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Making Pictures – Again.

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Long long time ago, I had a thing in my house called a “darkroom.”  In it, one performed chemical processes on long, thin strips of narrow polyester coated with light sensitive emulsions.  Film, in other words.

In my case, I did a lot of B&W work, almost always on Kodak Tri-X 200 or 400 – mostly because it was very easy to work with in a basic bathroom-style home darkroom.  It was very forgiving of differences in temperature, developer mix and so forth.

I also dropped of a lot of 35mm color film canisters off at the local photo developer to have made in to an envelope full of big, fancy, glossy 5×7 prints.  I never tried doing color film processing on my own – honestly, the chemistry just kind of scared me.  I always found it too complicated and it just seemed like I’d end up ruining every roll of film I attempted to do.  Plus, frankly, the color chemicals and such where just a lot more expensive than the simple developers, washes and fixers used for B&W.

Then somewhere along the way, I picked up my first digital camera.  I don’t even remember what it was or where I got it.  I seem to recall that I bought it at a box store of some kind – one that isn’t in business anymore – and that it used internal, non-removable memory and could only hold maybe 50-80 pictures maximum.  Of course, if you were used to conserving shutter openings on a 36 exposure roll of film, having 50 pictures available that could be downloaded on to a computer was actually pretty cool.  I kept shooting film for quite a while, though, carting that darkroom gear with me through several household moves.

I don’t really recall why, but I eventually quit taking pictures for the sake of it.  I think like many hobbies many of us pursue over time, I simply lost interest in it or found newer and more interesting things to play with or something.  Mostly, I let life and work and such get in the way.  Oh, sure, I’d keep a small point ‘n shoot with me on vacations and such and it’s not like I completely stopped making photographs entirely, but the only time I did was for work or on vacations.  After one move, the darkroom gear ended up staying packed up and eventually found it’s way in to the landfill.  After all, Photoshop doesn’t care how warm the water is coming out of the tap or how long you agitate a container and doesn’t require a dim red light to work by.  My old hobby of going out for a day or a weekend just for the express purpose of making pictures faded away.  When the now ubiquitous camera phone came along, eventually I even ditched the old point ‘n shoots and just took an occasional picture on my phone.

Recently, maybe because I have a fair amount of time on my hands right now, maybe for other reasons, I started looking at cameras again.  Back in the day, I was the very proud owner of a gorgeous Canon A1 35mm SLR (well, actually I still am – it’s packed in a moving box around here somewhere.)  That thing cost me something close to a month’s pay when I bought it at a pro camera shop.  Over time, I had acquired a motor drive, multiple flash heads and 6 or 8 lenses for it.  My camera bag traveled with me everywhere – mini tripod strapped to the top, 10-15 rolls of film packed in to the pockets in the top cover.  Camel hair puffer brush for the lenses.  Filters, lens hoods, cable releases and other bits and pieces stuffed in to any space I could find once the bag’s pockets got filled up.

So, after thinking about it for a good month or so, and arguing with myself over whether I should really spend the money right now, I finally decided to click “order” on Amazon.com for a new Canon EOS T4i DSLR.  They had the camera / lens package (bundled with an EF-S 18-135mm 1:3.5-5.6 IS STM zoom lens) for a reasonable price, a fair bit below what I was able to find at the local big box electronics retailer, so I didn’t break the bank.  Since I want to experiment with doing some HD timelapse stuff as well, I also picked up a cheap remote controller / timer as well.

The day after the cam arrived at my doorstep, I headed out early in the morning with a tripod and a coffee and with the intent of spending 20-30 minutes just doing some test shots and such to get used to the camera.  Six hours later, I arrived back at my place with several hundred shots on a memory card.  Many of those were part of timelapse sequences.

Now sure, part of my extended playtime was because I was playing with a new toy.  It wasn’t a totally unpleasant morning to be out and about and I was reading the manual for the camera as much as pressing the shutter button.  But something started to happen while I was out playing that I hadn’t expected – I started noticing that I was having fun.  I started noticing that I was spending time seeking out “just the right angle” for the next round of shots.  I started getting that old feeling back again that I recognized from a long, long time ago – the simple joy of just walking around and making pictures just for the sake of it, wondering how long you can stand in the middle of a busy street to get the right shot before getting run over by a city bus, figuring out how to get “over there” from “over here”.  I went out again that evening, then again the next morning, then again the next morning and so on.

