thing. I could have never moved to the greatest city in the world and never accomplished the things that I have. I could have been still living at home, mooching off those around me, living one boring day to the next, wondering if life was ever going to get exciting. Instead I created my own excitement and have loved every adventure I've been on, and appreciated even the gut-wrenching ones I hated, albeit later.
I could have been narrow-minded, non-nurturing, never-forgiving and not loving of myself. I could have never bothered to take the time and the pains to work on myself, analyze myself, make myself a better person. I could have not been introspective and not given a shit that I wasn't. I could have been certifiably crazy, mentally ill, a drug addict, an alcoholic, a verbally abusive asshole or just a plain old miserable prick. I could have been granted no gifts or skills at all, and wandered around feeling like I could never be anything. I could have been a waitress, a truck driver, a lawyer; a housewife, a Queen; living in a shack by the beach, or walking the halls of my mansion everyday just for fun, to remind myself how big of a house I had the pleasure to live in. I could have been scrooge or I could have had enough to feed every starving child in the world.
I could have been a man. I could have been someone else's sister, someone else's daughter, someone else's son. I could have been loving, caring and kind or I could have been selfish, miserable and mean. I could have won the lottery or lived on a farm in the middle of nowhere, been the youngest of 12 in a crowded but loving family, or the illegitimate offspring of a lovers' tryst. I could have been born HIV+ or succumbed to an illness at a young age or live to be 90 on my deathbed, surrounded by everyone I love. I could have been born on the streets, never to know a home or the warmth of a homecooked meal made by someone who loved me. I could have lived a tragedy or a triumph, or anything in between.
My life could have been completely different than what it has been. Just think about it; you, too, could have been born into a different family, another destiny. You could be someone else entirely with different views, different experiences, different ideals. I am thankful for the journey I have had; even the bad parts have made me who I am, and I love who that person is.
*People who emigrate to the West in Arabic
I could be living in an African village, playing in trash-strewn dirt streets, knowing little of the world outside of my immediate surroundings. I could have been born in Syria and never stepped foot in America, and I wouldn't have been part of a family known as mughtareebeen* every time I was introduced to someone new. I could have been non-independent, following what others told me to do blindly because that's just the way things are supposed to be. I would have saved myself the pain & anger of all those fights with my parents to let me have my own life, let me do things my way. I could have been meek and quiet and obedient, and for a while I was.
I could have been someone who didn't stand up for her ideals, who didn't believe people shouldn't be judged by their skin color, their religion, how much they weigh or who they love. I could have been prejudiced, racist, a bigot, a bitch. Instead I continued to dance "like Blacks" in our kitchen as he questioned me disapprovingly, marching to the beat of my own drum at 9; had best friends of 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, I can't even count how many ethnicities, by the time I was in junior high, not giving a damn what the neighbors thought; explored true love at 16 because I didn't believe God cared that we didn't worship in the same place; found my second sister in my 20's because I know those connections transcend race. I have traveled and learned and seen and been and lived. I have been blessed and I know it.
I could have been an underachiever, spending my days sitting on the couch doing nothing, not earning an income, not aiming for anything, not having a career, not achieving a thing. I could have never moved to the greatest city in the world and never accomplished the things that I have. I could have been still living at home, mooching off those around me, living one boring day to the next, wondering if life was ever going to get exciting. Instead I created my own excitement and have loved every adventure I've been on, and appreciated even the gut-wrenching ones I hated, albeit later.
I could have been narrow-minded, non-nurturing, never-forgiving and not loving of myself. I could have never bothered to take the time and the pains to work on myself, analyze myself, make myself a better person. I could have not been introspective and not given a shit that I wasn't. I could have been certifiably crazy, mentally ill, a drug addict, an alcoholic, a verbally abusive asshole or just a plain old miserable prick. I could have been granted no gifts or skills at all, and wandered around feeling like I could never be anything. I could have been a waitress, a truck driver, a lawyer; a housewife, a Queen; living in a shack by the beach, or walking the halls of my mansion everyday just for fun, to remind myself how big of a house I had the pleasure to live in. I could have been scrooge or I could have had enough to feed every starving child in the world.
