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OMG We’re going to drive?

April 9, 2012

Seriously? I admit that sitting at my desk, staring at a computer, for six hours straight is a normal part of my day (well, when I’m working hard at something). However, six hours in the car makes me feel like a wild animal with a foot caught in a trap.

I don’t like to drive.

I hate to commute, I left a job without a plan B when I couldn’t handle the 15 mile commute (which could take between 12 to 57 minutes depending on traffic, weather, phase of the moon, etc.). And family trips, driving between San Jose, San Luis Obispo, and the LA area, are always a horrible grind, even via the lovely coastal route. We have friends in sunny San Diego who keep asking us to visit, stay in their new home but we never manage because I don’t like to drive that far.

Why would I agree to spend eight to twelve hours in a car for five days there and back? That doesn’t even count the back-and-forthing along the east cost. Sadly, I’ve heard they are called flyover states for a reason.

I’ve lived my life in California, born in SoCal, went to college just east of LA, and moved to Silicon Valley for work. Heck, we even honeymooned in Camel-by-the-sea, only 90 minutes from home. It was great. I did spend some time in Mexico as a child and a summer in Pittsburgh during college, both of which were mostly forgettable. And, it is hard to not visit Arizona (Havasu!), Oregon (hey, look, trees!), and Nevada (Vegas, baby!) when you’ve spent this long in California. I’ve visited New York, Utah, Florida, Washington, Alabama and Colorado for work. And I popped over to New Mexico for a girls weekend once.

But other than the closest states, those all involved planes (and one train). And I don’t really remember much of being there, it was just about getting things done and going home.

How in blazes did I agree to drive across the country, across a whole continent? (Curiously, it sounds bigger when I put it that way, somehow it sounds smaller when I say “drive across the nation” though. Terminology is perspective.)

Well, you see, it goes back to the honeymoon, or really, shortly before that when I got married to C. He’s a wonderful man and we are still in love with each other. Nicely, we also still like one another and find time spent together to be interesting and fun.

Well, except when he’s driving around a parking lot, making me car sick when there were three open spots we’ve already passed. I suppose neither one of us finds that time particularly rewarding though it happens all too often.

But he doesn’t like to fly. He says that this short video describes some of the fears he has about flying.

Since I’m a homebody, that isn’t much of a problem. However, his parents and sister moved to the east coast about a decade ago. They don’t fly either but they’ve driven out to see us several times, about once a year now that I think about it. In May, his sister is giving a graduation performance as part of her Masters program.

People have asked about drugging him to get him through the flight. That isn’t the problem. The problem is the anxiety leading up to the flight there (or if I surprise him, the time before we fly back). He’d be as whiney as I get when he’s looking for a parking space. But it would be all the time (until the flying part was over and done with) and not just until the car stops.

So flying is out, at least for now. Though I promised him a weekend at Disneyland if he gets over it. But that is a different adventure.

For now, we need to get to Boston by May 4th. The one train trip didn’t work out that well: I liked playing cribbage with the old guy in the lower level cantina (there is always one) but C didn’t care for the experience, due to land sharks, I believe. And I admit I got sick of the cramped space.

A cruise around the world would maybe work, though we’ve never taken a cruise. I’ll put that on my maybe-next-time list. Because we are going to drive across the country, err… continent, err… nation. So, I’m a little nervous about this trip. In life in general, I tend to spend most of my time and energy focused on the destination.

One of the goals of this blog is to stop focusing on the drive as a means to an end and instead start thinking about the drive as being part of the journey.

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Is that a Lytro?

April 8, 2012

Loading 138 photos… I thought that would give me enough time write a blog post about the new Lytro camera. As each picture loads, though, I turn to look at it and try all the different focus areas, deciding whether to keep it or trash it. I usually trash a lot of pictures; it makes people think I take better pictures if they never see the rejects- the poorly framed shots (why is there is flower with the background of someone’s butt?), the over exposed pictures (that sky sure looks ominous though the white flower looks cheerful), the blurry shots (you know the blurry shots well enough, thank you).

There are a lot fewer blurry shots with the Lytro. In case you haven’t heard of it, the Lytro camera uses a special imaging sensor that lets it takes in focus at multiple depths, letting me select where the focus should go when I get back home. No more out of focus things… kind of.

Focus is a funny thing. I’m sure there are technical terms but I’m the sort of photographer who is happy with a point and shoot, I just like the pretty pictures, I save worrying about the tricky details for my work life. I thought the post processing would turn me off of the Lytro (I do not need more time in front of a computer). And I thought I was getting the camera for my husband (for the trip, don’t you know?).

Here are the images from the first day I played with it, taking it around the neighborhood, trying to figure out how to make pretty pictures. Click on a picture and you can see how the focus changes, I’d recommend the pagoda with the red shrub. You can make the shrub a bright blur, focusing on the pagoda. Or if you click on the shrub, you can make the pagoda a mysterious shadow. And the two sets of apple blossoms are there to show that the focus isn’t just a few levels but can go from pretty close to pretty far. Oh, and try the last one, the tulips and tree. It wasn’t the best picture but something happened in that picture… I’m not sure I can explain without visuals so leave the other window open. If you click on the tree, the tulips are a dark pink blur. But then click on the tulip and the image becomes three dimensional for a second. It feels like reality has shifted for a second there. I need a new word to describe a picture that shows the bigness of the world.