I’ve always been a person that takes a lot longer to “get it” than some of my friends.  This period of time I have right now without a M-F full time job is actually becoming valuable to me.  I think I may finally be “getting it” with regard to work-life balance.  For way too long, my “balance” has been nearly 100% work and almost no life.  The life part is worth fighting for and this is the first time in almost 30 years that I’ve had a chance to explore it.

There’s a chance I may become somewhat enlightened sometime before I leave this plane of existence.  Maybe.

YIKES! That got big fast …

blurry meterAs many folks in my life know, I’m currently without a full time 40 hour a week job, having lost my last one in a “downsizing” or “restructuring” or “realignment” or whatever the current in-vogue phrase is nowadays.  But, as a friend of mine said recently, “when God closes a door, he opens a window” and while I may not agree with the spiritual nature of that sentiment, it’s basically worked out that way for me recently.  Since being let go from my last gig, I’ve been busier than I have in a while.  I’m currently working on a web video project that’ll pay for at least the next couple of months.

Which brings me to the title of this post.  Even though the end content on the subject website for this project will be optimized in HTML5 for a fast loading standard def in-browser video player (it’s an educational project, so we need to keep it accessible to the largest number of folks with the widest range of home computer technology) we’re actually shooting and editing everything in HD so that there’ll be an archive for future use in other projects.

Since everything is being shot to various digital storage cards in standard still cameras, pro video cams and GoPro devices, we’ve got a lot of large files to deal with, store, convert and back up.  All but a couple of shoots are taking place outside the studio out in the world, away from “conveniences” and such and so we’re trying to be clever about how we’re handling the media.  Basically, I’m out on all the shoots and as the camera guys finish a scene, I get the memory cards and offload the content on to a portable hard drive and covert what needs to be converted on my MacBook so I can edit the content in Final Cut Pro X.

So great, the workflow works out fine.  I’ve got all the footage and stills we’ve shot and I’ve been editing like a motherf– for the last couple of weeks.  When I started the project, I went out and got myself a nice, big, 1 TB Passport drive to hook up to my laptop to use for backup and edit source storage.

We’ve only gathered about 1/2 the footage that we need so far and I’m about 1/3 of the way through editing all the scenes I need to work on and that “big” 1 TB drive … filled up last night.  Wow.

Yeah, yeah, I know, HD video files are good sized, even when you convert to H.264.  Do I know this from my work in the broadcasting world?  Yes.  Do I realize that in the plants I’ve built recently we’ve installed hundreds of Terabytes of storage media?  Yes.  But in a “semi-pro” single project environment, working with short clips and minimal effects and graphics, the file size creep really snuck up on me.  I’d been glancing at disc usage off and on just to basically keep track, but when FCPX warned me last night “your disc is out of space, please force quit and delete files to make more room” I was a little taken aback.

So, a quick trip to Best Buy to pick up a new 2 TB Passport drive and what turned in to an overnight process to move all my files through FCPX from one to the other and I’m back in business full speed this morning.

Lesson learned.  The good part is that storage media is so cheap now that it’s almost invisible to a project, though at $149.95 per 2 TB, it’s not completely insignificant.  But (and now I’m gonna sound like an “old guy”) when I think back even just 5-6 years ago at what storage cost, and how many budget approvals I would have had to get to buy 2 TB of spinning disc storage … well, it is pretty amazing where we are now.

Back to the project now …

Happy PI Day!

3/14 … Happy PI day to all!

I’ll spend approximately 3.14159265358979323846 minutes celebrating this morning.

Y’all have a good one. I’ll be back with more on this very neglected blog shortly.

Ahhh … election day is finally here.

Drawing of a ballotI’m sure that I’m not the only person who, by this day, this First Tuesday (following the first Sunday) in November, has had it “up to here” with the process, the ads, the shouting, the shenanigans, the NOISE of yet another closely contested United States Presidential and Congressional election campaign.

There’s certainly plenty to talk about, that’s for sure.  The folks in my industry (broadcast television) certainly have plenty to say during these events.  Sales departments at commercial broadcast outlets all over the country are happy right now – certainly even more so in those “battleground” states that the campaigns have decided are key to them winning – or the other guys losing.  There’s certainly sentiment out there that our system of voting could be improved, especially given all the silliness and hoo-ha that goes on with Gerrymandering, voter ID laws, early voting laws and on and on.

But then I wake up this morning and I see something amazing.  I see long lines of people standing and waiting to vote.  In New Jersey.  In a precinct where there has been no power or heat for tens of thousands of people since Hurricane Sandy pounded the area.  People who currently barely have a pot to piss in are standing in line at polling places running on generators to cast their vote.  In New York, polling officials are taking ballots around to storm shelters to make sure people can exercise their right – and responsibility – to vote.

