Mystery Post

Gone. How could I have lost her? Though she lived with me, she was younger then me, and I know she didn't know her way around without me.  I was not careful enough with her.   Did not keep a better eye over her.  I asked my mom if she was allowed to play in the backyard with me and my mom said it was "okay," but that was because she trusted me with her.  What was I thinking?  I left her outside all alone, I thought I could run inside the house real quick, but geez I was wrong.  She's all alone now somewhere outside, and I can't find her, she's probably scared.

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The worst part was she was a gift for my birthday.   I always wanted one that looked just like her. She was soo cute, a fluffy little creature!  But, I let my mom down this time, my mom trusted me with her, she expected me to care for her.   And I tried.  I really did.  I petted her, rubbed her tummy, tried to teach her tricks.  Maybe I should have brought cookies with me-- maybe she would have stayed around then.  Now all I have left is her leash (which I borrowed from our dog).  I shouldn't have taken her out of her barn. I had so many expectations too, I thought I would visit her daily, and she would probably be happy to see me, and greet me with a "bahhh", the way sheep do.

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So I had to tell my Mom now. I went back inside.

"Mom, you know how I took Sheepie out of her barn"

"Yes, hunny I remember."

I was scared, I mustered up the strength to tell her, I knew she would be disappointed in me and probably worried about the little one in the world all alone....

"Well, she must have run away, because I don't know where she is anymore...I forgot to put her on her leash, so I ran back inside to get it and BOOM gone!"

My mom knelt down at my level, and I was scared to look her in the face.

"Are you mad at me?" I asked.

"Cupcake, I'm not mad at you.  I know how much you loved Sheepie, but don't worry, we can always buy another."

"Another, just like Sheepie?" I asked.

"Absolutely honey, they had tons at Toys 'R' Us" she explained.

"REALLY??? TONS??"

"Yep, sweetie, not just sheeps in barns, but monkeys in trees, and fish in fake aquariums, and all the stuffed animals make animal noises"

"What does the fish make?"

"Blub Blub, I think"

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Well, let me tell you this news was a relief, and the next day we went back to Toys 'R' Us. 

I mean Sheepie was gone, but if I didn't lose Sheepie I would have never gotten Fishy!

Post #3 TRAVELOUGE

I was nervous, from all the late night news I heard over the years (probably starting when I was 12).  My mother's excessive "Be careful!"'s echoed in my head.  

I was nervous, but my eyes wandered looking out the frothy train window, dirty from the past week of hustle and bustle.  My eyes caught each new post that went by--And he 

clutched my hand. 

I turned from my inner self to look at him. He was sitting in the same plastic brown seat next to me,  he smiled.  He could tell how exciting this was for me, it was my first trip in without an adult.  He didn't mind my selfish excitement, even though it was Valentine's Day (and our one year anniversary).

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It is funny, I don't remember the words that passed between us that whole train ride.   I just remember looking out that window and occasionally laughing with each other.   

When we got into the station I remember the color grey. Lots of grey. Pavement, steel bars, industrial-ness, some yellow and lots of people.  I want to say a good many in suits, but since Valentine's fell on a Saturday I can't imagine this recollection of work traffic accurate.

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I acted as though I knew it all, like "been there done that". Threw my head up tall. Put on the attitude the city so well hisses.  And the steps. When we got to the steps-- the stench of stale, dirty air that smelled of old food on pavement.  This gust of air engulfed us, as we proceeded the steep steps from the underground. We arose invigorated. 

We in the middle of Times Square.

Blog Post # 2 Photoblog

Part 1...

The man sitting on the subway seat seems tired, and tired of what we must ask?  He holds prescription glasses in one hand, and with his other he grasps his face.  In his lap he holds a briefcase with signs of wear on the edges; and we don't know if he is perhaps "tired" of the work-life, or tired in general [with life] or state of being.  As he is completely submersed in his own, possibly dispirited state; the police officer next him is submerged in his own authoritative state.  The officer pays no attention to the man, he stands tall, speaking affirmatively into his radio.  This scene has a visually stark contrast of different and unassociated worlds, and I am attracted to this idea.  This photo portrays a daily, impersonal ride home on the subway, but portrays it in a way that forces one self to feel slightly intimate to those in the photo. Meaning to look further, to identify them as actual beings, and blur them into a mass category of "strangers".

See Nothing Hear Nothing 

Identity; this is the word that strikes me in this photo.  The rock-star appeal of the man walking these two foo-foo dogs on the city sidewalk; takes away from the "appeal" I speak of.  If you do not look at the dogs in this picture, and instead look solely at the stylish guy, you may think...he seems slightly mysterious, alluring, and attractive.  His over the top montage of clothes makes him seem like a character.  As if his white sunglasses and fedora wasn't enough-- he had to top it off with a 80's punker jacket.  Clearly, he is trying to come off as a badass.  

Now avert your attention away from him [the body]; [the character]; and towards these poofy white cotton ball rag-dogs.  Not so bad ass.  The title of this photo is "Dog-walker" and you must wonder are these his dogs, completely clashing with your idea of him, or is this his profession (still completely clashing with your idea of him).  Identity is being played with, who is this person really? The rocker, or the want to be rocker?  It challenges our conception of identity, and emphasizes that age old proverb "don't judge a book by it's cover."

Dog Walker

There is something so worn about this picture.  It takes place on what seems to be an insignificant sidewalk in the city; completely unremarkable; nothing that deems it different from any other street corner in the city.  The faces of the two people in the forefront of the photo have skin that has been worn with time and life experience.  They're concerned expressions and half-open mouths, lead wonder towards what they are looking at.  And we as observers wonder: what could be shocking them now, still, after all they have seen in their lives. Amidst this thought I can't help but note; the young girl in the background seems so disruptive and unknowing in this picture.  The older two in the picture are fine-tuned to whatever they may be averting their attention towards, and yet it is the young girl in the background that has no idea about what is going on OR does but does not care.  This girl looks, but seemingly has no reaction.  As sometimes with age, stereotypes of desensitization are common-- and despite one may think it would be opposite; it is the youth in this picture that is desensitized.  For some reason this thought of youth being associated with a lack of care draws me to a comment one of my teachers made in class, "I don't get it, where are you youth today?  Rally's and protests go on every weekend in D.C. and yet no one seems to know about it, where are the college kids now?  In the sixties, they were everywhere causing a ruckus protesting and caring about politics."

XXX

In general I am very attracted to all these photos because of their urban appeal.  When I go into the city, and sit on the train ride in, often I am shocked by the mute passengers.  No one speaks and there is this real sense of dissociation with strangers.  People do not care to be personal or even courteous (in some cases) with strangers.  I on the other hand always wonder about other's lives.  I always sit and fantasize about what their life must be like based on what little observation I can gather upon seeing them.  I really enjoy how this photographer really exploits strangers, to the extent that it forces the observer to feel intimate with those that we try to distance ourselves from.

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Part 2...

from, http://www.motherjones.com/blue_marble_blog/3779_file_Elephant2_Balfour.jpg

from, http://thelede.blogs.nytimes.com/2007/05/03/letting-go-of-the-elephant/

from, http://www.smh.com.au/ffximage/2007/12/27/elephants_wideweb__470x285,0.jpg