I Want a New Blog...

I want a new blog
One that I can control
One that won't force their agenda
And change the colors on my photos

I want a new blog
One with my own homepage
One with more formats and style options
And links that go various ways

One that won't make me angry
Wondering what to do
One where I can post my photos the way that I want to
With the colors I want to

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In 2010 I bought my first DSLR camera and began using it voraciously.  I started a simple blog to share my photos, selecting Blogger because it was free and easy.  Since I already used Google and GMail the menus and formats were familiar.

Shortly after, I hesitantly fell into using Picasa Web Albums.  I use "hesitant" because at times in the past I tried using Picasa software to "Organize, edit, and share your photos" from my computer.  I HATED it.  The software grabs every image on your hard drive and, in my opinion, takes complete control over them.  Naturally, I doubted the Web Albums.

Much to my surprise, Picasa Web Albums was very easy to use.  It provided me with a single place with practically unlimited storage to organize and share my photos the way I wanted.  Posting photos was an easy, stream-lined process.

Then came Google+.

The Google+ entity began rounding up and enveloping all the satellite Google operations one by one.  The first changes were tolerable, I adjusted.  But when Picasa Web Albums was swallowed up by the  behemoth+, becoming a subheading under the giant, everything changed.

All my personal Web Album options reverted to the new default settings in my Google+ profile, which is really Google+'s code for "You will do it my way."  I meticulously combed through every setting, changing and adjusting everything I could.  Most importantly, UN-checking the "auto-enhance" option.  I knew it seemed too simple.

UN-checking "auto-enhance" only affects photos you upload from that time on.  It does not affect all the previously uploaded photos that were "enhanced" with the "upgrade" that reverted all my settings to default.  FOUR YEARS of photos "auto-enhanced" by Google+.  HUNDREDS of hours of post-processing time spent carefully adjusting color saturation, hue, and luminance using color-calibrated monitors all instantly wiped away.  (Note: This only affected the copies uploaded into Web Albums, not any photos on my hard-drive.)

[simmer down simmer down]

I coped with these changes and continued using Web Albums and Blogger, believing that I could keep up with +'s "improvements".

But then, this happened:

On the right is the image taken from Web Albums (un-auto-enhanced) when I was preparing my blog post.  On the left is the preview of what the blog post would look like.  WHAT?!  That is no small difference.  That is full-on auto-enhanced.

(Since I am posting this exact blog through Blogger, I am expecting the photos to be "auto-enhanced" again, so the photo on the left will be hyper-enhanced.)

For comparison's sake, here is a screen shot of my photo post-processed in Lightroom (keeping in mind the photo you see on your screen now is likely "auto-enhanced" through Blogger):

So, after noticing Blogger's gross defiling of my photo, I, again, combed through all my settings, all my options, through every link, and down each menu.  I searched and searched on the internet looking for answers or advice or hacks and only found the option of un-checking "auto-enhance" from the Google+ settings.  There is NO option to not auto-enhance photos posted in Blogger.

So that's it.  I'm done with Blogger.  I need to start over.

I want a new blog.

Enterprise: The Best Kitty Ever.

Enterprise entered my life fourteen years ago.  He walked right up to me, sat down, and I fell in love.  “If you ever, ever need a home for this cat I will take him.”  A year later, he was mine – The Best Kitty Ever.

This past Wednesday we said goodbye.  Although I am heart-broken, I am thankful that we spent 13 years together.  Even as a cat-person I never imagined such an awesome kitty would come into my life for so long.  He was truly exceptional, a lover of all people, completely unbiased and nondiscriminatory.  

In late August Enterprise was diagnosed with renal disease; his kidney was too far gone to return to health and I knew his time with us was ending.  I returned home, collapsed on the floor and cried.  In the following weeks I gave him all my time, providing loving hospice care and taking him to the vet daily for treatment.  While this was unfolding my husband was gone and I desperately wanted Enterprise to live long enough for them to see each other again; they had a special bond that words cannot describe but that was obvious when they were together.

Being a people-cat, Enterprise sometimes had separation anxiety when we would leave, and especially when my husband was gone repeatedly for so many months.  Throughout these times I promised Enterprise that we would always come home, every time we walked out the door we would always, always come back; I promised.  So when he first got sick and my husband was away I asked Enterprise to hang on until he returned.  At that time his health stabilized and remained so for almost six weeks.  He was a tough cat and hung on so we could fulfill that promise one last time.  

Two weeks after my husband came home Enterprise’s condition began to decline.  On Monday we found out that anemia had set in; he stopped eating on his own and his movements slowed.  On Wednesday afternoon he got worse very, very quickly and I knew it was time to say goodbye because he would have had a miserable and probably painful night.  We knew we would have to make the decision at some point and it was definitely time for him to rest.  

That evening we all sat on the sofa together just as we always do, we wanted him to be comfortable and have a normal night.  Our friend, who took care of Enterprise when we would travel, kindly drove us to the vet's office.  My husband and I were with Enterprise when he died, very peacefully, in a quiet, private room.  He will be cremated (with his favorite string, of course) and returned to us in traditional Japanese style;  I somehow plan to return him to The States for a private burial in my parents’ backyard, alongside our family’s two other beloved cats.

