Da Goddess

I don’t know if I’ll actually be at pool therapy as scheduled (the insurance company is screwing with providing me transportation). But, in case I am, I thought I’d have a post ready to go so that the blog wouldn’t fall into some stagnant cess pool of inactivity.

Here’s a re-edit of one of my favorite Little Dude photos. (Originally taken in August 2008)

(more…)

I know I’ve sorta disppeared on you. But I do so with good reason.

In the weird randomness that is my life, I have been fortunate enough to meet some interesting people who have the ability to make big things happen for me — if only I play my cards right. So this is what I have been doing. Or at least attempting to do. If I can be in the right place, at the right time, working with the right people, I might actually be able to create the sort of future that will bring stability and creativity into focus, right next to profitability, or rather, in conjunction with profitability. This is what I was hoping to do with my photography all along.

I’ve spent the last two days researching and writing. It’s not the exciting stuff on which much of my blogging has been built, but then again, not much is exciting around here most of the time.

But this could be really good for me and I’m approaching cautiously, methodically, and with my eyes on the prize the whole time.

In other news, a friend handed me two magazines on Sunday night, both of them contain photos I’ve taken. Yes, I have photo credit. My name is right there next to the image. And they represent #3 and #4 publications in a row with this magazine. Hello! Did you hear opportunity knocking? I think they’ll look very good on my site once it’s updated.

So, just to clarify, I’m not ignoring you. I’m just super busy chasing my dreams.

Now, I’m going to attempt a short nap while LD plays games for me.

226 more to go.

Susan Tedeschi at the Belly Up. She speaks in a teeny tiny voice, but sings with a very mature, deep, robust voice. DEFINITELY one of those artists you need to see. has videos. (You saw that one coming, didn’t you?)

Not my favorite shot, but simply the one I got edited. I’m lucky I didn’t fall asleep during this. I’m really that tired. I’m going to bed now. Yep, yep. Bed.

227 to go.

James Hunter. Google him. Go to YouTube and watch video or this one, maybe this one, perhaps this vid, or one of the many other great ones posted.

This is quite literally the first photo I took the whole night. And I like it. There are better ones coming, too.

That’s what I am. I have a couple hundred photos from the concert tonight to go through and I can’t keep my eyes open. I even left the show before 11pm. It’s just that…I dunno. I’m tired. I took about 500 images and have narrowed them down to 200+. It took me almost 30 minutes to upload everything (jpeg and RAW files). Still, I yawn. Orangutan Island is on in the background and even that’s not helping me to stay awake.

I got some good stuff, though, so it’ll be worth the wait. You don’t mind waiting, right? Right. Thanks.

Time for bed.

It’s hard to get by with just a smile, girl.

After looking through an endless amount of beautiful and breathtaking photos on GoSnap, I was so intrigued by one of “Scorpion Vodka” that I just had to look it up. It’s from a company called They have some interesting products. Like coffee picked by specially trained monkeys. And coffee eaten, then regurgitated by weasels. (Yes, they also have the coffee that’s been eaten and pooped out by civets.) There’s also scorpion wash.

And people call me weird. Hahahahahaha. Heh. Whatev. I’m not the one drinking coffee that’s been barfed or pooped out of an animal.

Blah blah blah. It’s Valentine’s Day. Deal with it.

P.S. I like how Top Chef ended up on a candy heart. How the hell did that happen?

I missed the full moon every night this week and was only able to get out about 40 minutes ago to catch what was left of it tonight. It was sort of crazy looking, especially through the tall eucalyptus trees. Must be the rain we had earlier and the rain that’s yet to come.

The only alteration on these images was cropping and adding my label.

Every Day, Saturday. I have photos from Tuesday to share but those will be done later.

Also including this in the View from Your Studio blog project.

Creative Every Day Challenge: 9-15. Are you going to play? My entries for today:

Raindrops on cactus? Next thing I know, you’ll be telling me there’s whiskers on toenails or something.

I couldn’t pass up these cheery red berry-type things. Have no idea what they are. But they are and I liked, so here you go.

I really liked bicycle I found back on New Year’s Day and always thought I’d go back to that photo and try a few things with it. Here’s “Bicycle: The Sequel”.

It’s not exactly quite right, though I’m not sure why I think this. It’s also not the last time I’ll tackle it.

Yes, you just read that right. I said “bitch” — in the title even. But that’s okay. If it bothers you, you don’t have to read. I had to say it though. Because I realized that today — tonight — I am a miserable bitch. It’s not a physical misery, rather it’s my headspace.

