After a week of intense in class training and going out on daily safaries, I can honestly say I had no clue how I'd make it through the Public Affairs Communicator's Workshop. I'm happy to say I did but even happier that it was worth the wait after two years of not being allowed to attend the workshop due to all these other issues such as deployments,priorities, the budget etc...
Now I'm here and my objectives while here were to refresh my journalistic skills but most of all to stretch my understanding of photography. Check, at the journalist refresher not so much at the photo captivation portion. I enjoyed being able to go out and take random photos of work and play by the famous Riverwalk. But I learned so much more about what it takes to really capture an image. It was patience. Learn how to wait for the moment even if your subject was driving you bananas and you really wanted to point, click and shoot your camera then get away.
It's been a real eye opener and I respect photographers even more because really, I didn't know I had to walk around with a handful of singles or list to write down the request for the subjects of our photos.That may not have been a good thing to mention but not everyone is as excited as others to be on the lens end of the camera. However,patience is still key and be ready to capture that rare moment when they are not completely self concious and aware of the fact some stranger is trying to convince them to be in their photos.
Regardless, it was all about taking baby steps and that's exactly what I did throughout the workshop. But the concept I got from this training was like everything else in life practice makes perfect and practice, I will do until it's perfect.
Friday, October 28, 2011
I met a girl...
Who would have thought a trip to San Antonio would change my
life forever. A week of intense instruction in military journalism, photography
and broadcasting in the military capital of the world would be any public
affairs specialist’s dream. While I learned a lot professionally, this trip changed
my life personally; I met a girl.
life forever. A week of intense instruction in military journalism, photography
and broadcasting in the military capital of the world would be any public
affairs specialist’s dream. While I learned a lot professionally, this trip changed
my life personally; I met a girl.
The only thing I know about Julie is her first name, that she’s 26 and that she was recently diagnosed with breast cancer. With a grandmother, aunt and a very close cousin all living with the same type of cancer, it may be hard to believe it took a complete stranger’s story to change
my perspective on life.
my perspective on life.
After several misdiagnosis and a 5 years of projected life left, Julie’s outlook on life is one to be respected, complimented and admired. Given the circumstances, one wouldn’t be faulted for wanting to throw in the towel and give up on life as it has seemingly given up on her -- not Julie. Her courage is infectious.
It may sound cliché, but Julie taught me in a few short hours what some people fail to learn in a lifetime which is to live life to the fullest and cherish every moment.
Thank you Julie, for the lesson of a lifetime.
Shooting the hot dog man (or How I supported the San Antonio economy by taking pictures)
I hurried out of the hotel Wednesday
night to take my photo story. The one of Martin Paz, the hot dog man. I’d been planning it all day and had the shots to tell my story all planned. I hoped
there was enough light. They said sunrise and sunset made good lighting, so I might be good.
As I approached the park, Rats! He wasn’t there. Time to re-enter search mode. Hmm. There’s a bus station
with a taxi waiting. That has possibilities. “May I take your picture?” “Sure, let me start the meter.”
“Click.” Man leaning on taxi. Too dark. “Click.” Man talking to another taxi driver. Too dark. “Oh well. Can
you take me to the El Tropicana? And take the long way so I can take more photos.” (I wonder if this is a reimbursable expense.)
I take the photos to MSgt Burris. Nope. He kindly takes me outside to show me some stuff. Better luck tomorrow.
Thursday is bright and sunny. Mr. Paz is there. He had to take his wife to the hospital on Wednesday for a follow up. She’s fine. “May I take your photos? One hot dog, please.”
“Click, click, click, click.” Now I need more photos of making a hot dog. “One more, please.” “Click, click, click” (Urp) “Another hot dog, please.” “Click, click, click.”
Now I need a model to shoot while eating a hot dog. (Not a good idea, I found out later.) I find a woman who will gladly eat a free hot dog among a group of down-and-outers on the park
bench. Testing the shot, I find she has a nice face.
Time to get back to the hotel. “Let’s see. That’s four hot dogs and a coke. Keep the change.” (I wonder if this is a reimbursable expense.)
Whale song is coming from my innards as I hurry back. MSgt Bunting looks at the photos. Some are OK. Happy day.
“But try this,” she says. “And this and this and this.” Go back and try again.
Time for another (urk!) hot dog.
“Click, click, click.” This time I’ve got it. Back to the hotel with a quick stop to, um, wash my hands in the powder room and on to MSgt Burris.
“These are good. And so are these,” he said. “Go back and get these four more shots.”
(Urp. Ork. Gulp) Time for another hot dog. I wonder if Mr. Paz would like some hotel cookies.
Me and the whale song traipse back to the park for one more series of shots. This time I get something that MSgt Burris can work with. Yippee!
It was good (errrrrk) to be able to shoot and (oorrruup) get feedback and shoot again right (blooooooop) away. Thanks MSgts Burris and Bunting.
Oops! Gotta go.
night to take my photo story. The one of Martin Paz, the hot dog man. I’d been planning it all day and had the shots to tell my story all planned. I hoped
there was enough light. They said sunrise and sunset made good lighting, so I might be good.
As I approached the park, Rats! He wasn’t there. Time to re-enter search mode. Hmm. There’s a bus station
with a taxi waiting. That has possibilities. “May I take your picture?” “Sure, let me start the meter.”
“Click.” Man leaning on taxi. Too dark. “Click.” Man talking to another taxi driver. Too dark. “Oh well. Can
you take me to the El Tropicana? And take the long way so I can take more photos.” (I wonder if this is a reimbursable expense.)
I take the photos to MSgt Burris. Nope. He kindly takes me outside to show me some stuff. Better luck tomorrow.
Thursday is bright and sunny. Mr. Paz is there. He had to take his wife to the hospital on Wednesday for a follow up. She’s fine. “May I take your photos? One hot dog, please.”
“Click, click, click, click.” Now I need more photos of making a hot dog. “One more, please.” “Click, click, click” (Urp) “Another hot dog, please.” “Click, click, click.”
