I was going to post another day in the other blog, but then I thought about this one. And the fact that it's almost (arbitrarily) next year. Something in me wants to add another post to this blog, even if it is completely superfluous, which it won't be.
Just an update on life progress and what not, to all my reader out there.
Well, it's the 30th of December, and I haven't finished writing up a daily blog for something that lasted 8 days in the month of September. But you know what? That doesn't really matter to me. The month of November I spent writing an average of nearly 1700 words a day on an entirely different project, which, to all reviews so far, is a surprising success. Not formally, of course, but people seem to like it.
Once November was over, I think I needed a little break from writing, and went back to putting a little OT in at work, being a little more social again, etc.
Right now I'm trying to find that balance. It seems to be working. There are a couple of other daunting projects looming, though. Maybe more on that later. We'll see how it goes.
Intrigued? Ha! You should be.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Monday, December 6, 2010
November Got By Me
Just like the title says, November got by me.
Ordinarily, I'd complain profusely about the myriad reasons, both known and unknown, as to why a whole month went by without so much as a one word post.
Fear not, I'll not complain. I have a reason. One to which I can attribute all of my blogging failures during the month of November. That reason is something that I discovered sometime in October, and is called National Novel Writing Month. The idea behind the title is to write a novel of at least 50,000 words during the 30 days of November. Now, I've been in the process of something that I now realize to be a novel--or, at the very least, novel-esque--for the last year and a half or so (and reaching approximately 110,000 words).
When I heard about this challenge, I realized that I just about couldn't pass it up. It seemed like it would be quite an achievement to actually accomplish, but it served a couple of other purposes for me, as well. First and foremost, it served as a distraction from my sole fictional focus over the past 18 months. Something new to think about. Maybe it's a mistake to take that kind of a break from a project that epic, but I thought, and continue to think, that it was the right decision.
The second reason that I thought the project would be so worthwhile, was the fact that my writing habits aren't particularly regular. For a while I had been averaging 2 or 3 times a week, but never with much consistency over time (obviously 110,00 words over 18 months is not equal to 50,000 in 1). I thought that the challenge could potentially serve as a kind of training--get in the habit of writing at least something every day. To reach that many words in 30 days, you have to average 1,667 words per day. I was silly enough to keep track of my word count in a spreadsheet, so I know how many words I wrote each day. I'll tell you plainly that I missed only one day. It was the day that I had to go straight from work to the family Thanksgiving (celebrated, not actual), and from there to a party, then back home to be in bed and ready for the next day, bright and early in the darkness of 4:30 a.m.
Other than that singular day, I wrote anywhere from my low of 300 or so, to my high of over 5,000. The high was the last day I did any writing, which was the 29th. I'd met my quota for the day, but I knew where the story needed to go from there, and something in me just wanted to get it finished. So I did.
And that's why I don't have a problem with having missed writing anything on either of the blogs I have. Is it true that I probably could have found the time to post? Yes, it probably is. That doesn't matter though. Not right now. Not to me.
I'm less than a week into December, and here I am, writing a new post. So there. Take that. I think that after I post this (which will be soon), that I will attempt to continue writing up the trip that I took in September. It's about time I finished up with that. A ridiculous note: I actually had hoped to finish writing that up within a day or two of being home. Ha ha, not so much.
But that's how it is, and how it was is how it's going to be.
Ordinarily, I'd complain profusely about the myriad reasons, both known and unknown, as to why a whole month went by without so much as a one word post.
Fear not, I'll not complain. I have a reason. One to which I can attribute all of my blogging failures during the month of November. That reason is something that I discovered sometime in October, and is called National Novel Writing Month. The idea behind the title is to write a novel of at least 50,000 words during the 30 days of November. Now, I've been in the process of something that I now realize to be a novel--or, at the very least, novel-esque--for the last year and a half or so (and reaching approximately 110,000 words).
