Cameras and Yo-YoMa

I realize I have not written in some time. There is a lot to share; little things, mostly.

I finally have a digital camera, thanks to some generous re-gifting on the part of our landlady and family friend.
(It turns out that the one she sent is the exact one I was looking at buying.)

You can expect more work, more often, very soon.

Two Tuesdays ago, I went to see Yo-Yo Ma and the New York Philharmonic, play an all Dvorak concert, for free. My friends Mike, Steve and I got up at 5 AM, arrived at ten till 6 AM, and stood in line for the 8:30 AM ticket handout and the 9:45 AM concert. The concert itself was beautiful. Ma was phenomenal, as always, and entertained the crowd, joking and laughing with the principal violinist, while playing (beautifully, I might add.) I now count the last movement of Dvorak's Cello Concerto as one of my favorites.

As beautiful as the concert was, even more entertaining, was the wait. Let me remind you that this was a Tuesday morning, and a free concert. That means, it attracted all of the crazies, and privileged folk who could afford to take off from work, and decided to forego the gala opening later in the evening. The line was enormous. (The Times reported that they had to turn several hundred ticket-bearing people away.) Never have I seen so many people try to cut the line, feign ignorance or confusion, go to the front of the line (which was right before a gigantic table with a red cloth over it) and ask if it was the end, and other such tomfoolery to get a better spot in line. It was ridiculous. There was this one lady who hid behind a pillar, and then cut in front of the first person in line (who had gotten there at midnight) at precisely the right time, to get the very first ticket. My friends and I were watching her, and as she laughed and talked to herself, and continually pulled her coat collar over her face, we knew she was up to something. It turns out she was.

When we got inside, adults who seemed respectable otherwise were pushing, shoving, running, and resorting to kindergarten tactics to get the best seats. (Did I mention that this was not well organized?) I was appalled, really, and a bit angry. Adults in suits and nice dresses were acting as juvenile, or worse, than preschoolers. That craziness, punctuated by an outburst from several members of the audience during the opening speech about how the microphone was too soft, and mass clapping between movements, made for an unforgettable experience.

In other news, I'm getting a roommate on Monday. If it is who I think it is, there might be trouble on the horizon. I really hope not. Invisible roommates are the best ever; they're so quiet.

That is all for now. I may write more later.

Birthdays...

I know this is going to sound trite, but trust me, I'm being sincere. Thanks to everyone who made my birthday truly a happy one. Wow. How bad can I get? That statement was much worse than I expected. Perhaps I should start writing Hallmark cards, and not the sometimes witty Shoebox ones either. Then, I'd be able to give to others that same birthday feeling you guys gave to me. Oh gosh. Someone help me, please.


Here is an example of the card in which one could fine either of the above birthday messages.

Photography: A Musing

Though this may be a more pensive blog entry, I am going to try my best not to be too negative. I am not writing this, holed up in my dorm room, on a cold, rainy fall night, feeling lonely and sorry for myself. On the contrary, I am home for the weekend, my birthday is tomorrow, and I get to see my best friend this afternoon. In other words, I am doing quite well. Anyway, onto the topic at hand.

I've been thinking lately about my flirtation with this thing called photography. I use the word flirtation, simply because, I can now see that I have not been entirely passionate about it. Whether this was because of my depression, or because I have attempted to venture into this art using borrowed cameras remains irrelevant. I even feel, that that latter fact is a key hallmark of my mere flirtation. There have been countless times I have thought about buying a camera, a few I have looking into purchasing one, and none where I have actually bought a camera. I have survived four years of high school photography classes, and one in college on other people's cameras, which has has limited me quite a bit. Those were four years and a class too many.

Any excellent photographer will tell you, you must be photographing constantly. It cannot be a just a weekend hobby, or something you do for an art class when it comes around, or just an activity to fill some spare time. Harsh? Yes. But to improve your art, just like a sport, one must be shooting daily. Much to the giggles and knowing glances of my class, my photography teacher would repeatedly exhort us to carry our cameras with us everywhere. I really don't think people did too much. For the girls from the Bronx, this may have been a wise choice. However, those that did shoot often, those that make their cameras a part of their bodies improved dramatically. Not only was their overall art better in quality, but they had a tremendous amount of photos, allowing them to choose the best of the best, and not have to scrounge around for a few decent photos to show during critique. I, however, was too busy wallowing in my own self pity to take notice.

