Fiery doom and island life

I'm sick of the news. I'm frustrated with biased reporters and poorly written articles. The quality, not only of the writing, but also of the research put in to contemporary news is severely disappointing. If I read one more typo-filled report in which half of the quotes come from vaguely relative anonymous blog comments or Wikipedia, I think I may spontaneously combust becoming a badly written/researched news report myself. On top of this, half of the "news" in this country consists of which celebrity/politician (perhaps I don't need to differentiate) is cheating on his/her spouse, who's dog got eaten by a coyote (funny, but not news), or Sarah Palin's head wear. Let me make this clear. I DON'T CARE. Perhaps I'm a idealist, but I have this image of journalism as honorable, courageous, independent and defiant in previous times. I want to think that reporters find their way into the profession as a calling to discover and tell the truth of important matters.

To save my sanity and prevent my impending fiery doom, I'm going to attempt to blackout this so called news from my life for a while and live on a virtual island. I'm curious to see how difficult it will be. When I leave on my extended wandering road trip I mentioned previously, I plan to read no newspapers, watch no TV news, and cnn.com, bbc.com, and other sites will not grace the address bar of my laptop. Wish me luck.


P.S. And quit with the H1N1 bullshit already. You might as well warn of the dangers of the common cold.

New Adventure...

So in the midst of an interesting week, I've come to a decision and I'm setting off on a new adventure come January. I've been wanting to travel around the US on an extended road trip of sorts, visiting people, couchsurfing, and taking pictures. While trying to make the decision between being a responsible adult and finding stable work where I'm settled already, or being somewhat irrational but albeit more fun and wandering randomly, I came up with an idea which has sort of made my decision for me.

I'm going to be a wandering portrait photographer... Granted, this is only a side "job" to help pay for gas while I build my portfolio with everything else photo-worthy (or not) that I come across. With the wonders of the internet, and digital photography, I plan on advertising online as I go that I'm wanting to do portraits in ____ City over the course of a few days, for a low sitting fee. I'll then provide my subjects (I like that word...) with a CD of pictures they can print for themselves. To this end, I've been working out how to set up a portable studio set on a budget. A friend of mine came to my assistance yesterday and patiently allowed me to photograph her while shooting the breeze and playing with my lights. The best of these photos are here.

Now I'm just waiting on my kitty companion. O.o

Art shows

I spoke with the art director for a coffeeshop here and I'm scheduled to display my photos there during the month of May. I'll post more details when I know them. Not a bad birthday present huh?

I also have talked to the art director for the Staggering Ox in Helena, and he wants me to bring some photos in to talk to him about when and where to put them. That will have to wait til at least next weekend, however.

Business cards!

So I've been trying to put some effort into Sydian Photography, hoping to turn it from a side project to side income. To this end, I've recently ordered and received my first three canvas prints, and 500 business cards. This is the image used on the cards, though with the name and website written above and below respectively. The back side of the card is home to my rainbow picture. :)

I've started talking to some people at the coffee shops around town looking to get my work displayed as well, and posted the canvas prints for sale on a site called Etsy.com, online sales of arts/crafts/supplies. I'm trying to be realisitic in that photography is a vast market, especially without a real niche. Also, I'm very much inexperienced and untrained, learning as I go but without the finances available at the moment for classes or more equipment. So at the moment, I'm carefully optimistic that I should be able to progress from this being a money drain to at least a sustaining side project where I'm not just dumping cash into my prints and equiment. Either way though, I'm having fun.

Deviant art

So I've posted a few of my photos from Sydian Photography on Deviantart, an online art community. Part of the reason I did this is to hopefully gain some criticisms and ideas, but also because they have a simple set up for purchasing prints and such, though they also take a large chunk of the profit. Easiest way for me to try and sell anything though at the moment, until I have the time to set up a system on my own site. Anyways, if you'd like to check out my gallery on deviant art, click here. There are also some older photos of mine up there that are not on my Sydian.

:)

Adventures in HDR

So I mentioned HDR photography before. I've uploaded a few of my attempts to a picasa album and thought I'd share the link here. The software I'm using is a trial version, so the final images are tagged with a watermark, but you get the idea. There are three sets of four images so far, each laid out in the following order; normal exposure, under exp, over exp, HDR image. The one of the windmills is my favorite.

I set out to get more photo's yesterday to practice with different focal points and such, but my battery died and I'm unable at the moment to find the charger. I think I may be purchasing a new one tomorrow. Grr.

