I don’t like to think of myself as the pessimistic sort. In fact, I generally see myself as a “half full” kind of gal. Just thought I’d share that with you before I completely contradict myself. At some point, you see, I’m going to disappoint you. I’m here to tell you that with absolute certainty. Of course, that’s assuming that your every happiness depends on my daily posting, which it totally does, right? I’m sure that at this very moment, there’s at least one of you that’s thinking, “Whoa. She’s posted everyday for five days in a row…it’s madness! Utter madness!”. And given my track record, I’m right there with you: surprised, shocked and even a little wary of the whole thing. So, I figured it’d be a good idea to get it over with, rip the band aid off, if you will, and just let you know right now that there will be a day that I don’t photograph at all. And maybe don’t even post at all (gasp!). Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow…but maybe tomorrow. I actually thought it was going to be today.
I didn’t feel so hot yesterday. I was queasy, achy and really a bit of a mess, overall. I wasn’t interested in food, so you know I couldn’t have cared less about photography. I was prepared to just post some old photo and call it new, because really – who would have known? But then, like the trooper I am, I pulled it together and managed to press a button at least once for y’all. I’m not saying it’s my best work, but at least it’s here. And some days, that’s all you can do.
Yesterday was not a good day. It began with a phone call first to my student loan carrier and next to my insurance company and all before 9:00 a.m. And amazingly actually managed to slide a little further downhill after that. I know, it is kind of baffling. I mean, why I would choose to actually contact said companies in the first place, why I would do it first thing in the morning, and lastly, how things could possibly get worse after that portion of my day was over.
By the time lunch rolled around (which I’ll ‘fess up about in a second), I was one grumpy little badger. Nevermind that I’d consumed my ridiculously customized Starbucks beverage (tall, decaf, half the pumps of syrup White Chocolate Mocha heated to the child’s temperature because I’m just too impatient to wait more than a three seconds to drink it), I just wasn’t feeling up to much at all. Which made it worse. Because I have productivity issues something fierce. So….I ate a brownie sundae for lunch and that kind of cleared things up (I told you it was shameful…especially because I just joined a gym like a week ago). I have to give myself at least this: I didn’t eat the whole lot of brownies that was left, which I could have easily done given the way my morning had gone and the way I feel about those brownies. So there’s that right? And I did manage to take a few photos once I’d pulled myself out of my funk.
I still wasn’t feeling super energetic or dedicated though, so I just kind of wandered around the house taking pictures of my everyday surroundings. I will say this: I love our home. We’ve lived here for almost six years now and we’ve spent a lot of time feathering our nest. There isn’t a lot here that doesn’t reflect our sensibilities or tastes and that’s really how it should be, you know? We had to read this ridiculously long and arduous article in my entry level photo class and after spending days deciphering the language and making notes in the margins, what it really boiled down to was advice about photographing what you know. The best pictures, according to this article, came from the subjects you knew best. My students always point out to me (and often in a somewhat whiny voice, I must point out) that they live in the middle of nowhere, where there is nothing to photograph. So I tell them to photograph the middle of nowhere and nothing then. Photograph what’s available to you and what you know best. It’s kind of like loving the one you’re with and there is no rule that says photographs must be of exciting, exotic things to be good. That’s definitely where my work of the day falls, and it was actually one of the better things to come out of my Wednesday.
Have you met Thomas? He is fuzzy and oh-so-charming. So charming in fact, that I could not show his little face here or risk a landslide of fan mail and online following too large for his humble kitty-existence. Well, maybe that’s just if you’re a cat person.
Thomas spends most of his days lolling shamelessly on our bed, or as he sees it, his bed that he graciously shares with us 7-9 hours a day. The soft, filtered sunlight made him a perfect candidate for a late morning photo shoot and I couldn’t resist, even though it breaks one of those rules that was stringently programmed into me in college: Thou Shalt Not Photograph Cute Animals. Or maybe more accurately: Thou Shalt Not Photograph Cute Animals and Call It Art. I even give a brief talk at the beginning of the year in my photo classes about what I call the “Awww Factor”, which is what happens when you take a picture of a little baby duck that is just too freaking adorable for its own good. Of course people are going to love the picture, to do otherwise is the equivalent of saying you hate baby duckies. And really, who could hate a baby duck? Or admit it if they did? Seriously now. This is the problem with the “Awww Factor”; is your photograph really good or are you relying on the subject matter to do all the work?
