March 21, 2014

One Step From A New World

I love reflections, the topic of the current WP Weekly Photo Challenge. I especially love the otherworldly reflections of puddles. On the edges of a puddle I can see the reflected image continuing – into a separate world, just beyond the edge of the puddle. I should be able to take a step and enter. But I haven’t taken the right step yet – and even the dog can tell me that when you step in a puddle, what happens next is wet paws, not entry to a new dimension.

Here is a dawntime reflection of a puddle I discovered during from my recent trip to Hawaii (travelog post coming soon), which confirmed that my yearning to visit the new dimension exists regardless of how nice the current dimension is:

Hawaiianpuddle

Dawn in Waikiki, Honolulu, March 2014.

Here is a majestic piney mountain world reflected in a puddle:

mud2photo

Muddy puddle in La Tuna Canyon, southern California, 2013.

Speaking of Hawaii, here are some other reflections I caught during my visit to Honolulu.

New day at the harbor, Honolulu.

New day at the harbor, Honolulu.

Canal with buildings, Honolulu.

Canal with buildings, Honolulu.

P.S. Thinking about reflected worlds was one of the inspirations for my upcoming fantasy detective series. There, the other worlds are called Frames, and I’m happy to say the first book in the FRAMES series is in final editing. Another coming soon (but not as soon as the travelog post).

P.P.S. I’ve got numerous photos of reflections in other posts. For example, in these posts about an optical illusion, a search for a deadly predator, and a spectacular view at the end of a hike. I will let you figure out which is which: here,  here, and here.

March 18, 2014

It Must Be A Generational Thing

Is this your Starbucks?

Is this your Starbucks?

As I left Starbucks this afternoon, I overheard a snippet of conversation between two teen girls exiting with drinks that are essentially dessert-in-a-cup.

“Didn’t you get him a coffee?” asked the first girl.

“No, he doesn’t like Starbucks coffee,” replied the second.

“Well,” said the first, philosophically and with complete sincerity, “Starbucks isn’t known for its coffee.”

February 28, 2014

What’s Black and White and All Gray Area?

When it comes to lasting life lessons, the most important class I ever took was a journalism class back in high school. The teacher, Mr. Kim, divided the class into four groups and each group monitored the (then-current*) Vietnam War by reading a single news magazine: Newsweek, Time, Christian Science Monitor and I forget the fourth. After a few months, each group reported on the war from our magazine’s perspective —- and it was as though there were four different wars going on. The differences were not subtle. A battle lost according to one magazine was won according to another! That experience carved deep and healthy skepticism toward the news.

Below is today’s example of the same lesson, currently pinging around Facebook (I shared from a friend who shared a Twitter snapshot that originated on the timeline of George Takei).

BTW and P.S. THANK YOU MR. KIM!

It's all in the adjectives.

It’s all in the adjectives.

* yes, that’s how exceedingly old I am.

February 22, 2014

Who Would It Be And Why?

I’ve seen questions like this before, but never considered my own answer before.

If you could spend a day with anyone from history, who would it be and why?

Recently Michael invited me to do an author interview on his blog. This being the internet, I’ve never met Michael, but he certainly seems like an interesting fellow – a video game producer and writer with a blog name that applies to all of us: The Cult of Me. All that aside, Michael was not how I answered the question. That would have been too simple. In fact, the question sent my mind bouncing like a ping pong ball in a windstorm. Below is my answer. What is yours?

You wouldn’t believe the struggle I’ve had with this question. Over the years, I’ve encountered many brilliant, talented, or famous people so I know that having a gift doesn’t guarantee that you will be interesting or fun – or pleasant. And I want this day to be truly special. So first, I nerded out. (What if we don’t speak the same language? What if they take longer than a day to get to know? What if they’re heroes who turn out to be jerks?) Eventually I broke out of this spiral by reminding myself that this is the dream sequence part of the interview. Then I couldn’t decide my motivation. Did I want to learn something (the Buddha), be inspired (Thoreau), meet a hero (John Lennon), solve a mystery (the Shakespeares), have a great conversation (Einstein), have some laughs (Mae West), share an adventure (Michael Connelly)? Next I paused, troubled, because I didn’t have enough women on the list. I paused again because so few of my personal heroes made the list. Then I realized that maybe I could select someone living, which changed everything! Finally, I wished that the question included fictional characters.

At last I forced myself to make a damn choice, with two runners-up in case we have scheduling conflicts.

 First choice: Beatrix Potter. We would wander her country estate, while chatting and observing stuff; and I would watch her draw.

 Second choice: Thelonious Monk. We would have conversations I mostly didn’t understand while walking around New York; and then I would sit in on a gig.

 Third choice: Tolstoy during his last, visionary and/or crazy days when he lived at the train station. He would talk and I would take notes.

You can read the rest of the interview here.

February 12, 2014

Me x Me

My collection of “selfie” photographs
says more about what I like than what I look like.

Some of my favorite where and when:

Me at the beach as sunset approaches.

Me at the beach as sunset approaches.

I love the uncertain sense of motion
as outgoing surf removes sand beneath my heels:

feet2photo

My theory here was that the view
was more interesting than a mugshot:

Me, beach, sunset

Me, beach, sunset

An earlier exploration of the same theory
created a disturbing furry beach creature:

Careful, it's alive!

Careful, it’s alive!

One morning, I stopped walking the dog
long enough to capture a compelling shadow me:

Stop sign halo.

Stop sign halo.

A kindred spirit?:

Not, technically, a selfie.

This palm tree at sunset is not, technically, a selfie.

Whether I’ve been to the beach or not,
this is a fine way to conclude any day:

My lap, occupied.

My lap, occupied.

(The WP Weekly Photo Challenge asked to see “Selfies”.)

January 25, 2014

Home Is Where The Thoughts Stay

What I see this morning as I write this.

What I see this morning as I write this.

I love meeting new places, and so I am excited to be heading out for a week of work-related travel; however, there’s a part of me that never wants to leave home, and thus I must always shove myself out the door.

There is nothing special about my house. It’s a tiny, nondescript box. I’m always behind with my housework and yard work and I no longer pretend that I intend to catch up. It would be charitable to call the furniture antiques. At one time I had lots of Nice Stuff but multiple moves, kids, pets, and my waning interest in Stuff have all taken a toll.

But of course, that’s not what matters.

Home is where my kids grew up (when we stopped moving around), and where they stay when they need a place to. Home is where we marked their growth spurts on the wall, and now have a funny paint job as we paint around but never over those growth marks.

Home is where the cats and the dog reside, usually doing something goofy. This morning, two of the cats did some play-fighting in the backyard, on opposite sides of a tree trunk. They rose up like bears and batted at each other left right left right but mostly hit the tree trunk.

Home is where I sit on a patio and write novels, and blog posts, while listening to the morning birds or the evening freeway traffic, which really can sound like the ocean.

Home is where I get to choose my changes, or have that illusion. Home is where I can dress however I please, except maybe when a kid walks in out of the bright afternoon sun with a friend and I’m still in my jammies. Home is where I ignore the phone’s ring if that’s what I feel like doing.

Home is where I recharge, revive, restore, and become ready to go back out in the world.

The curious thing is that home is so portable. I have had many homes – big, small, fancy, plain – and they all have the same effect. A house is a building, a home is the state of mind.