6. Lomography

I am not a photographer. Not by any standard. I cannot focus properly, am not patient enough to line up a shot and take it properly. I know very little about all of the elements of photography that count. But i love taking pictures.

I actually learned what I do know about photography from an ex- national geographic photographer. he was Australian and his name was Andy. The man knew his stuff! He taught me everything I have since forgotten about shutter speed, film, processing, aperture, the works. I spent three weeks working in his dark room, helping him develop his own shots and also the slides for a summer camp slide show. Lots of fun. I became obsessed for a while with trying to take interesting pictures. But, as with everything else I start, I didnt follow up on it. Not like my mother would have let me. Waste of time, she said. and so, like Sign Language, Soccer, Gymnastics, Dance, Swimming, Ice Hockey, Piano, Singing, and Girl Scouts, photography became one of those things I have done but do not do.

Until Lomography.

my Lc-a (may it rest in peace) was a chance to capture fun moments, to see the world through a series of color, shape, and shadows once again. not much is needed, the film is basic 35mm, cheaper the better. it allows for mistakes, most of the best shots are mistakes. over-exposure generally doesnt happen. as long as you look for color, you get results.

I feel like I might finally have the hang of it, setting the distance properly was a problem, but now that I understand the distance between feet and meters, I am hopeful. I have a whole slew of things I want to shoot. It is a free way to express my view of the world. no paint involved. I like a form of art that literally takes seconds. some paintings can take weeks. wriing a story can take years. lomography takes a second.

And it encouraged me to get out and about. I wanted to go anywhere and everywhere. a perpetual search for color and strange shapes. I wanted to experiment. I still do. I hope to have a new Lc-a before spring is in full bloom. I cant wait to get pictures of flowers blooming and the fake snow from flowering trees. and summer sunsets and beach pictures and trips and new places.

I havnt had my Lc-a for four or five weeks, and yet, when I see something that appeals to me, I still begin to reach into my giant coach bag for it. talk about a lasting impression. a very easily made friend. I almost always forget about my Holga, though. does that make any sense? I dont think so. Holga is a bit of a disappointment. mostly because it requires 120 film. I cant stand spending $20 to process and print a roll of 12 exposures. not to mention how expensive the film itself costs!

I'll have my Lc-a back soon enough, I guess. In the mean time, I continue to study up and learn more about it, research film, make notes of things that i want to snap pictures of. And play with my crappy Kodak point and shoot. horrible camera!!!! absolutely terrible. how is the cheaply made russian camera better than a brand new Kodak? you tell me!


Yay Lomogaphy!

time vs. fear: round one. or, what breaks as easily as a camera?

and a clue is a reasonable thing to give. when all other gifts are exhausted and material items cant breathe beneath the value of one word. one word that means a world, or at least the difference between one world and another and any list of others that neatly organize themselves among possibilities. fear, or at least the brink of it, of that uncertainty of knowing whether fear should even be a minute on your clock, is enough to drive the bus home without the children on it.

but some clues are disguised. or hidden beneath uncertainty. when one thing seems certain, when it is the reason that you breathe and feel and love and remember and expect. and then that certainty seems uncertainly uncertain. when goals and plans become a possibility, or not. those are the times that fear is reasonable.

but how do you know. and should you prepare for the storm? he who gathers bags of sand and bread and milk for a spring shower is a fool. all that toilet paper is good to have...you wont have to go shopping again, but why stock pile something that takes up so much room when you really dont need it? fear and attachment issues are not something as easily stackable as rolls of thin paper. more like bread, as they grow old in the face of needlessnesss, they become stale and mouldy and ruin an otherwise good kitchen.

but how do you know? do you? should you? a weatherman is just a weatherman. he can no more predict the weather as a traffic man can predict accidents. and weather and traffic and potential loss is all lumped into one general category of potential pain staked against uncertainty. theres that word again. that fear of losing what was once that safety. that warm feeling. a mattress, a camera, shoes, meals, plans, a love for that one yellow house, weekend trips, an anniversary. all things that comfort like crawling under a fuzzy blanket. all like a scarf around your neck when the wind is ripping at your throat. but they are just part of plans that, when not carried out, when lost, when forgotten, when...changed...for whatever reason, are just loss.

