I'm Going To Go Bald

Today has been somewhat of an emotional roller coast. I know what I’m about to share will not make sense to everyone, but I feel the need to offload, just for offloading sake.

Photoshop, Bridge, Camera Raw and Aperture, this is what and who I’ve been at logger heads with most of today. For those who may not be aware, these are all programs used for rating, filing and post-process editing of photographs and they are driving me absolutely insane. Depending on who you speak to, everyone has a different opinion on what program they use and why they feel it is far superior to the other and since I am not a technical whizz, not by a long shot, I have been soliciting the help and advice of many people in this matter in an effort to find the simplest most user friendly program out there, which may be the main contributing factor in my complete and utter confusion, not to mention frustration. 

Today alone, trying to get these damn programs to do the simplest thing has taken me to the lowest of the emotional lows, complete with defeatist “why me” tears (no joke, there were actual tears), only to later, with the patients and calming abilities of a Husband, be lifted to an emotional high when it appears that I have in fact made some actual progress. It’s been rough to say the least and the whole experience has left me worn out and overwhelmed. 

I know I just need more practice. I need to narrow my focus and choose one program. One program that I will use for my post processing. That I will refuse to let intimidate me. That I will eventually master and no longer suffer racing heart rates and borderline anxiety attacks at the mere idea of having to upload and begin my apres shoot workflow. Lord let that day be soon, cos my growing locks may not be able to hold on under the constant rapid fire stress levels.

Lil'Vignirsson

I'm slightly late with this announcement, only by a week or so, but world, its time you knew that SILJA HAD HER BABY, WaaaaHoooooooo.

Yes, late last week a very big (sorry girl, but lets face it, you were) and overdue Silja finally had her little baby boy. And yes of course, he is completely adorable. How could he not be with a Scandinavian mother, of the blond locks kind and a father that looks like Daniel Craig, of the new James Bond kind.

Baby does not yet have a name. In Iceland things are done a little different. Both Silja and Vignir will have a ceremony soon and it's at this ceremony that the baby's name is revealed to the world. So until then, he will be known affectionately as Lil'Vignirsson, Icelandic for "Little Vignir's son", cute right?

Congratulations Silja and Vignir, he's just perfect.

P.S This photo was NOT taken by yours truly, I wish it was cos it's killer. This is the work of baby daddy, Vignir, who is an amazing photographer and has been the person I annoy most with my photo related questions. "Love it Vignir, did you strobe light baby or natural light. I know, more questions, sorry?"

Just A Big Softy

It’s official, I’m really just a big softy. Yes, the side I normally present to the world is hard, ridged and stubborn but if you hang around long enough, you may catch a glimpse of a more vulnerable, softer Shinks. True its rare, but it has been known to happen. I even cry at  movies, the emotional ones of course, not just any random comedy. And one particular commercial on TV, tears me up EVERY time. Its the animal rescue one, with the sad Sarah McLoughlan music playing to the footage of various little pooches and kitty’s who have been rescued from abusive situations. God, that commercial just makes me want to bawl for hours. If you haven’t seen it, look out, its pretty tough going.

But this past weekend my softer side instinctively rose to the surface when after a run through the trails of a nearby forest, I noticed a dog wandering lost and alone and moving at a hurried pace towards a very busy road. A quick look around and I realized nobody was with this dog. The Poochie is lost, alone and appears to have no idea that she is heading into the path of some very aggressive oncoming traffic. In an effort to stop this potential disaster, I take off sprinting after the dog. I’m watching the dog trying to judge her distance to the road, at the same time, I’m trying to judge my distance from the dog and at the speed I’m running, will I get to her before she gets to the road? My brain along with my legs are racing with calculations of distance and pace. The dog is close to the road. I am close to the dog. She gets closer, I get closer. She pauses for a spit second behind a parked car and that's all I need.  A split second pause was enough for me to not only reach her, but also to get a hold of her collar. Phew, such a relief. But now what? My goal was to stop the dog wandering out onto the street, beyond that I had no plan. 