I want to thank all of our family and friends whose thoughts and prayers helped support us during this grievous time. Our little family is forever changed and this support means everything.  I know to some other people a cat is a cat, but you all understand that Enterprise was not just a cat, but a member of the family who will be loved and missed by everyone who had the pleasure and fortune of knowing him.

Rest in peace, our dear, sweet Enterprise, The Best Kitty Ever.

Creativity Takes Practice.

"Creativity isn't a mythical creature to be caught and tamed.  It's a habit...a way of life that's built over time."

Jane Porter writes thought-provoking ideas in her article, "How to Cultivate a Creative Thinking Habit," that both the inspiration-seekers and practiced imaginatives alike can benefit from.

http://www.fastcompany.com/3026816/dialed/how-to-cultivate-a-creative-thinking-habit

Stand.

Everyday I think about writing for this blog.  But for some reason I just don't.

With all the time I am surrounded with the days pass quickly, unnoticed.  I accomplish very little and don't seem to care.  I have adapted some new, healthy habits which are altering my old ones and I'm unsure of the evolution.  Physical fitness and mental fitness sometimes feel like two magnets facing the wrong sides and won't snap together.  With better time management I could learn to flip them over so they'll connect, but I haven't, though I am trying to learn.

I feel that I tried so hard learning to walk that I never focused on where I was trying to go.  So I now stand directionless.

It's funny how you can listen to the same song for years and never fully feel the story.  R.E.M is on my top five all-time favorite musicians' list, I have almost all their studio albums and then some, but even after twenty-odd years some songs remain elusive.  I kind of like the mystery.

R.E.M. switched record labels in the late 1980's then released the album "Green" which was a defining pivot point in their career.  The album carried a different feel from their earlier work with cleaner sound and a more pop feel which you can love, hate, or just go with (I chose the latter).

"Stand" was R.E.M.'s second top ten single, a bubblegum pop song so different than their earlier work.  The lyrics are easy to memorize and the meaning of finding one's life direction is quite clear.  One line, however, continues to echo through my head, "Think about direction, wonder why you haven't before."  Why haven't I?

Clothing and Canned Goods, Update.

First phase of clothing organization: Complete.

Immediately following my last blog post I got to straight to work.  I cleared out the area adjacent to my side of the bed and spent a couple hours cleaning and arranging the various shelving components.  It was more difficult than usual due to space constraints and I realize it may need adjustment as the unpacking continues.  I actually factored earthquake safety into the process and made sure the shelves were stacked firmly together at a moderate height.   Because of this there were a few shelves I didn't use in the setup and haven’t decided yet whether I’ll use them in the bedroom for clothes, in my office downstairs in the dining room, or share them with my husband for use in his office.  I guess it depends on how the unpacking organization unfolds.

The stacks of clothing in the after photo are separated between sleeveless, short sleeve, and long sleeve tops with each category further divided by either solid/printed or warm/cool/neutral colors.  There are separate stacks for built-in bra camis, knit sweaters, and jersey knit turtlenecks.  The bottoms are separated by shorts, capris, and long pants with each category further divided by either leg width (ex: bootcut, skinny), fabric weight, or frequency worn.  This is by no means the extent of my wardrobe; the whole shebang is worth its own post.

While cleaning and reorganizing my old dresser I found one drawer’s slide guide had broken off underneath.  This came as no surprise; the dresser is old and has certainly seen better days.  I think I once wrote about refinishing or updating it, along with the matching desk (that I didn't bring to Japan with me).  All I ever did was replace the knobs and, as you can see from the photo, they didn't fare so well during the move.  I often just want to dissemble the thing for firewood but, for the first time, we don’t even have a fireplace to burn it in.  I guess I’ll make it work somehow.  I asked my husband to fix the slide only because I didn't feel like messing with it.

The next phase of my clothing organization is my shoes, my hanging clothes, and my closet.  This will get done within the week.  It must, I can’t put it off any longer.  I’ll be sure to take some before and after photos because it is a very challenging project.


Middle portion of kitchen organization: Complete.

Within two days of our household goods arriving I had every kitchen box unpacked.  Since we had already been living in the house for over a month I kind of already knew how the kitchen organization would work.  Kind of.  It’s impossible to know precisely how to organize a space until you are living in it, day-to-day, with all your tools and belongings.  So, this weekend, I reorganized a few areas to better suit how I am using it.

This organize-as-you-go method is new to me.  As a perfectionist I like to do things correctly the first time so as not to waste time re-doing it later.  Sometimes this process, however, would freeze me in my tracks if I didn’t know exactly how to proceed.  This time I forced myself to loosen up and realize that it is okay to put things away in a temporary home until a better place was found.  So far, this method is working because I am actually following through on the “better place” part.  For most people this is nothing significant, but it is a true testament to the efficacy of combination drug and talk therapy for those living with any anxiety/depressive disorder.  Small victories, I say.

