More bullshit from another asshole with a blog

Resolving a 20-year regret
10Feb09

Posted by wafwot

Nikon F3-to-D90 morphWhen I was a teenager of about 14 or 15, my Mom got a SLR for Christmas, which piqued my interest in cameras. I don’t remember exactly which model she had, but I seem to recall it was an Olympus OM-10, but I could be wrong. I know it was an Olympus camera, though. In any case, when she started buying photo magazines, I started reading them and getting interested in the art of photography. So much so, that I got myself a Nikon FG. I don’t remember if the FG was a birthday or Christmas present, but I loved that camera and it cemented my adoration of Nikons to this day. I even took two elective art classes in high school for photography. I took a lot of art classes throughout high school; commercial art, mechanical drawing, ceramics, painting, ad nauseam… but photography was by far my favorite.

In high school, I learned how to make photographs, not just snap pictures. We shot exclusively in Ilford FP4 and HP5 black and white film. And my school was lucky enough to have a darkroom — complete with about 8 or 9 enlargers — for developing film and printing photographs. I enjoyed those photo classes and thrived at the “hobby.” I spent all my free time in the photo lab. My year book was even signed by a girl who said she’d never forget me using the light from an enlarger in the darkroom to read a book for English class. Good times! After graduating high school, I decided to continue my education and enrolled in “college.” I’ll say college for lack of a better word. It was really the Art Institute of Philadelphia.

Of course, my family couldn’t afford to send me to an institute of higher learning, so I went to see Satan and applied for financial aid. I received some Pell Grant money, then Satan had his way with my virgin anus as I signed on the dotted line for Federdal student loans. Of course, this was the 1980s, and I guess the government was handing out student loans to any deadbeat with a Bic pen and the ability to sign their name… So with tuition paid, for the immediate future, I was enrolled in classes.

One of the first things I did before classes started in July of 1985 was sell my Nikon FG at a camera shop in Philadelphia. I don’t remember what I got for it, but it was not nearly enough to cover the camera I bought to replace it. With some monetary help from my grandfather, I got a new Nikon F3 High Point, arguably the best manual-focus, professional level 35mm SLR camera of its time. I’m going to say it was the best manual camera Nikon ever made, and I never owned an F or F2. So there!

My F3 was awesome! I loved that camera. I babied it like it was made of glass, even though Nikon professional cameras have a world-renowned reputation as being the most rugged cameras ever built. I was only 19 at the time, and it was the most expensive thing I ever owned at nearly $900 for the camera body alone (no lens). That’s over $1700 2008 dollars! But I recall the F3 actually costing more than a grand at camera shops in Philadelphia at the time, which is why I bought through mail order. I always drooled over the multi-page print ads in the back of the photography magazines, for they usually had great deals on gear. So when it came time to buy my Nikon F3, I called the number of one of the biggest print ads around… B&H Photo. We’re talking 1985, people! There was no Internet. Well, there was, but it wasn’t available to us peons yet. There was no ResellerRatings or customer reviews. There was only credit cards and faith, or C.O.D., baby. I used C.O.D. because there was no money exchange until the UPS driver showed up on my door step with what I ordered… and I always opened the box in front of the driver before he got the cash. I wasn’t going to pay nearly a $1000 for a boxed masonry brick. Fuck that! I would use B&H several other times — and C.O.D. — when I bought an MD4 motor drive, two lenses, and a handle-mount flash. I don’t have a picture of my old Nikon F3, but it looked almost exactly like this Nikon F3.

When school started, it was great! I was surrounded by like-minded students, learning and experiencing large- and medium format cameras as well as my own 35mm camera, color, design, visual expression, B&W and color darkroom skills, as well as photo retouching and mounting. I also learned a lot about location and studio photography, you know, with strobes and umbrellas. I really enjoyed the classes, and stuck with it for almost two years.

