Instagram Is in the Eye of the Beholder

For many years, people have strived to perfect the art of photography, studying lighting, framing techniques, filters, and building darkrooms.
Then, one dark and stormy night, a monster was borne from the minds of two well-intentioned software engineers-
INSTAGRAM.
Well, not just Instagram. There are many good photography programs out there (Hipsamatic springs to mind), but Instagram is a big one.
Anyway, everyone is now an amateur photographer, carrying the means to create beautiful pictures around in their pocket.
This has troubled a lot of people. I'm not a photographer, but I like art and at first I was saddened by this. Photographers that have spent their lives learning how to work a camera are being threatened by this new technology. Now, I know that this technology is a thousand times greater in the hands of these photographers, but it's still a little sad.
Finally, I realized something- these photo-editing programs are actually helping photography. Here's how.

Look at Ansel Adams, a very popular photographer. You've probably seen his work on huge office inspirational posters- probably with the caption "Freedom" in crappy typography.

T H E   A S P H A L T   L O O K S   L O N E L Y

Anyway, this guy's work is good. Why, though? Here are some reasons that instantly come to my mind:

1. The resolution is amazing
2. The shots are beautifully framed
3. The shots show Adams' awe of the power of nature

But what makes this guy so special even now in this age of rapidly progressing technology? 

Resolution? I think not. The resolution on a lot of smartphone cameras is more impressive.

The positioning and the way it's framed? Crop tools can help with that.

That leaves one element- Adam's point of view.

People still love this guy's work because they show his view of the world. You can just imagine him waiting on a hill before dawn, planning his shot and waiting for the sun to rise so that he can capture that breathless moment when day breaks, sending rays of light creeping over the valley. You can feel him behind the camera of every photo, and his excitement is palpable.

This is why new technology will help photography. It isn't enough to quickly snap a picture of your mocaccino, then crop it and tint it sepia. Hell, it isn't even enough without the cropping and coloring. If people don't get a sense of you in the picture, they will see your work as just another boring Instagram pic. You have to let them feel the tension of a dozen coffee addicts in a small steamy room, smell the coffee in the air, and taste your impatience for your drink to cool. You have to take the viewer's hand and invite them into your little pocket of time, let them stay a while in this little universe that was previously only visable to you.

THIS is photography. THIS is art. And just because you can now doctor the hell out of a somewhat-decent photo doesn't make photography itself obsolete. In fact, it might just save it.



PS: To all you people who take pictures of coffee: I am not judging you. One of my best friends does this and, as much as I tease him for it, it does not make him less fun to hang out with. In fact, I would love nothing more then to sit around with you people and critique your photographs of coffee. Heck, if any of you want to do that I'd be game. Just email 'em to me and I'll post 'em! The series of posts could be called "BEST HIPSTER PICS OF THE MONTH AWARDS" and I'd give the winner five bucks. I'm totally serious.

Beagle Puke!

My obese beagle has lost some weight and has suddenly gained a lot of energy. When I came home today, he pelted around the house until I let him into the front yard. Then he ran in circles around me as fast as he could until he got worn out. Then he recovered and chased his tail until he puked.
No, seriously. He puked.
I think that I like dogs.

Update

For some reason, I felt like giving people an update on the happenings in my life. No idea if anyone gives a shit about these posts, but I'm gonna do it anyway because I'm a sadistic bastard.

So, here goes.

I got a dog. He is an obese beagle named Taser. He's about nine and a little bit of a handfull, but he's mostly chill.

One of my friends is in New Mexico, but I think she's visiting soon. <waves/> I miss her.

One of my other friends (the one that I was angsting about) sent me an email yesterday to wish me a happy halloween, so I'm glad that she thinks of me. I think of her a lot.

I marathoned Welcome to Night Vale and listened to 31 episodes in two weeks, so now I'm caught up with the series. OH GOD WHY.

I've been watching a shit ton of Nostalgia Critic, so I keep coming into conversations about movies with "Ooo! I just saw a critique of that!" I've got to stop doing that.

Cooper is in college, studying furiously and getting good grades.

My maternal grandfather has terminal cancer. They just put him on morphine, so I'm not sure how next year is gonna be.

My step-mom is pregnant with another kid. This one is a girl. I hear sleepless nights in my future.

I'm still not depressed, but I'm not feeling upbeat either. Still, better to be moody and deadpan then terrified and sad!

My sister is going to get her blackbelt in Aikido. It's gonna be rad.

I've been drawing a bit and I've become much better. I should post some of my work some time soon.

