Time marches on ...

It also cuts, cascades, flips, fades, wipes and dissolves.

Nostalgia

I miss film.

A lot.

Ok not  a lot ... more like a little.

The expense of it is hard to justify in these times of technological want and excess.

But I'm not going to lament the advent of digital any more than I'll decry the death of newspapers.

Been there. Done That. Moving on.

I burn through film faster than money in my pocket.*** I'm no hypocrite. I'm hooked on digital.

Still, every once in a while, I find myself thinking about those lost days of excited anticipation.

The days of seeing how closely my memory from the viewfinder resembles the actuality developing in the darkroom.

In those moments of nostalgia, which are pretty frequent these days I'll admit, I may buy a roll of film at the pharmacy and dust off my old Nikon F series.

And a day or two later I'm back at the drugstore counter with my spent roll and scant hope for a little of that old-time magic.

It's not the magic I remember, exactly. But it's still got a little spark.
*** Just learned from PetaPixel, that Fuji is planning to increase it's film prices next month. Now's the time to stock up if you'd like to wallow in nostalgia.

Social diseases 2.0

Can't say I was surprised about a new study that says sexual harassment in school-age children is widespread and pervasive.

I was a teen once.

It was pretty bad then.

But now ... with the speed of your wifi connection ... it's probably going to be the worst social disease ever.

You know ...

If I were a fatalist.

Or something.

According to the report in The New York Times:

Girls reported being harassed more than boys — 56 percent compared with 40 percent — though it was evenly divided during middle school. Boys were more likely to be the harassers, according to the study, and children from lower-income families reported more severe effects.

“It’s pervasive, and almost a normal part of the school day,” said Catherine Hill, the director of research at the association and one of the authors of the report.

This most recent statistic is up significantly from similar reports just three years ago.


It doesn't take too much of a stretch of the imagination to see that surging hormones and immaturity combined with the ease of access to cell phones and wifi - not to mention a virtual ocean of other immature, hormonally charged neophytes just waiting at the ends of their facebook accounts ready and waiting to "Share."

But what do we expect? We all know adults - some of whom in power - who haven't matured past a middle school understanding of interpersonal relations.

We have politicians who aren't practicing what they preach.

Add to that an increasingly diminished journalistic standard, where ridiculing ordinary strangers is not only accepted but status quo.

The noise is just getting louder.

And what do we learn?

Not much.

We even have debate over morality of sex education, as some parents and politicians practically up in arms over schools' plans to offer sex ed in public schools, and yet a zero tolerance policy for pretty much anything that could be considered distasteful or potentially illegal, harmful or a target for litigation.

I can't wait to start reading about politicians creating more laws we can't enforce.

In short. I think we're fucked.

Of course an energy shortage could be the most hopeful thing ever.

If you think of it that way.

iPear

Mother's Day. Breakfast made a seven-year-old and delivered at the crack of dawn with the help of her father. French toast and hot coffee in bed.

Breakfast-skippers be damned. You will eat the delicate little heart-shaped toasts and they will be delicious.

It's a little daunting, though, when the whole family is perched on the end of the bed staring at you as you lift the fork. Extending the plate, I offer one of the toasts to those who are salivating.

"Maybe we can go to the place where mom's present is today," says the husband, who is slightly behind on his Mother's Day shopping but still has a few days left on the birthday shopping. "This is a Mother's Day-Birthday-Fourth-of-July-Halloween-Thanksgiving-Christmas and New Year's present, too."

I had dropped a hint that I would like an iPad.

"You know ... I think I might actually like an iPad," I said when he asked what I might want for my birthday. "I don't know. ... I'm just thinking that I'd like one for reading books. I read so rarely since the kids were born. And there are so many books being distributed electronically ... I'm just thinking ... maybe it's not as bad as I thought. Maybe I'd actually read more if I didn't worry about collecting books or library fines ... "

It was more of an inner-monologue gone astray than a hint, but he got the message.

He was smiling at me.

"You got me an iPad?" I said with the tiniest bit of apprehension. His answer was all important: If he HAD ordered it I would have be thrilled and going online immediately to check out available titles. If he hadn't, I would be relieved.

"I didn't order it yet. I was trying to figure out whether we should get one that's 3G or not."

"Please, let's just forget it. Don't get an iPad. As it is, with the phones and the computer, I'm already distracted enough. I don't want another screen for the kids to have to compete against. You say all the time how much we're missing ..."

Although I knew he agreed with me, I could see him deflate. He still had the problem of being the only father in the known universe who hadn't even gotten his wife a card.

"I'd be happy with a tomato plant," I said. "Really. We could go to the plant center."

He's a stickler, though. A $4 plant I would likely kill within 48 hours wasn't going to cut it for him.

"Let's go get a tree. What do you think? Wouldn't it be nice to have a fruit tree?"

I was a little skeptical. Trees are expensive ... and you probably need two if you want fruit ... and then there's the thing of planting them ... and caring for them. ... Maybe we should just research this a little before we jump in.

