30 Days of Creativity.

I'm participating in 30 days of creativity again. Care to join me?

http://30daysofcreativity.com/

I haven't officially decided what I'm going to do again, but I'd like to do what I did last year- take a picture and write a short story inspired by the picture. Last year I used the inspiration calendar to inspire the photo, but I haven't decided if I want to do that part again too. I might end up picking and choosing the days that work for me. I think I'll start out with the calendar and see how it goes. I'm a lot busier than I was last year, so hopefully I'll be able to do it everyday. Nearly everyday I took a new picture last year, but I've taken a lot more photos this year, so I might take some pre-existing photos instead of taking a new one each day. It starts on Wednesday, so thinking about joining if you're up for it!

All of my 30days from last year are posted here: http://themoreyouknow.posterous.com/tag/30daysofcreativity if you want to take a look at my work from last year.

My head's still on vacation.

Adam and I took a trip to Miami last weekend. It was a perfect 4 days of doing absolutely nothing. No alarms. Reading and swimming at the beach all day. Relaxing Dinner. Repeat. Of course, now I'm back to work. My body is here, but my head is having a little trouble focusing. I'm trying to engage, but everything feels more interesting than the work that I need to be doing.

The funny thing is, it wasn't a vacation that I needed a vacation after the vacation. I made a comment to Adam that I was totally ready to be home and get back to work. Perhaps I was looking forward to the social side of work and not the actual work part. Either way, I'm sitting at my desk struggling to focus on my projects. It's frustrating, but at the same time, I'm still so relaxed from vacation that it doesn't bother me. Sigh. I don't think I'll be victorious in this battle.

I'm also struggling with the break of schedule vacation causes. I tend to eat fairly healthy. Considering a co-worker has taken to calling me "Vegetable" because of my daily bag of vegetables I'm eating at my desk, I'd say I'm doing alright. Of course, I eat junk food and drink beer with the best of them, but overall, I'd like to think I'm pretty healthy. But on vacation, anything goes. And after, I don't want to eat healthy anymore. Or go to the gym. I just want to eat chips and be lazy. Hopefully as my head gets back in the work routine, it will follow suit for eating and running. Maybe?

Lastly, my lack of focus on work has got me thinking more about writing. Last June for 30 days of creativity I took a picture everyday and wrote a short story to go along with it (all posted here). I want to do that again in June, but I don't want to just do it one month out of the year. Ideally, it would be great to do it weekly. I know daily is just too much, but I think I can handle weekly. I loved going out and taking pictures each day and it was amazing how quickly the stories came to life with the photo inspiration. I always liked photography because I could just capture what I saw around me, but I wasn't overwhelmed by a empty roll of film, or in modern age, an empty memory card. A blank page however, frightening. I like writing, but it's hard for me to find an idea to write about. Anyway, the pairing of photography and writing worked well for me and I'm going to try to do more of it more often. We'll see how it goes. I'm sure I thought I would continue doing it after June was over (and I had recovered from my June 30th surgery). But I'm actually quite surprised that I haven't even gone back to my posterous to even re-read what I wrote. The only reason I had even thought about it was because I wanted to look at my day 9 picture because we're having a photo contest at work.

Here are the two photos I submitted for the work contest.
Title: Jumping Bean (taken in Chicago at the "Cloud Gate"- aka, "the bean")


Title: Evening Twilight (taken in NY at the "Top of the Rock")


The theme for the contest is Luck. My rationale is an "action" photo is always a lucky photo. And I was lucky to get to have that view of NY at sunset, and lucky to actually get a decent photo since my point-and-shoot camera doesn't have the best luck with night photos. Not that I have to defend my photos to anyone, but felt the need to do so now.

But, back to my 30days thoughts. I really didn't think I would abandon it all so quickly. I was consumed with my knee and recovery for most of the summer, but it's sad how fast I let it all go and didn't look back once. But enough of what I didn't do, I'm going to start now. And I think I have the perfect picture to start with.

