Welcome to my life.

I'm a self-avowed WordPress Whisperer with a specialization in front-end design. I live in Maryland. I take lovely photos, go to the gym a lot, and opine strongly over design, aesthetics, and politics. I'm prolific on Twitter; I used to post to Flickr; I have a moblog and in my spare time I help out at the SemperFi WP Support forums. Read more about me.

RAW Clutter

I have been going through my photo collection on my hard drive today. I set my camera to shoot in RAW + SHQ (1/4 compression), and I just realized how much space Raw files can take. Each photo is 13.5 megabytes in Raw, and that space can stack up very quickly. Since it has been months since I have actually needed to “refine” a photo from the Raw file for any reason, I’ve decided to clean some house.

The actual cleanup process is far more arduous than I imagined.  I asked two questions of every picture: first, do I keep it? Second, do I keep its Raw file handy? Deleting crappy pictures from the Windows thumbnail view is no joke, too. I had, at first, plenty of pictures that I needed viewing full-screen in order to make a good decision.

The really nice thing about this process is that I get to look at the photos I have taken over the past year and a half. It’s like going through a shoebox of memories; it is quite refreshing.  At the same time I’ve also accepted that shooting in Raw isn’t for everyone. Not every time a photo is taken requires the five minutes or more required for post-production work. I would leave the Raw editing for, as they say, the pros. Or those who have more time on their hands than imaginable.

The opposite sex

I wouldn’t so much call myself a misogynist as I would describe myself someone who appreciates and celebrates maleness. Now and again I would come across articles about the way things have changed for men and boys in this country and it does fill me with a mild sadness. A little over four years ago Kim Du Toit wrote a landmark article in the blogosphere entitled The Pussification Of The Western Male, which caused such a stir among the writers of the time that the ensuing flame war was practically a cosmic event.

And still today, in less polemic terms, articles now and again would crop up lamenting the sad state of the young men in our country. In The Problem With Boys, Marty Nemko channels Jake Tyler Brigance with an opening laundry list of social problems that he later on reveals as those plaguing boys today.

And our schools continue to get ever more feminized. Competition, one of boys’ favorite motivators, has largely been excised in favor of “cooperative learning,” (which, in the real world, usually means that the bright do the dull’s work.) Stories of heroism and bravery are replaced with tomes about relationships and female heroes. Recess is increasingly being replaced by yet another round of phonics. Girls are told they can accomplish anything while boys are taught that masculinity is an anti-social trait that must be extinguished. It’s no surprise that the number of boys who said they didn’t like school rose 71 percent between 1980 and 2001. [...]

Ironically, educated parents often do particularly badly by boys. The college curriculum and the media consumed by the intelligentsia stresses the accomplishments of women and the evils of men. So, these parents too often feel justified in emasculating, squeezing the maleness out of boys: aggressiveness, competition, physicality, dislike of long seatwork. Of course, I’m not advocating that parents allow Junior to become a savage, but the above qualities, channeled wisely, can be the stuff of which greatness is made. We can refine but rarely remold so we must honor males’ ways of being, just as we’ve been urged now for decades to honor females’.

The article is full of the many things that I and many others have observed over the years. Growing up in the Eighties I was at quite a turning point in the way cultures raised young men. As a youth I was quite a sickly wimp, which, in the zero-sum game that whatever deity one may believe plays with our fates, was made up for by my immense mental capability. And, quite apparently, my inability to exhibit false modesty.

One of the things that I have always paid attention to is the way the sexes interact. It always amazes me how different men and women relate to each other, but moreso, the beauty of the way they are different, and complementary. Articles like the ones cited above cause me to lament because the way with which these differences are not treated as something good, or at the very least something different. Rather, it is treated as a negative.

I suppose I don’t understand why men are treated like an evil in a world where both sexes are still quite important in forming most fulfilling relationships. Most of my friends are men, many of whom have girlfriends. The best girlfriends I have ever met are the ones who know when to step back and let a man be himself and when to use her power as a complementary force. The worst girlfriends are the ones who take everything good about their man and try to change him into this idealized version that they think they want. ‘Nuff said.

