who da Photoshop queen? who? who?

Teaneck T goes wild with Photoshop. Rendering done 7/29/07. Original photo of this wall at Sainte-Chapelle (Paris) at taken 10/16/06.


My eternal gratitude to the greatest Photoshop guru in America is still going strong. Norman, wherever you are, I hope I am still your teacher's pet.

For you Photoshop colleagues out there, making a photo adjustment like this entails the following: Make a dupe layer, then go to filter --> blur --> smart blur..... and then do 20 other complicated things, including making a sacrificial offering to the gods. Or you can just take the way awesome Photoshop class at Cooper Union with Norman. He. Kicks. Ass.

The original (unrendered) photo is below.

poll era begins

London. The top of some famous retail store near Picaddily Circus. Photo taken 6/14/07.


I loooooove survey questions. And since I can do whatever the hell I want in my corner of blogosphere, I would like to list some of my top picks on certain topics, and I would love to hear your responses of your favorites too. The part where you share your picks is important to me, so please see this as an open door invite. And let me know if there's a topic you want covered.

First up:

Top 5 Nonfiction Books I've Read the Past 5 Years -- and a brief explanation on why

1. Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert = I felt I was reading about my twin sister. Teaneck T as travelling, meditating, feasting white woman. After I read it, I looked at the amount of reviews on Amazon that pelted the author for being so self-absorbed, and I was like, "Holy chihuahua! Mirror, face thyself!" Reason why I haven't jumped out the window yet given this discovery is that one of my favorite people of all time loves this book too and finds it one of the most beautiful book she has ever read.

2. The Four Agreements by Don Miguel Ruiz = I loved this book so much that at one point I announced I would buy it for anyone who personally asked me for a copy.

3. The Modern Library Writer's Workshop by Stephen Koch = when I read this for a CUNY Grad class called Being Prolific, I said, "my goodness, no one has ever told me any of this!" My high school friend Linda, who happened to be my classmate (reunited and it feels so good...) felt the same way.

4. Two-Part Invention: Story of a Marriage by Madeleine L'Engle = her Crosswicks Journal books, which are her musings while living out in the country, are far more beautifully written to me than the fantasy trilogy that brought her fame. This book in particular stands out for its eloquence. And the structure of the book mimics the Bach work (hence the name) -- left hand's notes upholds the right hand's; flashbacks contrast the present; spouse supports the spouse. It's brilliantly done.

5. You Can Heal Your Life by Louise Hay = this book opened up a whole new paradigm for me and forever changed the way I think. It has also oriented me towards other books that kept altering and deepening me.


Top 5 Nonfiction Books I Hope to Read in the Next 5 Years:

1. The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion

2. Wayne Dyer's upcoming book on the Tao

3. Zen Driving by K.T. Berger -- ha ha!

4. The Portable MFA in Creative Writing by the New York Writer's Workshop

5. Spiritual Traveller: New York City by Edward F. Bergman = looking forward to going to every place in this book with camera on hand

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What about you?

the book I'm so grateful for

Holiday window display at Macy's. Photo taken 11/25/06.

I've just finished reading the final Harry Potter book. I must share with you my conviction that this is the most satisfying, most thrilling, most complete book I have ever read in my whole life. It is the pinnacle example of why stories, through books, have created book-lovers -- and truth-seekers -- like me through the ages. I am SO proud of J.K. Rowling for hitting this one out of the ballpark.

I haven't read the NY Times review by Michiko Kakutani yet, and I don't know if I will, but in case you'd like to, I've provided the link referencing it. My sister said that Ms. Kakutani deemed this last HP volume to be worthy of Joseph Campbell's mythos, and when I heard that I was skeptical, perhaps even jeering. Yeah right, my snob self said. Or rather, I would guess it said that, since I can't remember. Either way I definitely doubted such claims.

But now, after having completed reading the book, I definitely agree with this view. And I add that I am so glad that I took my time with it and did not rush through or stay up reading it like many people I know or heard about, because it was I who needed to be alert and rested when I got to the crescendo moments, the points of ultimate truth in the book's final sections. All the myths, and by myths I include the myths of major religions, came together in the book's climax, and when it does it is the reader who must stand up to it as the steady witness.

For those of you still in the midst of this tome, happy reading! This is the first time I've experienced a phenomenon where when I sat on the subway or on the bus there was always someone next to me or 2-3 seats away from me reading the same book. On the bus today I was absorbed in my copy, and when I happened to look up because the bus lurched I saw that the woman next to me was also reading her copy. Two strangers sitting side by side on an express bus, reading the same book. It's quite surreal. I commented to my fellow passenger how strange it was for me to see us reading like that, and she said she read the book already and was on her second go at it.

I don't blame her. I am now going back to book 1 and starting the adventure all over again. I still remember asking for it from my mom along with book 2 exactly 7 years ago for my birthday present. (Note the number 7 here, HP fans.) My mom was like, "You want what? Harry who? Under children's books?! But you're turning 28!" And I was like, "Look, you asked what I wanted for my birthday...."

J.K. Rowling has achieved quite the feat in creating this long, well-sustained symphony of a series. Right now, at least at this moment, I think she really does deserve to be the richest woman in England.

pinpoint even when it's pointless

Self-portrait, 5/16/06. This is standard, quintessential me -- in my study, with jeans and sweats and white socks, surrounded by paper and books and cluttered wires.


So I'm back. The wonderful A-goes-B, who is my co-rescuer in the murky depths of artistic aspirations, pointed out to me that I have not added new entries in this photoblog.

I could only respond with a sigh and a what's-the-point attitude. But really, there is a point. All people who are trying to create anything real and honest, and who make the creative life the centerpoint of their focus, battle everyday with the knowledge that they must stick with it even if, for all practical and social purposes, it appears pointless.