Now I need a model to shoot while eating a hot dog. (Not a good idea, I found out later.) I find a woman who will gladly eat a free hot dog among a group of down-and-outers on the park
bench. Testing the shot, I find she has a nice face.
Time to get back to the hotel. “Let’s see. That’s four hot dogs and a coke. Keep the change.” (I wonder if this is a reimbursable expense.)
Whale song is coming from my innards as I hurry back. MSgt Bunting looks at the photos. Some are OK. Happy day.
“But try this,” she says. “And this and this and this.” Go back and try again.
Time for another (urk!) hot dog.
“Click, click, click.” This time I’ve got it. Back to the hotel with a quick stop to, um, wash my hands in the powder room and on to MSgt Burris.
“These are good. And so are these,” he said. “Go back and get these four more shots.”
(Urp. Ork. Gulp) Time for another hot dog. I wonder if Mr. Paz would like some hotel cookies.
Me and the whale song traipse back to the park for one more series of shots. This time I get something that MSgt Burris can work with. Yippee!
It was good (errrrrk) to be able to shoot and (oorrruup) get feedback and shoot again right (blooooooop) away. Thanks MSgts Burris and Bunting.
Oops! Gotta go.
Damaged
I had a wonderful evening yesterday. A long walk through San Antonio, a visit to the Alamo and a walk home on the Riverwalk. I decided to veer off the usual stroll back to the hotel to see what I would find down some random streets.
It was dark, so the only light emitting was from the occasional street light. As I walked down the road, there were many dark crevaces that could be occupied by someone trying to do me harm. Still, I felt the true peace of God. As I listened to a little David Crowder on my Ipod, I looked around at the amazing architecture and thanked God for allowing me to witness the beauty and creativity of the people He created.
It was about then that four women, ranging in age from late-teens to elderly, appeared around the corner.
"Here is an invitation to learn about God," one said. "How can we pray for you?"
These women didn't know me, and at the moment I was worshiping, so I asked for prayers for my family and a friend of mine who will be released from prison soon.
We prayed. God is good.
Fast-forward to the hotel. I was back in my room talking to my wife on the phone. We had been going back and forth on whether or not to let our daughter celebrate Halloween due to our religious convictions, which is a topic for another blog.
During that conversation, frustration filled my mind as I tried to explain my convictions to my wife. The conversation got more and more passionate, which I take blame for. I felt as though my wife was not hearing my heart on the issue, and as I hung up the phone I threw it on the ground in a moment of anger.
What a stupid thing to do.
That moment of anger lasted only a second. Almost immediately after that I realized I had been irrational and needed to pray for forgiveness and ask my wife for the same. I picked up my phone and put the battery, which had fallen out, back in and pressed on the power button. Nothing happened.
My one-second tantrum had resulted in a broken phone and a worse scenario to explain to my wife, now through a message on her Facebook. Had I held back for that instant, my wife wouldn't have known how frustrated I was.
My wife is forgiving and realizes I am a human. However, she was still upset. She told me she loves me and forgives me but was frustrated and she logged off the computer.
How could I go from glorifying and praising God one minute to almost the opposite the next?
I try to follow God, love God and serve God every day. Sometimes the enemy throws my faults back in my face, and tried to get me off track. Not today!
I am ashamed of my behavior, particularly as a man who ought to be the example and leader for his family. Still, I will not stop trying and praying to be the husband and father God called me to be.
I will not let my broken phone be a reminder of my failures, but rather a reminder of my need for Christ and the importance of remaining focused on Him in all things.
It was dark, so the only light emitting was from the occasional street light. As I walked down the road, there were many dark crevaces that could be occupied by someone trying to do me harm. Still, I felt the true peace of God. As I listened to a little David Crowder on my Ipod, I looked around at the amazing architecture and thanked God for allowing me to witness the beauty and creativity of the people He created.
It was about then that four women, ranging in age from late-teens to elderly, appeared around the corner.
"Here is an invitation to learn about God," one said. "How can we pray for you?"
These women didn't know me, and at the moment I was worshiping, so I asked for prayers for my family and a friend of mine who will be released from prison soon.
We prayed. God is good.
Fast-forward to the hotel. I was back in my room talking to my wife on the phone. We had been going back and forth on whether or not to let our daughter celebrate Halloween due to our religious convictions, which is a topic for another blog.
During that conversation, frustration filled my mind as I tried to explain my convictions to my wife. The conversation got more and more passionate, which I take blame for. I felt as though my wife was not hearing my heart on the issue, and as I hung up the phone I threw it on the ground in a moment of anger.
What a stupid thing to do.
That moment of anger lasted only a second. Almost immediately after that I realized I had been irrational and needed to pray for forgiveness and ask my wife for the same. I picked up my phone and put the battery, which had fallen out, back in and pressed on the power button. Nothing happened.
My one-second tantrum had resulted in a broken phone and a worse scenario to explain to my wife, now through a message on her Facebook. Had I held back for that instant, my wife wouldn't have known how frustrated I was.
My wife is forgiving and realizes I am a human. However, she was still upset. She told me she loves me and forgives me but was frustrated and she logged off the computer.
How could I go from glorifying and praising God one minute to almost the opposite the next?
I try to follow God, love God and serve God every day. Sometimes the enemy throws my faults back in my face, and tried to get me off track. Not today!
I am ashamed of my behavior, particularly as a man who ought to be the example and leader for his family. Still, I will not stop trying and praying to be the husband and father God called me to be.
I will not let my broken phone be a reminder of my failures, but rather a reminder of my need for Christ and the importance of remaining focused on Him in all things.
Something like that...
This is my second time being in San Antonio and to say the least, it was 100 times better than the first. I was here 3 year ago, had just graduated from basic training and was able to spend the better part of two days with my family. However, having to walk around in blues and winding down from basic training structure made the experience tense.