and how do i know. if the other doesnt. security in the face of a regression is empty. but to not put value in that promise is to force a depression. probably a needless one. but how do i know?

change is what keeps my planet spinning. but we spin around a sun that can go dark. still bright on my side of the world, but there is still a whole hemisphere that i cannot control. i cant see it any more than china can see argentina. smiles are real, and words mean worlds, but change, a reversal of the planet, can destroy the world through inertia.

words can only reassure. and doubt is slightly redundant. but how do i know? and will i ever again? redundancy is a sure way to dig a hole. to push. but fear is a sure way to hurt. needlessly? and questions not asked eat. or at least chew and chomp till unrecognizable and useless.

fear. it all comes down to that one basic human instinct. the one from which wars have stemmed, from which anger can grow, and sadness flourish. i'm sure it can be defeated. but how do i know.


doubt is something wholly different. doubt is a lack of trust. theres no room for it, and i dont harbor. i dont share my space with unneeded visitors. doubt is a step from cheating. and thats not me. but fear can flourish without doubt. fear can make, or break, or strain. and i just want to know.


limbo. not just a game, but a horrible place to live and work and love. it has infiltrated a place previously inhabited by certainty and hope. i dont want it there. but what can i do. questions. answers. words, fear. change.


love.


and what is eternal? what outlasts change? does it? can anything? can something given unconditionally and freely and selflessly and in the face of the possibilities produce a return? i know it is there. i know it has been. i feel it, i see it, i hear it. but is it going to stay? is there room? can a person be baggage? extra weight? a hinderance? a comfortable place full of warmth but no promise?



is there room? its a reasonable question. it eats more than fear. its a name brand fear, not the generic type. it has a face and lungs and has breathed its hot breath down my neck for weeks. change takes up more space than a queen sized mattress. and pressure isnt the goal. what is two years in the face of life-altering change the size of a country? is there room? will there always be room? re-evaluation is natural, understandable. needed. but is there room?

5. feeling good in my clothes

this one requires an explanation of sorts.

I mean several things by saying that I love feeling good in my clothes.

first, I love feeling good because of the fabric, or texture of clothing. Right now I am wearing a cotton dress that feels awesome, and a long grey cotton sweater that is soft and warm and hugs me in all the right places. Even better is the hat I'm wearing (Im getting ready to go out and it happens to be cold today) it is a knitted beanie-type hat with the ear flaps. mostly wool. soft, and snug around my ears. it feels good to be warm on a blustery march morning.

second, as every female in the history of the world knows, there are days when you simply feel strange in your clothes. those are the days that you throw on sweats and a hoodie instead of the business casual you usually wear to school or work. it is a miserable feeling to try on every single shirt or sweater you own and find that everything feels awkward and uncomfortable. something that was comfortable last week is now the outfit from hell. i feel good in my clothes today, and am grateful for that comfort.

third, new clothes are fantastic in any situation. nothing is more comfortable than the extra soft sweater, or new dress that still has tags. i am a firm believer that one should not pre-remove tags before wearing clothing. last night, troy went through the new clothes he bought and removed the tags before putting them in the closet. i was mortified. those tags serve to remind me that this piece of clothing has never been worn, that it still has that soft, perfect feel of something brand new. i take the tags of just before i put it on like a ritual.

fourth, i love used clothing. strange, i know. but it extends beyond the concept of getting close-to-new-ish clothing for cheap, and into the realm of clothing that has already been broken in. some people laugh at the idea of buying new clothes, but the trend is growing. it makes me feel kinda green (not the color). i am happy to say that i did it before the trend got so big.

4. open windows

Waking up in a room with open windows is one of those things I take for granted too often. During the summer open windows are a way of life, but during winter, I remember exactly how good it feels to have a warm breeze constantly flowing through my bedroom.

Even in a car, the ability to drive with the windows down makes any trip more pleasant. Though I must admit that sometimes I do not appreciate it the way I should. I worry too much about what the wind will do to my hair. I regret feeling that way once winter rolls around and my window has to stay up.

