Goals - Closing 2011

As a refresher, here were the goals for 2011.

And now, the final review:


Creativity - B+
I can't say enough how amazing the experience with my 365 project was. A leap of blind faith turned into so much more, in ways I wasn't even quite comfortable thinking about. I missed a few days, and by "a few", in some cases I mean "a lot".

The rest of the creativity stuff...didn't do so well. I did cook a few new things, learn a few new techniques, but not like a year's dedication would have meant. I didn't do much writing, and house redecorating didn't happen either.  The 365 project completely carries this goal, which was something I definitely wanted.

Financial - A
Check. I would give it an A+, but the implied investment side of the goal didn't turn out.

Fitness - A
Half Ironman - CHECK.
PRs - actually, looking back, surprisingly, CHECK. 3 PRs for the year. There was some unstated sub context about RUNNING PRs, and I did PR at Bloomsday and take 4 mins off my time, but this fast running thing really didn't pan out this year much, with the focus on the 70.3 and then bailing on the Seattle Half Mara.

Home Related - F
Yeah, this did not happen. New garbage disposal by necessity. Nothing else. I cleaned out my little cubby in the coffee table a couple times, and did reorganize my camera stuff a number of times. This does not count for much.

Miscellany - ?
How can you grade something you didn't write down? Some cool things for the year: I did more classics reading, including Virginia Woolf, Goethe, Jonathan Swift, Ayn Rand and Oscar Wilde. Maybe that had something to do with taking it off my list of goals, but I think it had more to do with accessibility and cheapness (FREE!) on my Kindle.

Overall:
Not bad - and I'm actually really happy with how well I did on most of this stuff.

carnation

Fork.

My dad holds up his fork. We are at dessert, having pie, cake and coffee.

"Can I please have a fork that's straight?" He asks, noting the strange and significant curve to the handle. It looks as if it's had a bad run in with some telekinesis.

"Are you questioning the fork for its alternative orientation?" I question back. "Just because the fork has an alternative orientation doesn't mean it can't perform it's job just as well as a straight fork," I obstinately declare.

"And what would it's job be?" the Boy jousts back to me.

"Well, forking, of course...are you saying it can't fork just as well as a fork of a different orientation?"

Some questions probably shouldn't be asked, nor answered. And it was probably good that no one pointed out that spooning leads to forking.

Endless Loop

...taking a picture of you taking a picture of me taking a picture of you...

Pool

...and when I did sleep, I dreamt of a pool, a beautiful pool - black lanes of tile under aqua blue water, sparkling in the sunshine, stretching out a full olympic distance, wide and empty. Strings of triangular flags stretched above the lanes, moving gently in the nearly indiscernible breeze, begging, inviting me for a swim.

This was not the Y: short half length pool, crowded with other swimmers. This pool was perfect. I went to get my things and go swimming.

By the time I got back, the weather changed. The pool was indoors. It was cloudy. The breeze had picked up. I looked for a way to get into the pool. I had to go through a door. When I got in, the building was dark, the water no longer aqua, had taken on the darkness of the building and reflected the gray of the low light in the building.

The only way into the pool was from the diving board. I put my things down and went to the diving board. As I looked down, the water was stormy - this was not the pool I went to get my things to swim in. This was not the pool that invited me.

I looked around to get off the diving board; the only way off was back. I considered turning around and looked down at the pool. Now, farther down, I was standing on the high dive. The water was churning under me. I had considered jumping anyway, sucking up my fear and trusting that I would survive. Looking down, the water was far below me, rough, and farther now each time I blinked. I could jump, but it would be too far to survive the fall, and the water was now a river, rapids below me.

Panicked, I turned around again to walk back, afraid that I would fall as I backtracked, terrified to move, to choose, to do anything, knowing I could not stay where I was.

I woke up with a start, staring at the ceiling, the doorway, the darkness...thinking about the pool and my fear.

Symmetry

I love these two pictures together:

I didn't intend to mirror the mug from my morning's coffee when I took the picture of the shadow on the pavement this afternoon, nor did I recognize the repetition of the pattern until I looked at the picture on my computer later. I was focused on how black and white the shadows on the asphalt were, much, ironically, the same way I appreciated the soft monotone of the leaves on the mug in the morning.