I re-worked the pantry almost to the point of completion; there are a few minor changes I’d like to do but that will always be the case.  The other most difficult areas are the upper, corner cabinets and the lower, corner, lazy-susan cabinets.  I hate them both.  The lazy-susan cabinets have plastic shelves that cannot bear too much weight and the doors have hinges that are time bombs waiting to break.  I hate them enough that I won’t even continue writing about them now.  I have some before and almost-after photos but I’ll share them later when the almost-after becomes a more actual-after.

Unpacking Progression, Day Six.

I should be unpacking my clothes right now so this will be a short update.

Biggest success in my area of unpacking is emptying all the kitchen boxes.  Pantry and cabinet organization is a work in progress. I'm adjusting as I work in kitchen, figuring out where items live as I use them.  Second is my desk set-up, consisting only of my desktop computer unpacked and running, which I didn't even do myself; My very competent in-house tech support takes care of that.  None of my office boxes are unpacked yet.

My current task is my clothing, which I have a lot of.  Almost embarrassing, really.  I use a hodge-podge system of stack-a-shelves to house my folded clothing for a few reasons.  First, dressers/bureaus are ridiculously expensive, especially for the shoddy quality you find in most stores.  Second, I like to see my clothes, kind of like how you stand at the refrigerator, stare at the contents, and wish the door was transparent.  I hate opening a multitude of drawers searching for something and find that out-of-sight-out-of-mind runs rampant through wardrobes.  Lastly, stack-a-shelves are inexpensive and very versatile.  They can be rearranged depending on room size and can be used throughout the house for any purpose.  Granted, the tetris-configurations are not always the most aesthetically pleasing, but very few people see the bedroom and those who do know me well-enough to appreciate the creativity, or to at least expect it.

I brought my entire wardrobe with me.  Everything.  Clothing and leather do not store well and would be ruined after three years boxed up in a warehouse in the middle of Texas.  And I love clothes, always have.  This passion for fashion should be motivating to get me going but the task is so daunting I need to split it into smaller tasks.

My first order of business is to set up my shelving system, which entails clearing out the bedroom of shoe boxes, clothing stacks, and miscellaneous items strewn about.  I diagrammed my previous setup but this bedroom is much smaller then our previous one.  I always say that creativity is spurred by limitations and this will certainly test that.

So before I get lost in planning the next steps I just need to put some music on and get to work.  Here is an idea of what I have to work with:

(These photos were taken with an iPhone and are by no means intended to be "real" photos, just snapshots of where I was and what I saw.)

We Really Live Here.

Finally, after three months, we really live here.  This past week sealed the deal.

Sunday of last week Enterprise, The Best Kitty Ever, arrived at Narita Airport.  Navigating through the procedures and paperwork unfolded like a scavenger hunt where we were rewarded with our kitty at the end.  He is adjusting well, though he seems a bit older than I remember.  Someone here said her dog was affected similarly, traveling takes a lot out of our little furry ones.  But he is eating well and is as sweet as ever.  He is not using the little carpet pieces I used on the stairs, which is fine because he doesn't seem to have trouble with the smooth tiles; they are still there if he ever chooses to use them.

The Best Kitty Ever.

On Tuesday we received the long-awaited notification of our household goods' arrival and scheduled delivery for Friday.  That morning, Friday the 13th, our temporary furniture was hauled away and a couple hours later the truck carrying our four crates of belongings arrived, three months and thirteen days after being packed up in Texas.

The four Japanese movers were cordial and efficient and the process of checking off item numbers went relatively smooth.  A number of furniture pieces arrived damaged due to how they were loaded into the large, wooden shipping crates and some items (like vintage cabinet speakers) arrived unwrapped when we witnessed them being wrapped in blankets during our pack-out.  We know why this happened though – at the time of our pack-out we still did not know exactly where we were moving which meant that our household goods were packed into temporary storage then re-packed for shipping later.  It wasn't until we arrived that we knew we were staying here near Tokyo, therefore we did not witness the re-packing, which we knew would cause issues later.

Once the movers were done and paperwork was signed we held on to tradition and opened a bottle of sparkling wine, turned on some good music, and got to work.  My husband worked on the entertainment equipment while I unpacked kitchen items and dish pack boxes with breakables.  The only broken glass was a wine glass I really liked but that didn't necessarily hold great sentimental value, those all made it through unscathed.

So most of the weekend consisted of unpacking, organizing, notating damage and taking photos.  As I sit here now, the hubs is putting my desktop computer together because I finally cleared off my desk and shuffled enough stuff around the dining room to make space.  Since this is only a two bedroom house we compromised and my office space will live the formal dining room, a room we've never had before and will require some creative space planning.

Still cooking through the mess.

With the computers and entertainment components set up I feel accomplishment but so much more work remains.  Our new kitchen is half the size of our old one and incorporates the laundry facilities as well.  The pantry organization has stalled until I have space to empty and re-work it.