I opened my bedroom window today for the first time in months. It was 65degrees today. Amazing after a week full of 20 and below.

Warm weather, in general, is something that just makes my day better. I cant wait till summer. bring on the heat!

3. Waking up early

I am an early riser. I cannot stand to sleep my morning away. I love the feeling of being awake before everyone else, and the quiet relaxation time it allows me.
I even love trips and events that force me to get out of bed earlier than usual. The world just seems so generally calm. Right as the sun rises it is easy to forget about things like corrupt government officials, school bills, missing boyfriends, papers as-of-yet-not-written, fights with parents, and money problems. Everything is so calm that my mind seems to think that all of those things were just bad dreams that went away while I was asleep.

I do not like to rush. I am a take-my-time sort of person, and I feel that waking up early allows me to start my day slowly, yawn and stretch, and then begin doing what needs to be done.

For example, today I woke up at 5. Crazy? You ask? Yes. I actually went to bed at 10 last night because I was just exhausted and feeling on the sick side of life. Once I got my allotted amount of sleep, my body woke me up and, unable to go back to sleep, I slowly got out of bed and began my day. I have already written a paper, started a new poem, took care of some editorial business for Welter, and wrote this blog. No rushing today, not for me. It is going to be a relaxed, shopping sort of day.

I think I may find someone to go to Towson with me. I could use some more clothes. And what better way to spend a slow, relaxed day than by shopping?

I know no better way.

The only thing that could have made my early wake-up better would have been if I could have had my window open and warm weather to greet me.

But I’m not selfish. It will happen eventually. As soon as this retarded state catches up with the global warming trends.

adventures in serving italian food

As a server, I find that the strangest things make my day. For example, I was ecstatic that two tables left an extra pen on my table. Two completely different tables, back to back! That might sound trivial, but when you find a good pen and get used to using it, and then have to let a guest use it to sign a credit card receipt and they take it…well, its just devastating. We usually carry three pens at a time, so if two tables steal a pen each, youre down to one. And it is only a matter of time before someone steals the last one. How do you write a complicated food order for a party of 12 without a pen? You don’t.

But today the restaurant gods smiled upon me, and was given two beautiful pens. Clicky Pens!!

But pens are nothing compared to genuine manners and pleasant attitude from your table. A smile, a wave, or even something as simple as answers to your questions:

“how are you today?”
“Yeah, I’ll take the minestrone.”

Is not acceptable

“ma’am, would you prefer soup or salad?”
“I thought it already came with that big bowl of salad!”
“yes, ma’am, but you have a choice between the salad or a bowl of soup.”
“so you’re not going to bring my salad? I thought you brought salad!”

and so on.

But sometimes you find people who actually listen, who actually care about what you have to say, and do not cut you off in mid sentence.

Personally, I am perfectly happy with any table that does not look down its nose at me or snap at me or clap its hands at me or try to tell me how to do my job.

I especially LOOOOOVE middle aged women. I will deal with any grouchy, smelly, pain in the butt table of 30 toddlers before I will volunteer for a table of over-dressed, control freak middle aged women.

I honestly do not understand what is happening in this world. All white women between the age of 29 and 60 seem inclined to bad temper, bad manners, bossiness, controlling attitude, too much bad perfume, god complex, stupid over-the-top laughter, and prissy snotty flat out rudeness. They shop at kohl’s and all wear the same thing, have the same interest in basket bingo, coach bags, competing against each other’s kids, too much makeup and jewelry, laziness, and just a general bad attitude. Theyre the type that will sit and take up a table for 4 hours without a tip, or have to order for their husband, friend, kid, elderly parent, or the person at the table next to them. No, he doesn’t want peach tea, regular will do just fine. Or honey, you don’t like alfredo sauce. Or I want the capellini pomodor (literally tomatoes and angel hair pasta) but with no tomatoes. Or with Alfred sauce instead of the tomatos.