There’s a lot of discussion about how this is an important election.  Aren’t they all though?  I hear people who say things like, “meh, it’s all just so much noise – why bother?” or “vote?  What, are you nuts?  What’s the point?  It doesn’t make any difference.”

But go back to November/December 2000, Florida USA – 537 votes ultimately determined the outcome of an election where tens of millions had cast ballots.  Regardless of what you may think  of WHAT happened in Florida in 2000 and WHY it went the way it did, ultimately, it came down to 537 votes.  537 people that went to the polls and cast a ballot.  What if an additional 1000 had? Another 1500?

Your vote doesn’t count?  Your vote doesn’t matter?  I’ve never believed it and I sure as hell don’t now.

Yeah, our system is a mess.  I agree with the folks that are calling for a standardized federal election system run by an independent agency.  We’ll never fix all the issues, but we can sure fix more.  But regardless of that, it is still a citizen’s responsibility to vote, dammit.  This country asks SO little of us as citizens.  We’re asked to serve on juries, we’re asked to pay taxes and we’re asked to vote.  Unlike many countries around the world, we aren’t required to serve compulsory military service.  We aren’t placed in to careers by the government.  We aren’t required to attend certain schools or colleges.  We have the right to vote.  We have the freedom to vote.  And yes, in my mind, this is one civic responsibility that we must exercise.  We must exercise it no matter who tries to stop us, slow us down, put hurdles in our path or make it difficult.  Voting is the easiest damned thing to do.  Yes, lately you may have to meet some additional regulations in some states.  Yes, you may have to stand in a long line.  Yes, in some cases it may be a bit more inconvenient than you’d like it to be.  Geez – whiners.  The same people who are camping out for three days to see the latest big movie or buy the latest hot electronic gadget can’t stand in line for an hour in order to do the one most important thing that a citizen can do?  Puh-LEEZE.

Hell, even here in Oregon, where they mail a ballot to every single solitary registered voter in the state, requiring only a single first class stamp to send back, our turnout is often less than 55%.

So to any of my Oregon friends who haven’t voted yet, fill in the damned ballot and get it to a drop off point today!  For those in other states where you actually have to get off your ass and go to a polling place, GET OFF YOUR ASS.  GO VOTE.  I truly and absolutely don’t care who you vote for – that’s your own business – but for the love of Mike, would’ja go fill in a ballot fer cryin’ out loud?

This is one of the only times that a US citizen has a quick and easy way to make their voice heard.  Go punch a card, pull a lever, check a box, punch a touchscreen, whatever – go vote.  You don’t? Then please don’t EVEN come cryin’ to me about how bad the “system” is if you’re not willing to try to help change it in even the simplest way.

Coming out … of the OTHER closet.

I’m a man.  As a man, society tells me that I should behave a certain way.  Society tells me that I must be strong.  Society tells me that I must never show the cracks and crevices that creep in to one’s personality over time.  Society and family tell me that I must be an upstanding, successful, driven and high achieving individual.  Society also tells me that as a man, I should be athletic and slim and confident and a perfect role model for everyone all the time.  The perfect friend, the perfect lover, the perfect boss, the perfect employee, the perfect son or brother.  Society frowns on a man who shows weakness or has bad days or treats people poorly.  A man who shows the cracks and rough edges and fragility is looked upon as less of a man.

We see it all the time.  We see it in politicians, professional athletes, movie stars, rock icons and in people in our daily lives.  A man in this society is expected to be a certain way.  Period.

Worst of all, given all these things that a man is expected to do and be and exemplify, sometimes, a man treats himself worst of all.  He tells himself, surprisingly constantly, how much of a failure he is.  He criticizes himself so much internally that he never gives himself a break.  He strives for goals that are just plain impossible and tells himself that he’s a poor excuse for a man for not achieving the goal.  Over time, this becomes such a constant inner monologue that it just seems like part of the normal day to day noise inside his head.

And he wonders why he can’t sleep.  Why he’s irritable all the time.  Why he snaps at people and behaves like a complete dick a good deal of the time.  He (and others) wonder why he seems angry all the time and why he’s just plain mean sometimes.  He wonders, he worries, and he piles even more stuff on to the bonfire of unattainable perfection.

Then one day, something clicks.  Addicts and alcoholics call it hitting rock bottom.  Substance counselors talk about the first step being to admit that you have a problem.  All of that has to come along with a real desire to change, or nothing that’s about to come will work.

