Archive for July, 2006
the bright eyes of youth
Jul 31st
The aforementioned younger man has written that he’s shy. He has written that he has trouble talking to others. In fact, as we’ve conversed online, I’ve found his ability to create ongoing conversations a little stilted.
That doesn’t matter to me. I like a challenge. I also like to encourage people. So I’ve talked to him. I’ve drawn him out a bit.
We talk about photography. He’s telling me all about the ways you should take photos and what filters you should use and whatnot. He goes on and on about it. I’m willing to listen. Heck, I might learn something from him. So I ask him what kind of a camera he has. He doesn’t have one. He asks the same and I list mine out. And I say, because I guess I’m humble in some ways, that even though I have the tools, it doesn’t make me a great photographer. I’m an avid photographer but it doesn’t make me good. He says that I can keep practicing and he’s sure I’ll get there.
Ahem. He didn’t ask to see anything I’ve done. He didn’t even ask what kind of photography I do.
He wrote to tell me that it might be hard to meet someone because he is shy but he’s willing to try. So I commiserate and tell him that I’m introverted and get scared about meeting people.
He writes me back today. He says,
I’ve never had a problem with meeting someone from the net. You hear all sorts of crazy stories, but I think the vast majority of internet users are who they say they are, especially if they’re willing to meet in person. At the very least, they’re no more dangerous or suspicious than any stranger you might pass on the street.. and most people pass strangers on the street without a thought.
Aside from that, I find that having met someone online before meeting them in person is a lot easier than just striking up conversations with total strangers. After all, you’ve already broken the ice and made your introductions, you know a little about them, and if they’re coming out somewhere to meet you, then you can probably assume they’ll be friendly.
Of course, many people, especially young women, are convinced that either the internet is some kind of alternate fantasy world populated by people who aren’t real, or else it’s full of smelly 67-year-old drug crazed transvestite perverts who are looking for someone to rape or mug. I find this a constant source of frustration.
And I chuckle to myself.
Granted, he knows very little about me. He doesn’t know that I’ve met over 100 people from online. He doesn’t know that 4 of my last 5 relationships were with men I met online. He doesn’t know that I’ve even lived with 1 of those men.
I’m not afraid that people aren’t real or that someone is going to turn out to be a 67-year-old drug-crazed transvestite pervert (heck, that might be fun!).
I get scared because of me. I get scared because I am nervous around new people.
It has nothing to do with them and everything to do with me.
It really makes me chuckle at how he’s trying to be worldly when I’ve probably been online since he was a kid and have traveled more places to meet more people than he’ll probably ever consider.
But hey, that’s part of the fun of online dating.
Heh.
my son the man
Jul 30th
american life in poetry: column 070
by ted kooser, u.s. poet laureate, 2004-2006
As a man I’ll never gain the wisdom Sharon Olds expresses in this poem about motherhood, but one of the reasons poetry is essential is that it can take us so far into someone else’s experience that we feel it’s our own.
My Son the Man
Suddenly his shoulders get a lot wider,
the way Houdini would expand his body
while people were putting him in chains. It seems
no time since I would help him to put on his sleeper,
guide his calves into the gold interior,
zip him up and toss him up and
catch his weight. I cannot imagine him
no longer a child, and I know I must get ready,
get over my fear of men now my son
is going to be one. This was not
what I had in mind when he pressed up through me like a
sealed trunk through the ice of the Hudson,
snapped the padlock, unsnaked the chains,
and appeared in my arms. Now he looks at me
the way Houdini studied a box
to learn the way out, then smiled and let himself be manacled.
“My Son the Man” from THE WELLSPRING by Sharon Olds. Copyright (c) 1996 by Sharon Olds. Used by permission of Alfred A. Knopf, a division of Random House, Inc. This weekly column is supported by The Poetry Foundation, The Library of Congress, and the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. This column does not accept unsolicited poetry.
dating in the 00s
Jul 29th
Dating sucks.
It sucks even more when you’re nearly 40, you’ve never been married (so people wonder what’s wrong with you), you’re somewhat reclusive/introverted, and you don’t know how to meet guys unless it’s online.
Seriously.
I wouldn’t know how to meet a local guy locally if I was pushed head first into it.
So I meet men online. I’ve been doing it for nearly 15 years at this point (and some have been okay and some not so okay). But that’s how I do it.
So, I’m talking to a man online (a younger man, as it may be – someone I probably wouldn’t consider normally but there is very little chance that it will go anywhere because he’s moving to Oregon soon). Yeah. He lives in my town. I could probably see him within 15-20 minutes if traffic was good.