"You Google, I'll get the keys."

Before I knew what was happening, there we were at the plant center peering at rows of fruit-bearing trees and shrubs as the kids careened down the stone-covered walkways, dragging the garden center's big-wheeled wagon behind them.

"What I don't get is what's the difference between the apple trees and the pear trees," he said in all seriousness.

I blinked. "Really! Really?"

He just smiled and said he was going to find someone to help us.

"OK, but please don't ask that question at The Genius Bar."

Access denied (nana nana boo boo)

Your new password must contain at least seven characters, a capital letter, a digit, a dependent variable, an illustrative fable and a curse word.

You may not use any of your 10 previous curse words.

Your new password will expire in eight days.

If you are in need of further assistance, technical support is available by calling 800-I-CARE-NOT.

Now.

Please.

Hold your hand firmly on your buttocks ...

and window shade this message.

Are we making life harder than it has to be?

I'm not sure why I'm so fixated on these stories.

Another one hit the media stream this week.

Fear. Distrust. Jealousy. Anger. Rage. Meanness. Inexperience. Faulty thinking. Hopelessness. All mixed together with the immediacy, seeming anonymity, and enduring nature of technology, what we end up with is a society that can neither understand nor protect its own privacy.

I don't think I can comment on these individual cases anymore. I can only express sadness for such a senseless waste of life.

And while I'm opposed to laws that make "bullying" a crime, I'm not opposed to trying to prevail to humankind's better nature.

As soon as they get into school, kids start seeing differences in each other. They have their likes, dislikes, frustrations, irritations. They start to feel the pain as well as the power of exclusion.

These days, as I visit the classroom and meet my kids new friends, I can't help but look at their faces -- some laughing and smiling, others startled, worried or homesick -- and want to hug each and every one.

What is it that I need to teach my kids? Certainly they can't be friends with everyone. We all know we have our limits of patience and tolerance ... They won't be able to make everyone happy. No one will be able to make them happy, it has to come from within.

But we don't have to make another person's life harder. We may not be able to make everyone's life easier, but that doesn't mean we have to make anyone's life harder.

Can't argue with logic

HER: "Why isn't it printing?"

ME: "I don't know. Maybe the new Internet dad set up has some knots in it."

HER: "But look. This button says 'Print.' If I push it shouldn't it just print."

ME: "That's what I would guess. ... But then again, I don't even really know how the fax machine works other than 'magic isn't involved'."

HER: "What's a fax machine?"

ME: "A relative dinosaur of technology."

HER: "Maybe the fax could talk to the printer and make it work ... you know ... since they're related."

ME: "Now that really would be magic."

Oh me of inferior blogging

Stacy, the lovely and talented mind behind Apathy Lounge, wrote a delightful and thought-provoking reminiscence into junk drawers past and present. And I SOoooooo wanted to comment there. But it would seem I'm totally and irredeemably unable to master the art of logging into Typepad.

*Shakes head in shame*

I then tried to e-mail her directly, which I usually do in times of my technological malfunctions, but I couldn't manage to find her e-mail address either.

I did say irredeemably, right?

*More shame shaking*

Instead, I will offer you the *comment* I had hoped to leave for her:

I happen to know I had four pairs of scissors (why can I never find them?); bits of leftover ribbon; a compass; four birthday candles; seven product information booklets, including three booklets for appliances we no long own; three marbles; two Playmobil figures, scuba dude and zoo keeper; two packages of batteries; an old Nalgene bottle filled with corks; the top half of a Hello Kitty plastic egg; four glue sticks; two packages of some longevity chemical for cut flowers; two rubber bands; six pencils; one pen; two reusable produce bags, one mesh the other muslin; theater ticket stubs; a postcard from France; and a Buyus Funeral Home ash tray, which I'm considering using as a soap dish in the downstairs bathroom.

I know this because I packed the junk in a reusable grocery tote and moved it to the new house, where it has become painfully obvious that the new kitchen has one fewer drawer.

Now I have to find a drawer for my junk.

Now. Go snoop through Stacy's junk drawer, she's got a choice of cake or pie for you, too.

Which reminds me: "Pie."

Too snarky, right?

Not Ready for a Closeup, originally uploaded by toyfoto.

I am NEVER playing the Lotto.

Remember how I mentioned that Getty Images asked me to submit a bunch of photos for its Flickr collection?

Did I mention how excited I was when THIS was one of the first images sold from the collection.

It even appeared (briefly) in a video story on FoxNews. (i know ... so fair AND balanced).

Welp.

Nevermind.

Turns out .... two months later ... when the electronic statement was finally posted. No Sale.

It had been canceled. In the same month. But evidently it could have been cancelled in the following month and I would end up owing Getty from future sales if they'd paid me for the cancelled one.

Their answer to my question about how long people have to cancel sales: "It is disappointing to know of a sale then to find it's been cancelled, but any veteran photographer licensing her images will tell you that this comes with the territory."

