In between coughs and sneezes, I was thinking about some things -- some important observations. I think it's important for all of us to be honest with ourselves and others. We often shy away from facing ourselves at all costs. We distract ourselves with hobbies, activities, jobs, friends, etc. But take away all of those things, and you'll have an opportunity to be honest with yourself and really look at who you are. What I've just been thinking about is fear. If the rest of this offends you, tough cookies. Argue with me if you want; it's better than ignoring the problem.
My mother has a fear of constancy.
My father has a fear of uncertainty.
My brother has a fear of commitment.
My sister has a fear of solitude.
I have a fear of rejection.
Of course, that's only a small part of the story. But it's a start. I can think about how our fears have a strangle hold on our lives sometimes and determine our occasionally-irrational behavior....
Have you, the reader, taken time lately to confront your fears?
Now, it's bed time.
I intended on taking a few night-time pictures of the reservoir area, when 3 cop cars came zooming down haverhill street and on to ames street. Naturally, I stopped to see what was going down and maybe take a few pictures if there was anything exciting. Apparently, a lady tripped her panic alarm in her house, but when the cops arrived, she just wouldn't answer the door. They were knocking and knocking, went around the back, flashed lights and tried everything, but she wouldn't come out. We could plainly see her inside with her baby in her arms, and the cops motioned to her in the window to open the door, but she just went upstairs, closed the window shade, and stayed there....After about 20 minutes or longer, the police left. I can't imagine why she wouldn't open the door if only to tell them that everything was alright. Maybe she was having a panic attack and was too afraid to open the door. Or maybe there was something else going on in there. who knows? One can only imagine, or read about it in the paper tomorrow.
It was so cold that my fingers weren't moving, so I didn't get the reservoir pictures like I planned. try again tomorrow. or today. whichever it is.
I was so impressed with "Shooting Under Fire: The World of the War Photographer" by Peter Howe that I bought the book today. I very rarely ask my father for money or help or anything, but I asked if he could buy this book for me (afterall, he jumps at the chance to buy my sister all sorts of things whether she asks or not). He asked "what can you learn from that book that you don't already know? that war is ugly?" So he wouldn't buy it. I didn't expect him to be willing since he usually makes me feel guilty about paying for anything for me, and I would've (and did) buy the book either way since I think it is worth the $35. But still, I was annoyed by his reaction to the book, his continual reluctance to help me, and the double standard he has when dealing with my sister. I don't know what his hang up is. It's probably because he wants me to do something with my life not related to photography.
Amie told me to "lighten up" sometimes. Well, it's not easy to lighten up when I'm surrounded by uptight people who either
1)don't care about any of the things I'm doing or intend to do
2)don't care about what I'm doing currently and want me to do something more "acceptable" or lucrative
3)are just plain assholes.
And that's just my family.
Ah, the sweet smell of cigarette smoke is wafting upstairs and into my room. Just what I could use. It's always great to be home.........
This article from The Guardian talks about a court battle in New York that aims to lift the ban on police surveillance of political "dissidents" and political demonstrations:
Mr Kelly's proposals, which a judge is expected to consider next month, would mean that any NYPD unit could investigate any political group with out suspecting a crime, could videotape or photograph demonstrations, and would no longer need to convince a three-person panel - two police officials and a civilian - of the legitimacy of an infiltration.
This week's issue of the Boston Phoenix (it's not that evil, Judy) has a few pages devoted to letters from concerned citizens about the impending war with Iraq. There's also an interview with a veteran war photographer. Ever since I borrowed "Is Anyone Taking Any Notice?" by Don McCullin (amazingly, this book now costs upwards of $500 used!) from the library, war photography has been a subject close to my heart. Maybe one day I'll be a war photographer and die in battle like Robert Capa, who stepped on a landmine in Vietnam, I think.
On another note, now that the Homeland Security Act is a law, you can read the entire text of the final version here. I hope you have some time on your hands since it's 485 pages long....
It'll take a while for us normal folk to understand just how far reaching and scary this thing actually is.
John Mellencamp's "Small Town" drives me crazy every time I hear it:
Well I was born in a small town
And I live in a small town
Prob'ly die in a small town
Oh, those small communities
All my friends are so small town
My parents live in the same small town
My job is so small town
Provides little opportunity
Educated in a small town
Taught the fear of Jesus in a small town
Used to daydream in that small town
Another boring romantic that's me
But I've seen it all in a small town
Had myself a ball in a small town
Married an L.A. doll and brought her to this small town
Now she's small town just like me
No I cannot forget where it is that I come from
I cannot forget the people who love me
Yeah, I can be myself here in this small town
And people let me be just what I want to be
Got nothing against a big town
Still hayseed enough to say
Look who's in the big town
But my bed is in a small town
Oh, and that's good enough for me
Well I was born in a small town
And I can breathe in a small town
Gonna die in this small town
And that's prob'ly where they'll bury me
Gee, did he come from a small town? I can't tell.
Arg! That song sucks!