We’ve been talking onliine for a month. Have we met? No. Have we talked on the phone? No. Have we even exchanged names? Nope.
But all of a sudden, his move date has been pushed up and I say to him, “Wow. That’s soon. Maybe we can meet for coffee (or since I don’t drink coffee, tea) before you leave.”
Ack!
And he replies, “My week is open.”
Uhhh. I didn’t mean right away. Ummm. Runaway. Runaway. Scared. Frightened. Good god.
I’m 39 years old and men (even 10 years my junior) still have the ability to make me act like a little girl.
Sheesh.
You would think I’d be over it by now.
But the plain truth is that I love men. I adore them. I like talking to them. I like hanging out with them. I like hearing their perspectives on things.
And I like the way that a look, a simple look, can make me weak in the knees.
And that all scares me at the same time.
I haven’t responded yet. Maybe I’ll suggest meeting for lunch sometime.
Not this week.
Maybe next.
social music
Jul 28th
Okay, so I talk about social software a lot. I know. But it’s just so…well…cool! You can link up to people from around the world who have similar interests as you or who give you different perspectives on topics.
i love that!
So imagine my surprise when I’m going through my morning feeds (that’s rss feeds, not food), and I come across a link to last.fm. It’s a site that is set up to share the music you are listening to. They have this nifty software that reads what iTunes is playing on my computer and then runs it through my profile on their site.
This is cool, ladies and gents. You can see, in a slightly delayed real-time, what I am listening to on my computer. And since I listen all day at work, it will be posting my music.
If any of you are on, or decide to get on, to last.fm, drop me a note or better yet, add me as a friend. Let’s hook up and share the power.
picture the cure
Jul 27th
As long-time readers know, cancer has touched my life in more than one way.
In 1999, a co-worker was diagnosed with breast cancer. It was as bad as it could possibly get – spreading quickly into her lungs and other parts of her body. Several of us decided to hold an event to support her in her recovery. We shaved our heads. Being county employees, the media was delighted with this and we were featured in the newspapers and television news locally. People stopped me in stores and talked to me about it, telling me their stories about cancer.
It was one of the most moving events of my life. I learned about the stength and goodness of people. I learned about how connected we are to one another.
Four years later, I’d have my own personal touch with cancer. I have had two types of skin cancer – one of them twice. I am still checked every three months.
So when Irina Souiki sent me an e-mail asking if I’d like to be participating photographer in her annual picture the cure event, I was on board.
Plus, I have to admit that it’s rather exciting to be asked to donate some of my photography to an international event. I’m honored to be included with the other artists. I’m honored to have three of my images chosen to be a part of this event and honored that two of my photographs (the first one and the last one on the image here) were chosen for the promo card.
I’m in great company. Please go to the site. Read about the survivors that Irina has profiled. Look at the photography. If you’re interested in any of it, you don’t have to attend the event. It will be for sale. If you make a donation to the event, anything over $10 will get you a postcard sized image of your choice.
Please consider supporting this event. The Canada Cancer Society will thank you. Irina will thank you. I will thank you.
ironing after midnight
Jul 23rd
american life in poetry: column 069
by ted kooser, u.s. poet laureate, 2004-2006
This marvelous poem by the California poet Marsha Truman Cooper perfectly captures the world of ironing, complete with its intimacy. At the end, doing a job to perfection, pressing the perfect edge, establishes a reassuring order to an otherwise mundane and slightly tawdry world.
Ironing After Midnight
Your mother called it
“doing the pressing,”
and you know now
how right she was.
There is something urgent here.
Not even the hiss
under each button
or the yellow business
ground in at the neck
can make one instant
of this work seem unimportant.
You’ve been taught
to turn the pocket corners
and pick out the dark lint
that collects there.
You’re tempted to leave it,
but the old lessons
go deeper than habits.
Everyone else is asleep.
The odor of sweat rises
when you do
under the armpits,
the owner’s particular smell
you can never quite wash out.
You’ll stay up.
You’ll have your way,
the final stroke
and sharpness
down the long sleeves,
a truly permanent edge.
Reprinted from “River Styx,” No. 32, 1990, by permission of the author, whose most recent book is “Substantial Holdings,” Pudding House Publications, 2002. Poem copyright (c) 1990 by Marsha Truman Cooper. This weekly column is supported by The Poetry Foundation, The Library of Congress, and the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. This column does not accept unsolicited poetry.
fire in the sky
Jul 20th
I get a phone call. I check the caller ID. It’s my brother-in-law, Robert.