The largest project is my clothing.  Ei-yi-yi.  I unpacked most of my shoe boxes to check for damage (none!) but my new closet is vastly different than my previous one and the bedroom itself is much smaller as well.  I have boxes and bins of clothes to go through and I cannot put the chore off too long because the room is too small to remain so unorganized.  We also have two closets in the hall upstairs that need serious organization in order to fit health, beauty and linen items still currently packed in boxes.

In all, about half the boxes are emptied, but empty boxes don't necessarily mean the items contained in them are put away in new homes in an organized manner.  Unpacking always gets messier before it gets neater and we haven’t seen the real mess yet.


P.S.: During this past week I was without my laptop computer again.  Turns out the hard drive was going bad which was causing the recent, incessant problems, putting it out of commission.  On Friday, when I went out on a girls' night, the hubs dug through boxes until he found a spare hard drive which he then installed in my laptop and now all is well.  For the time being.  It is an old laptop after all.  But now that my desktop computer is set up it won't be such a tragedy when the laptop goes down again, eventually.


(These photos were taken with an iPhone and are by no means intended to be "real" photos, just snapshots of where I was and what I saw.)

DIY: Spice Organizer.

I am crafty.  Not scrapbook-decoupage-art kit crafty but thrifty-reuse-wastenot crafty.  Successful creative problem solving is an extraordinary thrill.  I don't believe in "runner's high", but "crafty high"?  That's real.

The house we just moved into is very different than our previous residences, older and more compartmentalized, not bad qualities at all, simply different.  The organization systems I grew accustomed to are no longer relevant, hence the recent posts on sorting and organizing.

Our rental house in Texas afforded us many small luxuries that family homes provide.  One specific feature I loved was the adjustable spice rack mounted inside a pantry cupboard door.  It had four sturdy, ample, shallow baskets perfect for spice bottles and seasoning packets.  I can't believe I don't have photos, but through some Google Image searches I found the elfa brand door and wall rack system which I'm almost certain was the one used.  If/when we ever own our residence we will certainly use this organization system because I loved it.

NOT MY PHOTO.  The Container Store

We cannot make such improvements to our current house so permanent fixture additions will not happen.  In advance of our household goods' arrival I'm attempting to make "homes" for everything and set up organized spaces.  I am very limited in budget and if I purchase something I must be able to carry it home via train and/or walking.  This is just part of the challenging creative problem solving process.

But let's get down to business: my do-it-yourself spice organizer.

To the right of my stove is a narrow cabinet that makes a natural location for cooking herbs and spices.  It has three adjustable-height shelves measuring 26cm wide and 27cm deep.  I've been looking at spice rack organizers that act as risers so I can see items in the back without shuffling jars around.  Generally I dislike this style and see it as a waste of space because nothing can be stored underneath, however, in this situation it makes the most sense. 

Amazon (my retail love and obsession) is the first place I turn to for ideas and suggestions for almost everything; it's like a product library if you think about it.  I found this expandable shelf organizer that meets my requirements physically but I have a difficult time spending $14 on a piece of plastic.  Call me thrifty, tightwad, cheap, I don't care.  I watch my pennies/yen.

NOT MY PHOTO.  Amazon

A couple nights ago I was sipping a glass of wine after cleaning up from cooking dinner.  Now what makes this different than any other night?  Well, Mumford & Sons was playing from my iPod and I was simply absorbing my kitchen's surrounding, imaging where my glassware will live, when I'll have to replace the exhaust fan filter, and whether that wine bottle ring stain will come out of the counter top.  Then, out of nowhere, I knew how to solve my spice cabinet riser issue.

A couple weeks ago we went to Ikea to purchase desk components because, due to weight restrictions, we did not bring either of ours with us.  I was very excited to get the exact same Galant Series desk that I researched and decided on in Texas but never had the opportunity to buy.  I assembled it recently and neatly set aside the cardboard packaging for recycling, but the reuse-hoarder in me secretly wanted to keep it for future projects.  

On this particular evening, when my idea hit me, I went straight for the strips of reinforced cardboard I set aside.  

Within minutes I measured and cut them into 26cm strips, stacked them up, arranged them for space, then taped them together.  Done.  

In about 15 minutes I solved a problem that could have cost $15.  My excitement didn't just stem from saving money though.  Sometimes in order to cut costs you also cut corners which may hinder the solution's effectiveness, but not in this instance.  The end result is exactly what the plastic risers would have provided, the only difference is cosmetic.  At some point I could cover the cardboard with a light color duct tape, but probably only if I had another purpose for the purchase, otherwise why spend the money?

When my husband came into the kitchen that evening wondering what I was doing I excitedly told him that I saved him $14 and he owed me a bottle of wine.  Tonight he surprised me with that bottle.

I am really proud of this solution.  My parents raised six kids on one teacher's salary which forced my Mom into creative problem solving every day.  She is the craftiest person I know and would still, to this very day, give MacGyver a run for his money, without question.  I guess that is where the pride comes from, carrying on the crafty legacy from my Mom, who learned it from her Mom and Dad, who learned it from their parents.

My First Earthquake.