I’ve been immersing myself in forums and websites dedicated wholly to photography. I so want to improve my craft that I follow all leads and become entrenched in various articles and their links to the point where I end up wondering where the time has gone when I find myself still reading and surfing three hours later.

I also subscribe to various sites so that when there’s an update, I’m notified. Heaven forbid I miss a word, a quote, a comma, or a pixel that might contain just the right pearl of wisdom I seek.

Apparently my ability to be judgmental is heightened when I’m tired, cranky, and medicated. Proceed with caution.

One of the updates that just landed in my mailbox led to guest post from a photographer who is doing something I’d dearly love to do: travel the world, taking photos, studying culture, experiencing the world firsthand. He’s been to places that are on my list of “places I must see before I die” and become involved with the traditions of some of the people he has met. However, in reading this person’s journal I’m struck by two things: 1) he’s young. And his immaturity surfaces from time to time in a way that grates on my nerves. I want to ground him for a month and then make him write personal apologies to those he may have offended by his rude behavior while on the road, just as I would do with my kids. 2) He can’t spell to save his life. Now, this is a very big pet peeve for me. I know it’s petty and rather stupid for me to point this out when his photographic work is simply astounding, but there’s something intriguing in his writing, too, that gives us insight into his travels that mere photos cannot capture. But a) his immaturity, once again, is sometimes too apparent, and b) the spelling and grammar errors are so obvious and ridiculous at times that they impede one’s progress through his posts. (I’m not the only one who’s noticed this, so maybe I’m not entirely miserably bitchy in this regard.)

Part of me really wants to write the guy and ask if I can proof his work before he hits publish. Part of me wants to shake some sense into him. And part of me wants to ask, “can I come along? I’ll take photos when possible and then I’ll edit all your work. Just take me me with you.”

I guess I’m not so much envious of his travels — I can make it happen for myself someday if I really work hard enough toward that end. But I am most definitely a miserable bitch in the sense that I see his photos as wonderfully professional and then his writing as completely amateurish. I find myself picking apart whole passages, mentally rewriting them so they make better sense and rise to the level of his photography. And I think that’s just not right for me to pick him, his writing, apart. What on earth gives me that sense of superiority? I mean, this is his work, his site, his observations. Who am I to say, “it’d be so much better if you wrote as well as you photograph”?

So then I start questioning my real unease. And I have to examine why I’m being so critical. Is it just because I haven’t had the same opportunities? Is it because I have unreasonable expectations of someone I don’t even know? Am I jealous? Or is it simply because I think this guy has so much potential and could go even further if someone took the time to edit him?

See? Miserable bitch.

Who am I to this guy? No one. He doesn’t even know I exist. I’m some o’ the wisp that drifts unbidden in his hallways of his website. Who cares what I think? His work is his work. My opinion of it matters not. And still, I find myself wanting desperately to go in with a red pencil and edit the hell out of it. But not the photos. They’re perfect the way they are.

The exceedingly talented Jan has a beautiful shot of bottles on her site. And since I have, in the past, asked if I could play around with a photo or two and received the reply “any time!”, I’ve run with it.

Here now, for your viewing pleasure, another J&J production:

One photo, two distinctly different presentations, and I gotta say, both work. Quite well, too. With Jan’s, the brilliant color blows me away. The bottles are so vibrant and alive! And then mine, I like to think of it as looking through a very old window into the past. An alternate view, if you will.

Thanks, Jan! Maybe someday I’ll post my ghost in your Colorado home!

Last week, my friend asked me to take some photos so she could update her profile for our Meetup groups and bios for some of her artwork. We got into the car and headed over to the park (my favorite portrait destination) with Little Dude. LD was in charge of the reflector and also proved to be a very charming focal point for Patty. This is one of my favorite shots from our session.

…to fall squarely in my way.

I had to drive myself to my physical therapy evaluation. It’s a lot harder than it sounds. Since the seat in the car doesn’t move back and forth, one must twist and turn and contort oneself in order to get in. Guess what I’m not supposed to do? That’s right, no twisting, turning, or contorting of my person. But I managed to get in and get started down the road.

I couldn’t take any pain meds before the big appointment because I had to drive. I can function on Percocet, but driving requires more alertness than mere “functioning” does. So I passed on the pills.

Even though I’d skipped the meds, I do recall sitting at a light, watching the clouds blow quickly across the sky like some demented time-lapse movie. Freaky. Guess I can trip out without the drugs these days.