This time I was able to walk around, take photos and really relax feel the atmosphere of the city. Networking and learning more about my career field at the communicators workshop this year was helpful and gave me a broader view of how far we public affairs people really stretch across the world.
I think the highlight of the trip was seeing General North, the PACAF commander, come into the Alamo with some foreign nationals. I tried to speak with the secret service and was quickly rejected and given no information about the military group.
I asked, “Sir I was wondering what this group is doing here in San Antonio? I got some photos and I was wondering if I could get some info to use in the captions.”
With a smirk on his face “Um, I’m going to need your camera. Just kidding, but honestly this wasn’t really a planned part of the trip.”
I said “Well was this a morale trip for them?”
He crosses his arms and says “Something like that.”
I proceeded to walk away after feeling blown off, but I satisfied with being able to talk to secret services for the first time.
A moment to reflect
Recently I had the opportunity to show my respect and support the family of a fallen Marine during a dignified transfer in Port San Antonio.
I remember it like it was yesterday.
I have been in the United States Air Force for 4 years and I have never deployed. My participation in lining the streets and saluting the fallen Marine is the closest I have ever been to anything war-related.
The experience brought the reality of war home and I didn't like it.
I had so many thoughts happening at once.
As I watched the patriot riders drive by I immediately regretted selling my motorcycle and decided I would like to be a patriot rider one day.
As I watched the patriot riders drive by I immediately regretted selling my motorcycle and decided I would like to be a patriot rider one day.
I froze as the car carrying the Marine who made the ultimate sacrifice drove by. I felt sadness and pain tearing at my heart.
Don't cry.. military bearing...
I watched the limos with the family members inside drive by and it really hit me. These are his family members.
Ouch.
His mom and dad are probably in there. They were probably both proud and a little scared when he decided to join the Marines. I wondered if he had siblings and tried to imagine how they felt. Then my thoughts jumped to my sister, my brother, then to my parents. Suddenly I remembered I'm going to deploy one day and God I hope my parents never have to go through this.
My parents were so proud when I joined the Air Force they even bought those proud parent bumper stickers while they visited me for BMT graduation. I never understood why my parents were so proud. All I did was complete basic training. It's not like I completed a deployment or anything. Then I realized I would be proud of my daughter if she volunteered to serve her country.
Oh no, my daughter.
If something happened to me she wouldn't understand that mommy is never coming home.
Oh my... my heart started to hurt even more.
What would she do without a mommy? My daughters social behavior changed while I was TDY for 3 months. She stopped playing with her friends at the child development center and developed a strange new attachment to her jackets. If my 3 month absence affected her that much, what would my death do to her?
What would my husband do? He would have to stay strong for my daughter. He could do that.. Right? He would have my parents and sister to help him with my daughter but what if it hurt him to be around them and reminded of me? Would he keep contact with my family or would he avoid them? Would he remarry? He probably would. The thought of him replacing me and my daughter having a new mommy stung.
All of these thoughts of possibly hurting my family made me think about what I was doing in the military. I had conflicting feelings. I wanted to be a journalist and tell the Airman's story, especially in a deployed setting, but was it really worth the risk?
Is it possible to fit my love for my country and my love for my family into my life?
I think so. At least for now. I re-enlisted in May 2011 and I feel just as sure as I did when I decided to re-enlist, if not more. I am proud to be a member of the United States Air Force and a proud mommy. As long as I can be my best at both I will continue to serve.
It's weird to me that a tragic event could cause so much reflection or even renew my patriotism and military pride.
I think so. At least for now. I re-enlisted in May 2011 and I feel just as sure as I did when I decided to re-enlist, if not more. I am proud to be a member of the United States Air Force and a proud mommy. As long as I can be my best at both I will continue to serve.
It's weird to me that a tragic event could cause so much reflection or even renew my patriotism and military pride.
1 of out 1,000
When I first arrived at the 2011 Communicators Workshop, I knew the area I needed the most instruction in. Photography.
I have happened to luck up on some decent photos but it has always been a crap shoot for me. I wasn’t very familiar with my camera. For a while I didn’t even know what kind of camera it was. Strangers would come up to me while I was out shoot and ask me what kind of camera is that. If they wanted an answer more in depth than “Nikon”, I would have to flip it around to look at the front.
During the workshop, I learned a lot of things that brought the basics of into focus (insert rim shot sound effect here) for me. I learned that the metering and focusing processes are not the same. I learned how to use my ISO and what f-stops and apertures do and how they affect my photos.
I was excited after the photo sessions and I went out on the streets of San Antonio with my new tools in my intellectual tool bag. I took all kinds of photos of all kinds of things – people, animals, buildings, lights, stop motion and the zoom-out effect. I just knew my photo mentor was going to be blown away by how quickly I was catching on.
I sat down with him and we looked at the 1,000 photos I had taken. After we looked at all of them I waited for him to tell me how great the photos were. He looked at me and said, “I like this one.”
I was crushed. At that rate, I was going to have to take 7,000 to get the seven I needed for my assignment. What was I going to do? How am I going to complete my assignment?
The beauty of the workshop is that as it progressed, so did my photo skills. I returned from my shoot on the last day and showed my mentor my photos. My nerves were frayed and I was worried that out of the 400 photos I came back with none would be suitable.
My mentor opened the folder and he looked at the first photo. He looked at me and said, “I like this one.”
I have happened to luck up on some decent photos but it has always been a crap shoot for me. I wasn’t very familiar with my camera. For a while I didn’t even know what kind of camera it was. Strangers would come up to me while I was out shoot and ask me what kind of camera is that. If they wanted an answer more in depth than “Nikon”, I would have to flip it around to look at the front.
During the workshop, I learned a lot of things that brought the basics of into focus (insert rim shot sound effect here) for me. I learned that the metering and focusing processes are not the same. I learned how to use my ISO and what f-stops and apertures do and how they affect my photos.