I could have been a man. I could have been someone else's sister, someone else's daughter, someone else's son. I could have been loving, caring and kind or I could have been selfish, miserable and mean. I could have won the lottery or lived on a farm in the middle of nowhere, been the youngest of 12 in a crowded but loving family, or the illegitimate offspring of a lovers' tryst. I could have been born HIV+ or succumbed to an illness at a young age or live to be 90 on my deathbed, surrounded by everyone I love. I could have been born on the streets, never to know a home or the warmth of a homecooked meal made by someone who loved me. I could have lived a tragedy or a triumph, or anything in between.
My life could have been completely different than what it has been. Just think about it; you, too, could have been born into a different family, another destiny. You could be someone else entirely with different views, different experiences, different ideals. I am thankful for the journey I have had; even the bad parts have made me who I am, and I love who that person is.
*People who emigrate to the West in Arabic
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Perfect Moment Monday: I'll Be Home For Christmas
Perfect Moment Monday is sponsored by Write Mind/Open Heart and is described as "...noticing a perfect moment rather than creating one. Perfect moments can be momentous or ordinary or somewhere in between." I think it's a great way to make us all more mindful of the good things that happen to us. There's always at least one perfect moment...!
I wasn't going to come home for Christmas this year. I didn't feel like packing or being on a plane for six hours or dealing with airport craziness. Tickets were too expensive, cabs to JFK run $50 plus tip each way, and a ticket for Ciela is $200 roundtrip. There was no way I was gonna do it.
But the closer it got to Christmas, the more I realized I would have nothing to do if I stayed in NY by myself. Plans of going to friend's houses changed and I knew I would end up home alone on Christmas Eve, the night we always celebrate, and I would be miserable. On the flip side, I thought it was interesting that we all make such a big deal out of this holiday every year; it's technically only the one day. I thought, if I can just get through that one day, ill be fine. But then my sister called me, and presented an argument I couldn't argue with; "Come home, I'm lonely". Not in the 'I have no one around me' sense of the word, but in the 'I miss my only sister' sense of the word. Well, I was lonely too I said. So I let go of all my reasons I wasn't going home and started looking for tickets when we hung up the phone.
Everyone knew about my upcoming trip, but I asked them all to keep it quiet around my nephews. I wanted to surprise them because they weren't expecting to see me until sometime in February. The day I arrived, my mom picked me up at the airport, we grabbed some lunch to go, and headed to my sister's house. I instructed my mom and brother to walk in ahead of me with all the food except mine, so as not to raise eyebrows, while I hung back in the hallway with Ciela. My nephews already suspected I was in town because of some slip-ups, but I wanted to see if I could still surprise them at least a little bit.
A few minutes later, after I figured they probably thought their only visitors that day would be Tetah (my mom) and Haulo D (my brother), I nonchalantly walked in the door and acted like it was totally normal that I was there. I watched as one nephew literally fell to the floor in surprise as he said "What!?!" and as the other jumped up from his chair with a huge smile on his face. Hugging and kissing and loudness and chaos ensued.
My precious angels, and my Perfect Moment.
I wasn't going to come home for Christmas this year. I didn't feel like packing or being on a plane for six hours or dealing with airport craziness. Tickets were too expensive, cabs to JFK run $50 plus tip each way, and a ticket for Ciela is $200 roundtrip. There was no way I was gonna do it.
But the closer it got to Christmas, the more I realized I would have nothing to do if I stayed in NY by myself. Plans of going to friend's houses changed and I knew I would end up home alone on Christmas Eve, the night we always celebrate, and I would be miserable. On the flip side, I thought it was interesting that we all make such a big deal out of this holiday every year; it's technically only the one day. I thought, if I can just get through that one day, ill be fine. But then my sister called me, and presented an argument I couldn't argue with; "Come home, I'm lonely". Not in the 'I have no one around me' sense of the word, but in the 'I miss my only sister' sense of the word. Well, I was lonely too I said. So I let go of all my reasons I wasn't going home and started looking for tickets when we hung up the phone.
Everyone knew about my upcoming trip, but I asked them all to keep it quiet around my nephews. I wanted to surprise them because they weren't expecting to see me until sometime in February. The day I arrived, my mom picked me up at the airport, we grabbed some lunch to go, and headed to my sister's house. I instructed my mom and brother to walk in ahead of me with all the food except mine, so as not to raise eyebrows, while I hung back in the hallway with Ciela. My nephews already suspected I was in town because of some slip-ups, but I wanted to see if I could still surprise them at least a little bit.
