The last week of June is almost upon us and you know what that means: a momentary reprieve from the fruitless pursuit. So while I get my inner Griswold on, enjoy this hastily assembled slide show, featuring the many friends and villains that makes Viewfinder BLUES complete. Thanks for visiting; I'll be back tanned, rested and a little less vexed looong before you tire of my absence. Now if you'll excuse me I have to squeeze three bikes, two kayaks and my adult sized water-wings into the back of an undersized pickup. Seeya soon...
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Station Break...
The last week of June is almost upon us and you know what that means: a momentary reprieve from the fruitless pursuit. So while I get my inner Griswold on, enjoy this hastily assembled slide show, featuring the many friends and villains that makes Viewfinder BLUES complete. Thanks for visiting; I'll be back tanned, rested and a little less vexed looong before you tire of my absence. Now if you'll excuse me I have to squeeze three bikes, two kayaks and my adult sized water-wings into the back of an undersized pickup. Seeya soon...
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Ride the Dragon
"This job is an emotional roller coaster!"
The Chief said it and I agreed - and not JUST because he had that crazy look in his eye again. Truth is, he had a point. For as much as we photogs complain about the physical wear and tear of our work, the mood swings of a single shift can rival those of most drug interventions. So before the shakes set in again, I jotted down just a few from the other day...
There's the dread you feel when a producer eyeballs you in the morning meeting as she describes something she noticed on her morning commute ... and the orgasmic glee you experience when the managers tell some other schlub to turn it into a news story.
There's that feeling of relief you get when the news-maker you've hounded all day finally spills the beans within the confines of your viewfinder ... and the bowel-melting panic you feel when you notice the RECORD light isn't on.
Who can forget the tidal wave of shame that washes over you whenever you're forced to ask a dead person's relative for a family picture or a few painful details ... and the surprise you no longer feel when they tearfully comply.
There's the inherent comfort you derive from showing up for work dressed in hiking boots, cargo shirts and a Hawaiian shirt ... often followed by a feeling of unease when you realize you'll be spending the day at an overdressed Republican fundraiser.
There's that self satisfaction you feel at the end of the day when what felt like a hopeless assignment actually turned into a piece you'd put on your resume tape ... only to be replaced by the certain knowledge that your superiors have already forgotten about it and simply want to know what you'll do for them tomorrow.
The Chief said it and I agreed - and not JUST because he had that crazy look in his eye again. Truth is, he had a point. For as much as we photogs complain about the physical wear and tear of our work, the mood swings of a single shift can rival those of most drug interventions. So before the shakes set in again, I jotted down just a few from the other day...
There's the dread you feel when a producer eyeballs you in the morning meeting as she describes something she noticed on her morning commute ... and the orgasmic glee you experience when the managers tell some other schlub to turn it into a news story.
There's that feeling of relief you get when the news-maker you've hounded all day finally spills the beans within the confines of your viewfinder ... and the bowel-melting panic you feel when you notice the RECORD light isn't on.
Who can forget the tidal wave of shame that washes over you whenever you're forced to ask a dead person's relative for a family picture or a few painful details ... and the surprise you no longer feel when they tearfully comply.
There's the inherent comfort you derive from showing up for work dressed in hiking boots, cargo shirts and a Hawaiian shirt ... often followed by a feeling of unease when you realize you'll be spending the day at an overdressed Republican fundraiser.
There's that self satisfaction you feel at the end of the day when what felt like a hopeless assignment actually turned into a piece you'd put on your resume tape ... only to be replaced by the certain knowledge that your superiors have already forgotten about it and simply want to know what you'll do for them tomorrow.
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