The only thing that makes me happy right now without a huge negative crash afterward is podcasts*, math, and work. Sure, it's a neutral and sedated kind of happy, but it's way better then rainbows and laughing children swiftly followed  by sobbing and darkness. I have yet to learn why my moods keep doing this. In the meantime, I will take happiness in small diluted portions.

Desmond, my little brother, turned 1 last week. He is adorable and gaining a better grasp of language. ...Which means that I need to stop cussing. Shit.

My cat disappeared. She was badass, but I think that the opossum got her. I swear, I will murder that little fucker when I get my hands on him.

...That's all I've got for now. Until next time.

*Radiolab, Welcome to Night Vale, The Thrilling Adventure Hour, and How to Do Everything

Roses are Crocodiles of the Mind

"Stop to smell the roses!" People tell me when I worry. "You're young!" They say. "Live a little!"

To that I always want to reply "I take it that's what you've done? That explains why you live on unemployment and have a kid in Oregon that you never see."

I don't though. I just duck my head and say "True, true." Which is what I tend to say when I'm stumped for what so say next or I don't agree with your statement.

Since I was a little kid, I've been really weird about time. Now, I'm not talking about managing time (although that's always been a huge issue). I'm talking about the passage of time and how it relates to me.

I remember my Dad explaining the plot line of Blade Runner to me. "You see, you might be a replicant and not even know it," He said in the conspiratorial tone he always uses when he tries to trip me out. "All of your memories might be fake all the way up to this point."

This did not sit well with me. I'd be playing with dinosaurs on the floor and think "Well, did that conversation actually happen? What about what I'm thinking right now? What is now? How long does it last? Is it years? Months? Weeks? ...Seconds?"

When faced with existential questions like this, I tend to come to the realization that it really doesn't matter. In this case, that never happened. Time is one of those things that you just don't mess with.

I tried to just forget about it. Push it into the back of my mind. Still, it lurked and brooded in the shadows and swamps of my brain like a Nile crocodile waiting patiently for its next meal. It started to drive me crazy. I'd be playing peacefully one moment, then it would hit. That otherworldly feeling- like deja vu except more physical. More dangerous. I would start counting out seconds obsessively, wondering which one was real. Would it really make a difference anyway, though? I wasn't sure, but by god I would find out.

After months of freaking out about this periodically, I had the pleasure of watching Spaceballs. There's this great scene where Darth Helmet and his henchman find the Spaceballs movie and, in one of the most meta scenes ever, fast forward through it, hoping to find the whereabouts of their enemies.

However, they go too far and find themselves watching themselves watching themselves watching themselves... Watching themselves. Darth gets all impatient and demands to know when "then will be now." The henchman replies "Soon."

This kinda stuck with me. "Maybe," I thought "If I don't focus on the past 'nows' and focus on the 'soons' instead, I won't freak out so much."

And it's worked. I now think way into the future, always chasing that 'soon' and running, breathless, from that 'now.'

Still, every so often (usually when looking at sunbeams, oddly enough), I feel that 'now' sneaking up on me and I feel lost, counting out the seconds and breathing my first breath of the day every single moment, until I get a grip on myself and barrel onward, not caring where I end up just so long as it's not here.

Stupid roses.

Rain, Rain, Stay All Day!

And the rain rain rain came down down down
And the rain rain rain came down.

Hey, people. It's raining out!! Isn't that amazing? And I don't mean a sprinkle here and there. It really rained. For at least 15 mins! It even slanted at one point.
When it started, I ran outside and down the street as fast as I could. Then I stopped and just stood, my hair streaming and my shoulders and pants cuffs soaked. Alena joined me and I ran around in circles, a stupid grin on my face.
I haven't been this happy in a very long time.
I waved my arms around and screamed, startling passing drivers.
"GOODBYE, DEPRESSION!" I yelled as loud as I wanted. "YOU TRIED TO TEAR ME DOWN WITH SUNLIGHT AND BIRDS, BUT BEHOLD!" I believe that I spun around at this point. "THE RAIN COMES, BRINGING COLD AND HAPPINESS! AHAHAHAHHAAAH!!!!"
On a related note, I think the neighbors think that I'm mad.
BUT WHO CARES??

I have no need of drinkin'.
Don't need a bottle or two.
I can sit all day not thinkin'
Of how much I miss you...
Because the rain is here to stay
And I wouldn't have it any other way...

Yes, the rain is here so I'm not drinkin' for you.
Yeah, the rain is here so I'm not drinkin' for you.

Some guys they like their whiskey
In bottles deep and clear
But that poison can be risky
And the rain is here.

