Thursday, May 31, 2012
Two years ago I entered the blogisphere with trepidation. Wasn't it too late to jump on the trendy band wagon, and too cliche to admit to friends I was blogging? More importantly, what would I write about every day? I committed to it anyway, and here I am 730 days later. This is what I've observed:
1. I like a little structure. I have no desire to go back to my over scheduled life, but I like the daily task of blogging. I'm very aware if a day has passed and I haven't posted a picture or shared an opinion. Keeping up with it has never been a chore. I enjoy it immensely, and it's become a part of my routine.
2. I'm a magazine junkie, or at least I was when magazines were a thriving business. In fact, when I graduated from college I coveted an entry level job in the industry. Although I interviewed at GQ, it was a gig at Barneys that became the first professional experience on my resume. So my blog scratches that old editorial itch. Every day is a new opportunity to curate the world through my eyes.
3. When I used to have a written day planner (tan leather, Coach circa 1992 that an ex's cat peed on in 2005) I liked to flip through the pages filled with the sum of my life penciled in hour by hour blocks. The blog is a much more satisfying documentation of my life, a daily souvenir with visuals commemorating an event, a thought, or a moment.
4. In the age of digital photography I no longer have printed snapshots in piles on my desk or displayed on my refrigerator. My blog has become an unexpected repository for my images. I love having them organized in one place, easy to access, and forever stamped with time and place.
5. My blog motivates me to take photos, and the photos motivate me to blog. A perfect relationship.
6. Travel, photography and blogging. Ideal combination. Blog as travelogue is a brilliant way to remember and document the details. I love to post when I'm away.
7. Other people read my blog. I know, it shouldn't be such a surprise, but it gets me every time when someone tells me they do so. It makes me feel vulnerable, and joyful. I may not spill every truth about myself in these pages, it is public after all, but everything I write is the truth.
Monday, May 28, 2012
Sunday, May 27, 2012
Saturday, May 26, 2012
Friday, May 25, 2012
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Don: "What look, baby?"
Joan: "God, you're irresistible."
Don: "You know what this woman said to me once? 'I like being bad and going home and being good.'"
Don: "Lots of people that haven't taken LSD already know that, Roger."
Don: "You feel bad because you got to take off and they had to work? I don't. There has to be some advantage to being my wife."
Monday, May 21, 2012
Saturday, May 19, 2012
Yoga offered me an opportunity to change my life, but it was also something that was so beautiful to study, the poetry of asana. It started growing from being able to photograph people on the beach to being invited to a penitentiary with yoga programs to do yoga asana imagery there.Two beautiful artforms -- yoga and photography -- each elevated by the other. And yes, I did another back bend in class today!
Thursday, May 17, 2012
I spend many hours of every day thinking about story, so I was particularly delighted by this find. In this poetic short documentary filmmakers Sarah Klein and Tom Mason set out to explore the mysterious nature of storytelling. Ken Burns shares insights into the craft and reveals his highly personal quest to "wake the dead."
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
My father, who was never the most eloquent orator has gotten harder to decode as age plays tricks with his motor skills. What started out as a version of"Thank you for coming." became truncated when he realized I hadn't visited, and quickly morphed into "Thank you for letting us have you." His misfiring neurons created poetry. I responded with a heart felt, "You're welcome."
Monday, May 14, 2012
Birthdays result in reflection. I'm most certain more than half of my life is accumulated in the past, already-lived column. At times this thought frightens me. What could possible lie ahead that will be as exciting as my past? Years of not knowing who I would become, or what doors would open as I tried to shoo innocence, and inexperience away propelled me to have amazing experiences. As I've come into focus, my path has gotten narrower and easier to identify. I love excitement, but not if it's going to deprive me of tranquility. I'm still driven, in fact, my work aspirations are currently in over drive, but I don't push. I accept, and court patience every day, especially when it comes to closing deals at Sony. When I was an adolescent exploring New York City through young adult eyes, and soaking up culture as fast as I could, I asked my Grandmother why she didn't travel into the city more often from her home in Long Island. "Don't you want to see this new play, exhibit or restaurant? "Dear, I've already done that." Her response has remained in my memory for decades. A benign, throw away exchange, but I knew, although I couldn't crack the code, she had given me a nugget of wisdom. What I couldn't comprehend or appreciate then, I can now see through the lens of time. The understanding is bittersweet. It could have only come with age, knowledge, and years of living. There are many things that no longer appeal to me because I've "been there, done that". I do hope life continues to offer many surprises and contentment doesn't lead to complacency.
Saturday, May 12, 2012
Friday, May 11, 2012
Enjoyed Diane Keaton's delightful memoir THEN AGAIN, culled from her mother's 85 journals, and interwoven with her personal story. Quirky, witty, revealing, and tender. As Diane tries to process her mother's death from Alzheimer's several years ago, she evaluates their lives as mother and daughter, and compares their chosen paths.
"At 54 Dorothy was put out to pasture with 32 more years of living staring her in the face. At 63, I’m doing what Dorothy did when she was 24."Fascinating. By all accounts adopting two children in her 50s is keeping Diane active, vibrant and blissful, and provided her with most her most defining role.