Here’s what I think, and what I encourage my students to do: take the picture of the fuzzy little creature if you really want to, just be darn certain that you aren’t neglecting the important stuff like composition and, if you can, try to capture something more than the cuteness. Thus, yesterday morning when I discovered Thomas being utterly, ridiculously and undeniably cute I knew just what to do.
If you’re not a cat fan, here are a few others from yesterday that you might like a bit better:
Still here, huh? Well then, you are in for a treat today. What I am about to tell you has to be said, even though it has absolutely nothing to do with photography. It really should have been the headline of the post, because it was that much of deal changer for me, but then, that would have hurt Thomas’ feelings. As a responsible citizen and fellow human-being, however, I feel it is my duty to alert as many people as possible to the absolutely perfect brownie recipe I discovered two days ago. I found it on smittenkitchen.com, which has become like virtual crack to me, and it is essential that you go here and make them. But be prepared to go weak-kneed and involuntarily utter something like “oh my sweet, gooey chocolate goodness” the first time they pass your lips. Brownies from a box will never, ever do again.
The robin signals the beginning of Spring: growth, change, a fresh start. It seems only fitting then that the first “Photo of the Day” post feature this red-breasted little fellow. I’d like to say that I totally planned this because I’m just that cool, but it’d be a big, fat lie and in the interest in getting started on the right note here, I’ll admit that it’s all a lucky happenstance.
The large (read: enormous) orange tabby finagled his way into some outdoor time yesterday morning and while he was happily munching grass, he suddenly spotted this robin and took off after it. Once the robin was safely in the tree and Reno was again occupied with eating his fill of the lawn, I managed to capture a few numerous images of the robin. This is the one I liked the best because it cut out a lot of the background and had a certain starkness to it thanks to the silhouetting. One of the first things I learned about photography was this: it takes a lot of shots to get one worthwhile photograph. My high school photography teacher always said that if he got two or three decent shots on an entire roll (this was back when the dinosaurs had just died out and film was still in fashion) then he was satisfied. In college, we were required to shoot ten rolls of film (roughly 360 exposures) for a project that asked for only seven printed images. The secret to good photography? Keep shooting. Again and again and again. And then maybe one more time, just for good measure.
I had a few other images that I felt were decent too. The runners up for today’s title of “Photo of the Day”:
What’s that you say? You’d like to see more? Well, I’m flattered. I’ll be posting all (alright, most) of the images I take each day on my flickr account. You’re welcome to browse.
This space was invented several years ago with the function of serving as a personal blog. It was given the name “Photodork” because I disliked the idea of using my name as the site’s address and, well, I am a photodork. I have been enamored with all things photographic for approximately 13 years. Yet I have never actually posted a photograph here. Ever. That will change starting tomorrow, and I’m fairly excited (and apprehensive) about it.
In case you haven’t followed my incredibly sporadic posts over the years, here’s the deal: I teach art, predominantly Digital Photography, at a rural high school. My training is in traditional darkroom photography and I’m still warming up to this whole digital movement, mostly because I have to feed my photography addiction somehow. I hope to someday have a darkroom of my very own, but in the meantime am trying to explore and enjoy the opportunities the digital medium offers.
Recently (as in two days ago) it was suggested that I turn my scarcely used blog into a place to display my photographs. The more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea. Between the everyday push, pull, drag and sometimes shoving that comprises my everyday life since I started teaching, it is a rare occurrence for me to even pick up my camera. Did I really teach 73 students the fundamentals of photography for 9 months and take barely 10 pictures myself? You bet. Did I look at and grade over 10,000 photographs this year without practicing my own art? Mmmm..yup. And that bothers me. Of course it bothers me. I found time to do plenty of other completely necessary things like play the new Super Mario Bros. game for Wii, spend hours web-stalking people on Facebook, watch Cake Boss and Say Yes to the Dress marathons on TLC, and…well, you get the idea. So, as many good excuses as I try to offer for my lack of photographic activity, I don’t have a leg to stand on. And some of my students work is good. Like capital “g”, stretch out the “oo” sound several times so it sounds like you’re saying “G-oo-oo-oo-d!” good. It can make you feel a bit like a talentless hack at times, or at the very least, sufficiently humbled.
Bottom line: I need to photograph more both because it makes me happy and keeping in practice is smart. That’s where the redesign of Photodork comes in. Each day I will post a “Photo of the Day” and hopefully a bit of text. This gives me an excuse, and hopefully the motivation, to take pictures everyday. This new format starts tomorrow, as the OCD part of me cries out against starting something new on the last day of the month, so please, stay tuned.
