Lost

I finally got down to it. A decent (if I do say so myself) article was coming along - several pages in, way past draft and into revision. It's gone.

I was offered help when I ran into problems. I turned it down. I am a very stubborn woman. Rats.

Lesson for the day: Accept help when it is offered.

No More Kodachrome

The Merriam-Webster Dictionary took me on a roundabout path when I looked up “obscurity”. It’s the “quality or state of being obscure.” So what is “obscure”? I had to jump to the third definition to get to the traditional meaning: “relatively unknown“. I guess it’s fitting that this fate should fall on a symbol of clarity, a veritable icon of unmistakable purity of color - Kodachrome Film.

Last week Kodak announced that after 74 years of production, it will discontinue Kodachrome. As digital demand increases, sales of single-lens reflex (SLR) cameras that use film have decreased and Kodachrome now accounts for only a fraction of 1% of Kodak’s total sales. Only a single lab, in Parson’s Kansas, still processes the film.

Many famous photographs were shot on Kodachrome, including John F. Kennedy’s assassination in 1963 (shot on 8mm).

I learned to develop film in 1973. I remember the rules about storing unexposed film in the refrigerator, checking it out to the photographers, and waiting to get the rolls back. The darkroom was my refuge. As I type this I can see the strips hanging on lines across the room, I smell fixer and I can hear myself gasp at the first time I saw an image floating before me in the sink. Magic.

I went to work in a Photography and Graphic supply house in my early 20’s. I had no idea what I was doing. I ended up selling ink and paper to newspapers. I vaguely remember something about Van Dyke Brown. A lot of my recall centers around the lenses and the guys selling them in the front - and the boxes of film and the guys moving them in the back. I worked in the middle, on the order desk.

I love my digital camera now. The film I shot years ago didn’t hold color. It wasn’t on Kodachrome - I didn’t know it should be. I’m obsessive about backing up my pictures now. Something tells me that as much as I remember, I’ve forgotten even more. Obscurity.

Sometimes...

...it has to be said.



Do. Not. Doubt.

Stepping Out

I can sit at home only so long before I get (as Mom used to say) "antsy". I become restless and feel the need to do something - anything. I've worked out twice daily for weeks now. My knee is rebelling. Houston is hot now. We've moved into daily heat indexes well into the hundreds and it's not fun to be outside taking photos. We're in the dog days and August is a couple months away. What to do? What to do?

I met friends at Anvil last night. It's a great little spot in Montrose that specializes in cocktails as they're supposed to be served. Crushed ice when it should be crushed, cubed when it should be cubed. The glassware is vintage and there is no vodka in the place. It's all gin and bitters, rye and lime. One drink and I'm happy, two and I'm wishing I'd stuck with one. There are no gangsters, no children and no rednecks. I love, love, love that place. We topped off the swanky evening in the only way we could, with cheap, greasy Mexican food. Of course.

I treated myself to lunch at the Fox Grill in the Galleria today. It's a sports bar but I wasn't interested in the golf match on the big screen. Tiger's still struggling. I'm pouring through "The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter" by Carson McCullers. The server approached me and handed me a menu. Attractive young man.

"Can you tell me about your specials?"

Um, wait a minute. He was asking ME to tell him about MY specials.

"Well, I make a great etouffee, but I'm really hoping to get a turkey sandwich. Is that possible?"

We had a good laugh over it. Today was his first day and he explained to me that he was very, very nervous.

He brought me my sandwich. I stayed out of his kitchen and lunch was a success. From there I went to spend two hours at the hair salon. I love the results. (I've attached a pic for those who haven't seen me for awhile.)

I met a girlfriend for a movie, "My Life in Ruins". Fluff with a couple light laughs. The scenery of Greece was lovely and the food shown was enough to stimulate our appetite so that we enjoyed a dinner at Skewers on Richmond after the movie. There's nothing like seeing a chick flick with a really good friend, then solving all the problems of the past week over hummus and pita - or at least taking a good stab at them.

My big step this week was telling my boss that I want a department head position. I let him know that I would like to be relieved of my clinical duties and moved into an administrative spot. This would be H.U.G.E.

He didn't balk. He was receptive. It felt great to say the words. It felt really good.

Another Playlist - Sunday's Gifts

More miles, more music. I wonder at the way it all lines up. They give me their presents and I admit to envy of the genius of putting words to tone and rhythm, of putting beat next to perfect sentiment. Is the order of delivery through wire and neuron, axon and memory coincidence or is it planned? I wonder. I should. I must.

Sting: Inside“Love is a violation, a mutilation, capitulation. Love is annihilation.”

I don’t usually step onto the trail and break into a sprint. Today I did. I wasn’t warm. I was cold. It didn’t matter. It was 9:45 in the morning and it was already 80 degrees outside. I would adjust. I always do. I needed to run as fast and as far as possible.

Sarah McLachlan: Time“Leave me be, I don't want to argue. I'd just get confused and I'd come all undone. If I agree, well, it's just to appease you ‘cause I don't remember what we're fighting for.”

Segue to “Living my Life”.


Los Lonely Boys: Living My Life“Lord, I feel fine, I haven't lost my mind. My heart's open wide and my eyes on the sky.”

