Jake and I spent yesterday in Los Angeles. I am planning to work all weekend, next weekend, so we thought it might be nice to get away at least for a day since I’ll be working for twelve days straight once this weekend is over. We’d visited LA three weeks ago to take photographs and the ride home was so painful that we didn’t want to drive up there again for a while.
This time, we set up brunch and coffee meetings with two of Jake’s friends. One from his high-school years whom he hadn’t seen in nine years and another from college, whom we hadn’t seen or talked to in over four years. We figured between the two get togethers, I’d spend a few hours practicing with my new camera. Since our last experience had taught us that we could spend forever in LA traffic, we decided to pick one spot and spend the few hours there. I read about several different places and settled on Olvera Street which sounded interesting, fun, and full of potential for photography.
We got on the road at 9:00am and made it to Santa Monica in exactly one hour and forty minutes. It was my second time down the boulevard, but Jake’s first so we strolled a bit while I tried to take some pictures. We then met his friend and his friend’s girlfriend for brunch, had great conversation. Charged up and excited, we then strolled down to the beach for some more pictures. I’m not really a lie-on-the-beach type of person but there’s something about the Pacific Coast beaches that I find magical. Maybe it’s how expansive and never-ending they feel. On Friday Jake and I had gone to La Jolla for me to pickup some paperwork from work and spent lunch by the beach and I told him that we should visit a beach at least three times a week. The Santa Monica beach was louder but it still gave me the sense of serenity I enjoy.
We left the beach for the loud and joyful crowd of Olvera street where we spent an hour walking and taking pictures, eating Mexican food, and enjoying the 70-degree weather. Just as we got in the car to drive towards Hollywood, Jake’s friend called to let us know she was finished with her commitment so we met her at the Chinese Theater on Hollywood Boulevard where, of course, I took pictures. We spent the next two hours catching up, laughing, and talking about our careers, lives, marriage, and mutual friends. The way back was as painless as the way up and we made it home in less than two hours. All in all, a truly enjoyable day.
There’s something special about catching up with old friends. No matter how long it’s been since you last saw them, there’s a sense of familiarity that never goes away and allows you to fill years of gaps in a matter of minutes. It leaves you so fulfilled and full of hope and you remember all the things you liked about that person all along and rebuild your faith that this time you won’t fall out of touch.
It was one of those inspiring days.
Riding the New York Subway used to provide me with many occasions to glimpse into other people’s reading choices. In the seven years I spent there, I mastered the art of bending just enough to read the title without awakening the suspicions of the reader. I used to scribble the author or novel name in my palm and put it in my list to check out from the New York Public Library. I found many interesting, thought-provoking and varied writers using that method.
Even though it’s not as extensive as NYPL, the San Diego Public Library isn’t that bad. The problem is that, with the exception of New York Times Book Review, all my resources of finding new books have disappeared. I don’t usually have any problem hearing about the popular books, but without the bookstore people, the subway, and the prolific readers I was surrounded by, I am starving for some good recommendations.
I’ve recently finished and posted an except of The Secret Life of Bees and Mystic River. I have just started Amateur Marriage by Anne Tyler and I am looking for more fiction (and nonfiction) writers or books. To be fair, I’ll give you a list of what’s still on my shelf to be read in the next few months: NonZero, Bringing the House Down, Moneyball, A Thousand Years of Nonlinear History, QED, The Blind Watchmaker, The Meaning of Everything, The Awakening, The Creative Habit, How to Dunk a Doughnut and for ideas: So Many Books, So Little Time and BookLust. I can’t recommend them since I haven’t read them yet but they were recommended by people I trust or publications I trust. If you want more books, here is a list of and excepts from 75% of the books I’ve read in the last three years.
It may seem like I have many books on my list, but I read a lot and quickly so this list isn’t long enough for me. It also contains too few fiction titles. As much as I enjoy nonfiction, my true to love is fiction. I read anything besides horror and fantasy. So, please share with me. Tell me your favorite author. Your favorite book. Even a favorite site about books. Pretty please?
When I first started taking pictures with a digital camera, I used to visit many other pages of photographs on the web. Each time I came upon a site with pictures that were obviously Photoshopped, I’d consider that photographer a hack. After all, that’s not an actual picture that came out of the camera. It doesn’t show my the shooters photography skills, it shows me his Photoshop skills. I’d write off the photographer and, deep down, think that if only I knew Photoshop as well as this person did, my photographs would be just as pretty.
