elsapo
TPF Noob!
- Joined
- Apr 29, 2005
- Messages
- 85
- Reaction score
- 2
- Location
- Washington, D.C.
- Website
- www.teamwetdog.com
Hello All...
I took a week off from work this month, ostensibly to shoot photos and clean up a lot of little details that had been bothering me lately. In reality, I just needed some time to relax and sort of re-pace myself.
I get the feeling sometimes that I just sort of drop by my apartment to change clothes. Leave early, get back late and spend too much time in an office during those in-between hours. And while that may be an exaggeration (on some days), sometimes I think it's necessary to just pause, rest, take some time and not have to be anywhere.
So I took a week off and didn't plan anything big. Two concerts in Philly and NYC were as far as I planned on going. I got up early a few days to shoot some pictures around dawn. I drank a lot of coffee, ate breakfast for dinner and on my first day back at work celebrated my 29th birthday.
Anyways, this email is a random batch of thoughts from the last week or so
»» No one in my family has a sense of direction. Last Tuesday I woke up at 3 a.m., intending to drive to the nearest beach to shoot some photos at sunrise. I made some coffee, jotted down some directions and expected to be there within an hour. With sunrise around 6 a.m., I should have had plenty of time.
Two hours later, I gave up. I'd been on I-95, 295, 495, MD-4 and a whole bunch of smaller roads. I'd driven in circles, back and forth and generally made zero progress. From the time I finally threw in the towel to the time I made it back to the center of D.C., only about ten minutes passed. I honestly think I was never more than six miles from my apartment.
Not having a sense of direction has its good and bad points. I tend to get lost often (obviously). But at the same time, most times, I just try and not have a destination. It's not possible to get lost, if you're not really going anywhere.
»» It took six days to really lose track of what day it was. I think that's not such a good sign, in some ways: my (our?) daily schedule of a five day work week is so ingrained that even with nowhere to be and nothing to do, I found myself aware of what day it was, and just how much more blissful time off was left. I think it's kind of sad to find yourself counting down the time to things.
Finally, on Friday morning, I woke up and thought it was a Sunday. It just felt like a Sunday, with that lazy, timeless quality.
»» I spent lunch today in a small park near my office, reading 'I Bought Andy Warhol." On the way back, I walked by the fountain where I shot this (http://www.teamwetdog.com/indexes/index23.htm). Now, in August, it's full of water and life and motion. The fountain today bears no resemblance to the picture I took; something about that makes me happy.
Hope things are well with you...
Robert
I took a week off from work this month, ostensibly to shoot photos and clean up a lot of little details that had been bothering me lately. In reality, I just needed some time to relax and sort of re-pace myself.
I get the feeling sometimes that I just sort of drop by my apartment to change clothes. Leave early, get back late and spend too much time in an office during those in-between hours. And while that may be an exaggeration (on some days), sometimes I think it's necessary to just pause, rest, take some time and not have to be anywhere.
So I took a week off and didn't plan anything big. Two concerts in Philly and NYC were as far as I planned on going. I got up early a few days to shoot some pictures around dawn. I drank a lot of coffee, ate breakfast for dinner and on my first day back at work celebrated my 29th birthday.
Anyways, this email is a random batch of thoughts from the last week or so
»» No one in my family has a sense of direction. Last Tuesday I woke up at 3 a.m., intending to drive to the nearest beach to shoot some photos at sunrise. I made some coffee, jotted down some directions and expected to be there within an hour. With sunrise around 6 a.m., I should have had plenty of time.
Two hours later, I gave up. I'd been on I-95, 295, 495, MD-4 and a whole bunch of smaller roads. I'd driven in circles, back and forth and generally made zero progress. From the time I finally threw in the towel to the time I made it back to the center of D.C., only about ten minutes passed. I honestly think I was never more than six miles from my apartment.
Not having a sense of direction has its good and bad points. I tend to get lost often (obviously). But at the same time, most times, I just try and not have a destination. It's not possible to get lost, if you're not really going anywhere.
»» It took six days to really lose track of what day it was. I think that's not such a good sign, in some ways: my (our?) daily schedule of a five day work week is so ingrained that even with nowhere to be and nothing to do, I found myself aware of what day it was, and just how much more blissful time off was left. I think it's kind of sad to find yourself counting down the time to things.
Finally, on Friday morning, I woke up and thought it was a Sunday. It just felt like a Sunday, with that lazy, timeless quality.
»» I spent lunch today in a small park near my office, reading 'I Bought Andy Warhol." On the way back, I walked by the fountain where I shot this (http://www.teamwetdog.com/indexes/index23.htm). Now, in August, it's full of water and life and motion. The fountain today bears no resemblance to the picture I took; something about that makes me happy.
Hope things are well with you...
Robert