4175 miles later

I cashed in my quarters at $396.25, and we hit the road at 3am Saturday morning, waiting only for me to shower after work. Over the next ten days Ammiel and I wandered to Texas and back by way of Denver and Salt Lake, visiting friends and family along the way. I rarely have time to read these days, so I took advantage of my turns in the passenger seat to read four books (I think Amm read eight or so... and I thought I read fast). The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time was an interesting read, as was Terry Pratchett's Nation. I didn't find nearly as many scenic views or curious attractions to photograph as I had expected, but I did find a few, and often the sights were beautiful just not photogenic.

Day one of the trip ended with quick jump out of a plane with my sister and her husband at Mile High Skydiving in Longmont, CO. Day two was spent with Amm's wonderful grandmother Lorene, who treated us to a spectacular breakfast of baby dutch pancakes. Much of our three days in texas was spent either climbing/bouldering at the local rock climbing gym, or massaging each other's aching arms and hands. We camped one night in Arizona at my sister's second favorite drop zone, Skydive Arizona, in Eloy. Sunday night was at Amm's friend Micha's in Cottonwood, AZ, where we had the pleasure of meeting the most chill dog I've ever seen, The Professor, before heading on to Zion National Park for an overnight camping/hiking mini-adventure. Then Salt Lake area for two days, visiting two of my best friends and their adorable daughter, and a couple more of Amm's friends.

4175 miles later we returned to Bozeman in time for me to work my Thursday night bartending shift. Now its back to the grindstone, so to speak, and time to start saving quarters for my next mini-adventure; I'm thinking Seattle.

Sydian Photography

I've said before that I wish to be the ripple in the water, changing perspectives, sharing how I see the world. Recently, I've dedicated quite a bit of time to building a photography site to do just that. I'm hoping to get some of these pictures published in local and travel magazines, but also I wanted a semi-professional site to be able to show my work. Check it out at Sydian Photography. I'm not sure if I've really been blindsided by my passion yet, but over the last month and a half I've spent nearly as much time on my photos and art projects as I have on my two jobs. I even splurged and purchased a few more toys for my camera, including a remote shutter. I'm planning on teaching myself a new technique called High Dynamic Range (HDR) photography, and hopefully will have some examples to post soon. In the meantime, if you'd like to see what it can look like, check out Stuck in Customs.

I've spent the last few months hording my quarters from tips (most of the drinks cost $3.25, etc, so I make about $20 bucks a week in quarters). I decided that when the crown bag was full, which equals roughly $400, I'd hit the road visiting people, adventuring, and taking pictures. The bag is nearly full so I took some time off work and planned out a trip. I'm leaving Saturday, for the Denver area, and next week I'll be in Texas. I'll be coming back via Arizona and Utah, stopping wherever I see a good picture, and hopefully adventuring on the way. On the agenda so far; skydiving at Mile High, a waterpark somewhere, climbing hopefully, Bryce canyon, the slot canyons, probably Zion national park, and visiting friends and family along the way. Any suggestions?

Back to work. <3

I don't know why I jumped...

"I don't know why I jumped, but I jumped. As I fell I could feel the air being sucked from of my lungs." - Adbusters

When I first saw those words, the white text running along the edge of a black page framed by white vines, I understood. I felt a kinship with the anonymous writer. This was years ago, before i ever jumped off that bridge. It wasn't the description of a physical act that I related to, but the metaphor; that exhilaration of giving yourself up to something so completely, on a whim. It's how I felt when I decided I wanted to visit the Middle East while in the bathroom of a San Francisco bar. It's the simultaneous euphoria and release of the moment I decided to give up on my psychology degree in my last semester of college. "Real troubles in life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind; the kind the blindside you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday." I think the same is true for the crystal moments, the 180 degree rotations in how you view the world, the epiphanies. That thought is my calming breeze these days, as I ache to jump again. I try not to look for my new path, my epiphany, as I wander from daydream to daydream patiently waiting to be blindsided by purpose and passion.

On top of the world, looking up

So the day after my last "adventure," I had a minor mishap while gardening. I know, seriously, who gets injured gardening... I mean, what's the worst you can do; blisters on your hand from the shovel, a sunburn perhaps? How about put a hole in your foot about a half inch in diameter? Now how in the world, you might say, do you manage that in a safe, friendly garden? Well, I am my mother's daughter (sorry Mom, it needed to be said), and my roommate is a blossoming woodsmen. He buried a deer skull in our yard and in my haste to attack the weeds I forgot about it and sort of stomped on the antlers. Not to worry, however, two weeks later and I'm up and at em, looking for those adventures, and a bit sore today from my most recent one.