For numerous, inexcusable reasons I was still dozing in bed at 9am Wednesday morning.  Grey light peeked through the blinds and the room was cold from excessive air-conditioning.  My husband was at work, the house was silent.  Then the bed shook.

It felt as if someone sat on the mattress, although I knew no one was there.  Then the entire bed began to shake and I sat up, now fully awake.  The earth was moving – it was my first earthquake experience in Japan.

We have very little furniture, nothing on the walls, and no knick-knacks, so all I heard was our aluminum mini-blinds all over house tinging and clinking was they shimmied in their window frames.  It lasted maybe 10 seconds, 15 tops.

When it was over I jumped out bed.  As I quickly changed clothes I actually thought to myself that wearing my nicest satin pajama pants was good-thinking because if the quake had been the “big-one” at least I would look decent during the chaos.

I felt no aftershocks and we never lost electricity or internet connection.  I was online within minutes looking for information.  Japan utilizes an Earthquake Early Warning system that quickly alerts the public through multiple formats.  About a month ago I received such a warning, though I was far from any affected area.  I did not hear an alert on my phone this time, and even through my earplugs I would have heard it and felt the phone vibrate under my pillow.  Hence I installed the Yurekuru app on my phone that translates these warnings into English and allows you to adjust sounds and settings so as not to miss future warnings.

The Japan Meteorological Agency website (which has an English option) was bogged with traffic and it took multiple attempts to access it's Earthquake Information page.  The first image below includes all of Japan and indicates the earthquake's 6.9 magnitude epicenter.  The second image shows locations in Kanagawa Prefecture and our area, Sagamhara-Minami, which recorded the quake at magnitude 3.

Image JMA  http://www.jma.go.jp/en/quake/20130904093239395-040919.html 

Image JMA  http://www.jma.go.jp/en/quake/20130904093239395-040919.html 

Earthquake Information
Issued at 09:32 JST 04 Sep 2013

Occurred at (JST)	Latitude (degree)	Longitude (degree)	Depth	Magnitude	Region Name
09:19 JST 04 Sep 2013	29.8N	139.0E	400 km	6.9	Torishima Kinkai

This was not the first earthquake since we moved here, but it was the strongest and the first one I actually felt.  I'm not sure if I would felt it if I had been out of bed though.  Our temporary mattress is horrendous, only one step above an air mattress, the slightest movement disrupts the entire thing.

Earthquakes are common here and this experience certainly conjures concerns for me on the next one, or even the “big one”.  We are practically required to have emergency supplies, including food and water rations for people and pets, and to keep important documents and records organized in one location in case of an evacuation.  I now understand more the urgency for these preparations, even though the likelihood of a disaster is rare.  Looking back only a couple years to the Tohoku earthquake and tsunami is a sobering reminder of what can happen and how even a little preparation and a little bit of warning can change your life.

Meals and Outfits.

You learned how to dress yourself, you can learn how to cook.

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While researching bookmark organization methods, specifically for my laptop's countless recipe bookmarks, I read one woman's technique that I mentally filed away because, although it was logical, it didn't meet my needs of an ingredient-based system.  She organized her recipes by cooking method.

Since reading her cooking method-based approach it's been simmering on my back burner, if you will, especially while I'm reviewing a recipe in front of the stove realizing that I've made a similar dish with different ingredients.

Usually when I Google for recipe ideas it stems from a flavor I'm craving or curious about, or from various perishable foods in my kitchen that I must use soon.  A few recipes might come close with ingredients or technique but rarely do I find one that I follow step by step.  Now, after eight years of ruling the kitchen cooking meals regularly, I can (for the most part) comfortably make it up as I go along, with wildly varying degrees of success.  More often than not, though, I am working loosely from a couple found recipes.

As I touched on in my last post, I've struggled a little bit lately on coming up with dinner ideas.  Just as I like to mix and match clothing pieces to make new outfits, I also like to mix it up in the kitchen to avoid a weekly rut of predictable meals.  This clothing analogy (I love analogies!) runs parallel to my pondering on cooking methods.

Putting an outfit together is similar to assembling a meal – there are various components you combine until you are satisfied with the outcome.  Clothing combinations can be categorized as easily as tops, bottoms, and shoes; or you can be more specific with a short-sleeved top, long pants, and sneakers.  You can get as specific as you want but it's pretty easy to see the general categories.  Sometimes you assemble an outfit based on a color, the weather, or an event.  I linked this thought with how I search for recipes, by flavor, season, or necessity.  I've often compared flavor combinations with color combinations and this simply broadens that idea.

Recently while cooking I've been trying to find my cooking method categories, such as pasta with sauce or protein fillet with pan reduction, which has piqued my interest in learning more techniques.  I've enjoyed clothing as a creative outlet for as long as I can remember (literally!) and using that same creativity through food seems like a natural extension.

This is as far in the process as I've come at this point.  Hopefully I've strung my thoughts together well enough to convey the idea and my excitement about it.  I'm not sure how deep how I want to delve but with internet access and a library I have plenty of resources at no cost.  Just as you wear clothing out of necessity, you eat out of necessity as well; There is no reason not to have fun while doing so.