A few minutes later, after I figured they probably thought their only visitors that day would be Tetah (my mom) and Haulo D (my brother), I nonchalantly walked in the door and acted like it was totally normal that I was there. I watched as one nephew literally fell to the floor in surprise as he said "What!?!" and as the other jumped up from his chair with a huge smile on his face. Hugging and kissing and loudness and chaos ensued.
My precious angels, and my Perfect Moment.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Perfect Moment Monday: Island Dreams
Perfect Moment Monday is sponsored by Write Mind/Open Heart and is described as "...noticing a perfect moment rather than creating one. Perfect moments can be momentous or ordinary or somewhere in between." I think it's a great way to make us all more mindful of the good things that happen to us. There's always at least one perfect moment...!
As I walked out of the pharmacy, the word ISLAND in bold, capital letters caught my eye. It was a 2011 calendar showcasing 12 different islands on its sealed pages. I smiled and stopped, picked it up from the low shelf and flipped it over. Nevis was the first word that caught my eye; Caribbean, Nevis. "I know someone from there, how funny", I thought.
I scanned the rest of the photos. My eyes slowly traveled up to the very first one, January. Trunk Bay, St. John, US Virgin Islands. I smiled again. I had been there, several times. The journey there from St Thomas had become as easy to me as a trip to NJ from the city via Penn Station. A ferry ride over from Red Hook, a safari (share taxi) up the winding mountain road, the gorgeous view of Trunk Bay below us just minutes before we are deposited at the entrance. The photo couldn't have been more than a couple of inches wide, but I quickly picked out the underwater snorkel trail, visible so easily to my familiar eye.
I had always wanted to live on a Caribbean island, it had always been one of my dreams. Now, how much I enjoyed or didn't enjoy living on one is a story for another post. My perfect moment today was in realizing just how many things I have been blessed to be able to do in my life. Seeing a picture of St. John's most famous beach, something most people see only in pictures, and knowing that for a while, it had become somewhere I could go with friends on a random Sunday, was amazing in a peaceful and content way. Perfect Moment straight out of nowhere.
And that's Perfect, too.
As I walked out of the pharmacy, the word ISLAND in bold, capital letters caught my eye. It was a 2011 calendar showcasing 12 different islands on its sealed pages. I smiled and stopped, picked it up from the low shelf and flipped it over. Nevis was the first word that caught my eye; Caribbean, Nevis. "I know someone from there, how funny", I thought.
I scanned the rest of the photos. My eyes slowly traveled up to the very first one, January. Trunk Bay, St. John, US Virgin Islands. I smiled again. I had been there, several times. The journey there from St Thomas had become as easy to me as a trip to NJ from the city via Penn Station. A ferry ride over from Red Hook, a safari (share taxi) up the winding mountain road, the gorgeous view of Trunk Bay below us just minutes before we are deposited at the entrance. The photo couldn't have been more than a couple of inches wide, but I quickly picked out the underwater snorkel trail, visible so easily to my familiar eye.
I had always wanted to live on a Caribbean island, it had always been one of my dreams. Now, how much I enjoyed or didn't enjoy living on one is a story for another post. My perfect moment today was in realizing just how many things I have been blessed to be able to do in my life. Seeing a picture of St. John's most famous beach, something most people see only in pictures, and knowing that for a while, it had become somewhere I could go with friends on a random Sunday, was amazing in a peaceful and content way. Perfect Moment straight out of nowhere.
And that's Perfect, too.
Friday, December 3, 2010
Crash & Burn
Bad things happen when a person takes on way more than they can reasonably handle, and this is what has recently happened with me. In September I started 2 credit courses at FIT, started a weekly training regimen to get little miss Ciela in line, and started working again. I was also trying to research schools for a Masters program and stressing about where I should move. Add that to everyday tasks and eventually, increasing demands related to the list I just outlined (oh, and many sleepless barking-puppy-filled nights) and it's easy to see why sometime in November I completely checked out.