I spent Sunday with those same lunatic engineering friends, this time climbing, crawling, scrambling, and sliding around a local rock climbing site known as Frog Rock for the frog-like shape one of the larger protrusions. However we weren't exactly rock climbing; we were looking for a cave rumored to be somewhere around the top of Frog Rock. As a novice climber and newbie adventurer, I'd never been to the site before, so both the view and the hike were new to me. The approach is about a half-mile long, nearly vertical path requiring a lot of crawling and assistance from nearby rocks and trees. After crawling through a rocky crag to a halfway point, past the first few bolted climbing routes, my four comrades had two different ideas about how to reach the cave and set off in pairs in opposite directions leaving me to choose who to follow. Since I was already closer them, I followed Simon and Eric.

Perhaps, in retrospect, this was not the wisest choice since they make up the slightly crazier half of the group. They warned me that they didn't know if their path would even work, but I'm nothing if not stubborn and I resisted their attempts to let me escape. We walked, crawled and climbed up the ridge, at times only a few feet wide, and reached one of the highest points only to realize we were above the cave and were subsequently forced to backtrack to find a route down. At one point we came to a gap that was too far to walk or jump across and had to climb about eight feet down a blind ledge and back up the other side.

We found the cave and explored a bit. The first couple "rooms" were big enough to stand in leading off into smaller sections and even a short tunnel leading into another small "room". After nearly trapping myself in a snow tunnel as a kid I'm not so fond of tight spaces, so I enjoyed the sun while the boys got muddy digging deeper into small tunnels in search of more rooms. Eventually we braved the steep downhill back to the car, sliding and slipping much of the way down. Between clambering around the rocks and bushes in shorts, and a short fall on the way down, my legs look like I tried to Indian leg-wrestle a bobcat, but damn it was fun. There are a some pictures posted in the "adventures" album. None of me, as I had the camera most of the time. Well, back to work, I'm supposed to be writing a manuscript... oops.

Leap of faith

So I suppose this blog doesn't need to be just about my travels, there are other 'somedays', other experiences. In lieu of a true savings goal (no specific trip planned, though I'm putting away a bit of cash each month), I've decided my goal for the moment is to do all of those things I always said I'd get around to doing. To this end, I bought a climbing harness and shoes last month and some basic gear. I'm determined to spend a couple hundred dollars investing in mini-adventures like this. I've only gotten to go climbing once since I bought it, so far, but I did find another use for my harness yesterday.

A few of my friends are engineers. They also are adventure enthusiasts, adrenaline junkies you could say. Combine the two and you get some adventurous, yet rather safe, guys. They figured out last summer how to improvise a sort of bungee jumping system. Rather than that bouncy cord, however, they use climbing rope. This means that you don't bounce once the rope goes taunt, rather you swing like a pendulum. Eight of us got together yesterday morning, drove the hour to an old (unused) train bridge near Pipestone, strapped in, and yelled and screamed all the way down. Actually, I did very little screaming myself, just once choice word as I jumped backwards off the ledge. We also set up a bit differently and jumped from a lower point. Someone had the idea of trying a "superman" jump. Basically, take two harnesses, and put them on backwards, one on your hips and one on your shoulders. Strap in with both so you can hang lying flat out stomach down like superman flying in the old special effects. I tried this off the half jump we set up, no free fall to speak of, just swinging. The guys got a bit more adventurous and superman'd from the top of the bridge, but I don't have pictures of that as I was busy hitting rocks with hammers to make them ring. o.O

There are more pictures in the new album, Adventures in Life. One of the girls with us was planning to write an article for a local magazine possibly using some of my pictures. I'll let ya know when it shows up.

Sequin daydreams

The tea in this village has so much sugar, it is like imbibing liquid candy. Micheal suggested that this is to compensate for the lack of sweets since the village has no shops. The women in Syria often dress in vibrant colors adorned with glitter or sequins. I wonder if they are compensating for the restrictive lifestyles they lead in the name of their religion.