First thing I do, get the dog some water. The second is to contact the Park Ranger and inform him of the situation. Then we wait. Poochie and I sit for about an hour. She’s all stressed, and I’m trying to reassure her with constant pats and rubs that everything will be ok, although I have no idea if that’s true. All I know is I can’t leave her here, it’s getting dark and coyotes are prevalent in these parts at night. Then I’m thinking, I can’t let her go with the Park Ranger either, they’ll just give her to some animal shelter and if nobody claims her, then bad things will happen. Now I’m stressing. I whip out my phone and open up a dialog with Husband, basically I’m trying to give him the heads up that our little animal family, is about to get a little bit bigger. Fintan (my Kitty) won’t be pleased, not by a long shot, but I’m sure with time, they’ll both become best friends. 

Poochie and I are starting to get pretty comfortable around each other when all of a sudden I notice her ears pop up, she’s on her feet, staring at a man walking along the trail. Good sign. Park Ranger arrives and begins to ask me some questions, but I point to the man walking towards us and explain that we may have found the owner, at least Poochie believes she has. Turns out the man is a friend of the owner and has been out helping her search for the dog. I’m so relieved. Relieved the dog was not struck by a car. Relieved she is happy and going back to her own home and relieved that I now don’t have to worry about Fintan’s reaction to a new step-sister. Everything has worked out. Happy endings all round, not least for this little fella here.

Filter? What Filter

Apparently I have no filter. As in, I will say and respond verbally, to any given situation without thinking, not for one second. This news was broken to me by one of my good friends at work, Melissa.

Melissa and I have been working closely now for about 7 months and recently she plucked up the courage to tell me that she sometimes lives in fear of the next word or sentence that may fall out of my mouth. Seemingly my blunt honestly, colorful language, dramatic twists and creative vocabulary is something she has never been hit head on with before.

I have to say, up to this point it's never really been an issue. At this stage in my life my good friends have been my good friends for a very, very long time and my family, well they know me even longer so I guess everyone has become accustom to my randomness of thought and huge inability to filter any of those thoughts before the exit my mouth. But now my attention has been drawn to it and an awareness exists where once there was none. So now I worry.

I worry that I’ve said the wrong thing. (“Hey, I saw you walk right into that glass door, Oh my God, how embarrassing for you”. “Kim you seem mentally unstable today, seriously, I’m afraid to turn my back you, what’s going on??” )

I worry that I may have shared too much. (“Girl, can you smell me from over there, cos I think I forgot to put deodorant on today?” )

I worry that I may unintentionally be offending. (“God, the humidity does awful things to your hair, doesn’t it?” )

Wow, as I write I can see Melissa’s point. I do appear to be somewhat challenged in the filter department. Oops. What can I say in my defense, only that its a reflex. If I had to put it in scientific terms I would probably say that "Its an unconscious, reflective reaction to any given and almost every situation". But at least I know now. I know and I’ve started to spot the circumstances where a filter was desperately needed. Unfortunately its still happening after the fact. But baby steps, baby steps, there is alot of relearning to happen here.

P.S. Melissa has begun to use her body language as a way of red-flagging me to the fact that I maybe in the throws of a desperately needed filter situation.

E.g. Face falling into hands while moving head slowly from side to side = I can't believe you just said that.

Shocked facial expression and wide eyes, alla deer in head-lights = I can't believe you just said that.

Melissa saying "I can't believe you just said that" = I can't believe you just said that.

The Power of Words

I’ve been racing around all day today, trying to utilize the weekend to tackle all the things a crazy work week does not allow me to do. Endless chores, endless errands. Squeezing in a work out, tapping into my multi-tasking abilities by catching up with friends over dinner, thus allowing me to fulfill my basic need for food along with my basic need for sharing and obtaining information, otherwise know as, gossip. 

My “To-Do” list feels endless and I operate at high speed from the second I get up till its time to go to bed. I get frustrated with anyone who tries to stand in the way of my schedule, for example, a telemarketer calling just as I’m running out the door, having to turn the car around for a forgotten wallet, too many red lights on my way to the bank. All of it elevates my stress levels and intensifies the pressure and expectation that I won’t get it all done. 