Not that blogging is it for me. It's not like this is what I do, or what I've quit my full-time job for, etc. But this photoblog does reflect an honest part of me, and A-goes-B has given me a sweet nudge and a nod, saying, basically, that this endeavor isn't all that stupid. And that in fact none of it is.

So let me resuscitate Friday Five. Granted, it's not technically Friday yet, but it will be in three hours, so let's just pretend it already is.


Teaneck T's Top 5 Reasons Why She Went Offline:

1. No one reads this blog --> not true, it turns out

2. I've forgotten this blog exists --> not true. That's just defense mechanism talking.

3. I've been unhappy from the sad events that have occurred these past few months --> true

4. I've been happy from the wonderful events that have occurred these past few months --> true

5. I've been addicted to the DVDs of 24's season five --> very true


Teaneck T's Top 5 Reasons Why She's Back Online (for another round):

1. I still have photos I want to post.

2. The idea of coming up with new formats on what to write about using this photoblog interests me.

3. I respect my buddy A-g-B, and if he says I should continue it, I continue it.

4. Photoblogging is waaaaay easier than coming up with a new draft of a fiction or nonfiction piece.

5. Because I can.

...but this IS a photo of me!

OK, I'm making an exception to the photoblog rule just this once, because I really do have to include this entry in the archives. Those of you who know how madly addicted I am to that P&P miniseries produced by A&E will know exactly why I went ape shit when I got my quiz results back.

All props go to Pax (aka the recent birthday girl) for letting me know about this survey.

Take the Quiz here!

Central Park blossoms

Central Park on 5/4/07. Middle photo was outside Belvedere Castle.

holla to my twin brother

Photo taken 4/10/07 at St. Marks Place.


I did agree with this photo two weekends ago when that godforsaken nor'easter flooded our basement, but I've gotten over it. Me and this state with its rich heritage of questionnable governors are pals again.

Hey, speaking of the Garden State, Zach Braff -- director of the awesome movie that goes by that name and is better known to me as My Twin Brother -- has a blog! What a find! You can see it here.

Now why would I in my craziness make such an outlandish claim not just of common ties, but of conjoined blood relation? Answers below.

1. When I first started watching Scrubs earlier this year, which I began with the pilot episode courtesy of a DVD rental (and not with the episodes being aired now which are stale and not funny at all), I swear to Yahweh I was watching myself as his character named J.D. This guy has a very rich inner life, is always running some interior monologue, sees fantasized scenes played out in front of him, and ALWAYS says the wrong thing which ends up upsetting his friends even though he started off trying to be tactful. So I thought, "Hey, the writer of Scrubs (not the actor) sounds a lot like me" but little did I know....

2. ....that Zach Braff as the writer and director of Garden State is also me! The movie deals with isolation and the attempt to find purpose and connection in the face of suburban, contemporary American life. If I were to direct a movie, I would want it to have the atmosphere, the sense of disconnection and wry humor that this movie has.

So. Funny ZB as the character J.D. equals Teaneck T, and now serious ZB is also TT when she's alone and all serious. And then....

3. ...what's with the acoustic folk and heartfelt indie music like Joshua Radin, Zero 7, and Thievery Corporation that are played not just in Scrubs, not just in Garden State, but also in his latest movie called The Last Kiss? What do the three have in common? Mah man Zach, of course! And what are the songs in my iTunes collection well before I even knew this guy existed? The very songs that I heard in his shows and movies. Plus...

4. ... he's got those big facial cheeks. What's the one most prominent facial feature I have? Bingo. I used to be embarrassed about my chipmunk cheeks before, but not anymore thanks to you, twin brother!

5. And my all-time proof: When Lorin was watching one of the 20,000 episodes of Scrubs I have devoted myself to since the pilot episode, he -- not knowing any of my claims, mind you -- actually said, "You know, sweetie, this guy's gestures and expressions remind me of you."

Man alive, if I wasn't married to him already I would have proposed right then and there. He recognized me! Not just that, he identified my kin!

Btw, if you do check out his blog, see if the meandering humor and wordy, senseless asides sound eerily familiar to you. Take out all the mentions of famous Hollywood people like Brad Pitt and P. Diddy and what do you have? A guy who could be living in Teaneck, that's what.

P.S.
Writing this post made me curious where my twin really did come from. My research tonight courtesy of IMDB shows that he hails from.... Maplewood, New Jersey! I done tole ya we're peeps! So what if I'm actually from Staten Island by way of Manila. I am shocked by how much proof there is in my chemical-saturated Jersey pudding.

day of prayer

Along the fence of Marble Collegiate Church on 5th Avenue. Gold ribbons represent prayers for the American soldiers who died in Iraq since the war began in March four years ago. The blue ribbons are for the Iraqi casualties. The green ribbons represent prayers for peace. Photo taken 3/23/06.


The death toll for American soldiers in Iraq is now over 3,200, twenty of which are from the beginning of this month alone (and the month began only seven days ago). The number of Iraqi civilians killed is much higher, estimated to be over 60,000.

On this holy week of Passover and the Triduum, when the energy of prayers throughout the world rises as people come together and pray in groups, may the prayers for peace and for understanding, the prayers of grief and of pain, transform us all.

In case you cannot read the name tags in the above photo, the legible words are:
- "Pfc. Darrien A. DeBlanc -- 20"
- "Sgt. Dave Stensma -- 36"
- "Lance Cpl. Torrey L. Gray -- 19"

my museum contest

Today (3/28/07) at the Guggenheim, while waiting in line.