I'm not claiming they subjugated by the men of their lives; I'm not of the opinion that a cultural norm requiring women to dress modestly or cover their hair is something for foreigners to judge as discrimination or abuse. And in Syria, many of the women work outside the home or attend universities living rather independent lives. But I wonder what it must be like to watch American movies knowing they are not socially allowed to live such moments. There is a thrill to going on a date, dancing with someone you've just met, sunbathing, walking around your house naked, or even just feeling a warm wind on your back that is rare at best for women in many cultures. With the ease of communication between societies, satellite TV and foreign movies, Facebook, a woman from a society such as this is now able to see so many of those things only to realize such simple pleasures may not be open to them. I remember how liberating it felt, on the first warm day after I returned home, to walk outside in a tanktop and long cotton skirt and feel the cloth rustling at my feet, the sunshine and the breeze dancing on my shoulders. It was the first time in four months my arms had been bare to the open air and sun.

Ripples

My mother requested recently that I keep writing on here, even though my adventures are less worldly these days. I have hesitated, wondering what I have to share. I left with the intent of being able to come home and tell people, show them, that the Middle East is not this scary place of car bombs and terrorists. I wanted to be that person that my friends know so they can say "this friend of mine was actually there and she said ____." I wanted to change some opinions, even if I was only a ripple. Ripples spread you know.

Now that I'm back, I find myself often wary of talking about my travels. I was warned by a friend in Syria who's daughter faced a similar situation when she came to the US originally. She found she became defensive and frustrated with American views of the region, to the point of anger and arguments. I headed his warning, but it is hard. I find myself defensive, passionate, and frustrated but I am trying my best to reign in the anger and deflate the arguments. I want to be that ripple, but I am afraid of the responses that will incite my passions and manifest arguments.

I watched the news with Iman and her mother, and though I little understood the dialog, I understood the videos of dead children in Gaza, killed by bullets, not shrapnel or rocket fire. I watched Syrian men and women weep openly as they watched the death toll rise while the violence continued with no sign of ebbing. One night, about a month after I returned home, I looked up those videos online. I watched one of them over and over, tears on my cheeks, feeling helpless and frustrated. So yes, I'm passionate and probably a little biased. I know, logically, that had I been in Israel and seen images of children killed by a Qassam rocket I'd probably have opposite passions and biases. Perhaps I'd see events differently. But "we see things not as they are, but as we are." I can not change what I see.

I saw an acquaintance a couple of weeks ago for the first time since I returned. She asked where I'd been and I told her. She cracked a smile and said "Cool, did you get bombed?" I was at a loss for how that statement was funny. I hate to admit, but I did a poor job of checking my anger on that one. I'll have to try better in the future. It's tiring sometimes, answering questions that imply such unfounded biases, but I realize that this is exactly what I need to do. Those biases only seem so unfounded to me because I have spent the last couple of years learning about the culture, the history, and the peoples of the Middle East, not even including the months I spent there. I have to try harder, if I want to be that ripple.

So here's to that. I've been planning this whole time to do something with my pictures, not for financial reasons, I'm not looking to become a famous photographer or any such thing but simply to get them seen, to expand the ripple. A picture is worth a thousand words, so they say. I hope to say some with mine. Its time I take this project off the back burner and start dedicating some serious time to it, so here goes. I'll update this site with photo projects as I finish them, or perhaps even as works-in-progress, and updates on my luck/tenacity in getting them shown publicly somehow. Until then, thanks to those who have followed my posts during my trip; it helped, immensely, knowing other people were traveling with me.

Cold Calls

I got a cold call today from the Democratic National Committee, looking for donations. After reading the scripted rant about the failings and vindictiveness of the Republican party (how they ruined the economy are refusing to help fix it because they want to see the Democratic administration fail), I kindly but firmly let them know that they had this whole pitch wrong. First, the call came up as Unavailable; bad idea. Unavailable call asking for my bank account sounds like a scam to me. Second, assuming this wasn't a scam but simply a poorly designed funding campaign, the people who voted for Obama are not likely to want a bi-partisan pitch about how the other side is wrong. We voted for change (yes I know how cliche that has become), we voted for a government that would work together, for an administration that would cross party lines as well as social lines, working with the Republicans and foreign dignitaries rather than against them. Once I corrected the poor man's script, I explained that for these two reasons, I would not be likely to donate money to this campaign for the simple reason that his script outlined exactly the type of government I do not want.

However, I did get some humor out of the conversation. While looking for another page in his script, he attempted to be conversational, asking me "How was the skiing and snowboarding in Bozeman this winter?" My response had myself and a co-worker grinning like fools. "I wouldn't know, as I spent my winter in the Middle East."

I may not have gone where I intended to go...