I swear, that dish is the most complicated I have ever seen. It is literally diced roma tomatoes and angel hair pasta, but at least once a week I have a conversation like this one:

“Can I get fettuccini Alfredo instead of the tomato sauce on the pomodoro?”
“do you mean fettuccini or alfredo?”
“fettuccine alfredo”
“so you don’t want capillini pomodoro at all?”
“yes, I just don’t like the sauce”
“ma’am, the dish is literally angel hair pasta with tomatoes. Do you want alfredo sauce in place of the tomatoes?”
“yes, that’s what I said”
“oh, I’m sorry, I thought you wanted fettuccini alfredo. Fettuccine is a pasta, and alfredo is a white sauce.”
“yes, the white sauce”
“but you still want the angel hair, right?”
“it comes with angel hair?”
“yes ma’am.”
“no, just give me the thick flat noodles, what are they called?”
“Fettuccini”
“yeah, them”
“so you want fettuccini with alfredo sauce?”
“yes, but made like this capilini pomodoro.”
“ma’am. That dish is completely different. Capalini is a type of pasta that we call angel hair. Pomodoro is the sauce. Its literally diced tomatoes. it is angel hair with tomatoes. fettuccine alfredo is the flat noodles with a white sauce.”
“well cant they substitute it?”
“theyre two different dishes. Look, lets do it this way: do you want angel hair or fettuccine?”
“fettuccine”
“and red or white sauce?”
“white”
“okay, I’ll bring you fettuccine alfredo.”
“well doesn’t that cost more?”
“yes. The alfredo sauce is more expensive than the pomodoro sauce.”
“well, just bring me the cheaper one.”
“If I bring the cheaper one, it will be the tomato sauce with angel hair pasta.”
“It doesn’t matter. Oh, and no olives, croutons, tomatoes, onions, or peppers on my salad. But can you throw a few extra cucumbers on there?”
“we don’t have cucumbers”
“are you sure? They did it for me last week.”
“ma’am, ive worked here for three years. We have never, in the history of the restaurant had cucumbers.”
“I swear they had them last week. Are you sure?”
“positive.”
“alright, just put some French dressing on it then.”
“ we do not have French dressing either.”
“can I speak to yoru manager? You’re getting a little bit of an attitude and I’m not sure I like it.”
“gladly.”


I swear, this is the type of conversation I have with people allllllllll the time. And when they don’t understand because they aren’t listening, they think I’m either rude or stupid.


I love my job.

2. chocolate

Of course, the only thing I love nearly as much as Troy is chocolate. Dont act like you're shocked.

I wish I had some unique or interesting perspective on chocolate, or some amazing insight that makes me love it more than other women.

I do not.

I love chocolate for all of the right reasons:

1. tastes amazing
2. the texture of good chocolate is smooth and soothing. the best texture is dove extra dark. Hershey has the worst texture.
3. endorphines. seriously.
4. it always makes me feel better. it can cure a cold, belly ache, head ache, cramps, bad mood, hunger. its like the cocaine doctors used to give patients. Cure-all.
5. dark chocolate is good for you in small doses.
6. aphrodisiac.
7. it is good with anything and everything. i have yet to find something that chocolate does not improve or complement.
8. diverse. which is different than #7. aside from tasting good with anything, it also can be used in many recipies. several holidays are dependent on chocolate in my mind. it comes in many forms, shapes, sizes, ect.
9. it makes one feel surprisingly rich. I could not have a penny to my name, but if i have a chocolate bar in my hand, i feel like coco Chanel or Liz Taylor (only younger)
10. it will always be there for me. it is accessible, cheap, easy to find and make, and will never let me down.

I wont go into my life story involving chocolate the way i did about troy, but i am a chocolate snob.

I do not eat Hersheys chocolate, if I can help it. Dont get me wrong, chocolate is chocolate, but given a choice, I will pick something with a little more taste.

chocolate with chili peppers is amazing. Mayan chocolate. mmmm.

I am not one for candy bars. I used to be, but as i grow older, I find that the extra sugar and added candies that used to appeal to me now just make it too sweet and ruin the taste.

I am learning to despise milk chocolate. I cant pin point when it happened, but dark is the way to go.