I thought, for a short while last week that I might be losing my mind. I’ve never had such anxiety. Recognition is a gift in those situations. Knowing that a situation is out of control is the first step in regaining normalcy. My mind is fine, my situation has not been fine. Each day brought more peace and calm as I’ve taken steps toward claiming my SELF. This involved inspection of what strengths I bring to my personal relationships and my work, and looking at my goals for the future. Defining these goals, putting them into words and asking for what I need opened my heart even further, allowed me to risk more and made me less anxious.

David Bowie: Golden Years“I’ll stick with you baby for a thousand years. Nothings gonna touch you in these golden years.”

A thousand years is a very long time. This reminds me of condos in Florida, and golf courses, and growing old together, and I never used to think of this song this way, and damn! Just damn.

Outkast: Hey Ya“We get together. Oh, we get together but separate’s always better when there’s feelings involved.”

I chose this song for it’s popularity and it’s beat when I was teaching at the Y. Just the right beats per minute. I’ve always liked dancing to it in the clubs. The lyrics - I hadn’t really caught them completely until today. Ugh. I still like to throw a perfect roundhouse kick though. It’s good for that, but I…wow.

Smash Mouth - All Star“Hey now you're an All Star get your game on, go play.”

Saturday was a recovery day for me. Got myself up early and met a friend at the park for a lap around the park walking faster than I imagined we could while she pushed the stroller, then I ran another lap. I went to see a funny movie with another friend and laughed myself silly. Finally, I met two of the sweetest men I know to watch Ultimate Fighting at a place in the Village. I filled my day with people who know and love me and we did things I love to do. I even got to see a few of those roundhouse kicks. Bonus.


The Thrill is Gone - BB King…

I’m not even going to put any of those lyrics above. Let’s just say I was able to laugh a little about the cosmic humor in this song winding down my run. No tears. I love the blues when I’m in the right mood and Mr. King is The King of The Blues. So bring them. I can handle them.

Rend

Loss comes in many forms. I spent this morning at Memorial Park with a colleague. We talked about how many of our social contacts are with people who are in the same business. We spend our working days with each other and then sometimes spend our off hours with the same people. What do we talk about? Sometimes death. It's a subject we live with more waking hours than not. How can we get away from it? Even today, when we tried to find another subject, I was fixed on what may be the impending death of the most loving romantic relationship I've ever experienced. I grieve. Often. I am even writing a novel about death. Is this a good thing? I'm not sure.

Rend



Liberated.
Set free from hushed waiting,
your toiling begins in earnest.

Play Motown.

Volume up, to the right,
to cover your seeping wail
from the curious souls
who parade past the coffins of strangers.
Dance in a black crepe dress
and cover the mirrors.

This is where you allow the tear.
It is a slow, fierce rip.
Nothing can stop this process.

Volume down, to the left.
Only
your
heartbeat
remains
as you look through the eyes of
those who would console.

I Leap for Lizards

*Stay with me. I’ll try to make it worth your while.
Another three miles this morning gave me time to think, as usual. I chose to run in a clockwise direction. It felt like the right thing to do this morning, as if my chi needed aligning. I noticed some of the regulars along the way. There are some beautiful people who frequent Memorial Park on early Saturday mornings. It’s a feast for the eyes.

This was a rough week. I celebrated graduation with my son and daughter last weekend and came home to an empty apartment. It was absolutely anticlimactic. I did my best to remain positive but I felt my spirits flagging and I hit bottom when I received word that my friend, Deb, died early in the week. Deb’s words were in front of me over and over again, “Live life today. Don’t wait. Don’t leave your life unfinished.” I have unfinished business. I must address it. I spent the week doing so.

Electronic communication was my friend this week. I was too raw to do much face-fo-face. I didn’t have the personal bandwidth. There were emails and texts. I’ve also included simple neuro-firings. Sometimes my synapses are most helpful when they stop short of triggering my mouth. The thoughts are enough; I don’t need to voice them. You can decipher which are my thoughts, which are my words and which were life preservers thrown to me.

*Ms. Scofield, please arrange…
*WTF? Who does he think he’s talking to?
*I’d be happy to. Glad I can help.
*I’ll miss you this week. It makes me happy when you crack yourself up.
*Michelle you are my heart.
*Dinner? Dancing?
*8pm Canyon Café! Fabulous!
*We just wanted to hear your voice.
*You are a strong woman. I love that about you.

So yeah, I almost forgot. Lizards. When I went back to college, I was working in the lab as the Natural Science Departmental Scholar. That’s fancy for: Does All The Dirty Work And Gets A Break On Tuition. I was responsible for feeding the animals including the mealworms (fed them paper towels) and the legless lizard (fed him mealworms). One day I noticed the damned lizard was missing. I reported it to my supervisor who happened not only to be my Chemistry professor but also my neighbor. We figured some of the dorm kids had stolen the little beastie. I didn’t give it much more thought.

Fast forward about three weeks. I was pouring petri plates. I had about sixty of them spread along a lab bench and was pouring agar one by one. I walked to the end of the table and a movement in the doorway caught my eye. There was the lizard. He was “standing” in the doorway, watching me. “Holy shit!!!” I landed on top of the bench, scattering petri dishes and agar all over the lab. The clatter brought my chemistry prof running into the room. He got a pretty big chuckle out of finding me on top of the furniture.

What brought back this memory? As I was running this morning a lizard scurried across my path and I essentially flew about six feet as I morphed into Jackie Joyner-Kersee. Again, “Holy Shit!” I cracked myself up. It’s hard to leap, run and laugh at the same time. Sucks to be this depressed. I guess I’ll just be happy instead.