Without really planning for it, I ended up catching the last day of the El Greco to Picasso: Time, Truth & History exhibit at the Guggenheim museum. My much-adored 71-year-old Photoshop teacher raved about it during class last week, and he strongly recommended that we see it before it ends on March 28. He explained that one of the compelling things about this exhibit was that it was arranged not chronologically but by theme, so you get to see how a 17th century painter like Velazquez treated the subject of children, for example, alongside Picasso’s or Dali’s versions. “Go just to see the hands!” my teacher gushed. “How those Spanish painters handled hands through the centuries is worth the exhibit! Plus you get to saunter down sideways in that museum, so that part is fun.”

So while washing dishes this morning the dismaying thought occurred to me that today might be the 28th. Sure enough it was. And sure enough today really was the last day to see it, so off I went, scruffy and barely prepared.

But man, is Professor Sanders right or is he right. Being there today really was worth it. The woman at the ticketing counter said the exhibit starts at the bottom and you work your way up, but I said screw that, and took the elevator to the top and worked my way down. A group of people, all of them with the look about them of “I’m a native New Yorker and I know what I’m doing” were all in the elevator with me. And when I got off I zoomed down, we’re talking speedy Gonzalez here (get the pun?), just glancing at each painting to get a general gist of it, and I made it down to the landing in 25 minutes. I thought of my friend Pax who has a 1-hour expiration period when it comes to museums; if she exceeds that she turns into a pillar of salt. Pax would have been proud of me.

No, not really. For I then donned one of those headphones the docents were giving out, and then I turned right back around to inch my way up, intending to look at each painting while listening to the audio tour, and hopefully have the time of my life in the process.

The exhibit featured painters ranging from Goya, Velazquez, Dali, Miro, Picasso, Murillo, and this guy I never heard of whose work I really liked named de Zurbaran. To make things even more fun, I spontaneously decided to hold a contest on whose painting is the best per category. So here are my results.

Winners of Teaneck T’s Time, Truth & History Contest: In the category of….

- Monks = “Saint Francis of Assisi in His Tomb” by Francisco de Zubaran

- Bodegones (which come from the word bodega. The subjects here are objects that would ordinarily come from the household pantry, which thus make them still-life paintings, but here the perishable nature or mortality are emphasized) = “Still Life with Fruits and Vegetables” by Juan Cotan. This one was pretty haunting to see in person.

- Vanitas (a type of bodegone that features actual dead animals, like dead rabbits and fish on tables and other stuff that made me cringe) = “Imperial Violets” by Dali (1938)

- The Domestic World = “House of Nazareth” by de Zurbaran (1644)

- Women in Public (yes, there was such a category) = “Girl Seen from Behind” by Dali (1925). This one was quite special to me since I wrote a fictional scene using this piece as a prompt two years ago during one of my freeflow writing sessions.

- Weeping Women (yow!) = “Weeping Woman” by Picasso (1937)

- Virgins and Mothers = none (or rather, nada). Sorry, hombres. Though I liked how in the “Madonna of Port Lligat” by Dali (1949), mother Mary is doing Reiki on baby Jesus.

- Nudes = This one had a clear winner. The very lengthily-titled “Dream Caused by the Flight of a Bee Around a Pomegranate, One Second before Awakening” by Dali (1944). The painting was huge and quite overpowering. I stood there transfixed.

- Childhood = Nada para esto. Those muchachos painted children like they were adults. You could tell they didn’t have respect for children in the 17th century. The audio guide said that children back then were considered more defiled than adults because they were closer to the state of original sin and were more like beasts than grown-ups. Yo! Tell THAT to Kayla!

- Monstrous (royalty and aristocrats in 17th century Spain liked to keep dwarves, lunatics, and deformed folks around for bizarre entertainment. Hey, maybe these are the ancestors of Quentin Tarantino) = “Don Sebastian de Morra” by Velazquez (1643-44). This man’s dignity was so captured by the great artist.

- Knights & Ghosts (bizarre phrasing but it makes sense. The ghost part is really what the Spanish called “fantasma,” which was the self-conscious appearance of the subject versus his actual real-world appearance. Put another way, the subject could have been an asshole but when the artist painted him he came out looking like a saint.) = There were two winners here. “Portrait of Luis Bunuel" by Dali (1924); and “Portrait of a Man” by El Greco (1590-1600)

- Ladies = Another clear winner: “Woman in Blue” by Picasso (1901). This is a huge painting that was hard to look away from. Btw, I didn’t know Picasso did a lot of realist paintings. Goes to show what I know.

- The Fallen (you know, sinners and people who like sex and the like) = ya think I’m gonna select something in this insulting category? Just kidding. I didn’t find any that grabbed me in this section.

- Flyers (“volandisimo” according to the espanols, aka angels) = “Liberation of Saint Peter” by Juan de Valdez Leal (1657-59). See page 10 of the linked PDF file.

- Crucifixions = um, this one was too dolores for me. Though I did like the red at the bottom of Alonso Cano’s "Crucifixion" and the audio guide’s lecture about it.

- Landscapes = “Pass with a Cape” by Goya (1793).


Doesn’t this make you feel you too saw the exhibit after reading this entry? (If you got this far, that is). Hope you appreciated my little summary vis a vis a little contest.

new camera, new (life) format

Taken 2/26/07, during the last snowfall we had which we had thought (ha, ha) was going to be the last one of the season.

This photo is courtesy of my new pet -- aka the SONY cyber-shot DSC-H5. It's the closest I'll probably get to having an SLR. The reason is inane but true. As much as I aspire to hunting with the high-brow amateur-yet-serious photographers out there, I am so myopic that I've a hard time looking through the small viewfinder with one eye shut. The Nikon does have an LCD panel you can shoot from -- as opposed to viewing from an LCD panel only after the shot has been taken, which is what 99.99 percent of SLRs have. But this Nikon is apparently heavy both on your arms and on your wallet, so I'm sticking with this SLR-like SONY puppy that got good reviews from dpreview.