Before taking on a million and one things, my schedule kind of consisted of no schedule. I remember waking up whenever I wanted to, doing whatever I wanted with my days, making the most of my first unemployed and therefore freedom-filled summer in NYC. But honestly, I can only lazy around for so long, and pretty soon, I was fed up of doing nothing and pretty frustrated with my financial status. Sure I had plenty of time to do plenty of things (but not too much money with which to do those things; forever the bittersweet reality of unemployment, by the way). But I was tired of being unproductive. I needed to accomplish something again. And somehow I went into overdrive.
At first it wasn't so bad; I worked, I went to class, I handed in homework on time, and I kept up my social life. I remember enjoying the hustle & bustle of it at the beginning, I even thrived on the excitement of 'doing it all'. But eventually, all the to-do's weighed me down. I wasn't able to stay organized, I complained at work about lack of sleep due to said unorganization, and I was generally miserable. I worked full-time hours and had obligations almost every single day after work: Monday, Ciela's training session; Tuesday, long-standing recurring engagement that wasn't going anywhere anytime soon; Wednesday, photography class from 6-9; Thursday, freedom (imagine that) and Friday, a 2 hour web page construction class in a dimly lit computer lab that left me more sleepy than anything else. I was also supposed to train Ciela every day to reinforce what she had learned on Monday, as well as conduct "good times" sessions between her and Monet's dog because they didn't get along and I was tired of the doggy disagreements and ensuing growling that that caused, but let's be realistic, that didn't happen every day.
What did happen was that October became even more miserable and by November, when my mother came to visit and my work assignment ended, I subconsciously took that as a chance to take my life to the other extreme. The photography project that was due in a few short weeks - whatever, I would worry about it later. The five or so late homework assignments, not to mention a complete website as a final project, for the other class - not even thinking about 'em. Ciela's training - um, yeah... sure. I quite simply did not care. Instead of taking the 2 or 3 week span while my mom was here to focus on my responsibilities now that I didn't have to be in an office every day, I did absolutely nothing. Instead of using my time wisely, I pretty much didn't use it. Don't get me wrong, I had a great time with my mom; we went on an awesome East Coast road trip that neither of us will ever forget. But I could have used some of that time - or the time since - much more sensibly, and of course now I regret it.
I'm still trying to get back in the swing of things but honestly, I have little motivation, especially since I started working again. I prolong sleep in an attempt to distance myself from my current reality, in hopes that some tasks will have miraculously disappeared by the time I've finished hitting the snooze button (hasn't happened yet, by the way). I somehow completed my photography project and was ridiculously proud of myself when I did so. I have since been trying to find the motivation to work on my website project, but it seems my motivation is so misplaced I'll never find it. I have sat in this kitchen chair for the better part of a whole day today, thinking about getting to work on it... I even managed to finally pull my notebook out of my bag and plug in my flash drive. But I have found every excuse to do other things and have accomplished zero work. Yes, some of the things I have done instead were important and even productive (for example, researching Masters programs, yay me) but still, all were done in an attempt to run away from the daunting task at hand.
Moral of the story? There's really only so much you can do without feeling like you are going to lose your mind. Don't let yourself get to that point. Because recovering from a crash & burn has never been so slow & painful.
Before taking on a million and one things, my schedule kind of consisted of no schedule. I remember waking up whenever I wanted to, doing whatever I wanted with my days, making the most of my first unemployed and therefore freedom-filled summer in NYC. But honestly, I can only lazy around for so long, and pretty soon, I was fed up of doing nothing and pretty frustrated with my financial status. Sure I had plenty of time to do plenty of things (but not too much money with which to do those things; forever the bittersweet reality of unemployment, by the way). But I was tired of being unproductive. I needed to accomplish something again. And somehow I went into overdrive.
At first it wasn't so bad; I worked, I went to class, I handed in homework on time, and I kept up my social life. I remember enjoying the hustle & bustle of it at the beginning, I even thrived on the excitement of 'doing it all'. But eventually, all the to-do's weighed me down. I wasn't able to stay organized, I complained at work about lack of sleep due to said unorganization, and I was generally miserable. I worked full-time hours and had obligations almost every single day after work: Monday, Ciela's training session; Tuesday, long-standing recurring engagement that wasn't going anywhere anytime soon; Wednesday, photography class from 6-9; Thursday, freedom (imagine that) and Friday, a 2 hour web page construction class in a dimly lit computer lab that left me more sleepy than anything else. I was also supposed to train Ciela every day to reinforce what she had learned on Monday, as well as conduct "good times" sessions between her and Monet's dog because they didn't get along and I was tired of the doggy disagreements and ensuing growling that that caused, but let's be realistic, that didn't happen every day.