The depth of symmetry is what strikes me most - not the leaf pattern, but the appreciation of the simplicity of the monotone image that stuck with me throughout the day. I can find similar symmetry in most of my writing when I look back over the years. Every so often the same theme emerges, with similar images, similar focus, but slightly different perspective. Sometimes its an identical concept, but the focus inverted - instead of the developed "picture", it's the film "negative" version of the same idea. Instead of writing about sound, in the same way, I write about silence. 

It is interesting.

...and yet, it is not surprising. The more I think about it, it's really not surprising at all. Some concepts capture us, for whatever reason, perhaps unique to each concept, and I think some concepts weave themselves through our lives, coming and going, presenting themselves in different ways. They always strike me with a certain element of "magic", and yet, when I really think about them, I realize that they are just my themes.

Black and white, shades of grey, stillness and peace...these concepts will always be things that resurface for me. They captivate and inspire me.

Photo Essay, Theme: Captions

"measured out in coffee spoons..."

The warning on my thoughts

Sometimes you're just a number.

The grass will be greener...

Someday when I grow up...

I might be hidden in the overgrowth

Fencing

The fence was there long before I came along, on this walk that by happenstance delivered me to this field. Across the field in waist high grass, my feet sinking into grass-padded mud I trudged.

Falling down, in disrepair, rust had claimed the strength of this fence and with it's remaining grip, it barely supported the wires and crossmembers. Overgrown with the same grass covering the field, I wondered about the fence's intent - originally to keep something in, or something out....now but a marker of a barrier that meant something once and now needs little reminder. Sharp, rusted corners of failing barbed wire contrast with the sparse construction overall - an interesting juxtaposition of frailty armed with aggressive intent.

I walk along, my dog and I, still sinking in the mud, and I wonder how many fences, similarly frail and sharp, I have hidden in the overgrowth of my own mind and heart, what I originally built them for, and if they still have any meaning.

Living

Near my house is an old, abandoned Swedish graveyard dating back to the late 1800's. It sits on a hillside, nestled between housing developments in a mostly unimproved grove of trees. It is fenced with a split rail fence, now falling down, though not clearly resulting from the elements of nature or the elements of humanity.

Beer cans and soda bottles litter the graveyard, trash accumulating against the trees and gravestones. Teenagers have taken to hanging out, seeking solitude for their solitary group escapes from the rest of society. I wonder how much thought they give to the uninvited guests laying below them, and whether there is an implicit invitation...suspecting the answer is a bravado joke or lack of thought at all; certainly there is no respect for this place I seek for quiet contemplation.

The headstones are old, and looking at how the moss covers and owns them, destroying the identifying engraving differentiating one life from another, I realize how impermanent even the most permanent seeming things are. We seek to immortalize ourselves in one final, lasting way, and within a century, even the most lasting thing we come up with: carving into a solid rock, we are washed away - a mere blink in the moment of universal time. Standing here, my body - this "me" - is even less lasting.

I tend to stop here on my longer runs. Perhaps it is simply a lazy way to take a quick break and catch my breath, but in the gentle stream of thoughts in my head, it serves as punctuation. I recognize the juxtaposition of my living, my exerted breathing, with the lack of breath...a brief acknowledgment of my final destination beyond this run and the next, a bit of reminder to actually live in the time between now and then, and several moments of gratefulness that I am here, now, doing this, thinking this, being lucky enough to stop and think these thoughts and have these feelings.

I share this moment, and the next, I snap a few pictures, trying to capture these thoughts in a visual 1000 words, but for once, the picture cannot nearly convey all the thoughts I bring, and so I add these words.

100 Days: 365 project

I've been shooting a picture a day (more or less - I've missed about 4 days) for 100 days. I thought it was momentous at 90 days, but now easily arriving at 100 days...

I didn't have much faith when I started this process. I didn't know how how inanely shooting one picture a day could really make me any better than where I was, shooting sporadically.

What I didn't understand is what happens, over time...it's not that I suddenly got amazing, or suddenly learned amazing things. It wasn't even like you can look at picture by picture and see incremental improvement.