However, life has a tendency of getting in the way. One thing that burned my ass were a couple of the instructors at the school. I got the impression they were full-time photographers, part-time teachers. If they were hired for some project, they wouldn’t show up. I can recall many times sitting outside a class room or a studio — listening to Howard Stern on WYSP — waiting for the instructor to show up and unlock the door. Several of us went to see the “Dean,” but were told that the school is looking for a substitute. Excellent. We’re paying good money for tuition, and they’re going to find us some Peggy Hill to lern us sum pitcher takin’. But I can’t blame the school completely. I was an impatient prick then as I am now, and didn’t stick around for a substitute. Tuition was expensive. Instead of sitting in a hallway outside a studio, I got a sales job at my local Radio Shack, and never looked back. That was the beginning of the end.

It wasn’t long before I had a second job making signs with computers and vinyl at a place called SIGNprinters (yes, that’s the actual company, still in business). Well, one thing led to another, and before long, I was finalizing plans in 1989 to leave Pennsylvania and move to Washington. In fact, to fund my trip to Washington, I sold my Nikon F3 gear… a decision I still regret to this day, realized when I drove over Snoqualmie Pass on I-90. School was the furthest thing from my mind, so too was repaying my student loans.

Long story short, defaulted student loans have a way of following you forever and fucking up your credit. It took several years — more like ten — but the Federal government tracked my ass down. With the help of a few Nazi debt collectors, they held my feet to the fire until we worked out a repayment plan. I was supposed to enter something called “rehabilitation” after jumping through their hoops, but the assholes at the collection agency never reported my rehabilitation to the Department of Education. Every year they took my tax refunds, and when President Bush gave us stimulus checks, they took those, too. I didn’t think this year would be any different, so when I got my W-2 from The Company, I quickly filed my return electronically. I simply wanted it out of the way, so the quicker I filed, the quicker ED would get his goddamn money.

I had a doctor’s appointment on January 30, which meant I didn’t have to commute to Seattle and could sleep in. Around 6:30 that morning, a text message from my bank woke me up. A deposit greater than $10 was just made. In my groggy, just-woke-up state, I was quite concerned when the amount of the deposit was several hundred dollars less than my pay check. What the hell, man? Rubbing my eyes and looking at my phone again, it hit me; that amount was my tax refund! Holy shit, Maynard! ED let the IRS give me my refund!

Tina and I spent most of that day discussing what to spend it on. I knew I didn’t want to nickel-and-dime it on bills, or dinners, or gasoline. My first thought was tires. My truck is going to need tires pretty soon, and the tax refund would just about pay for them. Tina suggested I spend it on something fun since it’s the first refund I’ve received in a long time, and I deserve something fun. I looked at in-dash DVD players with GPS navigation for the truck, but the good ones are too pricey. While watching a TiVoed television show, Ashton Kutcher graced our screen in a commercial for the Nikon D90 camera. That was it! Buy a digital SLR camera! Oh, the sweet irony of buying a camera with my tax refund that should have gone to pay my photography student loan. Simply perfect! Of course, when I started pricing cameras online, I ended up at bhphotovideo.com, where I ended up buying my new Nikon D90 nearly 24 years after buying my Nikon F3 from them. Good ol’ B&H. Talk about coming full-circle.

My new baby arrived a week ago, nine agonizing days after I placed the order. You can have free shipping or fast shipping, but you can’t have free and fast shipping, bastards. It was all good. I was scheduled for pager duty anyway, and couldn’t be far from a computer. During my UPS-imposed wait, I did a bunch of reading and downloaded (illegally, shhhh) a couple videos about the D90. I also started a wish list, which I’m sure will change frequently over the coming weeks and months. I even joined a Nikon User Community, as well as a few other photography forums.