I didn’t even make it a whole two days before breaking my new resolution to blog daily. Well, small steps, I suppose. With only one day between my posts, it is already much better than the last 6 months or so.
I have been giving some thought to what I might possibly post about and have come up with a few categories of things I might be qualified to expound on. The list:
1) Baking/cooking – one of my hobbies is baking, particularly breads. I’ve just found out about a book entitled “Kneadlessly Simple” that I am intrigued to investigate. I also have a knack for collecting macaroni and cheese recipes, so I might do a mini-series about the different mac n’ cheese deliciousness I’ve discovered.
2) The life of a first year teacher – although I think that this might be tricky. To be honest, I am sometimes so sick of school and the business it entails by the time I get home at night that I may not want to spend any extra time occupied by it. However, I sometimes wish I could read the blog of someone else in my position and perhaps feel a bit more supported. So, we’ll see.
3) Photography – nothing technical, because that’s the part I hate. Rather, I’d like to post an occasional image of my own or perhaps one of my favorites by another photographer and talk about it. As an added bonus, this might give me more of an excuse to photograph.
4) Miscellaneous interests – like embroidery, sewing, meditation, etc. Learning how to do all of these things are some goals for the summer. I’d like to post about my progress occasionally, I think it would also help me to reflect on these activities and their place in my life.
That’s all I’ve really come up with for now. Although I’ll probably also post the random rant from time to time, as it seems to be a good outlet for the rage I sometimes innocently stumble into in my daily interactions with inept people, practices, businesses, etc. We’ll see if I’m back tomorrow.
I am guilty of sporadic posting. I admit it. Even if I chose not to admit it, Dylan recently ousted me from my cozy little niche of non-posting on his blog. The funny thing is, Dylan claims that a lack of things to say has never been the cause for the more thread-bare patches in his blog’s history, and yet it is the main reason for my silence. Or at least that’s what I thought, until today when Dylan’s blog made me think about it. I’ve always THOUGHT that the reason I sometimes don’t post is because I can think of nothing interesting to say, but then I realized how much I enjoy reading others’ blogs, even when they are just about the everyday, mundane sort of stuff that weaves together to comprise our lives.
In fact, there are two blogs that I check each day: my brother, Matt’s, and Dylan’s. When I don’t find the post I anticipate, I will impatiently check back several times throughout the day. In a way, these blogs serve as a replacement for getting a newspaper; they are my dose of literacy for the day. Which I’ve just realized makes it sound like I don’t read anything else, which isn’t true, but I don’t know how else to explain it. What I really enjoy about both of the blogs is that they provide me with insight into these two individual’s lives. And I live with Dylan, so it is amazing that he manages to write about things that I find revealing.
The topic of Dylan’s post today was about the process of blogging, and as he described it as just that, a process, I knew he had found my weak spot. I like processes. I like things that have an order and a rhythm and a method to them. If there is precision and planning involved, even better. And so, I’ve decided to accept the silent challenge of Dylan’s blog and begin the journey into daily posts. I think that only 4 people actually read this blog on any sort of a regular basis, but for you four people, here is your warning that I will be endeavoring to post much more frequently. Stay tuned.
Many misconceptions about the teaching profession exist: that we only work from 8-3, that only those who can’t do teach, that either elementary or high school teachers work harder than the other, that all teachers are big dorks that loved school. I don’t subscribe to many of these occupational myths, probably because I am a teacher and have the inside story. Let me clear up a few of these untruths before I hit on the main point of this post.
1) Teaching is an 8-3 job.
I arrive at school at 7:15 in the morning and I leave at 4:00. I get a 1/2 hour for lunch. I grade and prepare for my classes for at least an hour each night and usually 5 to 6 hours on the weekends. Part of this is because I am a new teacher, but part of this is because I strive to be a good teacher. I care about my job, I care about my students, and I like to be prepared. The 8-4 workday is the fattest lie of them all.
2) Those who can’t do, teach.
There may be some truth to the “those who can’t do teach”, but I believe that there are many of us out there who teach because we care. We want to make an impact on the world. If we couldn’t do it, we couldn’t teach it, trust me.
3) One level of teacher works harder than another.