I can't but think that was adding a little insult to injury ... not to mention not answering the question.

Of course ... I posted the above (Commercial Failure) picture to flickr ... before I knew any of this had taken place.

So ... maybe I should play the Lotto.

Random Question Thursday

I'm really NOT this silly, originally uploaded by toyfoto.

Is your favorite news outlet Tweeting you?

I'm not really as silly as the photo suggests. *Hush up you who know different.*

But I think the explosion of local media outlets trying to get hip - and potential hype - by signing themselves up on Twitter is pretty silly.

In fact - gulp - I kind of think the whole "Let's-adopt-social-networking-as-a-potential-new-business-model because-it-seems-to-be-all-the-rage ... not-to-mention-getting-a-whole-boatload-of-bucks-right-now" IS downright laughable.

It may sound a lot like the pot calling the kettle black, here, seeing as how my personal blog is getting some linky love from the Home Office ... but really, I don't see how moves like this will save the industry.

I've been blogging for about five years now and I've made a total of $80 (although the people at Google haven't sent me that check yet ... so really I shouldn't count those eggs until they're hatched). My guess is there's no gold at the end of this rainbow.

Evidently, I have a thing for F words

When a friend of mine told me about flickr four years ago, I knew I was going to be hooked the first time I visited the Web site. I can say - without hesitation - that since my first upload, flickr has altered my perspective just as surely as marriage and motherhood has changed my life.

Having a place to file images for easier recall, for me, is one of the best things about the photographers' network. Finding it a real source in meeting like-minded photographers and parents has been, perhaps, one of the most unexpected but extremely rewarding benefits.

As in most fairytales, there comes a point in the story where some troll or another enters the serenity to cause havok and upset ... and for me the troll that reared its ugly head in my fanasty land was video.

You see, where "still" pictures create some kind of enchanted kingdom for me, I've never really gotten the hang of moving pictures. I can't control the images ... I can't follow the movement ... I don't really know how to edit and the downloading just seems like drudgery.

When videos of my flickr friends' kids started seeping into to my "contacts" steams I started tuning out.

Part of it, I thought, was my desire to just see still images. On flickr, I reasoned, children should be seen and not heard. But then I realized it was because each and every little arrow denoting a collection of moving pictures, just reminded me that I only had a handful of videos to remind me of Annabel's baby self or her tiny voice and none ... of Silas' early laugh.

It pains me that I don't have more moving pictures of my children, especially since my father has my first steps on 8 mm film. FILM.

I am the product of a gadget generation and yet I couldn't get the hang of a camcorder with tape. Go figure.

So in the New Year when another friend pressed a Flip into my hand at a party and insisted I check it out, I knew I was going to be hooked the instant I held the sleek, phone-sized gadget and saw only one button ... .

What is this ... a Flip?

It took a nearly two months, but that F word kept haunting me.

Her voice was changing.

He was getting more words.

She was singing her own songs.

He was getting faster and faster on the PlasmaCar.

I broke down and bought one. In the three days since I've had it, I've been holding it as Annabel ate cereal with chopsticks, sang songs and told stories ... while silas raced down the hall, fiddled with lollipops and reprogramed my computer.

They're not the best images ever; but they're perfect for me. They are easy to take, easy to download, easy to upload ... and even the kids - BOTH of them - have learned how to view and record.

I know I'll probably regret letting them run around with my new toy, and I'll probably have a few standard expletives if it returns with chips or dents. The phrases will be worse, I expect, if I find it floating in the commode. But my kids don't seem phased ... they know I have a thing for F words.

And then the Big Bad Wolf ate the Little Pig

video confer with grandma, originally uploaded by toyfoto.

Things I learned while on a video conference call with the in-laws.

1. The kids will melt down two minutes into the conversation for no apparent reason.

2. The older kid will melt down any time the video feed cuts out and she can no longer view the person to whom we are conversing.

3. A nursing mother WILL have part of her anatomy exposed unbeknowst to her during three-quarters of all conversations. (Note to self: CHECK over clothing coverage before answering the door from NOW ON).

4. One adult will IMMEDIATELY need to use the bathroom upon opening up the conference call window. And there's no MUTE button in the world that's going to be successful in letting THAT happen.

5. There is NO WAY four people can comfortably fit in the space alotted to a laptop. Someone will eventually lose an eye.

6. Any books read by preschoolers to their grandparents during video conferences will be long and filled with stunning insite into the depravity to which her parents have fallen:

"The wolf eats the first pig, whose house is made of straw.

"And then he eats the second pig, whose house is made of sticks.

"But then the pig who lives in the brick house goes to get turnips, and apples and to get a butter churn so he can eat the wolf when he comes down the chimney."

What? You let your kids read that santized stuff where in the little pigs go scurrying to the increasingly better fortified houses of their siblings? The one where the wolf and the pigs become friends?

Pssssshhhhht.