I notice now.

Over the past year, I have been content to take a few pictures here and there, (whether or not they are good is a non-issue), look at a lot of other people's photography, engage in artistic communities (although minimally) and call myself a photographer.

Frankly, I am not.

But, I can be.

I am not working this as a sort of "end of my teenage years" rant about how in my twenties, I'm going to take more initiative and be a more diligent photographer. Photography is not really the issue at heart. I feel as though I've been living my life as if it were that photography class. I have not been entirely diligent. I've had bursts of doing well, and then have fallen back into procrastinating, then rushing to do just enough to get by. That's not good enough; that's not what God calls us to.

He calls us not to perfection, but to excellence. God calls us to do our work for Him, not those around us. I've been forgetting that. I have made the habit of my life not even to do my work for others, let alone God. I've been working for myself.

I did not intend for this entry, which was indeed supposed to be about photography, to extend to some of the things God has been teaching me toward the end of this summer. But perhaps it was appropriate. This past week, I has been starting to forget.

I was reminded, and inspired to write this by reading an interview of a photographer whose work I really have come to like. Not only did it clear up some serious misconceptions about his personal character, but also got me to thinking about my work, which led me to think about how it mirrored my life.

Sometimes, God can be pretty clever.

Laundry room confession #3

Very, very early this morning, I went up to the laundry room to get my clothes out of the dryer. As I came to the room, i noticed another guy was in there, sitting on tip of the washers, reading. "Oh," I thought to myself," he must just be sitting there while his clothes are in the wash. I guess I'm not the only one doing laundry at 3AM." However, as I proceeded to remove and fold my clothes, I noticed that it was quiet- too quiet. No washers and no dryers were running at all, yet this guy was still sitting in there, diligently reading several class assignments. I tried to get my stuff together as quickly as I could, without seeming disturbed. After I left, I knew two things: one, I am the only one who does laundry at 3AM, and two, I am not the only crazy person at Fordham.

A few things

Is seems it has been almost a week since I have last updated. So, I leave you with a few random thoughts.

Perhaps it is because we moved back to school during fashion week, or perhaps the face of New York has changed dramatically while I was away, but everyone has gotten a lot prettier and much more stylish. Those who themselves do not carry the face of body of ideal beauty, still look as though they are extras in a movie. I felt very much out of place.

I have both the Hebrew Bible and the Apocrypha sitting in my room. Do not worry; I will not be reading the latter.

I desperately want to be in a play this fall, but I know that doing so would mean certain and swift academic suicide.

I need a camera.

Next weekend, I am (hopefully) planning a get-together dinner with a few of my friends, who are all on floors with double digits. In other words, since I am on the sixth floor, I do not get to see them too often. As I was telling my friend Matt, I was hesitating calling the dinner a potluck (even though that's what it is), because that would make us sound too old, and might require the implementation of a "kid's table", so our middle-aged selves could stuff our faces and discuss the details of our middle class existence in relative peace. I think I will be making vegetarian lasagna (for my vegetarian friends, or course).

Art History

My art history book is the most ginormous thing on the face of the planet. I believe it is a bit over 1000 pages.

Don't let this small picture fool you. This book is a beast.

First Day of Class

In the words of the illustrious Dan Zecher, this year is going to be "the brutes." I'm looking at a lot of writing, and day-to-day work, but, I'm up for it.

In other news, I think I'm coming down with some type of cold/flu symptoms. Also, I was just approved to take the night Chemistry class. That's a huge load of of my shoulders. Now, all I need to do is work out my problem with my English class. Bigger things have been solved in a shorter amount of time, so I'm not terribly worried.

Blog, Take 2

Those of you who have read my blog know that at times, it was very depressing. I am going to make a significant effort to not use this to bring those that might read this down as well. Things are looking up, and I'm confident that they're going to remain that way.

In other news, I have officaly moved back to school, unpacked, and and am waiting for classes to start tomorrow. I am going into this new school year with a bit of trepidation, but I am mostly just excited for a fresh start. I found out today that I have no roommate, as the one with whom I am supposed to room (yuck, it rhymes) has transferred. Thus, I have my room nicely to myself.

Finally, as proof that this blog has taken, and will continue to take a decided turn for the happier, I give you this picture I took toward the end of this past summer.