There is a secret war fought between the elementary and high school teachers about who has the harder job. Elementary school teachers will tell you that they have to teach ALL the subjects and are stuck with the same kids ALL day, so there job is harder. High school teachers will point out that they have to figure out 8 different sets of kids and deal with different discipline hassles all day. They will also claim that their subject matter is more complex and that the kids don’t care like they did when they were in elementary school. Guess what? Both are right! Being a teacher is a tough job, period. And, I get the added bonus of teaching a “special” as some people like to refer to it. This translates a couple of different ways: either my job is easier because it’s not a real subject, or my job is easier because the kids are excited to be there. Wrong! Art is absolutely a real subject that requires problem-solving and knowledge and ability. The kids DON’T want to be there because they’re highschoolers and they don’t want to be in any class. There is nothing “special” about art, except that it is a rocking subject! (Pause here, while I climb down off my soap box.)
4) All teachers were big dorks that loved school.
This one is somewhat true, at least in my case. I was a big dork that loved school. Not all the time, mind you, but more than most. I love the Fall, I love buying school supplies. I like making schedules and learning things. But I can’t speak for all teachers. I know some that hated school and were troublemakers. They’ve gone into the profession to help kids that were like them in school. Point is? Myth busted!
Now, there are some definite perks in my profession; I’ll admit that even in the midst of my agony-filled first year. There is, of course, the grand prize, summer vacation. Although I have the sneaking suspicion that I will spend a decent chunk of mine revamping my lessons and trying to improve my materials for the following year. There is also that really good feeling you get when you actually reach one of your students. Whether this is on an academic level, or just in the sense that they realize you aren’t the enemy. Plus, I am guaranteed all the major holidays off, and usually a few days more.
So far, I’ve only encountered a few small advantages of my job. Christmas break was really the biggest whammy I’ve experienced. It was nice that I was automatically granted two weeks off. I didn’t have to request the time off in May, or wait behind a long line of co-workers for my shot at getting the holiday off. I’ve also had a couple of run-ins with the warm fuzzy feeling I described above in regards to the kids. To be honest though, these were really the highlights of my first semester. It was a bleak couple of months professionally.
Since I’ve returned from Christmas break though, a couple of awesome things have happened:
1) My classes are better.
I don’t know what’s happened. Some of my students were rearranged into a different hour. I swapped several kids with other teachers and got new students. In general, my class sizes shrunk. So far (and it’s only been a week, so I could be speaking waaaaaaay too soon) things are looking up in terms of discipline problems and classroom management.
2) Warm cookies.
My classroom is directly across the hall from the family and consumer sciences room. This was not the free food extravaganza that I imagined it to be when I discovered my room’s location. However, last week, the Catering I classes were making chocolate chip cookies. There are three Catering classes, and I got 3 fresh from the oven cookies. There isn’t much that is going to make a work day better than that.
3) SNOW DAYS!!!
These are like winning a small-scale lottery. Several days last semester found me hunched tensely over my steering wheel as I fought through bad weather conditions to arrive at school frazzled and already spent from my commute. But today, I woke up and drearily trudged to the bathroom only to hear Dylan announce that it had snowed overnight. Although I wasn’t very optimistic, there hadn’t been a snow day yet, Dylan got online to check for school cancellations (A side note here: Dylan is a fabulous husband that gets up in the morning with me, packs my lunch, mixes my breakfast cocktail of choco-milk and medicine, fluffs anything I ask him to in the dryer, and gathers all my belongings for me. He deserves an award for this, but usually just gets to feed the cats after I depart). Lo and behold! School was cancelled for the day due to severe weather conditions! It is my first SNOW DAY! It is by far one of the best perks of being a teacher: a small, unexpected reprieve from the daily grind that is paid. I am still basking in the glow from my stolen day of freedom, although I have stopped bellowing “Woohoo!” every few minutes and spontaneously busting into happy dances. For now.
I love my little cat…well I actually love all three of my cats, but today I am writing specifically about my middle cat, Beda. I was folding the laundry a few minutes ago, an endeavor that takes place on the bed. I was standing on one side, battling with an unruly nightgown when I looked across the bed and saw these two little black ears protruding from the other side of the bed. If I stood on my tip toes I could just see the top of her face, and I was struck with how much I adore that cat. I realize that I am risking the label of crazy cat lady and I’m pretty much fine with that. Today I pay tribute to the meekest of Dylan and I’s brood of cats: the sleek, black mini-panther that spends most of her days lurking in darkened corners of our compartment; the cat with a coat so smooth that Dylan refers to her as being softer than Jesus’ washcloth; the wee Beda.
