Had to take down the last two blog entries (if you read them, I'm sure you'd recall, they were somewhat memorable) at Joe's request, because he didn't want certain people who read this page to worry. And worry they would. So poof. Ignorance is bliss.
Anyway, that's that. Don't worry, you're not crazy, they really were up there, and you really did read them, I just removed them. Maybe we can talk about it more later when the dust settles. I have some strong opinions about this matter, as you may have guessed, and have been angrily shaking my fist at Charlton Heston since.
I had been thinking for years (YEARS!) that I might want to get back into print photography, perhaps of the lomo variety, just because while digital photography is great for instant gratification, there's nothing like holding that print in your hand. And let's face it, we never make prints of our digital photos, because dude, that's what Flickr is for. But also with respect to print photography, there's sort of that fun guesswork and the economy that the medium forces on you. I will easily fire off thirty shots of basically the same shot digitally (see: my roughly five million shots of Mack lying on a pillow staring blankly at the ceiling), but when I have to actually pay for the film? Well, let's make sure the light and composition and setting are right and DON'T YOU DARE BLINK, KID. Yes, I know, I am making this hobby sound like an absolute blast.
About two years ago, I was this close to buying a Holga, but decided not to, because I was a resident (read: no money) and I didn't want to buy film AND pay for developing AND find out, like, two weeks later that I had made some stupid mistake with the manual settings and ended up with a roll full of completely blacked out shots anyway. But then a while ago, I started thinking, why not Polaroid? True, the film is more expensive, but I am impatient, and spoiled by digital besides, so I liked the idea of seeing how I screwed up one minute later, not, like, a month later, when I can't even remember what I did when I took the picture. I ended up (in a pique of righteousness, after I, though my own incompetence, didn't win a bid on some cheapy old Polaroid on eBay despite the fact that no one else bid on the item) thinking that Polaroid film was defunct anyway, why buy into a dying medium, and getting this hilariously bulky Fuji Instax 200 instead as my gateway drug. But who am I kidding, I'm probably going to end up getting a cheapy old Polaroid on eBay anyway and thus squandering away the rest of my already ill-spent youth trying to figure out the dying art of instant film photography while all the kids look at me strangely as they glide by on their hoverboards and jet packs. (It will be THE FUTURE, you see.)
Anyway, here was my first roll. Please excuse the lack of a scanner, our old one decided to go all Skynet on us and started making strange sentient human-killing noises, so we unplugged the thing and are deciding if it is a lost cause to try and fix it (likely) or if we will end up needing to get a new scanner. Anyway, I already spent all my money on film, what else do you want from me, people? (Note to Joe: Not really! Don't worry, we still have money! Anyway, Cal probably won't want to go to college anyway.)
What you can determine from this first roll is that I do not know how to use this camera indoors. It cannot focus worth a damn closer than oh, say, 4-6 feet, and I cannot figure out how to turn off the flash, which accounts for the three completely dark photos that I tried to take in the subway station, as well as the two obligatory shots of myself in the mirror. But the outdoor shots worked rather better, and I do like how the camera renders blues.
Second roll. Getting better. OK, so the other thing that you need to know about this camera is that it looks freaking ridiculous. Seriously, like people may laugh at you when you whip it out. I looks like Cal's toy camera, only even more huge. Also, the photo shoots out the top instead of the bottom, which is like--what? Problems I have been troubleshooting include how to get the shot centered (I am used to using SLR so I'm not used to the viewfinder not lining up with the lens--see the totally off-center picture of the Yo Gabba Gabba dolls on the bottom left), what settings to use in different lighting conditions, and remembering to set my focus distance from near to far when I'm shooting different things. (Not that it really shoots anything that near. No macro setting on this thing, that's for sure.)
It's surely not as retro-cool as shooting with some of the old Polaroid cameras, which would make me feel like I was on "Mad Men," chain smoking and wearing high-wasted skirts and living in a state of quiet despair and whatnot. But it was a good start, especially since I knew (know) nothing about instant film photography and at least I didn't have to figure out how to use a second-hard camera from the 1960's with a discontinued battery and no instruction booklet, not even knowing if the camera was functioning or not. However, I fear that I will be there soon. Perhaps adopting this hobby was unwise.
i already used up all the brainpower i might have otherwise used to think of a title for this post
I've decided that to study for my written anesthesia Boards (which I will be taking the first week of August) I will start reviewing 10 practice questions a day, every day, up until the week before the exam, at which point I might step up my game somewhat and start some sort of a cram-a-thon. Ten questions a day is certainly not too onerous, but the only time I have to do it is at home, after both kids are asleep and before I go to sleep, usually a window of about five minutes, seven if I decide to brush my teeth. And this amount of time does not exactly allow for careful review of the source material.