What a day for news

Like the title said. Heath Ledger bought the farm. Fred Thompson is out of the presidential race. Clinton and Obama squabbling like, well, whatever.

Someone tell Billy Joel he needs to rewrite We Didn’t Start The Fire to include this year.

I think I’m going to curl up in bed, have some tea and read a book.

Book Review: The 2008 Edition of The Official Handbook of the Vast Right-Wing Conspiracy

I received the 2006 edition of Mark W. Smith’s book a while back. Unfortunately I was unable to review it in a timely manner for many reasons. Suffice to say I didn’t. So, picking up the 2008 edition is like a first time for me, reading this book.

The book follows a very clear structure. Each chapter deals with a large issue whose sections are prefaced by liberal lunacies: short theses that many of us have heard before. Each lunacy is then rebutted in a clear manner.

My initial expectation of the book was that it would be more of a Republican-biased right-wingedness. While, of course, some of the responses underlined the decisions of Republicans in government today, not all of the content is a Repub love-fest. If you know your news, and read through the book, there are plenty of ideas in the book that popular Republicans running for office might not quite be in line with. Here’s a zinger of a liberal lunacy for you: “The government should strictly regulate campaign financing due to the corrupting influence of money on politics.” Smith rips into McCain-Feingold on this issue, and rightfully so. The Handbook lives up to it’s title as right-wing, and its positions feel a lot more like a hybrid between the RNC and the Cato Institute.

Perhaps the double-edged sword that is the nature of this book is in the glaring difference between the “liberal lunacy,” which is usually a single sentence, and the response itself. The lunacies presented seem overly simple, and yet for something so simple the responses are quite in-depth. I suppose the book is meant to be read with a little levity.

In this day and age, people’s political views seem to be much more unyielding. The nature of debate has gotten nasty on the national stage, and I shudder to imagine how disruptive a conversation like that might be at a place of work. The Handbook can serve many purposes, even for liberals. For many of us conservatives we can read through its pages and get a reaffirmation that we believe in has a good basis, maybe even learn a new thing or two, especially for those who have been out of the loop, like myself. For liberals, it can provide a great insight into how some of the minds behind the faces they see on the news think. Mark W. Smith, in the end of his book, cites a long list of conservative authors, journalists and organizations. For those willing to open their minds a little bit into the Vast Right Wing Conspiracy, The Handbook itself will prove to be a good starting point. It also goes for less than twelve dollars on Amazon, as of WordPress time.

A piece of personal history

My personal possessions tend to fall under one of three categories: the utilitarian, the reserve, and the totemic.

Utilitarian sounds simple enough: these are the things that I use on a daily basis, until they get run down and battered and they stop working. When that time comes, the reserve come into play. I find my own buying habits quite interesting. Whenever some things I know I will use down the line go on sale, I never buy just one. Most of the time I stop at two, but three or four of the same thing on sale is not unheard of. That is the general rule especially when it comes to shoes. The sneakers I buy never go out of style—they’re mostly skate shoes—and they are generally expensive except when they go on clearance. Then the only frustration lies in finding a pair in my size.

I have a small chest of the things I consider totemic: small tokens from my past the remind me of experiences worth remembering during periods of reverie. Many of them have been around for at least ten years, from way back during my high school days. But the collection is always ongoing and growing.

Last night I went out to dinner with my friend to the same sushi restaurant that, on a whim, we decided to try out last summer. The place stuck, with its ambiance, great service, affordable prices, and close proximity to both of our homes. With my ever expanding hobby into tea, we have always admired the cups in which they served our tea. After much deliberation, I decided to speak with the manager and was able to convince him to sell me two: one for me, one for my friend. To the common onlooker it’s just yet another Asian tea cup, but to me, it is a symbol of many more things.

I’m a sentimental packrat, in other words. And a photo, to top it all off:

A very special tea cup.

A very special tea cup.