That’s what I thought then.
Now, I think that with the age of digital photography becoming more and more prominent, what ‘real’ photographers used to do in their dark rooms, is now accomplished by Photoshop. Post-processing was always a part of photography. So, someone who’s using Photoshop to enhance or add creativity to his photographs is using another skill set that goes hand in hand with their choice to use the digital medium. Learning to master certain skills in Photoshop gives the photographer an opportunity to bring out the best of the image.
The downside of my new way of thinking, of course, is that I have to learn much much more about Photoshop now that I have grown up and stopped dissing people who use it. Not to mention, I still have a truckload to learn about the art of photography itself.
Well, one day and one photograph at a time, I suppose.
I’m always amazed when I meet American citizens who don’t vote. I agree with Alaina’s last sentence: The only wasted votes are those that are not cast. And I wish people realized that regardless of their criticisms of the system or the way in which it’s executed, it’s a privilege to get to vote and I think it’s better to show up, put your own name as a write-in than not voting at all. At least in that case, you’re exercising your right to vote.
I know that system in the US isn’t perfect. If nothing else, we learned that after the 2000 elections. But just because it’s not perfect and it’s not easy to fix, doesn’t mean one should give up on it. If you believe in the system strongly enough to get so mad, then go ahead and do something about it. Many people are. If you aren’t moved to do something, then at least go cast your vote. It takes about five minutes of time, depending what time of day you show up and the population around your location. As far as I am concerned, you can only whine about the current administration if you voted. If you didn’t bother to be a part of the system, you have no right to bitch. Voting is a way for you to vocalize your opinion, for you to put it on paper (or computer system if you live in San Diego) and have it be a part of history.
What do you actually achieve by not voting? I don’t even consider the arguments of people who tell me they’re busy. We’re all busy. This isn’t a weekly occurrence. That’s just an excuse. I am angrier at the people who don’t vote as a principle. What is the principle behind not voting? I really need someone to explain to me how they are affecting the system in a positive way by not voting because I truly don’t understand it.
As someone from a truly corrupted country that is struggling to become democratic it makes me sad to see how many people waste their rights in this country. And as someone who, hopefully, might get to vote on the presidential election for 2008, I am truly interested in the logic behind choosing not to vote.
Many people I care about are grieving lately. Some for a marriage that turned out to be different than it appeared, some for a relationship they were hoping to hold on to, some for time that can never be gained back, some for pets who’d carved special places in their hearts, some for missed careers, some for unrealized dreams, and some for unhealthy family. Talking to all these people makes my heart rip into pieces. I feel a strong urge to have the power to do what was undone. I want to fix everything and hug the people and say, “See it’s all fixed; you can be happy again.”
But I can’t.
Of course, I can’t. In times like these, I recognize my inability to be of any help. I stare my uselessness in the face. Sure, I can be there for them. Sure, I can listen to them and even give advice when asked. I can cry with them. I can hold them when they cry (unfortunately, I can’t even do that since my friends are scattered all over the United States). But I can’t make the pain go away. I can’t give health. I can’t bring back their pets. Or their husbands. I can’t make it right. I can just sit there and listen. And feel helpless.
The amazing thing is that there are many moments when my friends seem fine. They laugh, they work, they eat. For a split moment, they can carry the burden and keep living. Yet, when I think of them, the grief always overtakes me. I remember when my maternal grandfather died, one of my mother’s clients told her, “May God never give you as much pain as you can endure.” A rude sentiment at first look maybe, but a pithy thought. We, humans, are capable of enduring a lot. A Lot.
The difference between my friends and I is that they are actually experiencing the loss. They are hurting much more sharply than I can, no matter how empathetic I might be. The human heart and brain seem to be very strong. For many of my friends whose relationships are ending, they start to rationalize it. In most cases, the situation was a culmination of past events so they are calmer at times than I am. They were expecting it more than I was. They mourn deeper and so they make room for life again. I simply sit here and feel helpless. I feel apologetic that my life is mostly okay.
I respect my friends’ strength and hope that I have it buried in me somewhere, as well, for those times that I might need it, hoping there are none but knowing there will undoubtedly be some.
I’ve been trying to take photographs with my new, wonderful camera. But there are two main problems. One, as I am reminded constantly, is that I have no photography experience at all and know very little to nothing about main photography concepts such as light, exposure, aperture, etc. Two, all my pictures from this weekend seem to be grainy. When I look at them in 100% in Photoshop, they are mostly out of focus or almost pixelized. I do use the medium setting but the smooth medium so I don’t think it’s the camera. I think it must be me. Something I am doing wrong.