I was excited after the photo sessions and I went out on the streets of San Antonio with my new tools in my intellectual tool bag. I took all kinds of photos of all kinds of things – people, animals, buildings, lights, stop motion and the zoom-out effect. I just knew my photo mentor was going to be blown away by how quickly I was catching on.
I sat down with him and we looked at the 1,000 photos I had taken. After we looked at all of them I waited for him to tell me how great the photos were. He looked at me and said, “I like this one.”
I was crushed. At that rate, I was going to have to take 7,000 to get the seven I needed for my assignment. What was I going to do? How am I going to complete my assignment?
The beauty of the workshop is that as it progressed, so did my photo skills. I returned from my shoot on the last day and showed my mentor my photos. My nerves were frayed and I was worried that out of the 400 photos I came back with none would be suitable.
My mentor opened the folder and he looked at the first photo. He looked at me and said, “I like this one.”
Yes! Point for Mareshah. I didn’t get the seven photos I needed for a complete picture story, but I did get five good photos. It may not have been perfect but my odds have definitely improved from one out of 1,000.
Photography ain't for the birds
By Chandra Lloyd -- I have a greater appreciation for the Airman who tell the Air Force story through the lens of a camera. Wait, even better through the lens of a camera while dodging bullets....take a moment to marinate on that!
The appreciation comes from attending a week long Air Force Communicators Workshop in San Antonio.
"I've got a Nikon D7000, but check out my D700." "Try opening up the aperture and briniging in more light." "Sunny 16 works for me everytime, try it!"
Wait, what?!? Where am I, and what the heck are you talking about?
This whole week has been nothing but a blur to me, but I like it (no pun intended by the photo).
Bringing back a great photo is more than just pointing and clicking. It takes time, talent, experience, and most importantly, passion. The passion in the photographer's eyes is remarkable, and it's clear through their work. Photography is a profession, it's therapy, it's an art. So why was I okay with bringing back blurry dark photos of a base event, when Airman go to school for weeks to study this profession?
The words, "I didn't know" is no longer an excuse for the horrible products brought back to the office.
Mad props go out to those who tell the Air Force story through the lens of a camera.
San Antonio: a view from the river
When I travel, I usually try to avoid the “tourist” spots inthe local area. I like to experience the city from the perspective of the locals
and find places to try the area cuisine, shop for unique souvenirs and learn
more about the place I’m visiting.
During my time in San Antonio, I broke tradition and took
part in one of the most popular tourist attractions in the area. The Rio San
Antonio Cruises that run along the River Walk provide a great way to see San Antonio
while learning about the city’s rich history.
My tour guide provided historical tidbits and trivia style
facts about the city that I would not have had the chance to otherwise
encounter during my San Antonio trip.
The barge ride also provided great photo opportunities from a different perspective. The ride is tranquil and slow-paced, allowing tourists
to capture San Antonio highlights through a camera lens.
If you find yourself in San Antonio and you’re looking for an opportunity to learn more about the city or just searching for a peaceful way to see the River Walk, I would highly recommend finding the nearest spot to climb aboard a Rio San Antonio Cruise barge.
Tweeter? Twitter? Whatever, I got it
I’ve been Twignorant. I never understood the appeal of posting 140 characters of random thoughts or events in ones day for “followers” to read and I DEFINITELY didn’t care what Ashton Kutcher was doing for lunch or how he felt about the economy. Although I still don’t care how Ashton Kutcher feels about the economy, since this past Monday, thanks to a little encouragement from the #AFPACW (see what I did there!) and my social media savvy colleagues, I Tweet.
It seems like every individual, company, organization or cause Tweets. Why does the AP Stylebook need a Twitter account? Because they can, and people will follow. A platform for quick information, Twitter as a medium has generated my interest in new topics and enlightened my outlook on old topics.
The idea that 140 characters attract people is fascinating. I know that a single Tweet once in awhile isn’t an effective way to communicate with an audience, but it’s a start. If you Tweet it, they will come. The public wants to be informed and to hold their attention, need stimulation from many places.
So I appreciate Twitter. I appreciate that I know Lady Gaga is performing in India for the first time. I appreciate Aziz Ansari’s Tweet reminding me that a new episode of Parks and Recreation was on. And I appreciate that Twitter is, in my opinion, the tip of the iceberg for communicating and can used to launch something much bigger.
Where there's one, there's many
Ants. that's the only thing I can compare people to at this work shop to. when all 90 or however many of us were unleashed on the Riverwalk to capture work and play in San Antonio, you never only saw just one person with a camera.
even when you think your alone, and you see a mariachi band strumming away in some unique light from a bar, as soon as you click the shutter closed on the first shot, the noise is echoed somewhere behind you from no less than three other photographers trying to capture the same moment.
An even worse scenario is when you see that great shot, check your back to see if your idea will be copied in less than five seconds, and see noone. So you line your shot up, and as you reach for that little button on the front of a camera, another photographer steps in behind your subject and completely ruins your shot.
I understand shadowing an experienced photographer is a great way for new people to learn, but for me its just off-putting and demotivating.
That's not to say I am experienced, I just hate being copied, regardless if my photo isn't going to come out right, which it usually doesn't. Imitation is the greatest form of flattery, or so the ever-present they say.
Needless to say I have been very flattered all week. I just hope everyone had better luck capturing the things I tried shooting.
even when you think your alone, and you see a mariachi band strumming away in some unique light from a bar, as soon as you click the shutter closed on the first shot, the noise is echoed somewhere behind you from no less than three other photographers trying to capture the same moment.
An even worse scenario is when you see that great shot, check your back to see if your idea will be copied in less than five seconds, and see noone. So you line your shot up, and as you reach for that little button on the front of a camera, another photographer steps in behind your subject and completely ruins your shot.
I understand shadowing an experienced photographer is a great way for new people to learn, but for me its just off-putting and demotivating.
That's not to say I am experienced, I just hate being copied, regardless if my photo isn't going to come out right, which it usually doesn't. Imitation is the greatest form of flattery, or so the ever-present they say.