The funny thing about Beda is that I was against getting her from the start. Dylan had been after me to adopt another cat for a few months. At the time, we lived with a roommate, her cat, and our own cat, the magnificent Thomas. Dylan’s reasoning was that when Idy and her cat eventually moved out (something that was not even a discussion at that point) Thomas would be lonely. Still, I resisted, Thomas had a buddy for now, we’d cross that bridge when we came to it. And Dylan persisted: it was better to get the companion when both cat’s were reasonably young he insisted (lots of words that end in “sisted” in this post, eh?). So I relented and agreed that we would get another cat when we found the right one, but I had stipulations: no female cats and no black cats. I hadn’t had good experiences with these types of cats (and no, I am not superstitious about black cats) and told Dylan we would be steering clear of cats with either of those qualities.
A few weeks later on a Friday night I was closing up at the bank. I was in the midst of counting out my teller drawer when Dylan appeared at my station and announced that he had found our new cat. He was acting a little shifty, so I questioned him about his discovery. Where was said cat? What kind of cat was it? Was it a nice cat? Had he held it? Continuing to act in a shady manner, Dylan told me I would just have to come see her. Well, there was strike one…had he just said “her” in reference to our new cat? Indeed he had, but again he insisted that there was no reason to not get a female cat. She was very mellow and so cute; he was certain I would love her straight away. “What kind of cat is she?” I asked, not committing to anything. I was secretly hoping for a little calico cat, but Dylan resumed his shifty behavior and told me that she was a reddish brown color. Strike two. I have never seen a plain reddish brown colored cat before, but Dylan maintained his story and even coerced me into the car and to the pet store to have a look at this reddish brown cat, that I highly suspected was black.
By the time we got to the pet store, I had hardened my resolve again. I did NOT want another cat, especially a female cat with mythical reddish brown coloring. Dylan herded me into the pet store, tugging on my arm the entire way and fretting that she might already have been snatched up. He positioned me in front of the cat cage and pointed out the cat that would become Beda, and she was the smallest, saddest looking little cat I had ever seen. I don’t know how else to describe her than to compare her to the Christmas tree that Charlie Brown picks out in the Holiday Special. Her enormous eyes were green, her ears were much too big for her body giving her a bat-like quality, and her fur was most certainly black. But this little cat looked like she needed to be loved, and I was sold. I reached in and picked her up and she immediately attached to my shoulder. As I walked around the store a few times, just so that Dylan didn’t get too big for his britches and think that he had been right all along, she never let her kung-fu grip go. We paid $20.00 for the newest member of our family and headed home to Fort Collins.
Beda, whose proper name is actually Freda, has been our cat for nearly five and a half years. She is a timid but beautiful little creature, full of quirks and the most charming mew of any cat I’ve met. Her eyes are still enormous and she eventually grew into her ears, although she has a permanently worried look about her all the same. While Thomas and Reno are very much present in the everyday happenings of the house (and are usually the cause of any mayhem that occurs) Beda serves as an invisible member of the household, only appearing at night to take up residence on the bed as we sleep. She is my favorite of all the cats, and so I must finally give Dylan the credit he deserves for discovering her. There, I said it.
It is a rare person that is not afraid of death. Taoism teaches that we should not worry about an afterlife and take each moment as it comes with as little expectation and judgment as we can. At least, that’s how I’ve taken Dylan’s explanation of the religion. And yet, who has not wondered about the end? So often, as we are stuck in the daily grind and the days seem to wear on forever, it is hard to believe that these days that we so often count and wish away are limited.
I have never been as concerned with my own death as I have those of my loved ones. I have lost a few dear people in my life, and the idea of losing anymore leaves me with insurmountable dread and preemptive grief. I even cling to my little cats as surrogate children and wonder how I will ever be able to let them go when the time comes. For the most part, I choose to bury my head in the sand and not contemplate this particular inevitability of life. How could I function if I did not?
I have recently been confronted with reality, though somewhat remotely. My brother’s father-in-law (Rebekah’s father) has been diagnosed with a rare form of cancer, sending Matt and Rebekah into a tailspin. I received the news last night and seem to have finally digested it after reading my brother’s blog post this morning. I have met my brother’s father-in-law, Merlyn, a couple of times and found him to be a nice man, however, my knowledge of him ends there. And yet, reading my brother’s blog this morning has left me devastated. As I tried to leave a comment, something to let him know how deeply sorry I was, I could not find adequate words. I feel helpless to lend comfort or a solution….anything. I think this is why most of us fear death the way we do. Even the most laid-back of us likes to be in control of our lives to some extent, whether we realize it or not and dying is one of the few aspects we exert no control over.
At this point, I can only express my regret that Matt and Rebekah must face the grief that has found them. One of my heroes, a college professor that was truly compassionate and wise, often told me that “We live in hope”, and I will leave the post at that thought.