I don't know what it is exactly that works, or how everything is coming together. Still, when I look at a photo I've taken, or a subject I want to capture, I realize how much more I want to learn and how much longer this journey really is. That horizon never moves, but there winds up so much path behind that adds up to some sort of accomplishment, skill and reward.

I find I pick up my camera more confidently. I swap flash for no flash, manual to aperture priority to automatic when necessary. I have an idea to start with on an approach instead of abject fear and blankness. I like what I'm producing more often, and it's getting me excited to do more. I carry my camera everywhere now.

I can ask questions now to learn - that's a big step: being able to put it in words and ask, and understand at least parts of the answer that comes back and begin a conversation. Ironically, it makes it easier to ask "dumb" questions and admit how little I know. I love feeling the intimidation fade away.

How many of my goals have I accomplished? Found a new lens, understand some things about the differences, capture some different kinds of bokeh, I'm even starting to understand when using a small aperture is harming the picture I'm trying to take. I am so excited.

The magic in picking up that camera every day is something I could only have faith in. Even at the beginning, I found that once I picked it up, I found new angles, new ways to compose the picture, new ways to try to capture, new ways to look at the things around me. One desperate shot begets another and another, and finally something pretty cool. I guess it's no different than any other kind of creativity that way.

I can't wait for the next 100!

Photographical philosophy

Sometimes it is hard for me to put my finger on exactly what I want to get out of this journey - how far do I want to go, how dedicated do I want or need to be, perhaps even, how dedicated is too much and how do I know if I want it to take over my life?

I find myself flipping through Flickr - photostream to photostream, looking at images that intrigue me, analyzing why. What is it that I like? Is it the composition, the color, the tone, the texture, the subject? There are so many that are trite, and yet so many that are lasting, and sometimes the difference must be very slight. In fact, sometimes I think the differences is merely my own cynicism growing as I look at all these photographs.

I find myself questioning quality - if I borrow someone's "style", or compose a picture of my own after something I saw in someone else's portfolio, I find I discount it in my mind. While I look at other work for inspiration, then I irrationally eliminate it from what I feel is ok to use it for...

I see explanations from people of using someone's specific presets in their photo processing application and I wonder, if I use something someone else came up with to make my photo look a certain way, is that quality? Is that authentic? Isn't it just another form of copying something I didn't do? If I record my voice and make it sound like Mariah Carey, is that still me?

And I suppose somewhere deep inside it would be me, whether I sound fakely like Mariah Carey or my photos look like copies of Soup and Sunday's photo stream, I will have learned something in the process, and made a compelling photograph.

How much originality does artistry really require, and in the process of learning, what difference should that make at all? The devil on that shoulder - I think she speaks with the voice of my mother; I cannot characterize the voice on my other shoulder, perhaps because it is generally too quiet. Perhaps that voice is my own.

100 Words: Tired

An ache...

Something in me weighs me down, Kryptonite in my veins. I know it will drain slowly as I drag myself from bed to bathroom counter, but the momentary agony pulls my eyes closed one more time…just 5 more minutes of eyes shut denial of morning and the new week and all that it brings with it…just 5 more minutes of the cozy warmth of my bed: down comforter, pillow, sateen sheets pulled up to my ears…

…5 minutes gone…and now for real…

I hear the alarm one more time, and turn off feeling, flip the blankets back and rise.

Fearless

I set out nicely, with my camera in hand, new lens affixed firmly, in a quest for bokeh (a cool effect with lights turning to fuzzy dots in - typically - the background of a photo). It's dark, here in Atlanta, at 9:00 pm, but near a shopping area, and in a hotel, I thought this might be the perfect opportunity to stalk and capture elusive bokeh - at least thus far elusive to me.

New Lens!

I finally did it: got a new autofocus lens for the Nikon. Bring on the 50mm 1.4 lens, baby! Too bad they sold the used one YESTERDAY! I wound up having to go with a brand new one, and did decide (with some encouragement from my support crew) to spend the extra money on to get the 1.4 instead of the half as expensive 1.8, but I think I'll be happier with it. I'm loving the bigger aperture and have been messing with settings, focus, autofocus and the flash all afternoon.