The up side: I can finally take macro shots where the background is blurry but the foreground is clear, like the one above. Plus I get to play with SLR settings like varying ISO ranges and shutter speeds.

The down side: Not having an oh-so-fiiiiine SLR camera. Boo hoo to me, but only a very small one. I always end up fully appreciating what I have.

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Stuff about today (my new format for this p-blog is to have this as the category to fill in):

- Snow/sleet/rain still going on, several inches already accumulated outside.

- both of us now have the very bad cold but hubby forced himself to run the snow blower outside, which I hope didn't make him worse. Ended up also helping our neighbor whose snowblower died.

- our favorite little person, the mighty K, still has pneumonia. But hope is not lost. "Do you want to talk to Auntie?" her mom asked. "No!" the little one answered. She then added in a small voice, "But I'm feeling better now..."

- It's Mama's (my maternal grandma's) birthday today. She passed on in 1988. Mom braved the snow and wind during her lunch hour to go to mass to light candles for her and for Kayla's health. She said that she was slipping and sliding so much that she kept grabbing men's arms whenever she was about to cross the street and asking them if they could escort her across. Good lord. I told her those guys probably felt so good afterwards for helping a little old lady cross the street, which is the classic feel-good thing to do.

- Started a reader's journal in which I'm writing all my reactions to whatever the heck I'm currently reading. I have GOT to find out if I'm genuinely interested in writing literary fiction, in reading literary fiction, or if I only think I do. Or it could also be that what I liked when I was younger (what Wayne Dyer calls the morning of your life) is no longer as interesting to me now (in the afternoon of my life). So far the journal has been so helpful. I start writing on it and end up writing about all kinds of stuff not even related to what I've read. It's the perfect situation of letting my mind open to one thing to get to all sorts of other goodies roaming around in my head. I finally found a new way to have fun doing what I'm doing again.

watering the plant that is 2007

Marais district of Paris. Photo taken 10/20/2006.


Ha ha, me li'l blogger site, I got you where I want you again -- i.e., forgotten; tossed aside; dead as far as the eyes of others are concerned. You can be just like me once more, growing at your own quiet pace. I love creating you when I know no one is looking. And I love that you create me everyday, even when my head is often turned elsewhere, dreaming other dreams.

As time spins another set of days for us I think of all the chances to live this world again. The older I get the more I am aware of myself as a spirit looking out from these eye sockets, the noticer noticing. More than anything I wish to live the days connected, not to something or to someone, not even just to my own core, but as a state of consciousness. The way one is when there are no more thoughts and feelings, and out of that calm and silence one feels oneself as an entire singularity, lacking nothing.

Thank you, Life, for always guiding me. Wherever I turn, I see you calling out my name.

why I do what I do

Lorin and me, hiking in Tuxedo, NY. Photo taken 4/30/06.


"I feel happy to be keeping a journal again. I've missed it, missed naming things as they appear, missed the half-hour when I push all duties aside and savor the experience of being alive in this beautiful place."

- the ever-great May Sarton
in her book At Seventy

carrots, eggs, and coffee

Mercer Street (Greenwich Village, NYC). Photo taken 3/13/06.


Here's a cute story taken from Wayne Dyer's latest book called Inspiration (copyright Wayne Dyer, of course).

Carrots, Eggs, and Coffee

A young woman complained to her mother about the hardships and difficulties in her life. She didn't know how she was going to continue and wanted to give up. The young woman said, "I'm tired of fighting and struggling. It seems that as soon as one problem is solved, a new one appears." In response, her mother took her to the kitchen and filled three pots with water, placing each on the stove over a high flame.

Soon the water came to a boil. In the first pot she placed carrots, in the second she placed eggs, and in the last she placed ground coffee beans. She let them sit and boil, without saying a word. In about 20 minutes, she turned off the burners. The mother then fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. She removed the eggs and placed them in a bowl. Then she ladled the coffee out and placed it in a bowl. Turning to her daughter, she said, "Tell me what you see."

"Carrots, eggs, and coffee," the daughter replied. Her mother brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots. She did and they noted that they were soft. The mother then asked the daughter to take an egg and break it. After peeling off the shell, she observed the hard-boiled egg. Finally, the mother asked the daughter to sip the coffee. The daughter smiled as she tasted its rich flavor.

The daughter then asked, "What does it mean, Mother?"

Her mother explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity, boiling water, and each reacted differently. The carrot went in strong, hard, and unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak. The egg had been fragile, its thin outer shell protecting its liquid interior, but after the boiling water, its inside became hardened. But the ground coffee beans were unique -- after they were in the boiling water, they'd changed the water itself.

a roomful of Buddhas

Photo taken 10/31/05 in Tagaytay, Philippines


When I sit zazen by myself, I like to imagine a roomful of Buddhas sitting zazen around me. When I write, I like to imagine a roomful of Buddhas writing alongside me.

Sometimes when I sit zazen, I sense my true loneliness seeping out, getting some fresh air in the quiet.

I want to write well, but I don't need to be considered great at it. I am fine unrecognized, while not fine short of talent. But is it talent that I want? Or is it a path?

Most likely I am okay not having natural writing talent, but not okay with having no writing path.

- from a 10/21/2001 journal entry

purpose

Looking up from the Staten Island ferry. Photo taken 4/13/06.


to breathe clean and true
the blue sky in my belly, the vast
breadth of horizon imprinted on my lungs
behind my eyes, porpoises that dive
to the bottom ocean, that layer of time
old as the ancient souls, and my every breath
is quiet, so full and brave. And I too am just as
wise; I too will last forever.

- 6/18/06

new weather

Photo taken 3/11/06 at Overpeck Park.