Needless to say I have been very flattered all week. I just hope everyone had better luck capturing the things I tried shooting.
The Alamo
So I take a trip to the Alamo to get away from the same old River Walk that I have seen everyday since being here. While there I just happened to be at the right place as General Gary L. North, Pacific Air Forces Commander, showed up with a bus full of foreign dignitaries. This was an exciting thing for me, as the Commander and dignitaries were being followed and watched by the Secret Service. I have never seen the Secret Service before so it led to an exciting event for myself. I attempted to speak with the secret service to possibly turn the event into a story, but I was met with blank answers and a lot of "something like that" answers.
Not My Cup of Tea
On paper, the city of San Antonio sounds like a great place to be. Warm temperatures, proud history, exciting nightlife. An inviting military community with a wide variety of things to do. However, as a Pennsylvania native, this town offers little satisfaction. I need all four seasons: a snowy Winter, warm Spring, sunny Summer and chilly Autumn. The amount of sand and lack of color in the greater San Antonio region appears dull to the eye of someone spoiled by tall forests and windy rivers.
Don't get me wrong. I am in no way, shape or form complaining about my current location. I am more than grateful for the opportunity to benefit from this training. And I have, in many ways.
Surrounded by this wealth of experience and knowledge, I've also gained an immense amount of pride this week. I've always been proud of my job, but this week has kicked that pride up to the next level. I really do have the best job in the Air Force.
Long story short- I loved the workshop, the camaraderie and the experience. But loved San Antonio? Not so much.
Is that a camera around your neck or are you just happy to see me?
Carrying two Nikon D3s around my neck, I receive attention I would not normally get. My smile isn't too charming, but apparently my cameras are. With that, there are a number of people who I would rather not talk to. I'll take bamboo sticks shoved under my fingernail instead. Yes, I'm that passionate.
Here are three...
The hobo. It must be that my cameras scream the message I like to just throw money away. They assume I'm lost as a tourist, so they ask if I need directions. I know they know these streets better than a child in his hometown, but no. I'm a photographer. A professional loiterer. I like to be lost. Next, they pour a story about how they are an American war vet. While 1/3 of our homeless are veterans, I don't carry cash. You are barking up the wrong tree. No squirrels here. Finally, you drop the question... "Would you be able to spare a few bucks to an old vet?"
That... was 5 minutes of my photography life waisted, and you made me miss a child fall in the river. Yes, I am bitter. Yes, that really happened. Now I have to kick a child in the river instead.
The zombie. As a general rule, if you look like this...
Don't comment on my camera and don't talk to me. Please. I don't need a reason. I don't like zombies, and zombies don't talk. They moan. But, please, don't do that to me either.
Middle aged creep.
"That's a reeeally big camera you've got there."
Spare me.
I normally get this from middle aged men with no concept of personal space and carry a predator like tone in their voice. They often wear a Hawaiian shirt and shorts that end just above the knee cap. I cannot help but to question their capabilities of being an integral part of society.
I don't appreciate your mustaches, I don't appreciate your chest hair, and more than anything, I don't appreciate you thinking it is acceptable to rest your hand on my shoulder while you creep me out.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Why I love El Tropiko
The best restaurant hands-down in Texas is El Tropiko Mexican Grill in Natalia. Not because of their food, but because of their spelling.Forget DINFOS...if you'd like to practice your editing skills you should take a drive out to Natalia and read El Tropiko's menu.
It's the only place in the world where people can order homemade "chiken" soup, a "port chope plate" or a delicious bean and "chesse" taco. On "Thurdays," students receive 25% off. Not too shabby if you ask me.
They will also cater your next "partie" or any other special "ocation."
Well, this blog could become as lengthy as an academic research paper if I were to sit here and list all the stuff that's misspelled in their restaurant, menu and website.
So instead I encourage you to check it out for yourself: http://eltropikomexgrill.com.
Oh... I almost forgot they are open "7 day a week" and have "two location to serve you."
Ah-choo!
Tell me if you've ever been here...
Your sick and you've got to sneeze. You feel that little tickle in your nose, but thats it. So you sit there silently staying very still just waiting for it. But nothing! Oh wait, here it comes...Sike! Again, you just sit there, waiting. Your mouth naturally opens ever so slightly and your eyes start to flutter. You might hold your breath to help prompt the sneeze, but nothing. No release. And all your left with is the guy behind you staring at you wondering what your disability is. To that guy that's been sitting behind me at this workshop this week, there is nothing wrong with me. I'm just sick.
Gitchigumi
I've never slept well on airplanes. It may have something to do with sitting up or the fear that my purse is going to walk off or whatever, but it's rare that I actually sleep in transit. However, if I'm really tired, I will hit a semi-out-of-it dream state sometimes. I've been battling a cold and cough for the last week and a half and haven't been sleeping well, so I hit the semi-out-of-it dream state pretty quickly on the flight down to San Antonio from Milwaukee, Wisconsin last Sunday. Sometimes in this state, I'll hear music or visualize images from my past, some meaningful, others, not particularly.
Last Sunday, as I was drifting off on the plane, I heard Gordon Lightfoot's song, The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald, a song he wrote about the 1975 sinking of a freighter in Lake Superior during a winter storm. My family was living in the Village of Superior in 1975 at the time 'Big Fitz' sunk, losing all crew. Therefore, Lightfoot's song has always had a special, although morbid, meaning for my family and the Superior community. I hadn't heard the song on the radio in some time, possibly years, as I usually only listen to a station that plays 'oldies' when I drive up to northern Wisconsin to visit my parents. The song always makes me sad. Not only is the story true and tragic, but Lightfoot's song was written in Dorian mode, a medieval tonal pattern, which I find unnerving. It's also a song about unpredictability, loss and death.