Today, however something stopped me in my tracks. A gesture that was so simple, so unexpected, but unbelievably thoughtful and heartfelt. It was a card. A card that almost got lost amongst the junk mail. Addressed to me. Confused I began to open it as I try to think what it could possibly be. Birthday is the only thing that comes to mind, but mine is months away. So I go ahead a pull it out. “Thank You” is what the front of the card is telling me. I’m still confused. Have I really done something nice for someone lately?? Not that I’m not capable of nice, of course I am, but at this moment I’m struggling to recall, so I just go ahead and read.

Once read I’m lost for words. The card is from Nancy. Nancy, for those of you who may not remember is Paula’s mom and Paula is the stunner I photographed a few weeks ago for Prom. They loved their photos and they wanted to let me know.

“Nancy and Paula, I am beyond excited that you loved your photos and for you to take the time to put pen to card and explain this to me, wow, all I can say is “it was my absolute pleasure and you are so welcome”. Your thoughtful card stopped me dead in the middle of a whirlwind of chores and made me smile, so for that reason alone, I placed it front and centre on our book self.”

See, I wasn't kidding.

Birthday Wishes

Time and energy has been in short supply for me this week. But I couldn't let this day go past without digging deep into my reserves to wish one of my best friends, next to my Mother,  a very Happy, Wonderful and Amazing Birthday.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAD."

Hope you had a great day and I'll see you in a few weeks. XO

Stripper $$1's

Many of us out there have change jars. You know, a big empty vessel of some sort where you can throw all you loose pennies and quarters? Well, I too have a change jar. It's an over sized, jumbo-tronic bottle, that use to be the proud holder of “Seagram’s. 100% American Style Whiskey”. Now before you start getting all judgmental and saying that that’s just typical of and Irish person to have a ridiculously animated size bottle of whiskey laying around her home, I would urge you to “STOP”. Stop right there people, cos this is NOT mine. No mams. This is Husband’s. I know, who’d a thunk it? He’s had the bottle forever. Long before I ever showed up and he swears he found it at an antique store somewhere. Sure ya did sweetie.

Anyway, for about a year now both Husband and I have been off-loading all our loose change into the whiskey jar. Its been accumulating steadily, turning our largely disrespected and forgotten change into totals of 200-300 dolla. Not bad. But about 4 months ago I had another idea. What if I did the same with my Dolla’bills? What if every time I had a dollar or 2 or 3, I put those aside too, just in a box somewhere? Let them accumulate in the same manner and once the box was to capacity, get a total. So I did. I spent the last few months not only unloading my change but also unloading all of my $1 bills.

What was the driving force behind this sudden obsession with hording funds? Was it the current state of our economy?? Was it fear that banks were on the verge of folding? That life’s necessities were about to reach black-market style prices and the only thing capable of keeping us afloat was our trusted whiskey bottle full of coins and our box full of dollars?? Hell no. No, the reason was my love affair with Mac and my desire to have one. Mac, as in the computer. For a long time now I’ve been hungry to make the switch from PC to Mac, but there was always something more pressing my money needed to be directed towards, so Mac and I had to wait, and wait, and wait some more. But finally the waiting was done. The whiskey jar and the box had come to fruition and produced not quite the total needed to make the purchase, but enough so that the remainder could be met with minimum damage to our current financial quality of life. Yippe. I know the technique is very child and piggybank’ish, but whatever, goal achieved, Mac purchased.

I will mention that the trip to the bank to cash in not just my coins, but my piles of $1 bills was nothing short of majorly embarrassing. I know the bank teller lady was thinking “stripper” as soon as I flashed my cash and I knew nothing I could say would change her opinion. So I was ready. Ready to own it, “Heellll yeah I can shake what my momma gave me and live off it, don’t hate.... shoot. You don’t even know the damage I can do to a pole”. Lucky for her she remained tight lipped about the situation, so my inner Bon Qui Qui was disarmed.

Anyway, the point is, now I have my Mac. And I got it as a result of my patient commitment to saving. At least that’s the story I’m sticking with ; )

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