And going full circle, I'm going to stop forcing my head to think about work and going to go home and write.

Father's Day.

This is one of my favorite wedding photos of my dad. Of course, it was one of those photos that 'just happened.' But it was completely perfect. Just like my dad. Aww.

I realized today that I don't get to spend a lot of one-on-one time with my dad. Usually when I see him we're with other members of the family and we don't get an opportunity to talk or catch up. Today started out just like most family gatherings. Bickering. Usually about nothing that matters, but we bicker and nit pick at each other. Usually my dad and I make jokes to try to diffuse the situation, usually unsuccessfully, but we try. I went out to my parents house since Shawn had back surgery on Friday, he's spending his recovery time there. So, it made sense to go to them. Heidi's in NY and Adam went to see his dad, so it was just the four of us. Like most of our family gatherings we just sat in the kitchen cooking and eating. I've always like cooking with my dad. When I was little I would just sit in the kitchen with him, when I was old enough to handle a knife, he put me to work. Yesterday we just sat in the kitchen talking just the two of us. It made me realize how long its been since he and I have spent time together just us. I went camping with him last fall over Labor Day, but I think that was the last time we spent more than a couple hours together. I miss spending time with him and am going to make it a point to do it more often.

Spending the day with my dad inspired my 30 days of creativity entry for today. Enjoy.


http://themoreyouknow.posterous.com/day-20-the-listener

Hump Day.

It's halfway through June. Halfway through 30 days of creativity. I thought this would be a good time to reflect on the this little adventure that I signed up for.

To recap, I've been taking a picture each day based off the "daily inspiration" piece posted at http://30daysofcreativity.com/ and then writing something to go with it. Most days the picture has inspired the story, but on a couple of the days the writing as inspired the picture. Those days have been hard because it's difficult to go out and find something when you're not really sure what you're looking for. Either way, I like that I'm taking notice of the oddities around me and find that I'm taking more pictures in general. And I'm always starting to write more and just trying to think of the best ways to describe whatever it is that I'm thinking/seeing. It's been a great exercise to get myself to think more visually and descriptively. While it's been a challenge to fit something in everyday, I'm still really enjoying it so far and look at it as a new daily challenge. One of the ways I've been fitting it in, I'm hardly watching TV. Not that I watch that much to begin with, but I find even sitting down for an hour makes me antsy knowing that there are other things that I could be doing. Or, it could be the fact that I haven't been able to work out since pre-crash/knee injury, so that too could be taking a toll on my ability to sit still. Either way, I like that I'm out trying to create something than being passive and even more sedentary.

Hope you're enjoying the stories and the pictures that I'm posting. If not, I'll return to complaining about life in July.

Day 15: Slippery Escape.

“Napoleon! Have you gotten into?” Letizia cried upon finding her young son’s head stuck between the rails of the banister.

“I was just trying to escape” Napoleon remarked enthusiastically.

While he was a small boy, he wasn’t small enough to squeeze himself through the narrow posts of the staircase.

“I’ll get the butter,” Letizia said as she headed toward the kitchen.

She took the giant vat of butter back to the staircase and began slathering Napoleon’s head.

“I just don’t understand why you continue to do this,” she questioned.

“Mother, it’s practice”

“Practice for what?”

“What if I was being chased, and had to get away. I need to go a way they can’t chase after me. Or, what if I was stranded on an island, I need to know the best way to escape.”

Letizia slowly glided her son’s buttered head out of the banister.

“Napoleon, you have such a wild imagination. Why don’t you just read a book?”

Day 14: Follow the Light.

Sometimes you can be so close to something yet not know it’s there. We were just four suburban teens sitting outside the now defunct Foxfire Café. The fact that the line had snaked outside to the sidewalk was a bad sign. We just wanted to be one of the lucky ones to exchange $6 for a hand stamp and admittance, but we knew with every person that stepped in front of us in line, our chances dwindled. It was clear the Dillinger Four show was sold out; it was just a question of how many of us would be turned away. As we sat there agonizing our concert fate, we watched pink box after pink box walk by. We weren’t even sure where they were coming from, or what was in the boxes, but we wanted it. We were torn between waiting in the line that would most certainly lead to denial, or the mysterious pink box leading us to the unknown.