I came across part of this poem today, by complete "coincidence" -- it was in a March 2001 journal I was archiving -- and I was struck by how much it spoke to me given all the circus my body has been doing and given my impending gloom-and-doom appointment tomorrow. Also by complete coincidence, I was just telling Lorin about how having fatigue and discomfort and limping from pain, et al actually transformed me. I've let go of a lot of mental crap, and I've simply no patience for anything that smacks of guilt, shame, perfectionism, or obligation. And I'm quieter, which has been heretofore unheard of. I actually said these words to him, "It took me getting sick to feel lighter." A few hours after that, I went upstairs and continued my journal archiving, and that was when I came across this:

Often I think I should be like
The single tree going nowhere,
Since my own arm could not and would not
Break the other. Yet by my broken bones
I tell new weather.

- Paul Muldoon

Ate's turn to slide

Ats and Kayla. Same date and place as below.


Here's the link to the short clip of Ate sliding. As with the video below, you have to tilt your head to the side to watch it. I thought you could hold the camera when taking videos the same way you hold the camera when taking photos -- i. e., portrait or landscape, depending on the framing you want. Duh!

Anyway.

So. This is what litigators do when they're not annoying the heck out of people in court.

the first video -- watch Kayla slide (sorta)

watch the cockamamy video I took of Kayla on the link below. Photo taken 5/31/06 (Memorial Day weekend) at Wyckoff, NJ.


I was experimenting with my new Exilim camera and didn't realize that when taking videos with it you have to hold it a certain way. Ooops. But here's the video if you want to see it. Just don't forget to tilt your head to the side. The video was taken at their house. (I know... a whole playground set for one tiny child!)

Watch the video here. (aka http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1TyBBUkEUus)

forest flowers

I've no clue what kind of flowers these are. Photo taken at Sterling Forest (Tuxedo, NY) on 4/30/06.


"When it's over, I want to say:
all my life
I was a bride married
to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking
the world into my arms..."

- Mary Oliver

foto pherret word = hot

this sure was a freakishly hot hike we took. Photo taken 9/19/05.


I discovered today a photo meme website called foto pherret, which gives out a word each week and you're then invited to hunt around your photo collection to match it. The word this week is "hot."

I'll tell you what's hot in this photo (besides my husband. padump-bump). What he's looking at is the start of a trek across a volcano crater. That's right, friends, strangers, and countrymen -- we actually hiked across a collapsed crater with plumes of steam still coming out of it one blazingly hot morning last year. It was so hot that the walk across Kilauea Iki crater felt like a walk across Venus. It was so hot that I did not expect that *not* wearing sunscreen on my brown skin would affect me, but it did. It was so hot that a few days after this hike I had to go to the emergency room because I was so sun poisoned that my skin turned into a mottled mass of swollen lumps and rashes. (Now that made me look hot.)

Iki in Hawaiian means "a little one" or "a little bit." Kilauea Iki thus means "little Kilauea," for it sits not far from the main Kilauea caldera that everyone oohs and aahs about when they get to Volcano National Park in the Big Island. In November 1959, when all the signs were pointing to an imminent major eruption, all these volcanologists and geologists set up equipment by the main Kilauea crater. Then ka-boom! It turned out the show was somewhere else. They looked up to see a previously-ignored section of the park shooting lava more than 1,900 feet into the air. The eruption was so huge that people in the town of Hilo thirty miles away could see it with the naked eye. There are more details of that eruption here, but some of what I've written were told to us by a local Hawaiian ranger.

The best guide-book writers ever showed us how to find this hike, where to descend 450 feet to get from the top of the crater walls to the bottom, and then inch your way across. I still remember that incredulous feeling -- all the while we were enclosed inside a real, still-active volcano, with the open sky gaping above us, we knew while crossing the crater that this was probably one of the most special hikes we will ever take in our lifetime.

my goodness, he's alive

Araw ng Patay (Day of the Dead) in the Philippines. It is held on November 2, the day after All Saints Day. I think the belief is first came the saints, then came the souls. Or, to be more accurate, first came evil (Halloween), then came the saints to overcome it, then came the souls. But I could be making that up. Anyway, how the Filipinos celebrate All Souls Day goes something like this: They get to the cemetery at dawn, they pitch tents over the tombstones of their loved ones (the tents are to keep out the blazing sun), then they lay out not just flowers and candles but also their mahjong tables, decks of cards, poker chips, guitars, ice coolers laden with Pinoy food and drinks. They sit around all day hanging out, praying, gossiping, and gambling while keeping their dead company until past sunset. It's a day where a person can say the rosary with 14 relatives and then fifteen minutes later be winning 500 pesos from an all-up paningit. All kinds of vendors selling chicharon (pork rinds), barbecue, bananas, ice cream, halo-halo, and who knows what else make a killing. Pun intended? Most probably. Photo taken 11/2/05 in Manila.


This entry is dedicated to Blue, my old Pinoy friend from high school, who's back among the living after being incommunicado for two years. (Before that, he was gone for more than five years.) Have no clue how he tracked me down this time.

Naku Blue, good to know na buhay ka pa rin. LOL. Some things just don't change...

the road is winding again

After the rain at Overpeck Park, Teaneck. Photo taken 4/23/06.


I am hearing the distant call to end this photoblog stint. Anyone who works on a creative project knows when it's time to wind things down and work on something else. In my case, my attention seems to be focused these days on longer works of fiction and nonfiction that are for print readers.

So here are the possibilities:

Option 1 - I keep posting photos on this site, a la photo album style. Just photos and caption.

Option 2 - I keep it as it is now, random photos with random crazy thoughts, both serious and non-serious, and just change the thematic format again. After all, this thing I've been feeling to let go could be just a mood.

Option 3 - I start another blog altogether which has nothing to do with photos. Right now the idea of a prose poetry/meditation blog appeals to me. If I do start this it will not be for public viewing. Readership will only be upon request.