I am particular about the chocolate i eat in general. If i want smooth and silky, i choose dove. if i want crisp and bitter, ghiardelli. Rich and robust means Godiva. the best possible milk chocolate is wolfgangs. Wilbur chocolate is good too. many people dont know about them, but they are a small dutch chocolate company in Pennsylvania. I do not eat that colorful Target brand chocolate...whats it called? choxie or something like that? yuck. and. if it is wrapped in cheap foil with a bunny or pumpkin on it. i will not. eat. it.

and also crunch bars. yuck.


abuelta. amazing Mexican hot chocolate made by nestle.

by the by, i love the movie chocolat. and it has very little to do with johnny depp, contrary to popular belief.

1. Troy

Troy is my top item to be thankful for. I feel that it is especially important right now that I speak about him and remember why he is the number one item on my list.

he is in ecuador. i am home. I have all sorts of trepidation about him right now because of this hateful trip. I feel that discussing all of the reasons I love and am thankful for him will help me to get over this horrible fear and depression I have been struggling with.


Troy and I overcame diversity from the very beginning of our relationship. I was afraid to give him a chance, and we eventually ended up dating (after he had to wiggle and squirm his way into finally admitting thathe was interested in me). We were only together for a week or so when my Ex, who I still believed myself to have feelings for, came into the picture and aksed me to take him back. My "what if" complex broke the one-week bliss of having troy, and i knew that if i didnt give the ex a last shot, i would never be happy and satisfied with troy.

the three weeks that I gave mr Ex a fresh start turned out to be terrible. a disaster. I couldnt have asked for a better result. For the first time in my toubled past with this particulr ex, I dumped him, and felt a sense of relief and happiness that i had not felt in years.

that night I told troy that i wanted him back and that I was in it 100%. I explained to him that all of my baggage was taken care of, i was no longer afraid of him, or afraid that I was making the wrong choice. I had a whole new appreciation for him.


to back up a little bit, because i need to record the story of us formally anyway, I first met Troy at my student orientation at community college. He didnt remember this at first, but now he recalls that he actually arranged for me to be in his tour group because he thought i was "cute". anyone having seen me that day would tell you that i was not cute, but pissed off, in a bad mood, and wearing all black on a sunny fall day.

at any rate, i remember asking him about literary magazines and news papers. he told me about bittersweet, and the editor of it, who would eventually become the dreaded "ex" discussed above. I would take troy's advice and join the literary club, fall for the editor, and not only date him, but also become the editor myself.

Troy would later tell me that, while i always remembered and noticed him, he would only remember me as "mike's girlfriend"

I remember a few times of running into him in the great hall, or watching him clean the tables in the cafe (he was the head of the college's housekeeping crew at the time) and watching him bend over the tables. i remember when he finally stopped shaving his head and how much cuter he was with hair. I remember seeing him the first week of class, and feeling relieved because i "technically" knew someone. I remember hearing stories about him and wondering what he was like, but never having a reason to talk to him. so I dated mike, and just went along my way.


until one day when i would run into troy in the great hall at school. he was talking to a good friend of mine, who, in passing, would ask me how mike was doing. I would reply "that asshole?" and a whole new world of ideas would open up in troy's mind.


he admits to using my friend to get to me. he would turn down my offers to hang out, but eventually run into me at applebees, and we would hang out a few days later. he not only used my friend (xtian) to get to me, but also my love for writing. he asked me to look over his writing, and then to ask me to help him with a writing project. it was that project that would eventually get me to his house alone on a friday night, sitting and talking until some late hour, and then to his house on several other occasions, and then to dinner on valentines day.

he used to give me back massages. all the time. im not sure how he did it, but he managed to get me to pull my shirt all the way up my back and let him sit on my lower back and just massage me. oil, candles, ect. amazing. i he would be rubbing my back, and i would be dreaming about him bending over and kissing me.

but i was afraid to kiss him once we finally started dating. between him and mike, there was a rash of random, not attractive, but avaliable guys in my life. a chef, a server, a master electrician, a musician, ect. the last guy i dated before troy was a 23 year old amazing guy who happened to be really awkward in dealings with women. he scared me for life. he was what made me afraid and avoid all possibilities of dating/kissing troy. i was afraid of awkardness. I was afraid that, if troy kissed me, it would ruin him for me. so i avioided it until i couldnt any more. until he finally sat on his floor one day while i was laying on the couch, and he asked me if he could finally be allowed to kiss me. what was i going to do? i coldnt say no.