When I heard about this challenge, I realized that I just about couldn't pass it up. It seemed like it would be quite an achievement to actually accomplish, but it served a couple of other purposes for me, as well. First and foremost, it served as a distraction from my sole fictional focus over the past 18 months. Something new to think about. Maybe it's a mistake to take that kind of a break from a project that epic, but I thought, and continue to think, that it was the right decision.
The second reason that I thought the project would be so worthwhile, was the fact that my writing habits aren't particularly regular. For a while I had been averaging 2 or 3 times a week, but never with much consistency over time (obviously 110,00 words over 18 months is not equal to 50,000 in 1). I thought that the challenge could potentially serve as a kind of training--get in the habit of writing at least something every day. To reach that many words in 30 days, you have to average 1,667 words per day. I was silly enough to keep track of my word count in a spreadsheet, so I know how many words I wrote each day. I'll tell you plainly that I missed only one day. It was the day that I had to go straight from work to the family Thanksgiving (celebrated, not actual), and from there to a party, then back home to be in bed and ready for the next day, bright and early in the darkness of 4:30 a.m.
Other than that singular day, I wrote anywhere from my low of 300 or so, to my high of over 5,000. The high was the last day I did any writing, which was the 29th. I'd met my quota for the day, but I knew where the story needed to go from there, and something in me just wanted to get it finished. So I did.
And that's why I don't have a problem with having missed writing anything on either of the blogs I have. Is it true that I probably could have found the time to post? Yes, it probably is. That doesn't matter though. Not right now. Not to me.
I'm less than a week into December, and here I am, writing a new post. So there. Take that. I think that after I post this (which will be soon), that I will attempt to continue writing up the trip that I took in September. It's about time I finished up with that. A ridiculous note: I actually had hoped to finish writing that up within a day or two of being home. Ha ha, not so much.
But that's how it is, and how it was is how it's going to be.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Friday, September 3, 2010
Meta-Blog
Or, 'The 20,000 Feet"
Today, this is where I'm going to briefly summarize the plan for the the other blog and hope that I can commit to completing it before I leave on Monday. Which is to say, before I go to sleep on Sunday night.
Anyway, I've had this idea of venturing forth out into the world. Sort of like I did several years ago, but on a smaller, more regular scale.
Two weeks ago I went on a 2 day trip to the south of Washington. Last week I went on a hike in the Cascades. This past weekend (equivalent) I went down to the south of Washington, once more.
The plan (that I am here enshrining) is to write up those adventures and post them before I leave--rather than wait until I get back and post basically the last month's worth of mini and mega adventures all at once.
I know I don't have much of an audience (read: a total of zero followers as of this writing), but if anyone happens upon this (read: that), I'd like for them to have reason to come back.
We'll see. For now, I think this will suffice as demonstrable commitment.
Plus, now I've made a second entry in the month of September. Does that make up for missing August? No, but it's progress.
Today, this is where I'm going to briefly summarize the plan for the the other blog and hope that I can commit to completing it before I leave on Monday. Which is to say, before I go to sleep on Sunday night.
Anyway, I've had this idea of venturing forth out into the world. Sort of like I did several years ago, but on a smaller, more regular scale.
Two weeks ago I went on a 2 day trip to the south of Washington. Last week I went on a hike in the Cascades. This past weekend (equivalent) I went down to the south of Washington, once more.
The plan (that I am here enshrining) is to write up those adventures and post them before I leave--rather than wait until I get back and post basically the last month's worth of mini and mega adventures all at once.
I know I don't have much of an audience (read: a total of zero followers as of this writing), but if anyone happens upon this (read: that), I'd like for them to have reason to come back.
We'll see. For now, I think this will suffice as demonstrable commitment.
Plus, now I've made a second entry in the month of September. Does that make up for missing August? No, but it's progress.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
An Unfortunate Event.
Oh, no! I missed August!
I'd say that this grievance cannot stand, but unfortunately, I cannot undo the past.
September will not suffer the same injustice, clearly.
I'd say that this grievance cannot stand, but unfortunately, I cannot undo the past.