Option 4 - leave the blogging world altogether and make my dear Ate very sad....


We'll see where the road takes me next. I've no doubt the Universe will tell me where to go.

Love and light to you all who have been such faithful visitors to this wonderful, amusing project.

my two favorite people

Kayla and her Uncle Lorin. Photo taken 4/1/06, on Kayla's 2nd birthday.


The bittersweet Will & Grace series finale made me feel so sad that I feel like posting a light-fare pix to up my mood.

Btw, I saw that darn kid today during the first half of the show. (They happened to be in Teaneck tonight.) Kayla almost knocked me unconscious by pounding one of those small Chinatown silver balls that weigh a ton right at my chest (you know, the kind that come in a pair and you twirl them around one hand, thus exercising your fingers, and the chimes they make as you move them are supposed to relax you). Lorin had left them lying around, and today Kayla grabbed the pair and started banging them together. When she noticed that I kept watching TV she leaned forward and tried to get my attention by lunging one of the balls right at me. With the way I was sitting her arm went straight for my chest. That one ball knocked me so hard she might as well have used a battering ram.

"Kayla, that hurt!" I yelled. She laughed and kept clanging the balls together, enjoying the sounds of the chimes inside. "I like this!" she yelped. "Two balls. One, two. I like two balls." The kid is super articulate for her age, which makes me so proud, but today I could have wrung her neck for it.

When I hid those evil things during commercials she went, "Where are my balls, Auntie?" She looked so small and innocent poking around the sofa cushions. Where are my balls. Who is she kidding.

"Time, time, time / See what's become of me..."

Dusk at Port Authority. The clock is part of the Time + Money sculpture grouping by the great Tom Otterness. It's located at the back entrance of the Hilton on West 41st St.


Tomorrow being Teaneck T's Great Day of Gratitude, I dedicate today's Friday Five to the power of wishes.

Birthday Wishes (a Friday Five Collection)

Impossible?
1. Go back in time and undo the mistakes I made and the hurts I caused.
2. Travel the world through spontaneous transpondence.
3. Win the lotto. (It might help if I actually buy a ticket...)
4. Have what I can only call SuperReader powers: The ability to read a novel/short story/article/what have you, and immediately know the structure, sentence to sentence, paragraph to paragraph, on how and why the piece came to be.
5. Cure poverty in all its forms.

Probably possible:
1. No more cyst(s). No more debilitating pain from cyst(s). No more hormonal imbalance that is causing the cyst(s). No more, no more, no more.
2. Prolific writing. Produce a body of work every two months. (Wow!)
3. Possess superior internal energy flow expressed through tai-chi, chi-gung, and Reiki.
4. Become a published author with readership that extends beyond personal acquaintances. (I refuse to put this under the "Impossible?" category...)
5. Be an excellent driver. Can drive anywhere I please.

Possible:
1. 6-8 cupcakes from Billy's Bakery, all with yellow cake and chocolate frosting.
2. Eat at one of the best Cuban restaurants in Union City (ahem. Ate, I asked you about this months ago...)
3. Go on a Rick Steve's tour of Southern France.
4. Be a backup acoustic guitarist for a band or choir.
5. Indefinitely continue the lifestyle of writing at home more days than working for an employer.

the rarest of friends (a Friday Five)

Pax at her belly dancing class in New Mexico. Photo taken 7/26/05 by a classmate.


How can I not post a Friday Five on a Cinco de Mayo that falls on a Friday? That would be sacrilege! The photoblog gods would be offended.

So here's today's Friday Five. Tomorrow is the birthday of my dearest friend Pax. In honor of her and the happiness she has given me for 20 years -- das right, we started hanging out 20 years ago during our freshman year at the high school we had to take a ferry to get to -- I dedicate today's Friday Five to the mighty Googie.

Top Five Qualities That Astound Me About Pax the Friend: (not to be confused with things that astound me about Pax the Mom, or Pax the Artist, or Pax the Wife, or Pax the Math Genius, or Pax the Family Problem Solver, or Pax the Philosopher, etc. etc.)

1. True ability to love. Genuine connection with it as an emotion, as an energy, and as a life force.

2. INCREDIBLE--maybe the word is even UNLIMITED--patience with my bizarre moods. Knowledge that whatever it is I'm going through must be pretty bad for me to be so odd.

3. Not using me solely for emotional garbage can/let-me-unload purposes. (And all the while knowing that it is okay to do so.) Not allowing me to do the same to her.

4. Not messing with things I find sacred. Knowledge of what these sacred things are.

5. Always choosing, somehow, to be happy, to be honest, and to be brave. Not necessarily always succeeding in being these, but the conscious choice is always there.


You are the greatest, my wonderful Paxmeister! I love you forever. Hope you have a wonderful birthday tomorrow.

the sacred answer

Cherry blossoms across the road. Photo taken 4/20/06.


Andrea's May 1 blog entry is quite inspiring. In it she describes a game she plays in which she meditates on a question about something which she really needs divine guidance on, and then she opens a dictionary for the answer. It's a takeoff on something people for centuries have done with the Bible. In this wonderful entry Andrea explains how this very method led her to work for the famous and eternally delightful Sark. (Who, btw, is NOT the blond bloke in Alias.)

So I said why not. It's 6:29 in the evening. I can either try this or watch a Will and Grace rerun.

Here was my question to the dictionary: "What am I supposed to do with my writing, Mother God?" (Mother God being my personal name for the Divinity. I refuse to acknowledge the Lord as just male.)

With my eyes closed, I touched the cover of my Webster's 10th edition (aka the definitive source for all copy editors and proofreaders). I thanked the book for whatever answer it was about to give me. Do I publish or perish? Was it a total waste that I quit my job for it? Do I have any talent? What am I supposed to do with all that I've produced, most of which have never seen the light of day? What am I supposed to do with all this intention, this impractical dedication, this belief in something I can't fully justify?