Gym talk

Every gym has its own culture, and I’m pretty glad the place I joined isn’t full of meatheads at all. It wasn’t crowded at all but even where there was a small cluster around a few particular machines everyone was courteous enough to offer turns and what not. Joining here appears to be one of the better decisions I made for myself so far.

One of my favorite parts is the actual drive to the gym itself. It’s one mile of neighborhood driving and eight miles of highway. Three stoplights total. And unlike so many out there who find the back and forth commute to be one of the bigger chores of life, my five minute drive to work sometimes isn’t enough to satisfy a certain need. I get my speed on the way to the gym and back.

So that’s pretty much how life is going to look like for a while. Work, rest, gym, sleep, wash, rinse, repeat, with a few occasional social events here and there, of course.

I joined a gym

After much hemming, hawing and self-doubt I did some financial math and decided to join Gold’s. About damn time. Toured the facility, liked what I saw, it has all the machines I need, yadda, yadda.

Things are looking up. Or out, like in the following picture:

The view from the swaying bridge at Patapsco Valley State Park

The view from the swaying bridge at Patapsco Valley State Park

Maybe I’m just seasonally affective

Apropos of yesterday’s post, I decided to go back to the same state park that I went to yesterday in a state of melancholy. It must be the sun, or the lovely weather. They could be factors, but I’m definitely less glum despite my going out alone for picture taking today.

Sandy Point State Park is basically at the foot of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge, and the beach there provides an enthralling view. It’s also one of the few places from which you can take a photo of the bridge and not be questioned on the basis of national security. However, I am to tease, and would rather post this introspective photo that I took, at least for tonight:

A lonely beach toy set on the banks of the Chesapeake bay.

A lonely beach toy set on the banks of the Chesapeake bay.

On itinerant photography

I have mentioned briefly before on my site that I now own a car. The significance of that can be a underplayed without the context that this is my first car and that I arrived at the moment that I’ve been waiting for last September, and on my mother’s birthday, no less. In less than four months I’ve driven it over four thousand miles. The freedom it offers is quite amazing, and even now I am still amazed at the time I have spent pending this period in my life.

One of the joys that my owning a car has brought me has been the freedom to go wherever I want—though I am quite pragmatic as to where—in order to take photos. I love the fact that I am quite an itenerant photographer. I can wake up extra early to catch the sun rise, or stay out late to wait for it to set. I don’t have to rely on anyone else to take me anywhere for my hobby.

But you know what I miss the most? It’s spending photography time with my friends who share the same passion and interest. It’s always been fun to have a friend or two come along with me to take pictures, because perspectives are always different and different people see different things when they capture the same scene.

It is when I am maudlin and feeling lonely that it hurts the most to go out and take pictures by myself.

The view from the banks of the Patapsco River

The view from the banks of the Patapsco River at the State Park in Elkridge, Maryland

This mortal coil

The past few days have seen me sick enough that I had to not work. I hate calling out. It inconveniences everyone else at work and it can produce a streak of ill will and doubt and it’s just too much crap to deal with. But when I’m this sick, I’m this sick. I spent most of my day in bed napping and reading a book in between naps.

While I’ve wanted to stay from political blogging in general, and particularly, election blogging, I stopped by Instapundit just to see how things are going on his side of the web. So, a quick read here, a quick click-through there and nothing really worth devoting much time over in my state of weakness, until… There. So short, so grim, Andrew Olmstead, blogger, Army man, patriot, has passed away. What Glenn Reynolds links to in the wake of the news is nothing short of the most amazing, most poignant, and perhaps most important farewell letter written by a man who knew his time was to come ahead of most.

What it is is the sword of Alexander cutting through the Gordian Knot that is political discourse in our day and age.

What it is is a persistent message that when it comes down to it, deeds count over words.

What it is the most is, if you could read through to the end without tears clouding your eyes, is a message of love. Because after all is said of the politics and the war and the duty and all that, at the end is a message to his wife. And that is where I broke down.

Sunset over the Severn River

The sun sets over the Severn River.
In Memory of Andrew Olmsted.

Archives

Monthly

Categories