We followed the path of the pink box down the block to the unknown. Leading to the best pizza we’ve ever had, to the pizza of light, Pizza Lucé.

Day 13: Side-by-side

They sat side-by-side, similar in every way, yet just slightly different. They were paired together on the shelf. They never asked to be paired. It just happened. They found themselves being made at the same time, and the next thing they knew, they were a set. They were constantly compared. The physical differences first, the colors, the stripes along the edge. Then the capability comparison began. Could they hold the same amount of items? Was one just slightly more functional than the other?

They knew that one would be chosen first. That’s how it always goes. Eventually they would have to go their separate ways. They just never knew when that day would be. So, while they waited for the inevitable separation, they relished everyday that they had together, just a pair of twin suitcases on a shelf.

Day 12: Rain, rain go away

We huddled underneath the two tarps to shield ourselves from the rain. They were tied together, but the rain still seeped through along the edges. My body shivered giving away just how cold I was.

“Do you want a jacket?” Jeff asked.

“No, no I’m fine.” I responded as my chattering teeth divulged the truth.

He got up to get the jacket as I pleaded for him not to bother.

“I’ll be fine, you’ll get wet out there. It’s pouring.”

“No, I won’t.” He responded with a smile as he slipped the elastic band around his head, securing the small umbrella on top.

My body shook again as I tried to hold in my laughter. “What is that?” I asked letting a giggle escape.

“It’s an umbrella hat,” Jeff said proudly. “It’s functional and fashionable, just like my fanny pack.”

With that, I burst into a fit of laughter and couldn’t stop. By the time he returned with the jacket, I was warm enough to no longer need it.

Day 11: Smudge.

“No.” I lied.

He continued talking as I continued to stare. I couldn’t take him seriously. Not with the ridiculous thing above his upper lip. Was it smudged chocolate, or did the faint shadow actually qualify as a mustache? I hoped for chocolate, as that would actually be less embarrassing.

“Yes, that sounds great.” I lied again thankful the night of speed dating was over. It was another wasted evening, not one guy stood out in my mind. Just chocolate.

Day 10: Up and down.

Excited about his find in the used section of Cheapo, he popped the new CD into the stereo immediately. He was already starting to rock out when he remembered that he hadn’t unlocked the passenger door yet, leaving me standing outside the car. Thankfully the rain started just seconds after I buckled my seatbelt, otherwise my foul mood would have reached a new level. As he navigated the narrow streets of Uptown, he began listening to short bursts of each song before jumping to the next one. It was the most irritating habit. As soon as I would start getting into the song, he’d advance it forward. With each push of the button, my sentiment got worse and worse.

“Up and down, up and down, up and down, whoa-o-o-oh,” Supernova rang out from the remaining back left speaker. Then the click of the advance button.

“Hmph. Just down, down, down for me.” I thought, crossing my arms protectively across my chest creating a shield to ward off any potential advancement to the area.

“Oh, yeah, this is the one I wanted,” he said finally stopping the irritating button pushing. “Physics is like math class, physics is like math class, physics is like math class. I always get an F,” he sang along with the chorus.

“Physics?” I thought to myself. Those aren’t the lyrics. I picked up the CD case to peruse the liner notes. I laughed at the album name, Ages 3 and Up. I contemplated making a comment on that, but bit my tongue. No need to start a fight, especially when I’m the passenger.

He continued to sing his version of the song the rest of the way to my apartment as I sat in silence.

“Hey, speaking of Physics,” I paused to laugh silently at my joke. We hadn’t been talking and physics wasn’t actually in the song, but I smiled to myself knowing here I was going. “I’ve never really been a fan of calculating velocity. But I do like to see how far I can chuck something. On that note, we’re done.” I got out of the car and turned back to look at him, “’Being with you is like Math class. I always get an F.’ Those, are the actual lyrics and that’s what it’s like to be with you.” I slammed the door embracing the rain’s ability to wash away both physics and math instantaneously.