With eyes still closed I opened the book. I felt around for what my intuition was telling me. Go to the left page or the right page? My instinct said right. Go to the inner edge or the outer edge of the page? Inner edge, said the feeling. Somewhere in the middle of the page.

My forefinger landed on an area. I opened my eyes.

The word was "railroad." My heart sank. My immediate thought was its negative usage: To railroad somebody. "My manager railroaded me," "If you want to get rid of that employee, you should just railroad them," etc. I thought, what was I supposed to do, railroad my writing? (i.e., junk it, trash it. Obliterate it.)

Then I thought, maybe I'm supposed to put the pieces together, like locomotive cars. So I began reading, envisioning my writing to be like a road. You know, a railroad.

And that was when the Angel smacked me upside the head. Stubborn, stubborn child, someone seemed to be saying. Look. Look at the page.

For my finger was pointing at railroad as a verb, not the noun. The verb railroad has 3 varying definitions. And where my fingernail was pointing, in fact even underlining, was this definition: "1 b: to push through hastily or without due consideration."

An earthquake could have happened right then and there, with thunder rolling, the skies darkening, and I wouldn't be one bit surprised.

For that was when I understood. Don't mess around anymore, the Universe said. Stop doubting. Stop f--ing around. Do it, get it done. This is your job. It is not your place to bog things down with worry.

Just push your writing through hastily, and without due consideration.

our quagmire

Joining the thousands in today's peace rally in downtown Manhattan. I had thought I was just going to take pictures but I ended up marching along with everybody else. Photos taken 4/29/06.

safety

Kayla and Lolo (grandpa). Photo taken 12/24/05.


Even though this shot is nowhere near decent (you can't even see my dad's face, and forget about his hands), there's something about this picture that appeals to me. It captures how perfectly content Kayla gets around her grandpa.

And I remember the scene very well. It was the evening of Christmas Eve -- Kayla was so tired and miserable from the exhaustion of opening presents and having people around all day, and the only person who could calm her down was my dad. I think this night photo captures their relationship pretty well (the blurriness notwithstanding), and also how Kayla really is when she is with her own thoughts.

fact is stranger than fiction

sand shark exposed. Cape May - photo taken 7/7/05.


On the first day of my writing class my teacher walked in, introduced himself, and said, "While I get my papers ready I'd like you to do the following. Write one sentence, just one, about something extraordinary about yourself or that actually happened in your life."

We wrote. Then he said, "OK. Now, write another sentence, just one, that is extraordinary about you or that happened to you. But this time, it's completely untrue. The important thing is it has to be just as believable as the previous statement you just wrote." He added, "And by the way, this isn't a test. It's just a way for me to stall so I can get ready."

A few minutes later he said, "OK, let's all go around the room, say our names, and then each of us read both sentences. And don't tell us which is true and which is made up. The rest of us will take a vote on which we think is which."

I liked him immediately. It was such a clever way to get to know each other without having to do the whole "tell me about yourself and what you do" ice-breaker rigmarole.

What my classmates came up with were delightful. One was a bitch in a military prison, one slept with her best friend's father when she was 17, one climbed up the highest peak in Nepal, one was arrested for kidnapping, etc. I won't tell you which was fact and which was fiction. I'm a lot of things, but I ain't no creative writing snitch.

Here are the two sentences I wrote:
1. I quit my full-time job to live by myself everyday in the suburbs and give myself the chance to become a real writer.
2. I was the only one in my group to win a full scholarship to the Culinary Institute.

My teacher said, "I hope to god the first one isn't true." (At this point I was like, I LOVE THIS MAN!) He raised his hand. "I vote the second one is true," he said. "Who's with me?"

Three-fourths of the class raised their hands. Only two people raised their hands for the first sentence. I told him my answer. (Here Teaneck T interjects: If you don't know which of my two sentences are true, you have no business reading this photoblog.)

My teacher looked stunned for a second. Then he said, "Let's try to make this a good class for you." I said, laughing, "No, no, I don't want that kind of pressure on either of us."

The rest of the class went smoothly. High-octane, pure unleaded gasoline, as I'd like to describe it. The whole evening I kept thinking, Hooray for stupid moves! Hooray for cliff-jumpers worldwide!!!

NYC reflections

34th Street as reflected by the Manhattan Mall. Photo taken 2/17/06.


"New York City / such a beautiful disease." Often when I walk around the city I find myself humming that Norah Jones and Peter Malick song.

Here's a New York story for you. True story. Happened not long ago, in fact.

Last month while waiting to get on the downtown R train that had started pulling up at Times Square, I noticed that one car passing by was devoid of people, which would have been surprising given how all the other cars before it were crowded enough to even have passengers standing. But I, like any veteran New Yorker, knew immediately why, without needing to see the rest of that empty car. Sure enough when its rear passed me I saw what I deduced all along: There at one of the last benches slumped a homeless man, hands tucked inside his coat pockets, his head bent to his chest in deep sleep. And I, like all the others standing on the ramp, knew not to get inside that car. The air would be rank, fetid. Without having to test my own nose, I knew that the man smelled so bad that no one else would ride with him.

The passengers who got on the adjacent car with me were the chattier type than, say, the more tight-lipped, newspaper-reading crowds of rush hour. This was, after all, 1:30 in the afternoon. Two young Japanese women stood in front of me, giggling uproariously as they spoke in their language. One of them kept putting a finger across the bottom of her nose, and on they would laugh and banter again. A woman two seats away was muttering about how she "knew what it was all about." "Hmm-mm-mmm," she said, shaking her head. She sounded like she caught a kid in the midst of mischief.