What did happen was that October became even more miserable and by November, when my mother came to visit and my work assignment ended, I subconsciously took that as a chance to take my life to the other extreme. The photography project that was due in a few short weeks - whatever, I would worry about it later. The five or so late homework assignments, not to mention a complete website as a final project, for the other class - not even thinking about 'em. Ciela's training - um, yeah... sure. I quite simply did not care. Instead of taking the 2 or 3 week span while my mom was here to focus on my responsibilities now that I didn't have to be in an office every day, I did absolutely nothing. Instead of using my time wisely, I pretty much didn't use it. Don't get me wrong, I had a great time with my mom; we went on an awesome East Coast road trip that neither of us will ever forget. But I could have used some of that time - or the time since - much more sensibly, and of course now I regret it.
I'm still trying to get back in the swing of things but honestly, I have little motivation, especially since I started working again. I prolong sleep in an attempt to distance myself from my current reality, in hopes that some tasks will have miraculously disappeared by the time I've finished hitting the snooze button (hasn't happened yet, by the way). I somehow completed my photography project and was ridiculously proud of myself when I did so. I have since been trying to find the motivation to work on my website project, but it seems my motivation is so misplaced I'll never find it. I have sat in this kitchen chair for the better part of a whole day today, thinking about getting to work on it... I even managed to finally pull my notebook out of my bag and plug in my flash drive. But I have found every excuse to do other things and have accomplished zero work. Yes, some of the things I have done instead were important and even productive (for example, researching Masters programs, yay me) but still, all were done in an attempt to run away from the daunting task at hand.
Moral of the story? There's really only so much you can do without feeling like you are going to lose your mind. Don't let yourself get to that point. Because recovering from a crash & burn has never been so slow & painful.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Perfect Moment Monday: Learning
Perfect Moment Monday is sponsored by Weebles Wobblog and is described as "...noticing a perfect moment rather than creating one. Perfect moments can be momentous or ordinary or somewhere in between." I think it's a great way to make us all more mindful of the good things that happen to us. There's always at least one perfect moment...!
The first week of September I had my first photography assignment, and suffice it to say, I was nervous as hell. I still didn't know diddly about f-stops, shutter speed, ISOs, lighting, and so on. The instructions were to 'create a photograph in the style of' a photo of our choice, a photo snapped by photographers who had more experience in the tip of their clicking index finger than I had in my whole body. We were not supposed to recreate the photo per se, and this proved to be much easier said than done. The day of the shoot, we went up to the roof and I tried to figure out how to get the same lighting as my chosen photograph. Did I mention I don't know jack about lighting? Yeah. I felt uncomfortable and out of my element, and I kept apologizing for not knowing what I was doing and taking too long to do it. My model was awesome and helpful and patient, but my frustrations only grew as I continued to actually get some great shots - but nothing I could use for this assignment. After over 100 shots, I decided I had some I could work with, and called it a day.
To keep this post short, let's just say what looks great on a 2.5" LCD does not look the same on a 14" laptop screen. I emailed my model and asked if we could shoot again.
Fast forward to late October; same location, same model, same photographer. But not really. I was shooting a nude set, another homework assignment. Though slightly nervous about shooting someone I actually knew naked, besides that, everything was great. I adjusted shutter speed and aperture like an almost-pro. ISO? No problem. White balance? Pshhhh! On it.
In a flash (not literally, though), I realized just how much I had learned in less than 2 months, and that was my Perfect Moment.
The first week of September I had my first photography assignment, and suffice it to say, I was nervous as hell. I still didn't know diddly about f-stops, shutter speed, ISOs, lighting, and so on. The instructions were to 'create a photograph in the style of' a photo of our choice, a photo snapped by photographers who had more experience in the tip of their clicking index finger than I had in my whole body. We were not supposed to recreate the photo per se, and this proved to be much easier said than done. The day of the shoot, we went up to the roof and I tried to figure out how to get the same lighting as my chosen photograph. Did I mention I don't know jack about lighting? Yeah. I felt uncomfortable and out of my element, and I kept apologizing for not knowing what I was doing and taking too long to do it. My model was awesome and helpful and patient, but my frustrations only grew as I continued to actually get some great shots - but nothing I could use for this assignment. After over 100 shots, I decided I had some I could work with, and called it a day.