I think I might be hooked.

February Mosaic for 365 Project

Another month on the books! Again, pleased to have only missed one day (which I cheated on and filled in with an extra picture from vacation). And, I have determined which lens I am going to get for the camera!

Here is the month at a glance!

Looking

Looking down the darkened hallway, I see the crack of a door, light pouring from it's tiny opening on the bare floor. My own door creaks as I realize I am leaning on the knob as I furtively peer around it's half closed concealment. My bare feet feel the floor; could I stealthily creep down the hallway to investigate? I try to recall the creaks and cracks, sparing a few words to my undetailed memory.

I risk it, feeling the floor beneath my feet, rolling silently and slowly through my toes step by step along the corridor. The light becomes bigger and darkens the dark around me. I hear small nothings in the room, deafened by the sound of my attempted silence, breathing, and thoughts.

More now than before, the curiosity owns me and compels me forward. I know not what I would do or say if discovered; resigned, I realize the truth is my closest ally: curiosity.

What is behind the door? What compels me forward this day, this night?

Journey

"A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step." --Lao Tzu

Or for me, with a single click of the shutter.

Another translation of the quote is that, "even the longest journey must begin where you stand."

I stand here, holding few photography skills, four cameras I know little about how to use, a robust but inscrutable photo processing application I have yet to tackle learning, and a wealth of information at my fingertips on the vast expanse of the interwebs. It seems I have everything I need for this journey.

Just a moment ago, I felt I had nothing with which to start this journey, looking into my viewfinder and seeing naught but the bleakness of my skill - or is that the vision of what I'd like to create if only I had mastered my tools?

Suffice it to say, I realize I have the tools, but not the skills. And that is what this journey is about - the long road to acquiring those skills. I've been wishing for them for years now, and never dedicated the time to really work on them, always wishing that it were easier. Jim Rohn says, "don't wish it were easier, wish you were better," and I do. At the same time, wishing doesn't amount to much progress.

I have dutifully clicked my way through 16 days of my 365 project, and like most things, probably like most people, already I'm looking to see some sort of miraculous growth. I don't see it. All I see is yet more areas where I could be better, things that would make my images better if I only knew how. So once again, I'm back on the internet, searching for things like "photo workflow in aperture", and once again, most of the time I'm completely overwhelmed with what I find and read. But I read it, and I know that as I keep doing this, more and more will make sense to me.

I wish I had a mentor at this point - someone who could tell me what I should be investing my time in the most, someone who could help me overcome by biggest frustrations and move on, rather than stewing along, not knowing how to solve the problem I'm looking to solve. Why, for god's sake, can I not seem to make aperture priority work on my Nikon dSLR? Do I not understand the basic purpose of it? Is that why I can't seem to get the dials to move the numbers in the way I think they should go? (Lower, in case you're wondering - that's the way I want them to go.) Or is it that my premise of framing the shot is so wrong that the strategy won't work and that's why I can't get the camera to make the numbers do what I think I want them to?

I am a member on Flickr now, and I've looked through the meet up groups...it seems easy - join the group, go meet up, talk photography...I just have to get over this intimidation factor. I imagine myself sitting with capable photographers, deer in the headlights, as rapid-fire discussions of various numbers go flying right over my head. So I sit, with my 365 photostream, and no friends. No conversation for fear of being completely stupid, completely clueless. Well, I am that; nothing to fear.

You know what I need? I need a private photography teacher - like a piano teacher, but for photography - for $30 or $45 an hour or something, have someone who will teach me something, give me an assignment, and then review/critique it and help me get better. It would be everything from technicals, to composition, to godforsaken processing which so overwhelms me. Someone I could sit down with, over a beer or a cup of coffee or a sandwich, laptop on the table, camera in hand and show me what to do with the equipment to make it work. Someone who could take me out and determine the actual root cause of my frustration.

I wonder if I could find something like that? Just thinking about it made it feel so much more possible. I bet I could - either the couple of people I know who are decent photographers to start, or even hitting up some of the pros at the camera shop down the street. I bet I could drum up something.