Day 9: Islands in the sky.

The sun was setting as slow as she could.

“Someday,” she thought, “we’ll be together.”

She knew that as soon as she was settled just beyond the horizon that he would appear. Night after night and day after day, they shared a mutual missed connection. They knew they would be a perfect match, yet would never be allowed to share the sky together. She lit up the day, and he lit up the night. Even though she didn’t get to see him, she knew how he was feeling whether he was blue or full or shriveled into a crescent. She yearned to be close to the moon and envied the stars he shared the night sky with. The moon, like the sun, always wanted more. He would trade all of the stars just to share the sky with the sun, for even just one day.

Each day they both tried to stay in the sky just a little bit longer to meet the other, but each day concluded with the same result. They were each alone, suffering the nightly ritual of saying goodbye as the other emerged to say hello. Each destined to remain an island in the sky.

Day 8: That was then, this is now.

She wandered around the photography studio trying to remember what it used to be.

“This aisle was produce. No, no it was canned goods. Hmm, or was it the bread. I just can’t remember now.” Mom said, giving up on remembering the layout of the bodega from 1973. “We lived right across the street you know,” she continued, looking at my father and thinking about their first year of marriage.

“Yes, mom, we’ve heard the stories,” I groaned. “And over there,” I pointed, “Dad dropped the cash register when he worked here and it dented the floor.”

Despite my annoyed tone, I did find it fascinating that my parents and my sister all shared a connection with the blue tiled building on the corner of 32nd St. and Bloomington Ave. Of all the photo studios in town, my sister worked at the one my dad worked at as a teen, across the street from my parent’s first apartment. Of course, the building now is not like the Guggenheim housing art, it’s a studio where art is made. But, like the dent in the floor, the building continues to house my family’s memories.

Day 7 (#2): Silver Stars

The fresh coat of white paint doesn’t fool me. I remember what used to be there. I once thought the wall of silver stars was too cheesy for First Ave. But like most things, they grew on me. It became a hunt while waiting for the doors to open to find a new band on the wall. It was our own Minneapolis walk of fame, featuring bands that once graced the stages of First Ave or 7th St Entry. They can paint over the wall, but not my memories. It’s like Prince, when he changed his name to a symbol, and then the Artist Formally Known as Prince, and then back to Prince. He’ll always be Prince in my mind no matter what symbol or color he’s being represented by, just like First Ave will always have a wall of silver stars.

Day 7 (#1): Kiss

The blue sequins of our crop tops sparkled under the lights of the football field as we sashayed across the 50 yard line. The fans, tired of not getting to cheer for the game, cheered for us. Their enthusiasm for our half-time dance was addicting and made us all try a little harder. Then again, they could have just been cheering for the fourteen girls in crop tops, but either way, it was the motivation we needed to keep the smiles plastered on our faces and our jazz hands looking electrified. As we moved into the final formation, I made my way to the point of the triangle to get ready for the final pose. Prince’s immortal lyrics rang out “I just want your extra time and your… kiss.” Our fourteen heads snapped up blowing kisses to the crowd. We held the pose for just a moment before we danced our way off the field, leaving a few sequins and a football victory behind us.

Day 6: Spinosaur

No one knew where the creature emerged from. It descended from above and floated over the heads of the onlookers. The audacious few eased in closer to get a better view. The rest of us stood back anticipating the worst, waiting patiently for the brave ones to return to tell us what it was.

"Is it a giant squid? Is it an octopus?" we asked upon their retreat from the giant creature.

"No, it's a Spinosaur," the expedition leader stated. "It's a descendant from dinosaurs, a water dweller," he continued.