I live in the Village of Whitefish Bay, Wisconsin these days, a community just north of Milwaukee, on Lake Michigan. Lightfoot also mentions Whitefish Bay in his song about the SS Edmund Fitzgerald.
Edmund Fitzgerald, for whom the ship was named, was born in Milwaukee in 1895 to an immigrant Irish shipbuilding family. When I went digging for a biography on him, I read that he had many reservations about a ship being named after him while he was still alive. However, his wife was adamant as he headed the insurance company that owned the ship.
I have no idea why Lightfoot's song came to mind on Sunday, but since then, the Great Lakes shipping industry has been on my mind. I've just spent a lot of time in the past, mentally, this week, and I needed something to bring my thinking back to the present and the future.
I got that something this afternoon.
Wisconsin Senator Herb Kohl distributed an email about his successful negotiation for ship construction contracts with Congress and the U.S. Navy to build five LCS, or Littoral Combat Ships, at Marinette Marine, a northern Wisconsin shipbuilding company. Senator Kohl laid the keel of the first ship, the USS Milwaukee, during a ceremony earlier today. I got a lump in my throat when I read the email as it signifies a commitment to a brighter economic future and to progress, despite past losses. I get pretty emotional about these things some times. That news brought tears to my eyes. It really made my day.
So, this week has been bittersweet. Lake Superior, or 'Gitchigumi' as the Ojibwe call it, will always have a special place in my heart with its sad history. However, we're still committed to progress, and I look forward to seeing the USS Milwaukee in sea service for the U.S. Navy in the near future.
Work and Play in San Antonio
Week long 2011 Air Force Communicators Workshop in San Antonio. Woo hoo. Party time. Bathing suit, check. Tanning lotion, check…wait, there’s homework. What’s up with that?
But all kidding aside, the past four days have been long, informative and even fun.
I’ve met a lot of new people. Reconnected with a lot of people from previous bases and deployment and I’ve still gotten to enjoy San Antonio.
On day two of the workshop we were given our photo assignment. Work and play in San Antonio. And no one can cover the same thing. Hello, we have a hotel on the River Walk. Where is everyone gonna go? To the main tourist section of the River Walk most likely, although I know that others did branch out more into the city.
Me, I decided to head to the North part of the River Walk where the Lock & Damn is. I spent several days shooting the Rio Taxi going through the lock from up above and from inside the boat. I went North and South. At first I shot more of the lock and boats rather than the people. After feedback sessions I started to focus more on the people working and riding the boats. Today I got lucky, I was taking pictures of a bird (I think it was an egret) on the gate when a boat came through. I captured the tourists as they captured the bird.
The week is almost over. I’ve learned new things about PA and some better and/or different ways to do things for photo. All things considered, we could have shot each other taking photos for the photo assignment because in the end, this week has been work and play for us in San Antonio.
But all kidding aside, the past four days have been long, informative and even fun.
I’ve met a lot of new people. Reconnected with a lot of people from previous bases and deployment and I’ve still gotten to enjoy San Antonio.
On day two of the workshop we were given our photo assignment. Work and play in San Antonio. And no one can cover the same thing. Hello, we have a hotel on the River Walk. Where is everyone gonna go? To the main tourist section of the River Walk most likely, although I know that others did branch out more into the city.
Me, I decided to head to the North part of the River Walk where the Lock & Damn is. I spent several days shooting the Rio Taxi going through the lock from up above and from inside the boat. I went North and South. At first I shot more of the lock and boats rather than the people. After feedback sessions I started to focus more on the people working and riding the boats. Today I got lucky, I was taking pictures of a bird (I think it was an egret) on the gate when a boat came through. I captured the tourists as they captured the bird.
The week is almost over. I’ve learned new things about PA and some better and/or different ways to do things for photo. All things considered, we could have shot each other taking photos for the photo assignment because in the end, this week has been work and play for us in San Antonio.
Remember to publish your posts!
It's been great seeing the work you've done this week, and there have been some great blogs to read this evening. Having looked at the admin page, I see there are still many blogs that have not been published.
Please make sure you don't just save a draft but actually click publish once you are finished writing and adding any graphic elements you will use.
Thanks for taking the time to participate in this writing task and share some of your insights with others!
Please make sure you don't just save a draft but actually click publish once you are finished writing and adding any graphic elements you will use.
Thanks for taking the time to participate in this writing task and share some of your insights with others!
New Mexican cuisine vs Tex Mex
Red or Green? For many New Mexican residents this question creates an emotional response. My initial reaction is excitement as this means I'm going to get authentic New Mexican cuisine. I never appreciated the flavors I grew up with until it was no longer readily available. This may seem as if I'm a chile snob, but disappointment often occurs when dining at common Tex-Mex restaurants here in San Antonio. Don't get me wrong, the food is good, but a poor substitute for what I expect.what was
The curser blinks in the top left hand corner of the screen at the same rhythm a yellow caution light above a dark desolate street would.
Thoughts cross the mind with no urgency, as if weathered grocery bags tumbling in the night’s wind hoping to leave the darkness and come to rest under that blinking light.
As weathered ideas wait to be acknowledged, like that lone bag in the barren street, the fingers wait for their command to construct passionate personable works of truth and soul.
That is the purpose of blogs, yes? They are the open diaries in the realms of the cyber world for everyone to read and critique.
Determined to attempt the skill of blogging, this alleged writer searches the depths of the soul hoping to find emotional turmoil, that ‘good stuff’ that readers would love to get their eyes on.
This proves difficult.
Feelings are meant to be suppressed and unacknowledged, not dug up and marketed for the world to interpret and judge, at least not in my first blog.
In the midst of digging up stories of my past that will hopefully entertain an immortal audience in cyberspace, I’ve come to make some realizations about how things quickly leave 'what is' to become 'what was.'
These ‘what was’ memories are the moments that built character and strength and occassionally questioned my very existence. These moments often tend to be those caution lights, those beacons directing us through the darkness. They tell us to slow down and pay attention to the signs, or risk the chance of an accident.
