Better late than never, I always say. I would like to say I was impacted by something to write about when this week's PhotoFriday competition was announced, but everything escaped me.
"What is a Masterpeice?"
After a long, long, long day at work, my mother wondered if I would be picking up a box of adult beverages on the way home. I obliged, and when saw the label, I knew I could make this week's challenge
I often find myself able to schedule an amazing amount of activity into my days. I think my mother's blood has something to do with it, as my friend Jeff once said, "she's the human todo list."
Friday night the ÜberMa was in town, and we had a nice putter about and visit. The next morning we scammed down to the farmer's market and showed Grandma around. We also did a tour of downtown including the Devonian Gardens. Afterwards Colin and I proceeded to put our hair on too tight, which made for a really really slow Sunday, despite the drama of not being able to find neither keys nor cell phone for my mother's mother.
In the end Grandma and I went up to Cochrane for the best ice cream on the planet.
Once I was by myself again, I proceeded home to do some DIYing, but managed to break the peice of pexiglass I had in the process. I'm not looking into some other materials to use to complete my current project. After cracking the $60 sheet right through the middle, Wes came over and we took in the Oiler's game. Now, I'm not an Edmonton fan, I don't even like the Oilers. I've planted my flag with the Flames but as it stands our rivals from the north are the only Canadian team still in the running.
Monday was back to the day-to-day, and it has kept me hoppin'. I've got a slew of stuff piling up around me, which, fortunately makes the days go ripping by. Although I am pretty mentally wiped when I get home.
Last night, I had my first BBQ of the year with my shorts and sandles on. I BBQ quite often, but usually in piss poor weather. Yesterday I could sit out on my patio and smell the steaks cooking as I watched my newly blossoming apple tree sway in the breeze. Man do I love this time of year.
Looking ahead I have a week crammed full of meetings, social engagements, and plans to work on certain projects. It's not even mid week and already my weekend is pretty tight.
Scott turned me towards a video that raises an eyebrow. I watched a slighter higher quality version. It falls into the documentary style of Michael Moore, and I hate to compare Dylan like that. Unfortunately there isn't a lot of this kind of thought provoking, investigative movie to even pull up a reference for comparison that anyone would know.
It's good, watch it, take it with a grain of salt.
Today was the last day in my trial of Public Transit. This morning, I awoke, dawned my suit, and grabbed the number three as it headed downtown. As I was reading my book, I became distracted by some music.
Normally, I love all forms of music, and this morning, I found there to be an ambient selection of Pop and Techno/Electronica in the air. Bass was thumping, synthesized accompanyment was flying through the air, and I had no problem making out the lyrics of the song that was being played.
Curiosity overcame me, and I started to try and determine the source of this melody that was peircing the air. It wasn't long until I spotted a head bobbing to the beat, with iPod buds planted firmly in each ear. The disturbing part was that I was seated six rows behind this person, could clearly hear the music, and I didn't have the speakers inches from my brain.
I was brought back to an age when I would hook wattage in the kilo range up to my vehicles. Let me get this strainght: I'm an audiophile. I love feeling base pounding. I needed to buy a detached home so I could watch movies the way I want. The only reason I don't have a pounding stereo in my car right now is that the big boys in the business don't make decks that have controls on the steering wheel. I love my sound.
Pounding bass, chirping tweeters, throaty mid ranges, all make for a perfect audio experience. I guess with age, I've learned that the squeaky highs being drowned out by shaky lows don't make for a good experience.
I'm going to sit through the Fifth Element just to make sure I'm right.
Saturday night we went to JC's place and had ourselves a good feed of Atlantic lobsters. It was a nice get together, which was a lot of fun, and entertaining. At one point in the night, I talked with Paul who is a professional photographer, and we chewed the fat for quite some time about capturing photographs, brands of cameras, photgraphic gear and jobs that he's recently done and what he charged for them.
After the lobster feed yesterday, I was quite content to hang around home and get some stuff done. Around midday I strolled over to the mall to pick up a few things, and somehow a copy of DPP ended up with my groceries.
Interest was peaked by articles on digital ISO, and advanced colour manipulations, but the magazine stirred within me a beast that usually stays dormant until I'm on E-Bay.
Hello, my name is Wes Devauld and I'm addicted to gadgets.
I also really like taking pictures. Actually, I LOVE taking pictures. More than once I've thought of leaving the high paying financial and computer industries to flog a meager existance out of my ability to capture light. I imagine that photography would lose a lot of it's appeal once I had to do it in order to eat.
I also think that if I was a professional photographer I could justify spending more money on photographic gear, which is what I really want. My newly purchased magazine had me checking out more widgets and gromets from stuff dreams are made of.
I think what I need to do is come up with some sort of balance between a full time professional photographer with all the bells and whistles, and an enthusiastic amature who funnels money into a hobby that produces nothing in return. The number questions that arise when contemplating attempting to attain this balance are staggering, but in the end it comes down to one:
Are my pictures good enough to sell?