I’m not used to my gadgetry requiring new metaphysical vocabulary.

Anyway, the Lytro… I should say that my vision isn’t that great so slight focus errors usually go over my head. I sometimes have to ask my husband (C) if a picture is in focus. But now I can really see it. The Lytro is going to make me a better photographer for other cameras.

After my neighborhood shots, I wanted to try it out someplace where I could take awesome photos. That would be Filoli, a house and garden in Woodside, CA. C and I have been several times over the years. It is a great place to take pictures because it is so incredibly beautiful there that you can turn in any direction and get something wonderful. C had his digital SLR, the heavy lens he was trying out, with the monopod and backpack. I had the hand sized Lytro. It didn’t fit in my pocket but I happily wore it as a charm bracelet.

One problem with Filoli is the number of other people who find it breathtaking (and their kids). Just about everyone had a camera. I was stopped many times, “Is that a Lytro?” and everyone wanted to know what I thought. Did I like it?

Yes, I would tell them, but it changes photography for me. I don’t just compose a shot, I have to compose the shot and the background to the shot and the background to that. Not everything has multiple levels, each one with something interesting.

I’m looking at one of the shots I took this morning on the Lytro now, trying to decide if I want to delete it. It is a nice picture, good texture contrast between the smooth windswept clouds in the sky, the rough trees, the bright yellow field of narcissus (it spelled fantastic, the Lytro failed to capture that), the light and dark interplay is nice and there is a branch of a yellow shrub in the foreground. It is a shot I’d be happy with, the not entirely level with the horizon notwithstanding (it lends movement to the still that is ok with me). Normally, I’d rank this as a decent shot of a pretty place.

Now, I’m not so sure… it is all “at infinite depth” which means it is all far enough away to be in focus. There is no depth; clicking in different spots nets the same picture. So now maybe this image isn’t good enough to survive the culling. It doesn’t have any movement and it fails entirely to show the bigness of the world. (Seriously, I need a word for that.)

Taking pictures this way is much more challenging. I suppose I should be thinking of The Print. The final shot that gets printed and gets to live in a picture frame around the house until some other picture is deemed more interesting. But I’m totally not thinking of that. I don’t care about The Print anymore. Suddenly I care about the image you see on the Lytro page (or in the program before I upload them). I want you (you!) to interact with my pictures. To feel like you can be there, to get a nearly tactile rush from clicking the images to see what you can find. To move from the soft flower to the rough bark, the pitted rock to the blades of grass, the cracked mushroom to the woody forest floor. To see something I never put my focus on.

I was thinking I’d add some criticisms… while I like the Lytro, there are some things I’d change. The easiest is somewhere to put the nifty magnetic lens cover (I’ll be fixing that with a rare earth magnet on the wrist strap). But you know what? The pictures are loading and right now I’m thrilled with the Lytro. I need to go delete some photos; I’ll be gentle, this is its first real adventure after all. There will be more. Oh, and in case you want to see- here are the survivors, for now.

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Thanks for the questions

April 7, 2012

Most of the studies on “how to be happy” stress the importance of gratitude: being thankful for what you have instead of always chasing after greener grass and rainbows.

There is a blog called thxthxthx. Leah Dieterich writes thank you notes, often to unexpected people and things. That link goes to the post that is most relevant to our trip (and probably my favorite so far). Here is the text for anyone who didn’t follow the link.

Dear people who tell me to slow down,
Even though you’re telling, you’re also essentially asking why I’m trying to rush the journey, and why I think where I’m going is more important than where I am. These are good questions.
Best, Leah

I’m going to need to remember this because I have to admit, I’d like to go fast and get there, preferably via the optimal path. And, heck, ideally using a transporter. But we are going to drive. All the way across the country…

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We’re going on a trip

April 7, 2012

My husband and I are going to take a cross country trip. We are driving from San Jose to Washington DC to Connecticut to Boston. On the way there, we are going The Southern Route: Arizona, New Mexico, some other states I forgot, Tennessee and Virginia. I expect we’ll spend a fair amount of time listening to Route 66 for at least the first part of the trip. On the way back, we’ll go to north… way north: Illinois, Wisconsin, Minnesota, North Dakota, Wyoming, Montana (Yellowstone!), Nevada and home.

The goal is to see the graduation performance of my sister-in-law as she finishes up a Jazz flute master’s degree. And to see the country but I keep forgetting that part. I’m pretty focused on goals and forget to see that the journey is the fun part. This is a road trip of epic proportions. Hurrying along is going to make it worse, not better. Yes, I’m excited to see Washington DC (I’ve never been!) and looking forward to seeing family. But if we don’t do something every day, something to make us to look around at where we are and think “yeah, this is awesome”, I believe we are doing it wrong.

Yeah, that is a metaphor for life. The goal here isn’t subtlety.