As I pull the past out of the darkness and into the light of the present, I compare the ‘what was’ to the ‘what is.’ It is apparent the past has left its scars. However, scars remind us what we’ve endured and teach us to learn from our mistakes. This knowledge gives us all another shot to reach what we seek, even if at the time we do not know.
Hopefully by writing this series of analyzations of my 'what was' moments I will be able to educate myself for the 'what will be' and perhaps allow for you to learn something as well. If not, at least provide you with entertainment.
When in doubt, puppies!
I've been enjoying the conference and learning a lot of amazing info to take back to my shop; however, I'm struggling with this blog posting assignment. If I had more time, I could do the Julia and Julia thing, but since I don't and I can't be domestic to save my life, let's consider that a bonus. I did want to take the time to talk about what I miss the most while on TDY....Homeless Puppy Walking Day!
Every Wednesday afternoon, I head to Pet Welfare (a no-kill, all-volunteer shelter on Eglin Air Force) and walk the dogs . It is a good form of exercise and very cheap therapy. No matter how bad of a day you have, you can't beat 20 dogs that live to see you. This week two of our long time members went home---Daisy, whose owner returned from a deployment, and Laredo, a sweet guy who was in the shelter for over a year. I'm sad I didn't get to say goodbye to them this week, but I'm happy knowing they have a "pawsome furever" home and space is available to help other dogs in need of care.
Love, peace and chicken grease, Ashley M. Wright
PS for more info, www.petwelfare.net.
Every Wednesday afternoon, I head to Pet Welfare (a no-kill, all-volunteer shelter on Eglin Air Force) and walk the dogs . It is a good form of exercise and very cheap therapy. No matter how bad of a day you have, you can't beat 20 dogs that live to see you. This week two of our long time members went home---Daisy, whose owner returned from a deployment, and Laredo, a sweet guy who was in the shelter for over a year. I'm sad I didn't get to say goodbye to them this week, but I'm happy knowing they have a "pawsome furever" home and space is available to help other dogs in need of care.
Love, peace and chicken grease, Ashley M. Wright
PS for more info, www.petwelfare.net.
Did someone say Margarita?
San Antonio is rich in culture and the San Antonio river walk abounds with amazing restaurants that will feed your soul as well as your stomach. Though many may offer a different fare, a common trend is the ability to order a pretty amazing Margarita.
The touristy part of San Antonio allows visitors the ability to either walk or take a riverboat along the five-mile natural waterway. Stopping for a margarita could be a great way to sit down and take a minute to rest.
With a dash of triple sec, lime juice and a healthy serving of tequila the drink is served. The rim of the glass narrows at the base giving way to the stem just long enough for a good solid grip.
The salt sticks to the rim adding flavor and an appealing look to the glass.
It’s go time!
As the tangy drink hits the lips it both quenches and creates thirst as if begging you to come back for more.
A drink among strangers can be a great way to make new friends, or at the very least create a moment where life does not have to be all that important or stressful.
Viva la Margarita!
Becoming the person you’re supposed to be
Most people suggest that love at first sight is just a
cliché, but the moment we find our soul mate, it changes our values, goals and
aspiration. Was it my eventual wife Michelle, or was it three little girls
named Jenna, Erica and Lindsey, which made me open my eyes?
Because for more than 29 years, I wanted nothing more than a
life of solitude, which allowed me to follow my own values, goals and aspirations,
without a vision. Until one night, when I met a single mother of three precious
angles, who was working toward supporting a family alone, not allowing fear or society
to bog her down.
Watching this matriarch beat the odds and wanting nothing
more than to provide for her young family. It made me sit back in awe. How driven
can someone become when life throws them curve balls. This reality T.V. moment made
me the person I was always meant to be a father, a husband, a confidant
I once heard someone say, “God didn’t have a sense of humor,”
but I must say that person was a liar. During my first month in Iraq in 2009, I
discovered my wife was pregnant with our fourth child. Once the whirl wind of
emotion and shock subsided I couldn’t be more proud. I was
searching the internet for toys for my son? Ethan. Knowing that if you believe
in something hard enough it’s bound to become a reality? WRONGGGG, girl number
four Camille Alizabeth Chavana would be born only a few months after I returned
home.
The story behind this blog isn’t to inform anyone about my
life, but merely suggest to those reading this be prepared for those unseen
moments. Somewhat like peering through the lens of a camera, as you’ve prepared
for this shot after countless hours of class time already feeling the jealous
of your peers. You’ve anticipated this moment all day, preparing, asking
questions and the moment arrives as the
sunset glides over the horizon, basking it raises through a sea of skyscraper
windows, streams of light glistening, preparing to capture this moment for
eternity, to only discover you’re battery is dead. Always have a vision that
allows you to conquer your goals, aspirations and maintain your visions of
grandeur, but remain vigilant, because you never know when a moment in time
will provide you with a reality check.
cliché, but the moment we find our soul mate, it changes our values, goals and
aspiration. Was it my eventual wife Michelle, or was it three little girls
named Jenna, Erica and Lindsey, which made me open my eyes?
Because for more than 29 years, I wanted nothing more than a
life of solitude, which allowed me to follow my own values, goals and aspirations,
without a vision. Until one night, when I met a single mother of three precious
angles, who was working toward supporting a family alone, not allowing fear or society
to bog her down.
Watching this matriarch beat the odds and wanting nothing
more than to provide for her young family. It made me sit back in awe. How driven
can someone become when life throws them curve balls. This reality T.V. moment made
me the person I was always meant to be a father, a husband, a confidant
I once heard someone say, “God didn’t have a sense of humor,”
but I must say that person was a liar. During my first month in Iraq in 2009, I
discovered my wife was pregnant with our fourth child. Once the whirl wind of
emotion and shock subsided I couldn’t be more proud. I was
searching the internet for toys for my son? Ethan. Knowing that if you believe
in something hard enough it’s bound to become a reality? WRONGGGG, girl number
four Camille Alizabeth Chavana would be born only a few months after I returned
home.