Sometimes, the next step of the journey becomes obvious by just talking it out.

Thanks for listening.

*click*

Recipe

I have never made a pork chop. I have never stuffed meat, save a series of turkeys annually beginning in 2004. I have never used a dutch oven. I only recently realized I in fact HAVE a dutch oven.

What better way to handle that than by tackling them all at once?

"Perhaps you should start with one new thing at a time," you might be thinking. But this is not my style. No, I decided I should conquer all of them in a quest to make a recipe a friend of ours related to us at about 10:30 pm one night after 2 six-packs of beers and what amounted to the most delicious midnight snack ever: stuffed pork chops, and three desserts.

"Well, at least you have a recipe," you might be saying. But you'd be wrong. Take note of the time of day, as well as the beer supply. Some of you might add in the fact that my memory is tantamount to the rumored memory of a goldfish...

I jotted a quick shopping list of what I'd need to make the recipe in my mind. The Boy and I went to the store. He asked me what was on my list.

"Pork chops, an onion, golden mushroom soup and rice," I answered. He looked at me funny. I looked back at him funny.

"Why all that stuff?" He asked. Clearly there was a disconnect.

"Well, pork chops obviously, and the onion and rice for the stuffing, and the soup because that was Big Bad Bode's secret ingredient we'd never heard of. We already have mushrooms and garlic for the stuffing." I answered.

"Bode bought the pork chops stuffed." The Boy answered. I had not remembered this. I had a rock solid idea of exactly what the stuffing should be like. And it was not "pre stuffed"...

It was then that I realized my rock solid recipe was not so solid. In fact, what WAS in the stuffing? Suddenly neither of us could remember. Nor could we remember how many cans of soup he used, or how hot he cooked it and for how long...and was there celery in the stuffing?

A reasonable person might have consulted with the internet recipe lore, but by now, I was well on my way to an adventure in cooking.

We bought our supplies and headed home.

Upon arriving home, I glanced over at my computer, sitting idly on the couch, ready for a quick recipe consult, but in abject defiance I refused and began cooking. Here are the results:

My version of Big Bad Bode's stuffed chops:
3 thick pork chops
1 medium yellow onion
4 cloves garlic
2 TBS olive oil (I like extra virgin)
1 TBS sage
1-2 tsp salt (to taste)
1 carton of sliced mushrooms
1 pouch of "cook in bag" brown rice
1 can of golden mushroom soup (condensed)

Slice garlic; dice onion. Saute in a small amount of olive oil in the dutch oven until translucent; add a tablespoon of sage and salt to onion/garlic mix.
Add carton of sliced mushrooms; cook until lightly brown and reduced in size.
Nuke pouch of rice (I usually would make the rice myself, but didn't have time)
Preheat oven to 350
Transfer about 3/4 of the onion/mushroom mix to mixing bowl, combine with rice.
Slice pork chops (butterfly style) to create pocket. Cram full of as much rice/mushroom mix as possible. Smoosh it more, try to pack more in, attempt to seal shut with toothpick (probably didn't really need this)
Place pork chops in dutch oven
Dump can of golden mushroom soup on chops. Add one can of water, per instructions. (I did not mix this - it seemed to mix while cooking.)
Cover with dutch oven lid and put in oven for 60 minutes.

I added the leftover mushroom/onion mix to the remaining unused stuffing, and used that as a serving base for the pork chops when they were done. It absorbed the delicious soupy gravy at the end, and there's no such thing as enough stuffing in the tiny little chop anyway.

This was one of the easiest recipes I've made, and I didn't even make a mess in the kitchen!

I also made sauteed asparagus with it, which is really simple: snap ends off asparagus, rinse. Heat skillet with EVOO, throw asparagus in it, saute until brown streaks appear on the pan side of asparagus. Rotate. Cook to taste, add salt/pepper.

Needless to say, my completely made up recipe turned out awesome, and I also snapped my first ever awesome food picture for my 365 project!