We stepped back even further, expecting the spinosaur to attack one of us with its spider-like tentacles. The spinosaur moved with us. It became a choreographed dance, as we moved, he moved. Left. Right. Forward. Back. He followed, and we got frightened. With no other ideas, we continued the dance moving backward, faster and faster until we were nearly running. Our attempted escape route hit a sudden end when we reached the edge of the river. We slowed and looked to one another for a plan to save us, or at least, most of us. At this point self-sacrifice seemed inevitable and a very real option. Before we could decide our plan, the water dinosaur moved away from us, toward the water. He waved his tentacles, as if to say "thank you" for guiding him back to his home. We stood in shock at our change of fortune and tentatively waved back.

To this day, if you look hard enough at the river, sometimes you can spot the spinosaur waving.

Posted via web from Knowing is half the battle

Day 5: Miss Adventure

I perused the horse names looking for the best ones. I was thankful we missed the first race knowing I would have bet on “Dancer in Heather,” despite the long shot odds, because both dancer and heather were in the name. She came in 4th. As I acclimated myself with the betting process after a year hiatus, I opted to stray from my usual Win-Place-Show bets and go for an Exacta box. I settled on Miss Adventure and Academy Wins for my first bet.

We found a place to watch the 3-½ furlongs race that straddled the line of getting wet and staying dry.  It was evident that the morning rain was going to make for a muddy race. We waited in anticipation as the horses rounded the turn hoping our picks could stay out in front. Just as the pack approached the finish, a gust of rainy, wind blew at us. I turned away causing the side of my head to take the beating from the wind. I turned back toward the race to see the pack of horses finish, but unsure where my horses placed. I pushed the wet strands of hair out of my eyes to get a better look, just in time to see Miss Adventure coming in a laughable last.

I should have known Miss Adventure would miss her adventure.

Day 4: _ATIO FU_NITUR_

We looked at the patio furniture on the deck. It was weathered and beaten from another Minnesota winter of ice, sleet and snow. The wood faded several shades to a brownish-rust color, instead of the vibrant blood red it was just two years ago. The scratched and chipped glass covered table looked like it would shatter if the smallest amount of weight was applied. Summer always signifies the fresh growth that’s been stored away all winter. But, it also brings to light the things we’ve forgotten to take care of that look better covered under a mound of freshly fallen, untouched snow.

Maybe next year we’ll get new patio furniture.

Day 3: Battledore and Shuttlecock.

The rubber balls plummeted toward the ground, bouncing just out of reach of the receiver. They rolled down the hill through the Flowering Currant, sucking up the pollen as they spun. As their trajectory slowed, they rolled into the chicken coop. The feathers stuck to the pollen soaked rubber, creating a circular tail at the end of each ball. The children picked up the new creations and hit them with the battledores they carried down the hill with them. They noticed how the new ball flew differently than it did before and how it resembled a chicken.

Thus, the game of Battledore and Shuttlecock was born, or Badminton as we call it now.

Day 2: Gli Uomini Blu (The Blue Men).

Three men traveled by gondola through the aquatic streets of Venice. Their blue hued skin stood out against the olive tones of the Italian natives. As they glided past other gondolas, they heard gasps of, “Perché sono blu?” and, “Hanno la pelle blu?” The men hoped they could blend into the surroundings of the water city that mirrored their skin, but still they stood out. They abandoned their hope of fitting in and embraced their uniqueness. In the Palazzo, they emerged from the shadows and began to entertain the Venetians. “Guarda, proprio gli uomini blu!” they shouted with delight. From that night on, as dusk emerged, the blue men entertained the città d’acqua di Venezia, forgetting that they once dreamed of going unnoticed.

Day 1: The Man and the Raccoon.

The man edged his way further thru the desert. His severe dehydration left him dazed and delusional. He was unsure if he’d been walking for days, weeks, or just a matter of hours when he came across a raccoon. The man was sure that it was a mirage, but interacted with the small creature anyway.

“Can you help me find water?” The man inquired to the raccoon. “I would give anything to feel water against my lips.”

“Anything?” repeated the raccoon.

“Anything,” the man assured.

Without a moments notice, the man had turned into a fountain, to forever feel the taste of water against his stone lips.