(By the way, the boneless chicken breast with skin that I bought at a local grocery store the other day worked out to $1.17 a pound!  I hope I did the math right, 533 grams for ¥202.)

Messy Bucket of Food for Thought.

My Grandma always says that your mind is like a bucket – it only holds so much.  So when you pour in new information something's going to spill out the other side.

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About four months ago we began sorting and packing for our overseas move.  These preparations changed our daily routine which, of course, changed the way we ate.  Now life has settled a bit, we are living in our new house, albeit with precious few of our belongings, and I'm waiting for things to get back to normal.  Ha-ha, the joke is on me.  Our new normal has yet to resemble any normal we've experienced before and I'm doubting whether it ever will.

Instead of delving into the mass confusion swarming my mind currently, at this time I will only speak about daily meals.  Breakfast doesn't count because we still eat cold cereal.  Lunch doesn't count either (even though I just read a great article in the Times this morning about it) because I'm not working and, as I've mentioned before, I'll write about that when I'm ready.  That leaves dinner.

I don't remember specifically what I used to make for dinner before we moved here,  hence the bucket reference.  I have a thousand recipes bookmarked on this computer yet when it comes to figuring out what to make for dinner I'm stumped.

Our current meal foundation is generally protein, vegetable and starch (if it's just me I usually forgo the starch, the husband needs it for PT energy though).  Between the commissary and local grocers most meats and vegetables are available here, however the selection is much more dependent on growing season and the prices are significantly higher.  Meat and fish are packaged in much smaller portions than in the US which is convenient when buying for only two people but the cost is nearly double.

I'm still learning how to use the same food budget in a completely different economy.  The dollar/yen exchange rate is fairly easy to understand but when I'm trying to compare dollar-per-pound to yen-per-gram the math gets confusing.  Produce here is often priced per piece rather than per pound/gram, but since the pricing signs are in kanji it's difficult to figure out.  I once saw potatoes for 28.  I thought it was by weight but it was actually per piece, so those delicious mashed potatoes were quite pricey (by US standards) as it turns out.

Meal planning is non-existent at this point.  I don't know what I can get, where I can get it, or what it will cost.  I can dig into my thousand recipes but finding the ingredients is a crap shoot.  So lately I've been working off-the-cuff; I find a few flavors to play with, search for some recipes, head to the store, and buy what fits the profile that will fit into my backpack.

Today I was thinking about cherry-balsamic glazed pork chops, an idea originating from the package of three boneless chops I bought on Sunday at the commissary.  Unfortunately, the two local grocery stores I went to did not have cherries, a circumstance I foresaw.  Instead I bought a small package of cherry tomatoes and some eggplant.  How the dinner turned out though is inconsequential to the idea I am attempting to describe, but I can say it was pretty good.

While cooking I was trying to remember the order I have followed in the past when making a reduction sauce; it's not brain surgery but there are certainly techniques that yield better results.  Then it hit me – it's all about technique.

I'm a visual person, so bear with me.  Imagine a giant wrecking ball smashing into a huge building with bricks flying everywhere and mortar remnants and rubble tumbling in all direction.  Well, that's kind of what's happening in my mind right now.  When I sort it all through and make sense of it I'll write it all out.

On a side note, I have a huge knot in my shoulder that has bothered me for many long months and it's really aggravating me today, not helping my focus either.

My receipt from today and what I think I remember everything is:

190 = half loaf fresh baguette (10% off, or -19,  for being close dated, I assume)
202 = 533 grams of what I believe is chicken breast
99, 99 = small package of  small mushrooms, small package of spinach/leafy greens
129,199 = 4 small eggplants, ~15 tiny cherry tomatoes
2 = I put the card in my basket indicating that I didn't need a bag but I think she charged me for the one she gave me to put the chicken in.

The produce is by memory so some of it is likely incorrect.  I promise I will take photos of everything I buy during one of these grocery trips.  Anyway, it cost me approximately $9.21 cents for a bit of produce, two chicken breasts and half a baguette.  Maybe I'm a cheap-o but that seems like a lot to me, especially given the package sizes.

Favorites: A Summary Explained.

Since moving and meeting new people I've been asked, after mentioning photography as an interest, what kind of photos I take.  I can't seem to answer with words (surprisingly) so instead I've compiled a stack of favorites on my photo blog.

Making a “Best of” list is a struggle, after a few obvious choices the decisions come slower and with less confidence.  As an artist some pieces are very personal and sharing them strips away a certain protective shield, leaving you feeling exposed and open.  So I've included ones I'm proud of, ones I've shared and printed and hung on my own walls; ones that received positive critiques from friends or peers in the field; and I included some that simply add a fuller spectrum to the collection.

At some point I will likely have to define myself as an artist and select words to represent my point of view.  For now, I prefer the photos do the talking.

http://marlenebphotography.blogspot.jp/2013/08/favorites-summary.html

Atsui-desu-ne.

How do you say August in Japan?

Twice Daily Showers.