So why do I write this now, here in public, for the world (or at least the 4 or 5 reliable readers I’ve learned about) to see?  I write this now because it’s time for me to admit something that I couldn’t even admit to myself for years.  Something that until recently I thought of as so wrong, so embarrassing, so unlike something that a true man should be that I hid it from everyone including myself.  I was perfectly comfortable talking to people about the fact that I’m a gay man, but not this.  Not this one deep, dark horrible secret.  I could admit anything but this.

So here it is.  And now, now that I’m feeling better and have been getting help, it seems so simple and plain.  For the last several years, I’ve been suffering from depression.  Yes.  That’s the deep, dark secret.  I’ve been depressed.  Depressed and angry.  It’s been affecting everything about my life over roughly the last decade.  It’s affected friendships and caused me to make rash career and financial decisions and push people far, far away.  It’s caused me to shut down, pull back and hide.  It’s caused me to eat like a pig, to never want to do anything much, to largely stop taking care of myself and to, as was mentioned in one article I’ve read recently, make me wonder if I was attempting very slow motion suicide.

But I am getting help.  I’ve been seeing a psychologist once a week for the last couple of months and working on basic cognitive / behavioral therapy.  Staying away from anti-depressants.  The result?  Well, a couple of months in isn’t “done” for sure, but I feel better.  I’ve joined the gym again and have been going regularly.  I’m actually sleeping every night, all through the night (well, except when that “being over 50″ symptom of having to get up and pee at 3 am kicks in …) I’m much more careful about what I eat, and most importantly, I’ve learned how to quiet that nasty, ever present internal critic that has the capability to harangue me damn near to the point of tears.

Now that I’m past the admitting part and can legitimately say that I’m in therapy (oh how trendy I feel!!) I’m starting to look back and realize how unfounded all of my fears were.  I never wanted to admit that I was depressed because I viewed it as an embarrassing thing.  I viewed people who were depressed as somehow damaged or “wrong” or whatever.  I fell right in to all the societal landmines that a lot of folks fall in to – thinking that mental or emotional problems make a person less of a person, less of a man.

What I’ve been learning as I learn about my situation is that being depressed is no different than having any other illness.  It’s truly not something that a person can “just snap out of.”  It’s truly not something that can just be covered up by smiling.  It’s not “just the blues” and it’s not often something that someone can fix by themselves or by reading a self-help book.

I admit that when I first started therapy, I initially looked at it like the old Al Franken character from Saturday Night Live, Stuart Smalley.  I initially figured all it would amount to is me putting on a comfy sweater, standing in front of a mirror and intoning that famous line of his, “I’m good enough.  I’m smart enough.  And doggone it, people like me.”  And sure, while there is some self-affirmation work that takes place in this process, it’s no joke.  It’s real, it works, and it’s valuable.

So there we are.  I’ve taken a step.  In case you’re wondering, this posting isn’t part of my therapy.  There’s nothing about my process that requires any kind of public disclosure.  I write this, honestly, because I know that there are others out there – many, many others – that are like I was back a few months ago.  Feeling like dirt, not able to cope and not able to admit that there might actually be something wrong inside.

I now know that my worth as a human being is not governed by the house that I own or the car that I drive or the job that I hold or the people I know.  Depression or any other mental or emotional illness does not make you less of a man, less of a person or anything of the sort.  But if it remains untreated, the consequences to yourself and others can be very bad indeed.  Help IS out there and it’s easy to obtain.  Don’t let it go.  Get help.

1300 miles of rain…

A rainy day in the heartland

I live in the Pacific Northwest, so I’m used to rainy days.  Rainy weeks.  Rainy months…..

This morning, though, the national radar shows a nearly solid line of rain storms stretching literally from the Canadian border to the Gulf of Mexico.  Not something one sees every day.  Pretty impressive, actually.

NOAA National Radar Loop at weather.gov

Artists and Mr. Jobs

Anyone who knows me knows that I’ve not really been a “Mac Guy” … at least until recently.  But I am somewhat of an artist, or at least try to be, and I’ve been fascinated over the last couple of days at the variety of artwork that’s coming out in response to the death of Steve Jobs this week.  The following is a selection of a few of the ones that have struck me in one way or the other – all happen to be from Deviantart.com of which I’m a member.  Pics all link to the original user pages at Deviantart.com

Deviant Art user viruskuman

Deviant Art user BK1LL3R

Deviant Art user daggerpoint

Deviant Art user sideshowsito

Deviant Art user Materialize127

Devian Art user ArtBIT

Deviant Art user BigA-nt

Deviant Art user Wretneck

There are hundreds more showing up all over the web.  It really is a pretty incredible response to the death of a very interesting person and pioneer.