To keep this post short, let's just say what looks great on a 2.5" LCD does not look the same on a 14" laptop screen. I emailed my model and asked if we could shoot again.
Fast forward to late October; same location, same model, same photographer. But not really. I was shooting a nude set, another homework assignment. Though slightly nervous about shooting someone I actually knew naked, besides that, everything was great. I adjusted shutter speed and aperture like an almost-pro. ISO? No problem. White balance? Pshhhh! On it.
In a flash (not literally, though), I realized just how much I had learned in less than 2 months, and that was my Perfect Moment.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
(RAW) Shit Happens
I walked into the house and glanced at my laptop sitting on the kitchen table. My camera was connected and I could see what had been uploaded. I leaned in to read the dialog box that had popped up on the screen.
"Noooooooooo!!" I shouted.
"What happened!" my mom exclaimed from inside. My mom always thinks something disastrous has happened. Then again, I had just let out a blood-curdling scream.
"I shot all those photos today in a format my computer can't upload!!"
"And why would you do that?" My mother's response came much calmer now. A little too matter-of-fact.
I slammed my palm into the door once (ok, maybe twice) but that hurt too much, so I kicked it for good measure. "Because that's what the professor said to do!!"
I huffed and puffed some more as a thousand other thoughts went through my head. I had been shooting all day, all damn day. The project is due in a few weeks; considering it's to be handed in in book form, and the book takes 7-10 business days to be printed and delivered, that meant I had to have everything shot, edited and finalized by Monday in order to make the due date. As in, two very short days from now. I had spent on-and-off parts of today stressed because I was down to the wire; I was getting great shots but the quality of many wasn't coming out to my satisfaction. I couldn't wait to get home and see them on the computer to judge once and for all if they were usable. In the meantime, I was beating myself up about why I couldn't perfect what I was doing and why I hadn't learned everything I needed to know about the vast world of photography in 3 whole months. I berated myself for procrastinating on not getting the bulk of the project done until now.
I walked to my room to get something and of course, slammed my hand into the door frame, this time by accident. "Aaaaaaaargh!!!" It was a guttural sound, not a high-pitched one; one I really put all my feeling into.
"What happened?"
"I slammed my frickin' hand into the wall, and it hurts!" You know how when it rains it pours? I felt like I should brace myself for the coming storm.
I was fuming. "Fuck this project, fuck this class, fuck my life!", I thought. I thudded back to the kitchen, knowing I was overreacting at this point, but I just couldn't help it. My schedule was completely ruined; so much for "edit tonight, shoot and edit Sunday and finalize by Monday". I had been so excited to get home and get started, to get thismuchcloser to finishing this project so I could clear my calendar for the other final project I had to hand in. I had some photos I was really excited about seeing that I couldn't even get off my camera to look at, let alone work on. It was frustrating and annoying and and and.
All of a sudden the great day I had spent with my mom, hanging out in the city and photographing, all went to crap. And as soon as I thought that, reality hit. It was unfair and illogical to throw away the goodness of a whole day just because something bad had happened. I thought to myself, "If you hadn't left most of the work to the last minute, you wouldn't be so stressed out right now. You would have more time to shoot and more time to figure out a way to get the photos off your camera. It's very easy to blame the professor for his suggestion, but it's really not his fault this happened and you know it. Maybe you should step up and take some responsibility for this mess instead of blaming everybody and everything else."
Then I wondered if God or the powers-that-be had been chuckling all day while I shot in RAW instead of JPEG, knowing full well what was gonna happen when I got home. I imagined a bunch of Powers sitting around in a living room of some sort, somewhere in the sky above me, doubled over in laughter and pointing down at me. Then I thought about how odd and self-centered it was to think that; I'm sure that God or the powers-that-be had way better things to do than worry about what file format I was shooting in. That realization further brought home the fact that maybe, just maybe I was taking things a bit too far.