I know I need to learn more about the art of photography and I am working on it, albeit slowly. And I must say the beautiful surroundings of La Jolla don’t make for much photography other than flowers. Which should also show me that I don’t really have a photographer’s eye. These all should be reason to give up. But I do like taking pictures very much and I am not ready to give up just yet.
I just wish I could figure out what’s making my pictures so grainy.
This summer, Jake and I listened to all of David Sedaris’ books on tape. I had already read all the books so my experience with the audio was quite different from Jake’s. He was hearing the very talented Sedaris for the first time and laughed the entire time. What took me by surprise was how different the stories seemed from when I had read them. Was I remembering them incorrectly or was he even funnier than I thought?
The difference, we decided, came from my reading his stories versus his reading his stories. When he read the stories he had written aloud, he knew exactly where the emphasis fell and exactly where to stop for a stronger effect. When I read them, sometimes I was right on and sometimes I was way off. In cases where I was off, the entire story got affected by my inability to accentuate correctly.
In today’s email-centric society, I think this inability to put proper emphasis can lead to serious consequences. Just like sarcasm might be interpreted differently, words on paper have a million possible permutations when you put them in different emotional and psychological context. I have been guilty of reading an email from a friend and getting offended. Depending on my mood, the same email might be rude, dismissing, noncommittal, or encouraging. Just like someone could utter the same words but they change meaning if the person is crying or laughing. I think this is the main reason I put a lot of smileys in my written communication. When I chat or write email, I notice that every other line has a smiley or a sad face to emphasize my connotations.
I imagine someone with an English degree would claim that I am not taking the time to choose the correct word. And that if I were picky about my words, I could drastically reduce the potential for misunderstanding. I’m sure that’s true but I think email by its nature tends to be for quick communication and thus doesn’t often contain well thought-out words. We write and then hit send. We don’t think too too much about it.
So what’s the answer? Should we be thinking more when we write? Should we give the other person the benefit of the doubt when we read? Should we just hope our intentions will be clear?
I guess I like to assume the best of people and thus I’d suggest not reading into things too much. But, then again, maybe that’s too naive.
When I go to the movies, I like to sit in one of the first five rows. Not the first or second row since that hurts my back but as close up as I can without damaging my neck or eyes. Most people I know like to sit in the middle or at the back. When my mom and I go to the movies, we sit in different spots. Jake used to like the middle, as well, but now he sits up front with me. I think he might have even grown to like it.
When you go to a movie and sit at the back of the theater, you watch the movie. But when you sit up close, something magical happens, you experience the movie. Well, maybe you don’t. Maybe all you get is a headache. But I do. For the next hour or two, I fall into the world of the movie. I feel like I am watching the movie from inside, as if I am in the living room with the characters. As if I can touch the emotions in the room. For the duration of the film, I am no longer present in my world. I am fully and completely in the movie. This might explain why I refuse to watch horror movies.
You might think I’ve lost my mind. But the same thing happens to me when I read. The first fifty pages of a book feel like I’m reading it and the rest feel like I’m living it. I am right there with the main character. The people’s lives mix in with mine. I wake up in the morning and wonder about them. I feel like I know them. I fall into the book.
Maybe this happens because I tend to read books in large chunks of time. I will sit and read for five hours straight. During such a long time, it’s easy to leave my world and fall into theirs. When I finish the novel, I miss the people in them. It takes a few days for the effect to ware off. Until I realize that it was a book. A world constructed in the writer’s imagination. In my imagination.
That’s why I love reading. That’s why I love the movies. I get a tiny opportunity to glimpse into someone else’s life. To suspend mine for a brief period. To experience life as I might never get to. It’s a momentary escape. But it’s so much more.
Next time you go to the theater, try sitting up front. Row four is my favorite. Let yourself go. Try falling in. And let me know how it goes.
Despite the fact that I injured my back the day I first carried it, I have been attached at the hip to my new Canon. I am loving learning all about photography and can’t wait until I buy a bigger card and until my back feels better so I can go roaming the neighborhoods of San Diego.
So far, I’ve put up two collections first week with the camera and flowers & mushrooms for your enjoyment. I’ve also added commenting in case you have something encouraging or educational to tell me.
