flare
My pal, Audio sent me the following photo yesterday, with a message:
The picture is of the old camera locker from the back of my news SUV - sitting out with the trash in the back parking lot at my old station.
When I saw the pic, I had this totally nervous and exposed feeling wash over me - like some piece of me, or my identity was lying 'out in the open.'
Does that sound weird or what?
One time in junior high, my locker got broken into (or I left it unlocked by accident). And, when I got back to it a few hours later, it was wide open with everything spilling out. It sucked, and I think the worst part was the embarassement or vulnerability that I experienced.
Which may have led to a reoccuring dream I have about coming home and finding the door to my apartment wide open, and inside everthing is trashed or stolen. Obviously that's some kind of stress-related dream or something, but it always takes a while for the sick feeling to leave me after I wake up.
Anyway...
Thanks for sending me the photo, Audio. Way to freak me out, man. I think I just gotta keep telling myself that (even though it was totaly pimped out with a minimum 14 pieces of flare) it was old, and horribly designed. The drawer that was supposed to protect and support the camera would often fall out, if I opened too far.
And, I've been working on my new camera cage, which is coming along nicely:
WTF?!? See what has become of your shit? Talk about the end of an era!
The picture is of the old camera locker from the back of my news SUV - sitting out with the trash in the back parking lot at my old station.
When I saw the pic, I had this totally nervous and exposed feeling wash over me - like some piece of me, or my identity was lying 'out in the open.'
Does that sound weird or what?
One time in junior high, my locker got broken into (or I left it unlocked by accident). And, when I got back to it a few hours later, it was wide open with everything spilling out. It sucked, and I think the worst part was the embarassement or vulnerability that I experienced.
Which may have led to a reoccuring dream I have about coming home and finding the door to my apartment wide open, and inside everthing is trashed or stolen. Obviously that's some kind of stress-related dream or something, but it always takes a while for the sick feeling to leave me after I wake up.
Anyway...
Thanks for sending me the photo, Audio. Way to freak me out, man. I think I just gotta keep telling myself that (even though it was totaly pimped out with a minimum 14 pieces of flare) it was old, and horribly designed. The drawer that was supposed to protect and support the camera would often fall out, if I opened too far.
And, I've been working on my new camera cage, which is coming along nicely:
5 Comments:
See, now I feel violated as the only sticker left from when it was my camera locker, is the "Hooked on Trout" campaign sticker. I hope you at least left the Varsity sticker on the side.
Oh the humanity!
The "varsity" sticker will remain. It's very hand for spotting my SUV amongst all the others, since I can see it through the window.
All the others...not so lucky.
I think it's sad that you've lost part of your Portland identity. A sad, sad, sheltered white existence is shattered, much like the loss those people are suffereing in New Orleans.
It must be devastating losing your entire collection of stickers that you don't lose anymore.
I understand your loss. It's kinda like losing something from your childhood. Right up there with losing your home, community, and roots in Louisiana.
With respect to the NO tragedy, remember after 9/11 how everyone said the nation would never be able to laugh again? No difference here either. It pains me to see what's going on down there, but that doesn't mean every single thing on the internet has to become a somber memorial - we all still need a little levity in our lives.
I can't write a silly post about stickers on my personal blog?
If I HAD compared my stickers to the situation in New Orleans, then getting a snarky anonymous email would probably make sense.
But, I didn't. It was just a random post (with coincidental timing).
And, don't give me the junk about my 'sad sheltered exsistence' - you don't know shit about me, or what kind of life I've had.
My family was actually homeless for a long while when I was a growing up, and we lived out of tents and cars. We had to go to the shelter and beg for food. And, it took a long time for my Mom to get us back on our feet and turn things back around.
So take your moral high ground, and go leave stupid anonymous comments on blogs about Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan.
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