The appointment itself wasn’t too fun. I had to lie on my back on one of those tables that never seems wide enough when you’re a patient who must log roll themselves on and off such surfaces. And that lying on my back thing? Not so great. It hurt. A LOT. I had to move my feet and legs this way and that for the therapist and endure all manner of sensory testing. I made it through that, although there were tears. Once I was finished, rolling over was an exercise of frustration and I think I came off looking like some weird fish out of water. I think I even saw the therapist trying to suppress a laugh. Oh well.

So, I got done with the therapist and went to schedule my pool therapy. Turns out my appointment for next Monday wasn’t really scheduled even though I’d been told it had. Okay, fine. Next available is on the 18th. Fine, fine. I could only get three pool sessions scheduled right away, the rest have to wait until I’m done with my first session. Oh, and I’m only going twice a week for six weeks.

I finally got out of the building, which had been freaking me out the entire time I was in it. Why? Because that’s the very same building where I’d gone to nursing school. It was like having salt and lime poured onto a wound, rubbed in, and topped with Tabasco. It hurts to think of how hard I worked to get through school and how quickly I was robbed of the career I wanted, got, and loved.

[chill, Goddess, chill]

Stopped off at the pharmacy to pick up my refill and headed back toward home. Now, keep in mind, every time I get in and out of the car, it’s like watching a 6ft tall clown getting in or out of a Fisher-Price school bus. Not pretty. I had to stop at the bank, so I did. Upon returning to the car, I discovered it wouldn’t start for me. I tried and tried and tried. Nothing. I looked at my phone and saw I was perilously close to my battery dying. I called home anyway. I called my dad. I called my friend. Anyone, someone, please! Come get me! Alas, no one could help. Actually, my roommate was the only one home and he couldn’t come help because I had the car.

I decided the best thing to do was to head over to the drug store. Maybe if I let the car rest long enough it would feel better and start up right away when I got back. No such luck. I considered my options and concluded I could just…make…it…over…to…Del…Taco. Not the best choice, but the only one available to me. And that’s what I did. As I walked in, though, I saw a man slumped over in a booth. I hustled up to the counter and asked the gal behind it if the guy was okay. She reassured me he was. “He comes in every day for a cup of coffee or tea and to read the newspaper. He dozes off two pages in. We let him stay here because he obviously needs a safe place to take a little nap.” I knew what she meant. Most people would kick a guy like that out of their establishment, but I thought it was rather sweet that these younger folks let him have his quiet nap.

I sat down to eat my burrito, praying I didn’t regret the purchase in the next five minutes. Everything seemed to be going okay and I took that as a good sign. I kept thinking about the sleeping man. He reminded me of one of my mountain man friends ( photo down). I knew it wasn’t him because he lives up in the high desert. But in my mind I kept thinking, no matter how bad things are for me financially or physically, at least I still have a warm, safe place to sleep each night. I went up to the counter again and I asked one of the young women working if there were some way I could donate $5 toward some food for this guy. “He won’t take it. We’ve tried.” Another gal said, “I’ll put it on a gift card and slip it into his pocket when I go bus tables.” I loved the way she thought! It wasn’t much, but it was something.

Suddenly, I felt a little better. I cleared my mess off the table and headed back across the parking lot toward the car. It had clouded up a lot while I was inside and I prayed it wouldn’t rain on me. The wind had picked up as well. Thankfully it was a tail wind and I had a nice little push in the right direction. I was limping and hunched over a bit, but I was still able to walk. As I was almost to the car, I saw another guy who looked like my mountain man friend. I was convinced that pain was causing me to hallucinate. I kept walking. The guy turned just as I was walking past so that I couldn’t get a good look at his face, but I did catch the words all spelled out in decals on his tailgate. I turned around and said, “Clifford!” He turned to look at me and the slow dawning of recognition came over his face. We stood talking for about ten minutes until his girlfriend came out of the bank. “I leave you out here for a few minutes and you’re already flirting!” she yelled. And then she came and gave me a big hug.

At that point, the roommate called and asked if I got the car started and I said not yet. So Cliff and Debbie walked me over to the car to see if they could help. I got in, turned the key and it started perfectly.

Fucking car.

We all laughed. I called them my lucky charms. We’re going to try to get together this weekend so I can do some portraits of them. Plus I made it home just as the rain began. I barely got wet as I walked to the apartment. It rained harder once I got inside. It’s been raining off and on ever since.

And now, now I must give in to the pain meds. I’ve tried my best to get some photo editing done for a client, but I’ve done all I can do without messing everything up. I can do it later when I wake up.

I guess even though yesterday started off in not the best way, it turned out to be okay after all.

If the car had started, I wouldn’t have run into friends or been able to do something nice for a stranger.

Go figure.

Thank you, God. You always know right when I need a good dose of that sense of humor You have.