I've been trying to teach myself that life is not only about what happens to you, but how you handle what happens. Just as easily as I had a mini-meltdown, I could have figured out constructive ways to get myself out of the problem. So I googled my dilemma and followed the suggestions my favorite search engine came up with, still upset but much calmer. I'll have you all know; still no photos. Tomorrow, I will look for more solutions. I will also go out and shoot some more, this time not in RAW.
I walked into the living room to get my camera charger.
"Did you get them?" my mom asked.
"Nope."
"What are you gonna do?"
"Figure out a way to do it without freaking out." I couldn't help but kind of smile as I said it.
"Noooooooooo!!" I shouted.
"What happened!" my mom exclaimed from inside. My mom always thinks something disastrous has happened. Then again, I had just let out a blood-curdling scream.
"I shot all those photos today in a format my computer can't upload!!"
"And why would you do that?" My mother's response came much calmer now. A little too matter-of-fact.
I slammed my palm into the door once (ok, maybe twice) but that hurt too much, so I kicked it for good measure. "Because that's what the professor said to do!!"
I huffed and puffed some more as a thousand other thoughts went through my head. I had been shooting all day, all damn day. The project is due in a few weeks; considering it's to be handed in in book form, and the book takes 7-10 business days to be printed and delivered, that meant I had to have everything shot, edited and finalized by Monday in order to make the due date. As in, two very short days from now. I had spent on-and-off parts of today stressed because I was down to the wire; I was getting great shots but the quality of many wasn't coming out to my satisfaction. I couldn't wait to get home and see them on the computer to judge once and for all if they were usable. In the meantime, I was beating myself up about why I couldn't perfect what I was doing and why I hadn't learned everything I needed to know about the vast world of photography in 3 whole months. I berated myself for procrastinating on not getting the bulk of the project done until now.
I walked to my room to get something and of course, slammed my hand into the door frame, this time by accident. "Aaaaaaaargh!!!" It was a guttural sound, not a high-pitched one; one I really put all my feeling into.
"What happened?"
"I slammed my frickin' hand into the wall, and it hurts!" You know how when it rains it pours? I felt like I should brace myself for the coming storm.
I was fuming. "Fuck this project, fuck this class, fuck my life!", I thought. I thudded back to the kitchen, knowing I was overreacting at this point, but I just couldn't help it. My schedule was completely ruined; so much for "edit tonight, shoot and edit Sunday and finalize by Monday". I had been so excited to get home and get started, to get thismuchcloser to finishing this project so I could clear my calendar for the other final project I had to hand in. I had some photos I was really excited about seeing that I couldn't even get off my camera to look at, let alone work on. It was frustrating and annoying and and and.
All of a sudden the great day I had spent with my mom, hanging out in the city and photographing, all went to crap. And as soon as I thought that, reality hit. It was unfair and illogical to throw away the goodness of a whole day just because something bad had happened. I thought to myself, "If you hadn't left most of the work to the last minute, you wouldn't be so stressed out right now. You would have more time to shoot and more time to figure out a way to get the photos off your camera. It's very easy to blame the professor for his suggestion, but it's really not his fault this happened and you know it. Maybe you should step up and take some responsibility for this mess instead of blaming everybody and everything else."
Then I wondered if God or the powers-that-be had been chuckling all day while I shot in RAW instead of JPEG, knowing full well what was gonna happen when I got home. I imagined a bunch of Powers sitting around in a living room of some sort, somewhere in the sky above me, doubled over in laughter and pointing down at me. Then I thought about how odd and self-centered it was to think that; I'm sure that God or the powers-that-be had way better things to do than worry about what file format I was shooting in. That realization further brought home the fact that maybe, just maybe I was taking things a bit too far.
I've been trying to teach myself that life is not only about what happens to you, but how you handle what happens. Just as easily as I had a mini-meltdown, I could have figured out constructive ways to get myself out of the problem. So I googled my dilemma and followed the suggestions my favorite search engine came up with, still upset but much calmer. I'll have you all know; still no photos. Tomorrow, I will look for more solutions. I will also go out and shoot some more, this time not in RAW.
I walked into the living room to get my camera charger.
"Did you get them?" my mom asked.
"Nope."
"What are you gonna do?"
"Figure out a way to do it without freaking out." I couldn't help but kind of smile as I said it.
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