I’ve been out shooting with the camera only once so far. I woke up early Saturday and drove to Anacortes to capture the oil refineries in the dark. The images turned out okay, but not as cool as I thought they would. Shooting digital — beyond point-and-shoot — is all new to me, so it’s bound to take a while to get good at it. From the refineries, I drove to Deception Pass Bridge to wait for the sunrise. I have no idea what I was thinking. It’s Washington. It’s winter. It was cloudy. Silly me! I managed to get some decent shots of the bridge, though. Then I drove back to town and took some photographs of the Dutch windmill in City Beach Park. You can check out my “First Shoot” photographs at a brand new subdomain of wafwot.com: http://photography.wafwot.com.

Well, that’s the story on my photography school days, and the news of my new digital SLR. You may also check out the few photographs I have left from school at http://www.wafwot.com/blog/photography. I’ll be putting all worthy photographs at the new photography.wafwot.com, so keep an eye out.

Shorter of breath…
03Feb09

Posted by wafwot

advair…and another day closer to death. Pink Floyd lyrics aside, it’s that time of year for the sickness to befall upon me and make my life hell. In the fall, I went to the doctor and got an influenza vaccine. Apparently I fall into the high-risk (or maybe elderly) category for candidates that should get a flu shot. A lot of good that did me. Long story short, I was illness free until last week when some evil little bug crawled up my ass and set up shop in my lungs. I imagine it looked a little like this. It started out with sore glands in my neck, then sniffling and coughing. I went to work that Monday, but by the end of the day, I was chilled but my face felt hot and I was full-on hacking like a 3-pack a day coal miner. I couldn’t lay down without causing severe rattling in my chest. Every time I exhaled, it sounded like a San Francisco cable car rumbling down Russian Hill, and made me cough. By 2am Monday night/Tuesday morning, with no sleep, a sore diaphragm from all the coughing, and a fever of 102.1°F, I sent a couple text messages. I reluctantly called in sick on Tuesday. I hate calling in sick because I’m so worried my managers will think I’m faking it. But the older I get, the more I realized I’m not invincible, and companies give sick days for a reason.

I wasn’t feeling much better by Tuesday night, but waited until it was time to wake up and get ready for work. I was still coughing, my fever was better but still over 101°, and my head was turning out more snot than a school bus full of crying 5-year olds. I felt miserable. So, out went a couple more text messages saying I wasn’t making it to work… again.

I stayed in bed, covered to my neck in blanket with a roll of Charmin (ran out of Kleenex) and DayQuil within arms length, watching TV all day. After The Price is Right and news, television is teh suck during the day. Luckily my TiVo had recorded I Am Legend earlier in the month, so I watched that. Wasn’t impressed. I tried getting some sleep, but could only string together about 60 minutes worth before ol’ rattly would cause a coughing fit and throw out a slimy wad of lung butter. This went on for the rest of the day and night Wednesday.

Even though I was coughing to beat the band, I was feeling better. The fever was down to 98.9° (after being over 100° for more than 48 hours), and my nose was no longer teeming quarts of liquid snot. So, I thought I’d give going to work on Thursday morning a go.

Our normal carpool vehicle needs rear bearings, so I picked up LDriver in my newly-maintained, newly-braked F-150 and we headed to work. I was still coughing, but wasn’t feeling too bad. I spent the day at work eating Halls cough drops like they were M&Ms and answering all the “how are you feeling” questions. My manager asked if I’ve been to the doctor, to which I said no. He said go. I said okay, and Tina got me an appointment for the very next morning. In fact, the appointment was in less than 24 hours if you can believe that. They either had a cancellation, or I’m flagged as “near death” in their computers. Sweet.

In the doctor’s exam room, he couldn’t even get a good listen to my lungs. Every time he said “deep breath,” I’d start to cough. I’d be funny if it weren’t so true. Influenza and asthma don’t mix well, so when my lungs start filling up with Satan's semen, walking and breathing, taking deep breaths, even sleeping, take on a whole new complexity.

