And Skip Tomorrow
A photography project came up today at work and I realize I'm happily thinking of the various ways we might shoot it. Photographs for a set of web training courses requiring people in "company" situations: A woman customer rep (in South America) sitting at a computer, a male customer rep (in India) talking with a client, another woman customer rep dealing with a situation in Los Angeles. Sound boring? Nah, sounds great! Who to ask to model, how they should be dressed, where to put them, how to light the scene. Things that will let me learn more about the craft. Things that will allow me to spend money on toys: A set of portable studio lights, maybe another lens. Never argue with a viable excuse to spend money for photo equipment.
Seems a little strange, even to me: One day I'm upset about the job and the life and the cost of peanuts and the next day I'm enthused over a picture shooting project, the prospects life brings and watching my diet, who cares about peanuts? Chemicals, probably. Their balance. Sugar. Too much in the morning (waffles with syrup) and you're stumbling down the sidewalk like a vampire chicken, "the sky is falling, the sky is falling!". The next morning - no waffles, no syrup - and life is great. (No, I don't believe it either. And what's with the vampire chicken? Makes no sense.)
Odd that I consider Monday, at least Monday evening, a decent day in the week if only because I can look forward to a nine o'clock episode of Ms. McBeal and company. Am I really all that enthusiastic about Ally McBeal? Probably. I went to see Hollywood Ending, the new Woody Allen movie over the weekend, and I have to agree the significant others in his films are a bit youngish for a guy his age. I've read a review or two where they'd carped on the subject and yeah, I think they're right. Of course, this is Woody Allen, the guy who took up with his adopted daughter. I made it half way. This is not to say it's a bad film, you understand, nice dialogue, but I realize I've lost my enthusiasm for neurotic big city humor.
I was sitting there, and, as I said, the movie was going OK, when I realized it might be nicer to be outside in the sun walking toward the lake. As I get older I take my "it might be nicer" urges more seriously. Life is short. Don't waste it on a dark theater watching Woody Allen if you'd rather be out walking in the sun. Or watching Ally McBeal. Would I have walked out on McBeal? Might have. If they even hinted at running one of those fucking commercials they so heavily lard it up with. Mumble.
I set out this Monday evening scanning pictures and thinking I probably won't finish the writing until tomorrow, so lets date it tomorrow and wadda ya know, it's done and I'm done and it's early, so let's date it today and skip tomorrow.
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