 

Two little words …

Two Little Words ...

If you’re of the generation I am (I turned 50 this past spring) or older, it’s pretty much certain that you grew up being taught some basic etiquette.  Now, I’m not saying that if you’re younger than I am you have no manners – I mean, I’m getting older, but I haven’t transformed completely in to a crotchety old fart.

But it’s amazing to me how often people are actually taken aback when I thank them for something.  It’s odd to me.  Why, after someone has done something for me, do they find it strange that I would thank them?  To me, it’s a sign that maybe they don’t hear it enough from others.  How often am I standing in line at a store, for instance, and see folks in line ahead of me interact with the person behind the counter in a perfunctory manner at best – and frankly just plain rude at worst.

I have bad days just like the rest of the world.  But my bad day is no excuse to be rude or thoughtless to the person making me a coffee for Pete’s sake.

So, when someone provides me a service, sends me the file I needed, helps me out with a project, holds the door or is just plain helpful in some way, I use those two little words … Thank you.

I hope, in my own little way, that maybe I helped brighten that person’s day a little.

When work masquerades as recreation…

The view from Beaver Mountain

My job nowadays is as “the boss.”  So it’s not often anymore than I get to do the Engineer part of being a Broadcast Engineer.  The vast majority of my day is usually spent in front of budget spreadsheets or planning documents or purchase orders or, if I’m really lucky, working on design concepts at my gritbiggo white board.

Even so, from time to time I get to leave the office and head out in to the world.  For a couple of days this week, one of my engineers and I are making a swing through some of our remote transmitter / microwave sites in eastern Oregon.  These are the kinds of sites that you may have seen from time to time – a lonely tower on a hill out in the middle of nowhere with big round microwave antennas on it.  They’re remote, they’re hard to get to, for a lot of the year in this neck of the woods they’re buried under feet of snow and in the case of the broadcast stations using them, they bring local over-the-air television to rural areas all over the western USA.  We charge up these hills in 4WD trucks so that our viewers can watch The Simpsons and football (both the American variety and real football … a.k.a. “soccer”) and Perry Mason and Glee and the News.  We end up coming to these sites at various times all the year ’round, including the middle of winter on snow machines, in the rain and mud, in fog, in smoke and at other times when conditions are less than optimal and you’re not sure that even with a very capable 4WD that you’re going to make it up  – or back home for that matter.

But on some days – like these couple of glorious days in eastern Oregon, it is entirely possible to arrive at the top of a mountain after bouncing your kidneys up 20 miles of very “off” off road terrain, fire roads, logging roads and such (in some cases, you wonder why the heck you didn’t make the trip on a horse) and find yourself on a piece of Real Estate with a view that’s, well, hard to describe.  Especially when you’re out here in the wide open west, some of these sites are in very rural areas; far, far away from anything like a “city” and completely surrounded by open range and other mountains.  You get to a point where you almost feel guilty for getting to be there ………… almost.  So you admire the view for a while, take some pictures, stretch, and then get down to whatever work you’re there for in the first place.  in our case this week, that means some maintenance, some documentation, some tests and some research.

Of course, the ironic bit is that after bouncing your kidney’s up 20 miles of very “off” off road terrain, your first view of the glorious scenery is usually from out behind the building near the tower while you’re, um, “watering the bushes.”

 

On Vacation…

20110731-211711.jpg

It’s been vacation time for the last week now. How’s the song go … toes in the water and ass in the sand – (thanks, Glen)

Two weeks on the east coast. First week at mom and dad’s house on the pond in Maine, a few days on the Eastern Shore at The Salmon Farm, then back to Maine, then back to Oregon in time to start motorcycle instructor training next weekend. Oh, then I guess back to work after that.

The trip east was uneventful but for one little problem – a pretty much historic and record breaking rain/flood event in Chicago while I was taking the red-eye from PDX to ORD that made the airport completely inaccessible for several hours and cancelled tons of flights because airport personnel and flight crews could get to the airport to handle all the airplanes sitting idle at the gates. A three hour layover turned in to twelve, but I was at least able to get the heck out of the airport and find a day-rate room at the local Renaissance Suites to get some sleep and a hot shower before getting on the later flight in the afternoon. I landed in Portland, Maine and was immediately greeted wi 96 degrees and about 90% relative humidity. It. Was. Ugly.

But since that one day, it’s been a fine time with family and friends and I’m half way to feeling relaxed and refreshed and ready to go for a few more months.

Adios and vaya con Dios.

(Photo: “The Tree” at The Salmon Farm, Eastern Shore, Virginia, USA)