September will not suffer the same injustice, clearly.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
A Tale of Two Lenses
Yesterday, I finally got motivated to address the problem I've been having with one of my lenses. Whenever I attach it to my camera and turn the camera on or off, it makes a terrible grinding sound before the autofocus mechanism finally catches. The terrible noise lasts for about 3 awful seconds every time the power switch is moved.
It was never a great lens, but it served its purpose. The lens is a 70 mm - 300 mm, and I paid $200.00 for it. I knew it was never meant to be of the highest quality, and that was why I dealt with its slow, often inaccurate autofocus.
Even though it still was able to ultimately focus (and once the grinding sound had finished I could set it to manual focus, if I so chose), the time had come to see about repairs. I knew that I'd be paying for it this time.
"This time?" you ask? Yes. This has happened before. The problem had occurred once before when the lens was still under warranty. That was no big deal, though. It just meant I was without my zoom lens for about a month last year.
Another thing that was brought to my attention this time, was the root cause of the problem. It was an alpha mount range doubler that I bought online for $60. I absolutely knew that it was going to be crap as far as build quality and materials (I think the brand name is Phoenix), but I never thought it could basically 'infect' other lenses with any kind of trouble. This time I saw the pattern.
The problem began immediately after I used the range doubler. It came into my mind that this was the same order of events that had brought the problem to grinding life the first time with that lens, and the same for my 18 mm - 70 mm kit lens. Yes, it happened to that one, too. The smaller lens was out of its warranty proper, but was still covered by the City Advantage protection plan (care to guess what place no longer exists and where I bought my camera from?). In any event, my extended plan was honored, and the problem with that lens was cured once I sent my lens and camera body (eek!) to wherever it was I sent it for repairs.
The important thing here is that I realized the culprit, and that I wanted my lens fixed. With that in mind, I stocked my bag with all the problem parts, and headed to a local camera store.
I got the attention of a person behind the counter and asked about lens repair. She said that they didn't do it in house, but they could send the lens out for me. This piqued my interest, so I explained the problem and began a demonstration.
Now, an aside. To call myself an amateur photographer is probably an overstatement. I know enough to compose and produce decent images, but there is a whole lot on the matter that I just don't know. Technical knowledge, best practices, special effects--you name it, I probably don't know it. I would definitely make the statement that I know more about photography than the average person, but not more than the average photographer. All of this being said, I feel that I have managed to compose some pretty stellar images (some of them were even of actual stars! ...true statement, but also a joke). So, hopefully some of the weight that this next part carries will come across a little more forcefully now.
The woman tried to see what kind of lens it was that I was using. I suggested Tamron, because that was the brand I had bought for my first film camera. Nope, this was a Sigma.
She looked at me, eyes dripping (metaphorically) with horror and disgust. "Oh, we don't do anything with this brand," she said. The look of utter disdain for my chosen equipment was memorable in one of the worse possible ways. It looked as though I were being held in contempt for the simple act of using inferior contempt.
Don't get me wrong, I hold no ill will toward the woman who helped me. She was awesome. It was just a funny moment to be there for, almost like a master craftsmen shooing away a potential apprentice for only being able to afford an inferior hammer or saw.
As we continued to discuss the matter, she said that they did have the name of someone local who did lens repair. I thought about it for a moment, and asked about current prices on more name-brand fare.
She stood across the counter from me, checking the computer for inventory as I looked around the store. There was a Sony for about 800. There was a lower-end Sony for 250. Then she made a sound like, "huh." The sound implied she was seeing something that she didn't quite believe. "I wonder why that's so... inexpensive." She had chosen the word carefully.
"We have a used Minolta in the computer for $60. Let me make sure we actually have it, though."
Shocked at the prospect, I stood and waited patiently for her return.
She had already given me the local repairman's card, and now she brought the lens out. I knew that I had only paid two hundred for my lens, and I figured that it would probably be from fifty to one hundred for the lens repair, so it became an instant no-brainer to purchase this used, name-brand piece of equipment.