The story behind this blog isn’t to inform anyone about my
life, but merely suggest to those reading this be prepared for those unseen
moments. Somewhat like peering through the lens of a camera, as you’ve prepared
for this shot after countless hours of class time already feeling the jealous
of your peers. You’ve anticipated this moment all day, preparing, asking
questions and the moment arrives as the
sunset glides over the horizon, basking it raises through a sea of skyscraper
windows, streams of light glistening, preparing to capture this moment for
eternity, to only discover you’re battery is dead. Always have a vision that
allows you to conquer your goals, aspirations and maintain your visions of
grandeur, but remain vigilant, because you never know when a moment in time
will provide you with a reality check.
Poppy to the Park
I got a chance to intertwine my personal and professional life today. A chance to strengthen a relationship and a chance to share an afternoon with my daughter. I got to
Take Poppy to the park!
It isn't often that I get to spend a weekday afternoon with Poppy. Usually she is romping and playing at her Nana's house. But today was different, I got to
Take Poppy to the park!
I am told by friends, family and sometimes complete strangers to cherish "them" while they're little because they grow up so fast. She sure is...I think I'll
Take Poppy to the park!
Poppy had a blast at the park. I need to take more time off and just hang with Poppy. I think I will take next Friday off and...
Take Poppy to the park!
My evening with the twilight trumpeter
Sunset in San Antonio found me grudgingly pressing forward in a sort of forced march along the city's snaking River Walk, accompanied only by my reflection in the murky water. The sun had hastened its descent in the recent hours, and now peered through the imposing and jagged man-made skyline. As I pushed on, bathing in the day's final, orange sunbeams, a terse admonition nagged at my inner-ear - it was late, and I had taken no photographs.
Like a paper whisked away by the wind, the photogenic city-folk eluded me throughout the early evening. Where were the dancers, street performers and eccentrics who populated the streets days before, leaving me mesmerized and vaguely regretful for leaving my camera by my bedside?
I found myself the punchline of an internalized tragi-comedy - one, I noticed, scored by an unfamiliar, external soundtrack. I was lifted from my haze by the sound of a lone trumpeter, expounding his musical messages into the atmosphere.
How surreal is the perception of a musician's work, but not his whereabouts; the vague, fleeting knowledge of their existence, confirmed by distant emanations of sound, then challenged by bouts of silence and resurgence of city-noise. The teasing hope that creative forces will overpower the artificial and mechanical, and, however briefly, encapsulate the world in the hypnotic spell which presently captivated me.
Rounding the river's bend, I came upon him. A short, sun-baked man of maybe thirty, with a trumpet that had shed several of patches of lacquer over the years. He sat on a wall of rock, looking out on the water. There was no tip jar at his feet, and no attempts were made to allure strange ears. This was art, not business.
I began snapping frames. First, a long shot to frame his silhouette against the pale lights of the bridge. I moved in to focus in on the minute details overlooked during c
asual observance: hands, leathery from years of cradling his instrument; his expression, almost weary from innumerable hours spent contemplating the music he created, and the world he sent it into.
Finished with my task, I shook his hand and departed. Behind me, the music resumed, as shimmering reflections of light danced atop the river's rippling surface, to the tune of the twilight trumpeter.
- S. Taylor
Like a paper whisked away by the wind, the photogenic city-folk eluded me throughout the early evening. Where were the dancers, street performers and eccentrics who populated the streets days before, leaving me mesmerized and vaguely regretful for leaving my camera by my bedside?
I found myself the punchline of an internalized tragi-comedy - one, I noticed, scored by an unfamiliar, external soundtrack. I was lifted from my haze by the sound of a lone trumpeter, expounding his musical messages into the atmosphere.
How surreal is the perception of a musician's work, but not his whereabouts; the vague, fleeting knowledge of their existence, confirmed by distant emanations of sound, then challenged by bouts of silence and resurgence of city-noise. The teasing hope that creative forces will overpower the artificial and mechanical, and, however briefly, encapsulate the world in the hypnotic spell which presently captivated me.
Rounding the river's bend, I came upon him. A short, sun-baked man of maybe thirty, with a trumpet that had shed several of patches of lacquer over the years. He sat on a wall of rock, looking out on the water. There was no tip jar at his feet, and no attempts were made to allure strange ears. This was art, not business.
I began snapping frames. First, a long shot to frame his silhouette against the pale lights of the bridge. I moved in to focus in on the minute details overlooked during c
asual observance: hands, leathery from years of cradling his instrument; his expression, almost weary from innumerable hours spent contemplating the music he created, and the world he sent it into.Finished with my task, I shook his hand and departed. Behind me, the music resumed, as shimmering reflections of light danced atop the river's rippling surface, to the tune of the twilight trumpeter.
- S. Taylor
It's weird
I have lived in Illinois for about all my life except for the six months it took for basic training and tech school. Even though I tried to get away from it the easiest way I knew how, I still ended up back there. After being in San Antonio for about a week, I can't wait to go back, but it honestly makes me wonder if I will ever get out of there for good, haha.
A sip of bubbly and a taste of the world
With a hint of culture and finesse, on a hill amongst artists, one will find a unique dining experience better suited to the New York highlife than San Antonio’s down to earth fare.
Since 2004, Bin 555 Restaurant and Wine Bar has been serving up a flavor-full world tour in dining, which is as much an art as the workshops surrounding it.
Having discovered the location by chance along West Bitters Road in Artisan’s Alley, I found myself being treated as a long returning friend rather than a mere customer.
With an extensive list of wines to tempt my taste buds and food offerings from the Mediterranean and more, Bin 555 was certainly not my idea of traditional dining out.
From this fun and laid-back hangout I was able to sample a bit of the world’s many flavors without having to wait in security lines or undergo a full body cavity search.
Bin 555 is a culinary blessing and thank God for small blessings.
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