A friend of mine once wrote that the last day of a journey is always the worst. When I first read that I thought he was being pessimistic. Perhaps the world conspires against us, allowing things to go smoothly throughout, until that last moment when anxiety for an end or new beginning is peaking. I think maybe it is a rule of travel that should you make it to the end without disaster then at the very least that final day must be packed full of minor disasters. Then again, perhaps it's the tulip effect; once something is on your mind you start to notice it more.

Long story short my last day involved lost boarding tickets, unexpected baggage fees, a minor mishap when I failed to realize the jars of honey in my carry on would count as liquids and would force me to check my bag, and an hour delay in my final flight almost causing my ride to leave me at the airport. I watched from the window while we circled to Three Forks and back (30 miles) at least three times. In my mind, I could see the map of where I'd been, how far I'd come to get back home, and those 30 miles were agonizing.

But all was well in the end. Nick laughed at me as I took a running slide across the airport parking lot. I fretted about how cold it would be here but when I got off the plane the cold was refreshing. I've spent the last week visiting friends and family, picking up some of my things I'd left at home, and looking for work. I have no idea where I'm going now. I thought I'd come away from this trip with some goal to pursue, a path to walk. Instead, I see many paths and none feel quite right. I was asked how this trip changed me, and the only response I could think of was to ask me again in a few weeks. I'm sure it has, but I still feel like me.

Anyways, I'm back in town, got my phone back, and trying to find work and figure out where to go from here.

"There is a special sadness at the end of a journey. For it is only when you get to your destination that you discover the road doesn't end here after all." - Two Caravans

Ferris wheels

Everywhere I've had the opportunity to visit in the Middle East thus far, I see the same image; a large ferris wheel against the monochrome sky. Every time I'm reminded of a picture a friend of mine took, in black and white, of the same sight in Iowa. I suppose it's simply another symbol of the sameness of people. Everywhere you go, we are all trying to get closer to the sky, to reach the unreachable, to get away from the everyday.

The thing about being stationary

Being stationary gives you time to think, to analyze, to write, but then you run out of things to write about, thinking stagnates a bit, and if you analyze too much you forget the point of it all. So instead, I've been daydreaming, spending some time outside, and doing handstands. Most of all, I'm doing my best to ignore the ticking of the clock.

The comfort of insignificance

Ocean. Maybe it's because I didn't grow up knowing the ocean that it holds such appeal to me. Or perhaps something of such vast dimensions holds an aura of intrigue for anyone lucky enough to experience it. For some, the endlessness of the sea, the abyss of the sky, the vastness speaks of those things beyond human control and the feeling of powerlessness is terrifying. I, on the other hand, am calmed by this lack of control, for without control there can be no responsibility. I'm submissive, you might say, to the infinite possibilities of the uncontrollable. Putting myself at the mercy of the ocean or sky, when everything is beyond my control, this is one of the few times when I can truly relax. The crash of waves reminds me of the earth's indifference to individual life and this is somehow comforting. Our pain, our joy is abut an infinitely small piece of the whole of existence and this thought makes the unbearable bearable, the joy more precious.

Lost in translation

I just spent the last hour-ish watching an American movie dubbed, which is slightly frustrating as both the dubbing and the subtitles were foreign to me. However, it was literally a half ass-ed dubbing job as the language would switch mid sentence back to English and it seemed this always happened when the characters were talking about sex or relationships. As the movie was a serial killer mystery, this small bit of English here and there did little to help me follow along.

Dulled perceptions

While Iman and her family have been great to me and I feel very comfortable there, it was nice today to spend the day in fluent English speaking company. I've been out of contact with anything English for about four days now, no internet or good conversation, I even finished my book. This morning I went with my friends Justin and Hiba on a trip aroudn northern Syria visiting ruins. We started with St. Simeon, a site known for a man who decided monastic life was not severely pious enough for him so he retreated to a cave dwelling. His piousnes, however, drew pilgrims and he soon grew tired of the attention so he erected a pillar on which he could live without being touched by his pilgrims. As his tolerance of people grew less and less he built the pillar higher and higher. Living forty years like this he eventually reached a height of 18 meters, about sixty feet, from which he would preach and yell answers to his pilgrim's questions. After his death he was buried in ancient Antioch (Antakya) where I was staying before coming to Syria. His pillar here was reduced to a boulder of about one square meter by pilgrims chipping away souvenirs.