The minimum focal distance is about 5 feet, which isn't quite as good as the Sigma's 3 or so, but overall I'm pretty pleased with my... I guess I can call it an impulse buy, as I wasn't planning on buying it, but I feel that fortune smiled upon me with that little find.
It was never a great lens, but it served its purpose. The lens is a 70 mm - 300 mm, and I paid $200.00 for it. I knew it was never meant to be of the highest quality, and that was why I dealt with its slow, often inaccurate autofocus.
Even though it still was able to ultimately focus (and once the grinding sound had finished I could set it to manual focus, if I so chose), the time had come to see about repairs. I knew that I'd be paying for it this time.
"This time?" you ask? Yes. This has happened before. The problem had occurred once before when the lens was still under warranty. That was no big deal, though. It just meant I was without my zoom lens for about a month last year.
Another thing that was brought to my attention this time, was the root cause of the problem. It was an alpha mount range doubler that I bought online for $60. I absolutely knew that it was going to be crap as far as build quality and materials (I think the brand name is Phoenix), but I never thought it could basically 'infect' other lenses with any kind of trouble. This time I saw the pattern.
The problem began immediately after I used the range doubler. It came into my mind that this was the same order of events that had brought the problem to grinding life the first time with that lens, and the same for my 18 mm - 70 mm kit lens. Yes, it happened to that one, too. The smaller lens was out of its warranty proper, but was still covered by the City Advantage protection plan (care to guess what place no longer exists and where I bought my camera from?). In any event, my extended plan was honored, and the problem with that lens was cured once I sent my lens and camera body (eek!) to wherever it was I sent it for repairs.
The important thing here is that I realized the culprit, and that I wanted my lens fixed. With that in mind, I stocked my bag with all the problem parts, and headed to a local camera store.
I got the attention of a person behind the counter and asked about lens repair. She said that they didn't do it in house, but they could send the lens out for me. This piqued my interest, so I explained the problem and began a demonstration.
Now, an aside. To call myself an amateur photographer is probably an overstatement. I know enough to compose and produce decent images, but there is a whole lot on the matter that I just don't know. Technical knowledge, best practices, special effects--you name it, I probably don't know it. I would definitely make the statement that I know more about photography than the average person, but not more than the average photographer. All of this being said, I feel that I have managed to compose some pretty stellar images (some of them were even of actual stars! ...true statement, but also a joke). So, hopefully some of the weight that this next part carries will come across a little more forcefully now.
The woman tried to see what kind of lens it was that I was using. I suggested Tamron, because that was the brand I had bought for my first film camera. Nope, this was a Sigma.
She looked at me, eyes dripping (metaphorically) with horror and disgust. "Oh, we don't do anything with this brand," she said. The look of utter disdain for my chosen equipment was memorable in one of the worse possible ways. It looked as though I were being held in contempt for the simple act of using inferior contempt.
Don't get me wrong, I hold no ill will toward the woman who helped me. She was awesome. It was just a funny moment to be there for, almost like a master craftsmen shooing away a potential apprentice for only being able to afford an inferior hammer or saw.
As we continued to discuss the matter, she said that they did have the name of someone local who did lens repair. I thought about it for a moment, and asked about current prices on more name-brand fare.
She stood across the counter from me, checking the computer for inventory as I looked around the store. There was a Sony for about 800. There was a lower-end Sony for 250. Then she made a sound like, "huh." The sound implied she was seeing something that she didn't quite believe. "I wonder why that's so... inexpensive." She had chosen the word carefully.
"We have a used Minolta in the computer for $60. Let me make sure we actually have it, though."
Shocked at the prospect, I stood and waited patiently for her return.
She had already given me the local repairman's card, and now she brought the lens out. I knew that I had only paid two hundred for my lens, and I figured that it would probably be from fifty to one hundred for the lens repair, so it became an instant no-brainer to purchase this used, name-brand piece of equipment.
The minimum focal distance is about 5 feet, which isn't quite as good as the Sigma's 3 or so, but overall I'm pretty pleased with my... I guess I can call it an impulse buy, as I wasn't planning on buying it, but I feel that fortune smiled upon me with that little find.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
More than Mundane
Yesterday was a bit of a crazy day.