Thanks to catching up with a good, old friend, I didn’t manage to go to sleep until 4am last night so today’s update will have to wait until tomorrow. I hope you enjoy the photographs in the meantime.
So I’ve mentioned that I’ve been lusting after this camera for a few weeks. The truth is, I’ve been thinking about it for over two months. I was talking to a friend over chat two days ago and telling him that I was going to buy the camera. He said, “It’s nice that you have a hobby.” THe sentence struck me as funny but I couldn’t say why until later.
I recently discovered that I’ve taken over 11,500 pictures with my previous camera which I bought a little less than two years ago. That number doesn’t include the aiptek and casio shots. I don’t know if that’s a big number or average for someone who takes pictures. To me, it translates to a lot of time. If I assume a minute per picture, which is generous considering how long it takes for me to turn the camera on, to arrange the shot and to wait for the image to be written to the car, that number translates to 191 hours spent taking pictures in the last two years. This, in a timeframe, where major upheaval was going on and I didn’t even update my site nearly as regularly as I used to. To be fair, I also had a honeymoon and a cross-country trip both of which are major occasions for photography. But I am getting off topic. The point is, I spend enough time and take enough pictures that I think photography could definitely be considered a hobby. But then, I started thinking about other hobbies I have.
I spend hours and hours writing, coding for, and putting book excerpts and photographs on this site that I think it easily qualifies as a hobby, especially since until this year, my job didn’t even have to do with web technologies. I spend at least ten to twenty hours a week reading books. Does that count as a hobby? Is reading a hobby? What about writing? Does the fact that I wrote parts of two novels and am working on a third make writing a hobby for me? What if I’ve also written over 25 short stories? But what if I’ve never been published? How about knitting? I’ve knit seven scarves and am in the process of making another one. I know that’s an easy one. Knitting is a hobby.
Even though I spend ten to twenty hours doing it, I am clever enough to know watching TV doesn’t qualify as a hobby. That’s just wasting time. Which is why I try to couple it with one of the above. While I watch TV, I code my site, I type up an excerpt, I eat, I post my pictures, I reply to email. So we’ll skip TV, email and chats which are other big occupiers of my time.
What I’ve been wondering since my friend’s comment is whether I have too many hobbies or not. I suppose hobby by definition means I do something for fun/enjoyment and not for monetary gain. Thus, how much I excel at my hobby doesn’t truly matter as long as I get enjoyment out of it. The fact is, that’s not good enough for me. I strive to learn new patterns for knitting. I want to be much much better at photography. I want to read more books. I want to write better. I want to have a publishable book. I would be lying if I said otherwise.
All these “wants” have one thing in common: they require time. Time after my priorities like Jake, family, friends, work and sleep. When you subtract all those from the 24-hours I am given, I am not left with much daily. A serious undertaking of any one of the hobbies I enjoy would take a big chunk of time, let alone tackling all of them. I know this. And I know it will limit my ability to excel in any particular one. Am I willing to give up my dream of being published so I can have a large photography collection? So I can read 20 more books a year? So I can maintain this site?
The answer is, “No.” But at the same time, would I give up reading completely? Would I agree to not take pictures anymore? Would I stop knitting altogether? Would I shut down the site? The answer to each of those is a decided, “No”, as well. I enjoy every one of those activities and I don’t want to give them up.
So what do I do?
I am amazed at the lack of commitment people around me are showing lately. When we’re young and immature, a change of mind is easily explained by our age. “She’s still a kid,” people say, “she doesn’t know what she wants yet.” Fair enough. Maybe 16 is too young to take on a major commitment.
But what about 25? or 30? or 35? When’s the right time? What’s the age at which we’re supposed to be more mature and know that a commitment is not meant to be easy, but we stick to it anyway. What if people quit their jobs regularly. I mean monthly. When I worked on Wall Street, people used to say that you need to work in a company at least for one year before you can leave because otherwise it looks bad on your resume. Companies didn’t like to see guys who moved in and out of places within months. It showed lack of commitment. Lack of care.
I fear that my generation is full of people who don’t take their commitments seriously. I have more friends than I’d like to count who are cheating on their significant other, who are getting divorced, who are taking on jobs they know they will quit as soon as they can get the job they really want. What’s the point of getting married if you aren’t willing to try as hard as you can. What’s the point of staying married if you’re sleeping with someone else? What’s the point of it all?