Oh I don't need to drink again
I'll let the rain wash me away!
No I don't need to think again
I'll save it for another day.

And when the rain is gone and done
I'll go out, find another one.
Someone clean and someone true
No, I don't have to think about you

'Cause I don't need to drink again
I'll let the rain wash me away!
No I don't need to think again
I'll save it for another day.

Fuzzy and Confused

The weeks have been getting longer and my head's been feeling fuzzy.
I'm usually able to switch into a really creative mode fairly quickly, writing and downing coffee like a maniac. This past month? Not so much.
My head feels fuzzy and I've had a couple migraines, and I haven't been speaking correctly. Not like I-just-had-a-seizure speak, more like forgetting words and not putting sentences together well. It's like I've forgotten how grammar works.
I can almost pull off writing because I can go back and re-read stuff, but it still ends up being really dry.
On top of all this, I've been way more socially withdrawn now that school's back in. Now that I have to see people for a few hours twice a week, I'm not so keen on going outside.
I don't know. Maybe I'm sick. My head hurts, I can't formulate ideas properly, I'm physically and emotionally tired, and I keep saying stupid shit without thinking.
Whatever it is, it needs to go away soon so that I can get on with things.

Personal Character Development

So I've been reading about Asperger's syndrome lately. I'm pretty sure that I have it and it's taking a lot of willpower to not go research-crazy (because self-diagnosis can lead to sketchy Real Life details later on. Hypochondriac, remember?). Still, I've learned quite a bit and I wanted to bring something up.

I am very good at bullshitting. I am not good at lying. Yes, there is a difference.
For example, if you ask if I did or didn't do something I was/wasn't supposed to, I will always tell the truth, even if it isn't in my best interests. This isn't only because I'm against lying. It's because I really can't lie in the first place. I'd fix my eyes on something boring, try to hide my face, and wonder if my skin was changing color, trying all the while to remember if the person I'm talking to is good at detecting lies. I get so hung up on them buying it, I end up giving myself away.
Bullshitting, on the other hand, is like telling a story. Sure, that's what lying is too, but when I bullshit it's to entertain. I love telling kids about the magical properties of coconuts, how to befriend fire imps, and just what the troll-to-ogre ratio is in the monster-hunting business.*
If people don't believe me, that's totally fine. It was done in jest and I lost nothing. I can bullshit all I want.
The trouble is, I've become really good at pretending to be other people.

I love characters. There's nothing quite as fun as slipping into an act, to take on alien characteristics.
I loved Heath Ledger's performance in Batman: Dark Knight so much, I adopted his speech patterns for weeks. I was so enthralled by Abed Nadir from Community that I still say 'Cool. Cool cool cool.' compulsively. And don't even get me started on the 10th Doctor.
It's all fine when it's a recognizable character. It only gets weird when your moods suddenly have character detached from you.
For example, yesterday at work I was putting books on a cart, talking to the new librarian. I usually have a meandering sort of tone, as if I'm somewhere else entirely. I also tend to mumble a lot and giggle at my own jokes. So I was talking normally, when suddenly our landlord walked up to me.
I straightened a bit and smiled. "Hey!" I said, raising my eyebrows and twisting my neck a little in a surprised manner. "How're you doing?"
"Not bad." He said, returning the smile. "How are you?"
"I'm good." I said, although I wasn't really feeling fantastic.
"That's great." He said. "I'm gonna look at some books. You take care now."
"All right, you too." I said in my most pleasant voice. I continued to sort books, holding a happy smile until he was well out of sight. Then I dropped the face, relaxed my shoulders, and went back to sorting.
What I did was insincere in the moment, but it wasn't meant to trick him. He would be more comfortable if I reacted really positively in that moment, so I did. It was a pleasant encounter and I think we both befitted from it in a small way.
And it isn't like every time I do this, I'm faking. My 'happy and polite' mode is a little amped up at work, but I'm sure that anyone who knows me has seen it. Usually I actually am really happy to see you. It just takes a tad bit more effort to really express it (or, sometimes, regulate it. Some people are put off by my 'mad loon' grin.).
Still, it might creep other people out to see me shift modes, as I'm sure the new librarian did. Sometimes when I'm in a setting where I have to be in 'happy, polite' mode all day, it really becomes taxing. Being on guard all the time, remembering which face you should be making, or what topic would be too inappropriate to bring up... It's really tiring.

SO if you see my face suddenly change after talking to someone, you'll know why.



*No, seriously. I told my neighbor kids about this. It was awesome.
**Actually, he isn't our landlord. I've forgotten the correct term. It doesn't really matter right now, though.