2011 Goals

Creativity

365 – the concept: take a photo every day. Why? Because the best way to learn is to do it every day. Get in the habit of looking for photo ops, practice and improve workflow ideas, learn my cameras, deal with crappy lighting, no ideas, etc. Learn my tools – Aperture, Flickr, Picasa, social support, file organization and strategy. Be more committed. This is the ultimate in commitment. You will see these in my 365 Project photostream (more to come on that)

Keep blogging. Keep adding drawings to the blog. Write more creatively – styles, topics, stories, poems. Friday Fiction? There’s an idea. Maybe add some readers, re-engage some others.

Do some house redecorating. Imagine what we want. Go find it. Make it so.

Try new places, new beers, new vacations, new parties, new concerts, cook new recipes, learn new techniques. Discover.

Be courageous.

Financial

Save, save, save! And get around to investing what we save. That’s not very measurable. Let’s say “overdouble what we did last year”. That should cover it.

Fitness

This is it! The year I do a half Ironman. 70.3 miles, all in one shot: 1.2 mile swim, 56 mile bike ride, and a half marathon. Yikes and YAY!

Oh yeah, and I almost forgot. Run faster. Reach that next target, PR some races.

Home related

Hardwoods – we’ve been dreaming about this for years. We were about to do it just before the economy tanked and my company quit paying bonuses. Now, we can!

Closet clean-out – why? Because closets can always be cleaned out and improved. We’ll improve the Boy’s closet for sure, clean out stuff from the other ones, too.

Kitchen upgrades – sink, garbage disposal, dishwasher…

Garage revamp – I never thought we’d be a 3 car family, but here we are. The least we can do is get all the cars in our allotted parking spots: 2 in the garage and one in the driveway. It means cleaning out the garage, reorganizing, maybe painting and treating the floor, and getting another car in there.

Redecorate – yeah yeah, I know I’m double dipping on this one, but it does count under both, and for valid reasons!

Miscellany

There are some goals I’m neglecting…you may notice (if you’ve been reading a while) that I don’t have my “reading” goal and that I’m a lot less specific. I’ll say – I’m focusing on a few areas. I feel almost obligated to have some of these, but even now, as I write this, my heart’s not in it. My heart is in my dreaming goals, my 365, my creativity. I think this will breathe life into everything and force me to keep that focus, even when breathing is hard, as we all know it can be at certain times.

My 3 weeks of time off really gave me that opportunity to unwind, and be left to my own devices. They went creative on me, and I have to take a hint from that. Sure enough, back to work, and I start doubting all my urges, all my passion (especially since it was the “off season” for racing). I can’t live this way. That is what these goals are about this year.

The Finger

You know, the best thing I ever did creatively (no, it wasn’t that post about intangibility, or the one later about tea) was to get mad. My friend, who is very talented both as a writer and photographer – she might not believe me, but it’s true – and even as a business analyst, mentioned this quote from some asshole about writer’s block meaning you shouldn’t be a writer. I wonder if that guy knows he inspired me by being such an asshole. M mentioned this in passing, in an email, and it so angered me that I felt I had to prove him wrong. And I started blogging.

That was 4 years ago.

I’m still blogging. Maybe not as often, maybe not always with the quality I’d like, but I’m still doing it, and I’m still honing my craft. Why? Because I got mad.

When I was a kid, I watched my mom get mad every time someone told her no, every time someone told her that I had an issue. I watched it spark her energy and get her going; maybe it’s a bit of her in me – don’t you tell me I can’t because I WILL GO do it, just to spite you.

Somehow, over the last 4 years, creatively, I’ve gone through some cycles – the post a lot cycles, the creative spark cycles, the boredom with my voice cycle, the journalistic reporting of my current events, a few efforts to redefine my vision.

I think I’m in one of those cycles now – a combination of stagantion, indecision, and crippling self doubt – and perhaps that’s what I need: some good old fashioned anger and spark to prove someone wrong to get me going.

Motivation is good, and I can’t tell you how amazing I feel inside when I get a comment or an email that something I wrote, or photographed, has touched someone, or helped them see something in a new way. But, it is a lot harder to live up to something amazing than it is to flip off something awful and say, “Fuck you!” by doing that very thing and intending to show up that critic, be it internal or external. Apparently, my inner critic really backs down to that kind of treatment.

Writer’s block, my ass.

Here we go again!