I don’t mean to imply that one is required to stay in a loveless marriage or an abusive one. Life is short and we are supposed to try and be happy for the amount of time we’re here. But the thing that annoys me is that no one is forcing you to make a commitment. No one is requiring marriage which is much harder than it appears. Marriage is hard work. It’s consistent hard work. It’s not all flowers and chocolates and hugs and sex. It’s caring on the sick days, dealing with loss of money, working out different priorities. It’s being with someone who goes through mood swings. emotional downs, major career changes, anger, sadness, frustration, lack of enthusiasm, lack of drive, lack of ambition. And not when it’s convenient for you but when the other person is actually feeling it. Marriage is spending a lifetime with another person whom you can’t control. It’s putting up, bending backwards, compromising, and caring even when you don’t feel like it. Not to mention the dimensions that children add to the picture. No matter how magnificent the other person is, marriage is hard work a lot of the time.
It’s also wonderful and amazing and magical but, for now, we’re talking about the difficult moments. People who stand in front of the officiant and say “yes” should take a moment and realize all this hard work. Maybe then they wouldn’t commit to something they undoubtedly can’t do. I know we start all things with good intentions but how come we don’t stick to anything any more? How come we’ve lost all our integrity? How come cheating has become acceptable; something we can ‘work out’? Why can’t we own up to our commitments? And if the marriage is really over and there’s nothing to work on anymore, why can’t we be honest and deal with it instead of lying and hiding and cheating?
Apologies for the rant but after the seventh case, I just feel like blowing up. It makes me lose all faith in the institution of marriage and it makes me lose respect for humankind.
Oh and I posted two new sets of pictures: malibu, venice beach, beverly hills and learning photography with the nikon ef2 and a new book excerpt: nothing that meets the eye.
I used to make a big deal about celebrating pre-fabricated holidays like Valentine’s day. I used to have expectations and think it was important to remember the flowers and the chocolate and the cards.
A few years ago I gave up being picky about the little things and then I gave up major holiday celebrations. I decided the best choice was to take it easy, keep things in perspective and to remember that no one day needs to be more special than any other. With all the divorces going on, all I wanted was a pleasant weekend with the man I love.
Pleasant, I got.
A few weeks ago, the San Diego Reader said Saturn was closer to earth than it’s been in my lifetime. I had never seen Saturn and thought it might be fun and Jake loves astronomy so I asked him to find out if there was anywhere in San Diego we could go look at the sky. A few days of research showed us that the San Diego Astronomy Association has a regular Stars at Mission Trails event where people can show up and use the members’ telescopes to look at the sky. Friday night, we drove to the campground and I got my first peek at Saturn ever.
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The image was completely clear and I couldn’t believe how much of Saturn we could see. The Cassini division was easily distinguishable and I could see the south pole of the planet. We then looked at Venus and a few stars. I kept coming back to Saturn since, to me, it was the most magnificent thing I ever saw. |
The clear three-dimensional feeling left me speechless.
After we drove home, I promptly read the guide Jake had printed for me. It was my first time looking through a telescope ever and I image I will remember the experience for a long time.
Our plan for Valentine’s Day was to get up early, drive to Malibu Shores and have Jake teach me all about photography. I am hoping to buy a new, fancy digital camera and he was going to teach me all he knew, using his old but amazing Nikon EF2 which is not digital. We took five rolls of film, the tripod, my nikon 885, his camera, the telephoto lens, and the 50mm lens and set out for the road. Along Malibu, we parked on the side of the beach and he showed me how to use the camera and the different lenses for the next few hours. We then drove to Venice Beach and Jake let me practice which meant I used up another roll and a half of film. After a stroll on the beach, we decided to drive through Beverly Hills and head home to meet a friend for a movie. Despite the horrifying Los Angeles traffic, I took some more pictures, we talked for hours and listened to fantastic music.
Today I got back my photos from the developer and almost 80% of them were technically perfect. I learned a huge amount more than I knew about photography and I will be buying the camera some time this week and feel a lot more confident about using it.
While it wasn’t as magical as my perfect day this was one of the best Valentine’s Days I’ve ever had. It was educational, exciting, fun, calm, and full of love.
I love you, Jake.
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projects for twenty twenty-six
projects for twenty twenty-five
projects for twenty twenty-four
projects for twenty twenty-three
projects for twenty twenty-two
projects for twenty twenty-one
projects for twenty nineteen
projects for twenty eighteen
projects from twenty seventeen
monthly projects from previous years
some of my previous projects
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