Infinite Canvas

Happy Birthday, Mom.

I hope things are bigger and better where you are.

Archiving - Races 2011

Date - Race - Distance - Comment

1/8/11 - Bridle Trails Trail Run - 5 mile - First Bandit Event!

3/6/11 - Lord Hill Trail Run - 5 mile

4/10/11 - Soaring Eagle Trail Run - 5 mile

5/1/11 - Bloomsday - 12K - PR!!

7/9/11 - Clear Lake Triathlon - Sprint Tri - PR!

8/7/11 - Troika Triathlon - Half Ironman - COMPLETE!

8/27/11 - Priest Lake Triathlon - Olympic Tri - PR!

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.

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!