and that would start a butterflies in my belly obsession with kissing him. from that day, there would be no end to it. i would never want to stop. i blush thinking about it (2 years later). things were great.

and then the fiasco with mike the "ex". but we were stronger after that. we really were. I remember having lunch with troy every friday at panera. i remember spending more time with him than with the "ex" while i was dating him. and "the ext" didnt seem to care. finally, after a talk with the "ex" i came to the conclusion that I was unhappy and being incredibly stupid. I wanted troy. I wanted him more than anything I had ever wanted in my life.

So I asked him to take me back. we had argued and avoided each other and been mean to each other, made each other cry while i took the ex back, but it all faded away.

and these have been the best two years of my life.


top 10 reasons I love troy:
1. he understands me and I understand him. we are best friends, not just boyfriend and girlfriend. we agree on things and fight, but not about major things. we get along perfectly.
2. i love him physically. just by rubbing my arm or holding my hand, he can make everything okay. im convinced that my anger and depression with him being gone is the result of him not being here to touch me. we can lay together and just sleep comfortably.
3. he has the same goals that i have. marriage, kids, how to raise kids, money, travel, continue education. we both find the same things important. we have the same ideas about teaching and pushing our kids. we both want the same thigns for a wedding, the same type of house. we agree on foods, like the same styles, movies, music. peas in an ipod, so to speak.
4. he loves me. there is a certain amount of trust that comes along with knowing that a person loves you so much. i do not doubt him. i do not worry that he is with/much less looking at another woman. i know that, in spite of my insecurities, i am the one for him. i know he would do anythign for me.
5. he encourages me. he wants me to be the best at whatever i can. he wants me to push myself and loves my accomplishments. he is proud of me, and it shows. but he also worries about me and helps me along the way. I do/feel all of the same things about him.
6. he isnt selfish. he gives and takes and makes sacrifices. he always considers my opinion. he listens to me, in general, which is amazing.
7. we communicate. i am never afraid to talk to him about things. i know he wil listen, and even if we fight, it only lasts a little while.
8. he is beautiful. i never imagined that i would love a fuzzy guy, but now i know that, without the fuzz, he wouldnt be mine. i love how soft his hands are and the orangeish ness of his eyes in the light. i love that strip of hair betwen his wrist and pinkie finger. his little heart shaped lips, his bubble butt, his belly, his smell, his bad breath in the morning.
9. he is going somewhere. i dont need to motivate him. he is not afraid to get up early, or to apply for a job, or to better himself in one way or another. he has goals and wants to be great.
10. all of those reasons combined, along with others that i wont mention here. add to it his pride, family, humbleness, shyness, little kid qualities, his smile, and just the general way he makes me feel.


i know that whatever problems i have with him right now, all of the things that are bothering me about this trip, i know that just his presence will make it better. just feeing him hold my hand will fix it all.

ten things intro

I found out about the "ten things" concept by surfing through random blogs. So many people have created the list, and I think now, while I am having problems with Troy being gone, to start a list of my own. So the items under this category will be ten (possibly expanding to more than ten eventually) that make me happy, or that I appreciate for one reason or another.

Ten Things

I will try to devote a blog to each of my main 10 things, and then add blogs when i need on individual days or events. 10things will be my way of remembering what is important, of getting back to the happy, little things kind of person that i use to be.

buzzzzzz

you, dear reader, may notice something distinctly bright about my blog. distinctly bright and new...and shaped like a bumble bee!

thats right, this lady, the genius, if you will, finally figured out how to create a favicon. how brilliant I am.

now, beware: you will probably only see if when using Firefox. I'm working on that. at any rate, it looks so beautiful. I love it. dearly.


I might have to redesign it and make it a prettier little bumble bee. as it is, it is a modified version of my buddy icon. i need to create a new one of those soon anyway.


i'm off to bed. I will dream about little bummble bees buzzing all around me. I hope they dont have stingers.