We visited a few other sites, places we would never have found had someone not shown them to us; a cemetary and 500 year old shrine, a Roman amphitheater hiding behind a hill just off the road, and a lake where the river had been dammed where we amused ourselves with a rock throwing/skipping contest for about an hour. It felt great to be outside the city again, seeing the countryside, the olive trees stretching into the distance. We laughed alot, at ourselves, being silly, and most of all at the obsessive use of the word hubibi in Arabic music (it means 'my love'). Between this mini adventure and the movie/coffee last night, I'm loving life in Syria again. I think when you become accustomed to a new surrounding you stop realizing how amazing hte experience is. I look at the pictures from today, of myself standing on the remains of a 5th century church and nI realize if I was looking at someone else's pictures I'd be impressed and jealous of their adventures. That perspective made me appreciate even more what I've been able to do here, how unique my experiences have been, and how much I will cherish these memories when I'm back in my comfort zone, sipping coffee at Wild Joe's talking politics and futures.

We gaze continually at the world and it grows dull in our perceptions. Yet seen from another's vantage point, as if new, it may still take the breath away. - Watchmen

Hotel California

Lately I've been getting anxious to get home, missing the little things like being able to blend in and conversation inf luent English. Last night, however, reminded me why I'm doing this, how much I love these experiences, and how much I'm going to cherish my memories of Syria when I get home. Since Wednesday, I've been staying with a Syrian Muslim woman, Iman, and her brother and mother. They have all been fantastic, feeding me to extremes and taking very good care of me. Iman works as a research technician at ICARDA and speaks english at an intermediate level. Her borther, Essam, speaks very little English, but we get by. Last night Essam took me to coffee with some friends of his and a movie. At coffee, waiting for his friends to join us, I started writing English words on the back of a party flier and he'd tell me the Arabic equivilants and write them for me. We'd soon finished one page and were starting on the second page on the back of another flier when the waiter brought us a few sheets of printer paper. Essam's friends joined us, another Syrian man and a petite German woman. We had three languages between us but only the men could communicate fluently with each other. I drank a cinnamon latte that tasted just liek home and by the time we left for the movie we'd covered two more sheets with language homework.

The theater was in the bottom of the tallest buildling in town (a hotel) and it was probably the most comfortable I've ever been in; nothing like the run down old theaters I'm used to at home or the grimy sticky newer ones at the malls. It even had real curtains that opened and closed between films, something I haven't seen since the old days in Shel by when they still had intermission and smoking sections. The film itself was bizarre; I could tell that without being able understand much of the dialog. Almost more interesting than the movie was observing the behavior in the theater. There were far more men that women in attendance and the idea of silence was a joke. An audible mumbling could be hard through, and often clear normal voices carrying on conversations. A few phone calls were answered with no attempt to hang up quickly or whisper. The laughed at moments that made me want to cry and I never cry at movies.

Leaving the theater, we stopped for coffee. This time we didn't go to a shop, but rather the Syrian version of an espresso hut; a couple guys serving coffee from a shack on the sidewalk to people sitting in dark cars along the empty street. We ordered through the window like an old burger joint and sipped our coffee listening to music. My favorite moment was a wonderful combination oddities; driving through croded city streets in Aleppo, Syria, in an Iranian made car, drinking Turkish coffee and listening to Hotel California with the subwoofers thumping.

Trapped in the amber

I am lucky enough to have some very insightful friends, unique people who keep me thinking. One of them, about a year ago, related a thought to me that went something like this. 'I just want to know that this moment can never be redone.' That simple sentence changed how I looked at things, how I remembered perfect moments, how I experienced them. Many times, traveling with Joey in Europe, we'd rush through some place taking pictures and seeing as much as we could see as quickly as possible, then we'd stop for a moment. Be it a random immaculate room in the Louvre, the beautiful expanse of the Cliffs of Moher, or the ancient mystery of Stonehenge, we'd pause and absorb the moment allowing ourselves to simply be there, soaking it up so to speak. The camera's would go away, for while trapping moments through the lense allows me to share my journey with others when I get home, that lense narrows my view of the world and I try not to forget to take in the whole of it.

I'm reading, as always. This time it's Slaughterhouse 5, a book that has been on my to do list for a while and was waiting innocently for me in a stack at Jakoba's house. It helps me pass the time when the power goes out, reading by candlelight. The introduction to the book describes it as a 'novel somewhat in the telegraphic schizophrenic manner of tales.' It reads much like I think, jumping from one moment to the next, remembering a day when I was 12, which reminds me of another time ten years later. At one point, the character asks 'Why me?' and the response struck me.

'Why you? Why us for that matter? Why anything? Because this moment simply is. Have you ever seen bugs trapped in amber? Well, here we are, trapped in the amber of this moment.'