Living through two 100°F+ summers in Texas did not prepare me for Japan's 34°C+ August days which are literally dripping with excessive humidity.  The sun rises at 5am and the day's heat rises with it.  Any outdoor activity, no matter how strenuous (or not) results in clothing-soaked perspiration.

It is a half mile walk for me to exit our neighborhood and I feel the heat well before I get there.  After the next half mile to the train station I am already dripping down my forehead, arms and back, thanks in part to my back pack.  I stay well-hydrated with a Camelbak bottle always within reach and am even beginning to take two lately when I go out.

Most local businesses practice light air-conditioning, I'm unsure if is for cost-control or simply a cultural preference, and though the temperature may sometimes be a bit warm inside it is nice not to be blasted with the hot air upon leaving.  It does seem that maintaining a moderate temperature indoors greatly helps transitioning to the heat outdoors.  I have discovered, however, that while on a train the open area just inside the doors receives excellent air-conditioning flow, it is worth standing for.

Common practice here when living with such oppressive heat includes women walking with open umbrellas shielding the sun, almost everyone carrying small cloths to wipe brows dry, and many wrap cool towels around their necks as well.  You see everywhere the ubiquitous use of fans among both men and women, especially on the train platforms where the air is still and with every passing train you hope to catch a small breeze.  Every ¥100 store carries a selection of fans and small cloths just in case you happen to be without.

When the afternoon sun begins it's descent, and I'm walking home on the shadier side of the street, my clothes are stuck to my skin, my hands are swollen, and I'm swearing that I'm not leaving the house again until October.  My routine once I step through the front door follows this order: backpack comes off, shoes are removed, a cold glass of water is gulped, perishable foods are thrown in the fridge, walk upstairs, literally peel off clothes and step into the shower.

Because of this treacherous, humidity-bearing heat I regulate my outings carefully, watching the weather while planning and condensing my errands.  The struggle with this lies in the fact that I am living in this incredible country for only three short years and the with guilt of not taking advantage of it every single day.  Now is the perfect time, while I'm not working and with very little household items to take care of, to spend my time exploring.  As a side note, however, while I'm not working I'm also not generating income – I'm broke, I have no money in my accounts.  My past freedoms and activities were generally self-funded and living without that is more difficult than I can currently write about.

But this is August in Japan, my first August in Japan, and I have two more.  In a couple weeks the temperatures will begin to incrementally decrease making the outdoors much more inviting.  I'll be able to use my camera without sweaty fingers slipping over buttons and walk many more miles without feeling as if every step was leading me closer to the infernal depths of hell.  But wouldn't hell be a dry heat...?


(Atsui-desu-ne. - It's hot.)

A Modern Photographer's Dilemma.

A debate many photographers hold within themselves and with others is To Post-Process or Not To Post-Process. Or How Much Is Too Much? This is especially true of those who began their photographic adventure using film and of those who find comfort in defining and clarifying subjects for sake of better understanding. I fall into both these categories and have discussed it with many. There is no correct answer nor any superior opinion and though this topic is raised regularly (some may refer to the beating of a dead horse) it is always relevant. Recent events have brought it to my forefront again.

One month ago all my possessions were packed up for a move from the United States to Japan with the exclusion of what I could fit in two suitcases and a carry-on bag. My custom-built-for-photography desktop computer did not make the luggage cut and hence is months from arriving. My basic camera equipment, my back-up external drive and my old laptop computer fit into a backpack and never left my side.

After a trip to a local castle last week I anticipated problems with my laptop while working with the photos. First, dumping the RAW files from my SD card onto the hard drive would quickly fill up what little space remains, therefore I copied them to a thumb drive until I can move them to my back-up. Second, the computer's screen is horrible; even after calibrating it with Huey's Pantone package the color is disturbingly inaccurate. Last, my old processing software files have corrupted rendering it unusable, and, of course, the software disc is somewhere between Tokyo and Texas. Fortunately, my shots SOOC (straight out of the camera) were crisp enough to hold their own because all I could do was use the basic built-in Microsoft photo tool to resize. For me, posting a photo unprocessed feels like I'm leaving the house without clothes, and I mentioned that caveat online in my comment, unknowingly sparking the classic debate.

I first struggled with the pro/con post-processing (PP) issue the year I began using a digital SLR. I realized that so much of the amazing photography I admired used more PP than I thought. Although I felt disillusioned I also better understood why my newbie photos SOOC didn't look anything like I wanted them to. Just as I had taught myself to use an old, film Minolta SLR twenty years ago, I read books and practiced tutorials to learn and understand what my starter Canon DSLR could deliver. Then I slowly introduced simple PP techniques. I discovered how much software could significantly alter an image and began questioning it's effects on a photograph's integrity.

I discussed these concerns with my modern-renaissance-man of a brother who is a photographer as well. Most of his final images are SOOC; he even changes his camera's picture setting to monochrome when he wants to shoot black and white. According to another family member he and I share very similar thought processes and reasoning techniques, though I didn't (and don't) utilize them as academically as he. The details of our conversation escape me but we basically concluded that a photograph is art and art doesn't have a rigid definition.