So I guess I have to start going to bed a little bit later. This should not be a big deal--after all, didn't I stay up late every night in college, back when I was a weenie little premed and could only dream of the glamourous life that I lead now? (See: today, I got a free bagel! With cream cheese! BEHOLD, THE POWER OF THE MEDICAL DEGREE.) But the thing is, I've started seeing sleep as sort of an investment for work. As in: if I don't get enough sleep, I cannot think quickly and perform my job well, and this is not good for my patients. And therefore, I have to be in bed by 9pm or else PEOPLE WILL DIE. I know this makes very little sense--I didn't get enough sleep as a resident and I was taking care of patients then--but somehow being the one who is ultimately responsible makes me take everything a little more seriously. And if treating what little is left of my brain to the minor pampering it requires to function well, then by all means, put me in bed before it's dark outside.
Anyway, I did my ten questions for the day. And now I updated my blog, albeit nonsensically. And now I'm going to bed.
I love having kids and all that, but one thing that I don't think I'm going to stop being jealous of childless people for anytime soon is their ability to travel. Because no matter how cool you are and how well-behaved and flexible your spawn are, once you have kids, your days of traveling as you once knew them are over. When you have kids, your travel is not dictated so much by concerns such as where you would like to go or what you would like to do when you get there, rather how long the flight is, what kind of kid-friendly activities are available, and whether or not chicken tenders and french fries will be on the menu as a backup plan in case your kid decides to eschew the seared ahi tuna on a bed of wasabi-infused slaw. Before Joe and I had kids, Joe and I traveled. Not as exotically as some of our friends, and not as often as we would have liked, but we traveled, you know? We went to Japan, Hawaii, Europe. And after Cal was born? Florida, Florida, and Florida. Oh, and Atlanta.
The real shame of it is, even if you dump your kids on someone and take a grown-ups only vacation (something that we talked about but probably will not do anytime soon) it's still not the same as before. Because while you can then fly to Prague or Chile or wherever, in all probability we'd just spend our whole vacation missing those kids. And that would just ruin everything. Therefore, whether or not your kids are physically present or not, travel after kids is never quite the same.
So while I know that the hipster thing to do would be to hate on Disneyworld--the commercialism! The artifice! The cloying "Disney Princess" empire (which, with one minor exception, as parents of two boys we have luckily not yet had to accept into our household)--I have to say this: I LOVE DISNEYWORLD. Do you hear that, cool kids? I love Disneyworld. I don't know anything about its corporate policies or unfair hiring practices or creepy communist-leaning history, all I know is that it's one of the few places in the world where you can take a kid and almost everything--EVERYTHING--you can do will be enjoyable and appropriate for them. And that makes it fun for me. Because while I would love to take a trip to South Africa without having to worry about how many sticker books and Play Doh containers and Pixar DVDs worth of cartoons to pack for the flight, I love seeing my kid have fun even more than that.
The nine hours we spent on the road each way were no fun, of course. Cal actually did fine--we packed enough amusements to keep him busy, and at the end of it all, there was the "Cars" DVD on my computer, so why wouldn't he be fine? But Mack--Mack was not happy. At baseline, he is a baby that likes to be held, so being crunched up in the carseat for that long, regardless of how many rest stops we made...well, let's just say that it made me rethink our decision not to fly this year. And even after we got there, poor Mack still had to suffer through being dragged around everywhere like some kind of teddy bear, napping in the stroller, eating on the run, propped up on the nearest convenient lap while his brother went on one ride or another. Oh, the woes of the second-born.
Cal, on the other hand, had probably the best time of his life. Because did I mention that there was a ride wherein he got to drive a CAR on a RACETRACK by HIMSELF? Well, there was! And he thought he was the man! (Don't tell him: it was on rails. Shhh!) And there were fireworks EVERY NIGHT. And ice cream! And he tried a roller coaster for the very first time and didn't die! Oh, but good times were had.
So anyway, we had a good week. Thanks to everyone who e-mailed me road trip entertainment strategies, they were well-appreciated and employed. And now we're all settling back in--back to work, back to school, back to...whatever it is that Mack does during the day when I'm not here. But that's not all bad. It was a nice time, and a fun trip, but it's good to be home, too.