He calls to tell me to look out my window. The sunset is amazing, he says. Robert always calls me with great photo opportunities, of which I’m greatly honored.
I look out. Yeah. There’s something cool happening out there.
I run out with not one but two cameras. Hey, a girl has to be prepared, you know.
I’m shooting away.
I go back inside. There’s a message on my phone. It’s my brother-in-law. I call back.
“Kooper has a name for one of your pictures.”
“He does? What is it?”
“As we were driving, he pointed up to the sky and asked, ‘What is that fire in the sky, Daddy?’ So, you need to call one fire in the sky.”
And I did.
–
To see more amazing arizona monsoon shots, check out this cool slideshow from arizona flickr users.
wired
Jul 18th
In the interesting news department, the Center for Citizen Media: Blog has posted Hype versus Reality.
They cover that age-old (okay, months old, maybe – but that’s ages in internet time) question of who visits blogs and social software sites. A few of their findings:
- mostly young and male, especially those who visit technology-related sites
- very active in their use of the sites
- looking for “a fix of unique, informative fun†and “filling in the blanks†left by traditional news sources
- sharing what they know
- looking for and finding multiple perspectives
Hmmm.
Where does that leave the rest of us?
We’re chopped liver, I guess.
Blech.
they sit together on the porch
Jul 16th
american life in poetry: column 068
by ted kooser, u.s. poet laureate, 2004-2006
Here is a marvelous little poem about a long marriage by the Kentucky poet, Wendell Berry. It’s about a couple resigned to and comfortable with their routines. It is written in language as clear and simple as its subject. As close together as these two people have grown, as much alike as they have become, there is always the chance of the one, unpredictable, small moment of independence. Who will be the first to say goodnight?
They Sit Together on the Porch
They sit together on the porch, the dark
Almost fallen, the house behind them dark.
Their supper done with, they have washed and dried
The dishes—only two plates now, two glasses,
Two knives, two forks, two spoons—small work for two.
She sits with her hands folded in her lap,
At rest. He smokes his pipe. They do not speak,
And when they speak at last it is to say
What each one knows the other knows. They have
One mind between them, now, that finally
For all its knowing will not exactly know
Which one goes first through the dark doorway, bidding
Goodnight, and which sits on a while alone.
From “A Timbered Choir”, by Wendell Berry. Copyright © 1998. Published and reprinted by arrangement with Counterpoint Press, a member of the Perseus Books Group (www.perseusbooks.com). All rights reserved. This weekly column is supported by The Poetry Foundation, The Library of Congress, and the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. This column does not accept unsolicited poetry.
let the sun shine in
Jul 11th
There have been storm clouds on my horizon. I have been ill and I haven’t been motivated. I couldn’t write and I could barely think and even getting up each day has been hard.
The rain has rejuvenated me somewhat. But it has been other people who have really given me a kick in the butt.
Stephanie, one of my co-workers, brought me a some books yesterday. Now Stephanie is an incredibly talented graphic designer and someone I admire and really, truly like. She’s one of those awesome people that you feel good to be around. She brought me a Getty book. While I’m no where near the level of the professionals on Getty, the book is cool. They combine quotes with the images (which is something I love doing). They give me inspiration. They give me hope.
She also gave me a little notebook from Lonely Planet. Now, this is something I probably could do. One of my favorite things to do is to travel, take pictures, and write about it. You can’t go wrong there. And they like artsy photographs.
Erin has been checking on my health and has sent me gentle reminders to get to the doctor and get checked out. In addition, she covered a training for me when I was so sick I could barely stand up. She probably has no idea how grateful I am for both her concern and her willingness to help out.
I have an awesome boss. Lorraine is one of those people who you want to see at work and to hang out with outside of work. She is clever and witty. She is inviting and interesting. She kicked my butt hard yesterday (and I needed it). She let me know that I couldn’t allow stress to get in my way and if that means I have to take less classes to do that, then I should.
Ashley kicked my butt without even knowing it. She’s been told she has to write. She complained that writing is too easy and, therefore, she doesn’t do it. I know that feeling. Writing comes easily to me. But I get bored so I don’t do it. If I’m bored, it’s a bad thing for me. I know this. But, I can’t let a little boredom stop me from doing things that need to be done.
And that’s where Joe comes in. Joe is a new friend who understands the path that I’m on professionally (as someone who has a similar master’s degree and works in the field, he undestands it all too well). Joe, yesterday, kicked my butt hard again. He told me that I have to overcome the boredom and get things done.
And they are all right. I need to take care of myself. I need to get over my mental blocks. I need to take chances and put myself out there.
I can do it.