Doc said I have acute bronchitis. Yay, again? I’m still getting over all this happiness as I type this. He put me on Prednisone and Azithromycin to kill Fry's worms, and changed one of my inhalers when I told him the Qvar doesn’t seem to be preventing asthma attacks. He has me on Advair now. In fact, the picture above of that Ortho Tri-cyclen-looking diskus on steroids is my Advair inhaler, and is sucks! It’s a dry powder that makes my mouth feel like I licked a chalk board. I’ve done about 8 or nine hits off that nasty dust disk, but it seems like it’s helping a bit. We’ll see how it does after a month.

Sometime around the time several terrorist camel jockeys decided to land their hijacked airliners in buildings, I bought a 19-inch ViewSonic CRT. The price was $300, but 19 inches of glass was cheaper than 15 inches of LCD. ViewSonic makes great monitors, and my new 2001 CRT was awesome. Over time, however, that monitor started getting dodgy. By late 2008, early 2009, the focus was so poor, it was like trying to read the screen through a thick fog… or semen smears. And the contrast was crappy, too. It was time for a new monitor. Of course, I didn’t want just one. I needed two. I’ve been using two monitors at work for years, and it’s such a time saver. Although, ever since they upgraded my system at The Company, I haven’t been able to get my dual monitor setup to work properly. I can get the big desktop across the two LCD panels, and the mouse tracks in all of the 2540×1024 pixels, but the one monitor plugged into the analog connector bounces an “Out of Range” message, which is generated by the monitor, similar to the “No Signal” message when it’s not connected to the computer. Yay for run-on sentences!

Anyway, enough about work’s monitors. I spent many weeks looking over all the monitors and reviews at newegg.com. Did my homework on the type of panel, whether I wanted widescreen or standard, HDMI, 1080p, DVI, VGA, USB, E-I-E-I-O. It was tiring. I eventually settled on two Acer H213H 21.5″ widescreen LCD panels that had a lot of positive reviews, and were voted for a Customer Choice Award.

After three days of waiting, a guy in brown shorts plopped my new babies on the front step, like a stork from the Teamsters. It was just before lunch, and I was on my telecommute day, so I quickly set my jabber client to away at lunch, and disconnected the old 19″ ViewSonic CRT, and an even older 17″ CRT. I opened each new LCD monitor, and removed an assload of protective plastic from them, then plugged them in… and nothing. WTF, “No signal?” Great. I sat for 5 minutes thinking about it, getting a little frustrated. Then it dawned on me. Duh, X windows! A three finger salute to Ctrl-Alt-Backspace, and xorg was reloading. Of course, my xorg.conf didn’t jibe with the new monitors and xorg wanted to reconfigure. That worked, kinda. At least I had ONE monitor working so I could manually run some commands. And, after about 90 minutes of trial and error, I finally got both 21.5″ widescreens working as one big desktop of 3840×1080.

I can watch a DVD on one panel in 1080p high definition, while working on the other monitor! There’s so much screen real estate, I honestly can’t fill it all. It’s totally balls! I spent the weekend playing with wallpapers, and making one that would work and look well across both monitors. Tina said I needed boobs, one on each screen. Those would be some big boobs. Not that I’m opposed to big boobs in my face all day! LDriver said I should have a desktop of some chick with a leg on each screen… and that was a pretty good idea. An hour search of some porn forums turned up a nice picture that would work out well. Of course, I didn’t want the small gap and the monitor frames between the two screen to make the chick look… “wide,” so I trimmed out a 100-or-so-pixel gutter down the middle and stitched the two halves together. Then, believe it or not, shrunk the width down to 3840 and cropped to a perfect 1080 height. A screenshot doesn’t do it justice, so here’s a photo of my two new monitors with their new wallpaper. Of course, the two screens are so wide, I couldn’t get them fully in the shot, but you get the idea. For those of you reading this at work, or some other semi-public location, the image is SFW, but barely. Enjoy!

Fuck the “Stealers.” That’s all I have to say about that. But I’ll write about another topic that’s near and dear to my past later in February… I promise.