“The state of being a woman in between two loves - one as a daughter, the other as a mother - has changed me.”In the memoir, Diane wrestles with understanding the shadow of her mother's deferred dreams, and the midlife depression that plagued her.
“I’m trying, Mom, but it goes against every instinct I possess. I promise you one thing though. I promise to unleash Duke and Dexter from the stranglehold of my need before it’s too late. I promise to give them their freedom no matter how much I want them to hang on. I promise to let go of you too, the you I created for the benefit of me…
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Eric Klinenberg's new book "Going Solo: The Extraordinary Rise and Surprising Appeal of Living Alone" explores a phenomenon I know very well. Growing up, I didn't encounter many adults who lived alone. There was my grandmother, but she only lived on her own after my grandfather died. Widowed in her 60s, his death gave her the freedom to finally get a driver's license, a car and move to the country. She left Manhattan for a big, new house on Long Island and spread her wings. Her sister moved in with her, but several years later she died, and my grandmother lived alone, happily, for decades. I remember how tranquil her life seemed when I visited. She easily filled the hours painting, reading, watching PBS, having cocktails with friends, traveling to exotic cities like Cairo or St. Petersburg, entertaining, winning at canasta, or gardening. In her 90s, she confided in me that she wouldn't have lived as long if she had been with my grandfather all these years. I believed her. Although I didn't know them as a couple, from the stories, they had an exciting, good life. But he wasn't easy, a strong willed Italian barber from Naples who demanded lots of attention. He dominated their household, and her life. I'm most certain the quality of my grandmother's life increased when she was on her own, thus spiking her longevity. During my visits, our day would end with a lovely dinner, she was an inspired gourmet cook, served with china and linen napkins and punctuated by intellectual conversation. When the dishes were washed and the kitchen reassembled to perfection she would unapologetically say goodnight, and retire to her bedroom to read her latest book from the library or the day's New York Times. She would brush out her long auburn curls which rested in a loose bun on the crown of her head and place her emeralds and pearls in china bowls on her vanity. I would follow suit, climbing into bed in the guest room with a book or magazine and read for hours, a habit started from those visits and embraced ever since. In countless ways, my grandmother was a trendsetter. I think of her as I read statistics from Klinenberg's book, and realize I'm just part of the trend.
Until recently, most of us married young and parted only at death. If death came early, we remarried quickly; if late, we moved in with family, or they with us. Now we marry later. We divorce, and stay single for years or decades. We survive our spouses, and do whatever we can to avoid moving in with others — even, perhaps especially, our children. We cycle in and out of different living arrangements: alone, together, together alone […] [T]oday, for the first time in centuries, the majority of all American adults are single. The typical American will spend more of his or her adult life unmarried than married, and for much of this time he or she will live alone.
In 1950, 22 percent of American adults were single. Four million lived alone, and they accounted for 9 percent of all households […] Today, more than 50 percent of American adults are single, and 31 million — roughly one out of every seven adults — live alone.
People who live alone make up 28 percent of all U.S. households, which means that they are now tied with childless couples as the most prominent residential type — more common than the nuclear family, the multigenerational family, the roommate or group home.
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Monday, May 7, 2012
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Saturday, May 5, 2012
There are many challenges to acceptance in a single day. When I accept that other people have different rhythms than I do, I learn to let everything just be! When I try to become a fixer of others I communicate disrespect to them for who they are. To stop interfering with others' journeys unless invited is to offer respect. Today let me step back, slow down my thoughts and learn the art of acceptance.
Friday, May 4, 2012
I've also been dealing with an extremely slugglish computer. I pinpointed the problem to an old operating system. After several visits to the genius bar it was recommended I upgrade to Snow Leopard. I ordered the disk, but it crashed my computer during the install. Back to the geniuses I went, and this time the recommendation was a new hard drive. Thankfully I backed up my hard drive before the install. My computer is working, but still seems a bit slow and any photo taken during the month of June did not upload. Bizarre.
Lastly, to push me over the edge, last week, my wide angle lens stopped communicating with my camera. Thankfully, this didn't happen when i was i Africa. The repairman at Samys said this was a common problem with this specific popular lens. "Wasn't built well. Send lots of 'em back to Cannon." After the fact, pertinent knowledge that does me no good. I'd like for this back cloud of technological problems to move on. I've encountered enough frustration from these glitches, and a hefty price tag to fix them. Here's to brighter skies, and technological ease.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Had an idea for a photography series during my first few hours in Tanzania. After arriving in Dar Es Salaam at 2 am, I checked into a motel miles from the airport, a place to pass the hours before my noon flight to Zanzibar. The ceiling fan shifted the muggy air overhead as I tried to sleep on the bed, a sheet pulled over a lumpy cushion. It was 2 pm the previous day in Los Angeles, so although dazed from travel I was too restless to sleep. I acknowledged the passing hours by the subtle changes outside my window. And then, the morning light filtered through the orange curtains like an ethereal beam through a stain glass window. Of course, I reached for my camera and within minutes I had to know what life was stirring outside my window. This is what I saw.