The usual stuff happened. You know, getting up at ridiculously early o'clock (4:50 am), being at work by 6, leaving at 2:30 pm. Regular stuff. Then a plan fell through. That's when the weirdness began.
I received a call from a family member regarding certain dramas, and felt incapable of meeting the request. I was kind of at a loss. The request just felt too big for me, so out of character, I didn't think I could do it. Not to mention all the possible outcomes I began imagining if I did try it.
Then I started worrying that by not taking up this challenge I was slippery-sloping back to my pre-realization days of letting perceptions-without-fact get in the way of my life and how I conduct myself. This was different, though. I had (somewhat) logical reasons to believe these imagined outcomes could be realized in devastating ways.
So I waited.
I didn't really do anything productive.
Then it hit me. I don't want to say it was fate, or anything like that, but it came to my attention that perhaps the afternoon/evening plan having fallen through was affording me an opportunity to help out when I wouldn't have otherwise been able to.
At that point, I decided to go for a drive. Thinking to myself that I wasn't necessarily going to take up the request, but if I should happen to be in the area at the time, then maybe things would just work out.
Well, I did find myself in the area at the specified time, but somehow I still couldn't make good on the request. And what's more, another family member was making good on this request. This came as a bit of a surprise to me, as the person who had brought this to my attention had basically said that I was the only person who could do this thing; that everyone else was unavailable.
When I found myself unable to make good on this request and knowing that someone else now knew that too, I felt very shameful. Like a coward. It didn't really make sense to me.
After the thing happened and my position at the periphery was left, I went to a nearby store and tried to figure out what had happened. What to do. I went over the evening's events and seriously wondered if this situation had bearing on what I felt I had just gotten past. Especially the difference between what actually happened and what I had imagined could have happened.
Since I was in the area where the plans that had fallen through could have happened, I checked to see if they could be repaired, but such was not to be.
I really didn't want to go over my inner-monologue with my family members, as they were pretty much the source of the insecurity at that moment, so I didn't really know what to do.
As has often been the case with me in the past, and I imagine with many people in times of uncertainty, I went to the beach.
That's when things began getting more interesting. I had taken my camera with me thinking that I might have an opportunity to take some photographs for the request, and found it fortuitous to have my camera on hand for the nice sunset and various modes of travel I found myself bounded by.
A couple of years ago I happened to be at a beach when a train was passing by. I also happened to have my camera and tripod with me. This made for an interesting image as the train is motion blurred while passing under the bridge I was standing on. For a while now I've had a desire to go out and actually attempt a purposeful train in motion picture. For that image to be the goal of my outing.
Well, last night all those conditions were met. Plus there was an additional bonus, and that was that it was at night. Night photography makes for some pretty interesting twists on what people are used to seeing images of.
So, as I was out at the beach, I wandered this way and that, taking pictures of the ferries, the sunset, the lighthouse, a group of high school students who had a fire going, basically anything that happened to catch my eye. If I heard a train coming though, I would run back and try to take pictures of it.
My strategy wasn't working.
Eventually I decided to just set up my tripod aimed at the spot the train was going to be passing by, and wait. I ended up waiting for about 2 hours. It was worth it though, I got about 5 or so pretty good shots. The only problem is that there were people in the shot, and since it was at night and the shutter had to be open for 5 - 30 seconds, the camera picked up all their atrocious movement. In each of the images there are ghostly images of people. It was unavoidable, but that doesn't make it any less annoying.
After the train had finished passing, I decided to head back to the other side of the beach and take pictures of the ferries coming in and out of the dock. On my way over there, I saw the raucous group of teens that had been all over the beach while I'd been there. They were surrounding a fire. I was carrying my tripod with the camera still mounted to it, and one person near the fire shouted 'hey! take our picture!'