A man wearing a long wool coat and a ski hat stood in front of her. He seemed to have been saying something to her already, but this time I caught the beginning of a story. "I was on the Bronx train one night, and there was a homeless man there who smelled so bad. I'm sure he smelled just as bad as the one here," he said, pointing his chin to the train car ahead of us.

"There was only him, me, this shifty looking guy, and this woman," he said. "The train kept going, just the four of us. When the train was pulling into Manhattan, the shifty looking guy grabs the woman's purse and makes a run for the door that was about to open.

"And then the homeless guy, who I thought was asleep -- and, man, this guy stank -- he jumped up. He just jumped. He jumped in front of this guy, and then he pins him to the ground and right then there handcuffs him.

"It was unbelievable," the man said. "You should have seen that other guy's face. You just never know about these undercover people.

"I couldn't believe it," he continued. "I couldn't believe that some of these homeless guys are undercover. So what I'm saying is, it could be any of them."

I didn't hear what the woman said in response. I think they moved on to a new topic. But I sat there amazed. Here was New York, an incredible, potent gift that is just waiting for me on the days I will myself to step out of the house.

I got off at Union Square and walked towards the southern end of the ramp, the same direction as where the almost-empty car was. The doors began closing and the train was starting to pull away when a noxious odor slammed me so hard that I flinched, my eyes almost watering from the smell. It was coming from the train car in question. Its doors were already closing when I came near it, so the most I got was five inches of its air before it sealed shut and the train moved on. I kept walking, thinking of the man inside. I just thought of him for a few more minutes, without pity or repulsion.

heaven and earth are full of your glory

Steeple of the Lutheran church down the hill from us. Beautiful church, crazy slogans. Here's one unforgettable zinger: Giving a little nod to the Dairy Queen a few blocks down, one banner read, "Why buy a sundae? All you need is a Son-day." Who needs television when you've got reading material like these in your neighborhood? Photo taken 2/19/06.


Happy Easter, everyone!

Agnus Dei
qui tollis peccata mundi
dona nobis pacem

hiatus redux, ad interim

Field of tulips in the middle of Park Avenue. Photo taken 4/29/05.


I've been busy, I've been sick, and I've been distracted. But naptime is over. It's time to bloom again.

when the fog lifts

Kalalau Valley, Kauai. Photo taken 9/29/05.


Mountains are inside me
boulders are inside me
Terrains and snow trails and
wide vistas are inside me.

- diary entry 7/24/00,
after meditation

breathe. beauty exists.

Teaneck sky. Photo taken 1/24/06.


"I've dreamt in my life dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas: they've gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the color of my mind."

- Emily Bronte, Wuthering Heights

hope

Central Park, 4/29/05

Happy Birthday, Mom!

Mom and me pretending to be NYC tourists at Rockefeller Center last holiday season. Photo taken by another (genuine) tourist on 12/28/05.


Happy Birthday, our ever-loving-and-loved Mom! I wish you much healing ASAP on your birthday. Mi pobrecita Mamamia fell two weeks ago and landed a huge welting bruise on her chest, which happens to be right on her heart chakra. Yow! Let's all send her love. Her heart chakra can sure use some TLC.

And I sure do love you very much, my wonderful, fragile Mommy.

Happy Anniversary, A&E!

My father-in-law and stepmom-in-law posing in their old apartment in Oak Park, IL. Photo taken September 1995.


Happy anniversary, Arthur & Elizabeth! Don't fall off your chairs in shock that I remembered. I now keep a calendar! And I actually look at it!

Finale. Free at last.

Ate and 21-month-old Kayla on 1/22/06.


Never, NEVER ever again will I pull a crazy mind-numbing stunt like a 21-day theme of one person, place, or object. I love the kid but this was ridiculous. Two days after I made the grand announcement of 21 days of Kayla, the great procrastination freeze-out came. Everytime I thought of posting something on this blog I went ahead and did something else in the kitchen or put another DVD on. You would think this was about making dental appointments. This photoblog, once a silly and amusing and fun toy to play with, transformed into a term-paper deadline for a class I hated. I bemoaned to some friends, "Why, oh why did I ever come up with this theme???"

So it took me more like 41 days rather than 21 days to make this happen. Oh, well. Now it's over. I'm amazed that we actually took photos of this beloved child every single frickin month of her existence. We are such shameless family paparazzis.

Free at last, free at last, thank god almighty this p-blog is free at last!

I'm so giddy from this thought that I might do away with themes for the time being. Let's see where this project next leads me to.

Day 21 of 21 = Kayla at 20 months

Presents-opening madness of Christmas 2005. All were for Kayla, of course. Note here that Mike is taping ribbons on Kayla's back. Also check out how Tito Lito (right edge) now has a ribbon tied around his head. Madness, I tell ya. Photo taken Christmas Eve 2005.

Day 20 of 21 = Kayla at 19 months

This was such a crazy hat. Imagine a little toddler less than 3 feet tall walking around with a huge hat like this. It was a present from Auntie Vil in the Philippines. Mike said Kayla looks like someone from mortal combat. Photo taken Thanksgiving (November 24) 2005. And is that a rosary she's carrying??

Day 19 of 21 = Kayla at 18 months

Halloween 2005. Photo taken by Cookie on 10/27/05.

Day 18 of 21 = Kayla at 17 months

Who the heck watches TV like that? Isn't this a yoga pose? Photo taken 9/25/05 by one of her parents.

Day 17 of 21 = Kayla at 16 months

Kayla has fun with her little blanket costume. Photo taken by Cookie on 8/19/05.

Day 16 of 21 = Kayla at 15 months

Mom and Dad with the love of their life during a family vacation in Cape May last summer. I swear these two are the most devoted grandparents I've ever seen. Photo taken 7/7/05.