Ordinarily this would have terrified me and I would have pretended that it hadn't happened and just kept walking. This night was different. I did something so incredibly out of character for myself that I almost couldn't believe that it had happened. I agreed to do this thing. Walking the short distance up the beach to where they were gathered round their fire, I planted the tripod and began taking pictures. At first I tried on auto with flash, but those came out with a dull, blown-out foreground. It was awful. I tried setting the shutter open longer but still with the flash, but each of those had terribly mixed results. It was so weird. There was a group of 20+ teenagers waiting on me, the guy who had no aspirations of being the sort of photographer that tells people to say "cheese!" There was nothing in me that knew how, or even wanted to manage them, for that matter. I just wanted to take my pictures. Eventually some of them came around to check my progress, and I was kind enough to show them the neat pictures I'd had from the train coming by, but was sad that none their pictures were really turning out that well.
Then, at last, there was no more effort being put toward making them pose. One of them said 'let's all be goofy!' And I said that was a great idea. Just be goofy. That was the last picture I took of them.
They were satisfied with that one, thank goodness. I don't think either of us had the patience to continue.
They were kind enough to let me stick around and take pictures of their fire, though. Fire photography, especially at night, has always been really fascinating to me. It can produce such amazingly ridiculously awesome results.
Before leaving that fine group of people somewhat younger than myself, I made sure to get an email address to send a picture to, which they could then further disseminate at their discretion.
So, after having taken pictures of a group of complete strangers and their fire, I continued my trudge toward the ferry dock, grinning like an idiot.
I knew that I had done something I wouldn't have done a little over a week ago. Whatever doubts I had felt prior in the evening felt safely categorized as something else. In times gone by, I have often thought about some of the pictures I have taken of people, and wondering if that person would want a copy of it. I might just start offering now.
The last image I'm going to add is of one of those ferries.
Once I got home last night, I began sorting through the two hundred-some-odd pictures I had taken, and posted a few of the ones I thought were the best. Shortly before I went to bed at the end of my 20 hour day, I discovered the following, and (feeling exceptionally clever), titled it 'The Sound and the Ferry.' Enjoy.
I'd say the day turned out pretty well.
The usual stuff happened. You know, getting up at ridiculously early o'clock (4:50 am), being at work by 6, leaving at 2:30 pm. Regular stuff. Then a plan fell through. That's when the weirdness began.
I received a call from a family member regarding certain dramas, and felt incapable of meeting the request. I was kind of at a loss. The request just felt too big for me, so out of character, I didn't think I could do it. Not to mention all the possible outcomes I began imagining if I did try it.
Then I started worrying that by not taking up this challenge I was slippery-sloping back to my pre-realization days of letting perceptions-without-fact get in the way of my life and how I conduct myself. This was different, though. I had (somewhat) logical reasons to believe these imagined outcomes could be realized in devastating ways.
So I waited.
I didn't really do anything productive.
Then it hit me. I don't want to say it was fate, or anything like that, but it came to my attention that perhaps the afternoon/evening plan having fallen through was affording me an opportunity to help out when I wouldn't have otherwise been able to.
At that point, I decided to go for a drive. Thinking to myself that I wasn't necessarily going to take up the request, but if I should happen to be in the area at the time, then maybe things would just work out.
Well, I did find myself in the area at the specified time, but somehow I still couldn't make good on the request. And what's more, another family member was making good on this request. This came as a bit of a surprise to me, as the person who had brought this to my attention had basically said that I was the only person who could do this thing; that everyone else was unavailable.
When I found myself unable to make good on this request and knowing that someone else now knew that too, I felt very shameful. Like a coward. It didn't really make sense to me.
After the thing happened and my position at the periphery was left, I went to a nearby store and tried to figure out what had happened. What to do. I went over the evening's events and seriously wondered if this situation had bearing on what I felt I had just gotten past. Especially the difference between what actually happened and what I had imagined could have happened.
Since I was in the area where the plans that had fallen through could have happened, I checked to see if they could be repaired, but such was not to be.
I really didn't want to go over my inner-monologue with my family members, as they were pretty much the source of the insecurity at that moment, so I didn't really know what to do.
As has often been the case with me in the past, and I imagine with many people in times of uncertainty, I went to the beach.
That's when things began getting more interesting. I had taken my camera with me thinking that I might have an opportunity to take some photographs for the request, and found it fortuitous to have my camera on hand for the nice sunset and various modes of travel I found myself bounded by.
A couple of years ago I happened to be at a beach when a train was passing by. I also happened to have my camera and tripod with me. This made for an interesting image as the train is motion blurred while passing under the bridge I was standing on. For a while now I've had a desire to go out and actually attempt a purposeful train in motion picture. For that image to be the goal of my outing.
Well, last night all those conditions were met. Plus there was an additional bonus, and that was that it was at night. Night photography makes for some pretty interesting twists on what people are used to seeing images of.
So, as I was out at the beach, I wandered this way and that, taking pictures of the ferries, the sunset, the lighthouse, a group of high school students who had a fire going, basically anything that happened to catch my eye. If I heard a train coming though, I would run back and try to take pictures of it.
My strategy wasn't working.
Eventually I decided to just set up my tripod aimed at the spot the train was going to be passing by, and wait. I ended up waiting for about 2 hours. It was worth it though, I got about 5 or so pretty good shots. The only problem is that there were people in the shot, and since it was at night and the shutter had to be open for 5 - 30 seconds, the camera picked up all their atrocious movement. In each of the images there are ghostly images of people. It was unavoidable, but that doesn't make it any less annoying.
After the train had finished passing, I decided to head back to the other side of the beach and take pictures of the ferries coming in and out of the dock. On my way over there, I saw the raucous group of teens that had been all over the beach while I'd been there. They were surrounding a fire. I was carrying my tripod with the camera still mounted to it, and one person near the fire shouted 'hey! take our picture!'
Ordinarily this would have terrified me and I would have pretended that it hadn't happened and just kept walking. This night was different. I did something so incredibly out of character for myself that I almost couldn't believe that it had happened. I agreed to do this thing. Walking the short distance up the beach to where they were gathered round their fire, I planted the tripod and began taking pictures. At first I tried on auto with flash, but those came out with a dull, blown-out foreground. It was awful. I tried setting the shutter open longer but still with the flash, but each of those had terribly mixed results. It was so weird. There was a group of 20+ teenagers waiting on me, the guy who had no aspirations of being the sort of photographer that tells people to say "cheese!" There was nothing in me that knew how, or even wanted to manage them, for that matter. I just wanted to take my pictures. Eventually some of them came around to check my progress, and I was kind enough to show them the neat pictures I'd had from the train coming by, but was sad that none their pictures were really turning out that well.
Then, at last, there was no more effort being put toward making them pose. One of them said 'let's all be goofy!' And I said that was a great idea. Just be goofy. That was the last picture I took of them.
They were satisfied with that one, thank goodness. I don't think either of us had the patience to continue.
They were kind enough to let me stick around and take pictures of their fire, though. Fire photography, especially at night, has always been really fascinating to me. It can produce such amazingly ridiculously awesome results.
Before leaving that fine group of people somewhat younger than myself, I made sure to get an email address to send a picture to, which they could then further disseminate at their discretion.
So, after having taken pictures of a group of complete strangers and their fire, I continued my trudge toward the ferry dock, grinning like an idiot.
I knew that I had done something I wouldn't have done a little over a week ago. Whatever doubts I had felt prior in the evening felt safely categorized as something else. In times gone by, I have often thought about some of the pictures I have taken of people, and wondering if that person would want a copy of it. I might just start offering now.
The last image I'm going to add is of one of those ferries.
Once I got home last night, I began sorting through the two hundred-some-odd pictures I had taken, and posted a few of the ones I thought were the best. Shortly before I went to bed at the end of my 20 hour day, I discovered the following, and (feeling exceptionally clever), titled it 'The Sound and the Ferry.' Enjoy.
I'd say the day turned out pretty well.
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