Whether or not you alter a photograph you are sharing an image from your point of view. Sometimes when I spot something visually appealing my mind sees it differently than my eye and in order to share my version of it I must alter it with PP; or I may have a creative concept in mind that can only be achieved though PP; or maybe I simply want to clean my skin and clone away my spots; and sometimes I don't do anything but resize it.

I wouldn't call myself a heavy PP user because, frankly, I am not fluent with the software. I began with Corel's Paint Shop Pro for small adjustments with contrast, white balance, noise reduction and the like. When I finally began shooting RAW I started using Adobe's Lightroom (LR) and discovered a huge learning curve which I still haven't overcome. I have no idea how to use most of the features yet, including the oft-discussed layering. I love working with RAW files in LR and find myself using less noticeable PP because you can make such small adjustments. Some photos I work on more, some less, it depends on how I saw the original image and whether the intended mood is conveyed.

I don't fall back on the “I'll just fix it later” mindset. I try my best to record the desired image in-camera using my skills and gear at hand.  But sometimes you get home and realize the image you saw on the camera's tiny viewing screen does not look the same on your full size computer screen. I feel no guilt or shame in using software to adjust it until it meets my satisfaction. It's my art and I'll present it such.

To the question, “At what point does it stop being photography and start becoming digital art?” I respond, as soon as you press the shutter release on a digital camera it is digital art. What you choose to do with it (or not do with it) is part of your creative process and for that there are no rules.

__________

Here are some examples of how I use PP.  

(I am unable to access the unaltered, original images at this time.  Once I can, I will add them for comparison's sake.)

My most recent example of straight out of the camera, I only resized for posting.

 

By the Rattlesnake Inn.

After driving past and admiring these lamp posts for a year I finally brought my camera to capture the essence of central Texas as I see it.  Being Texas in July, the sky was bright.  In order to properly expose the subject of the scene (the lamp posts, buildings and terrain) the sky was completely blown out.  To balance the sky with the earth I brought the exposure down for the sky and upped the contrast.  When converting it to monochrome I played around with the filters until the the desired colors were accented.

This Foggy Morning photo was taken the very first time I took my first DSLR outside for a shoot, I think I'd had it a week only.  Needless to say my PP knowledge was practically non-existent.  Most of the curbs in this parking lot were painted bright yellow and detracted from the beautiful, blossoming trees, so in PP I used a tool and carefully desaturated the color on every, single one. And that's it.

My self portraits are usually experimentations of a concept I'm playing around with.  This one did not unfold as I planned, allowing me to play around with another technique that I'd been pondering.  Without my access to LR I can't say exactly what I did to this one, but I certainly did a lot,  The allover exposure was brought up as well as the contrast with a slight black increase.  I cleaned up my skin and my eye whites, then I pulled the down the red saturation and a bit of yellow.  I really like the results but it certainly received mixed critiques.

Finally, the most processed image I have ever done.  I have no idea exactly how I did it.  I think it involved posterizing, contrast and color, but beyond that I have no clue.  It took forever and I would love to know an easier way.  The concept came from the funny cartoon post cards people share online.

Rain in Japan.

The rainy season has begun here. I was warned but shrugged it off thinking six years in the Seattle area had prepared me for whatever rain fell in Japan. Apparently my rain tolerance skills deteriorated in the Texas heat just as my trusted umbrella apparently has; One walk this afternoon proved it.

Don't misunderstand, I like rain just fine and I absolutely love a good thunderstorm but the timing is all wrong. Moving to the Tokyo metro area is beyond an incredible opportunity and the next three years hold so much possibility for learning and adventure. We quickly got phones, mostly for data use and navigational assistance, then received our SOFA driver's licenses. Now all we need is transportation.

Tokyo has the most extensive rail system in the world which thrills the heck out me, but until I take the class next week I will not brave it alone. We do not have a car yet and should really begin a serious search for one. I don't like the idea of being vehicle-dependent but surprisingly I don't think there is public transportation from our future housing area to my husband's work location.

At this moment, however, a car would be nice to escape this small hotel room. A couple hours ago, spurred by stir-craziness, I grabbed my umbrella for a walk. After initially stepping outside the 72 degree air felt refreshing and the rain was soft, similar to Seattle. Not so bad. But past the corner of building the wind found me and snapped my umbrella closed. Damn. Holding it open I continued on, fighting the directionless wind gusts while the misty rain seeped into my cotton clothes. This was not going to work. I cut my walk short and just stopped at the store to pick up the box of hot cocoa mix I was craving and returned, defeated, to the lodge.

Now I'm sitting in one of those strange reclining armchairs mid-level hotels often have, the kind that kicks up with one clunk and reclines with another, looking out the window watching the rain. One glance and it practically floats as a mist, then look again and it's falling in sheets, sideways. The television is on for him, but muted for me, as he uses the one ethernet connection. I have a book of word puzzles, shelves of books on my Kindle, a new iPhone to play with and my old laptop to keep me company and absorb my thoughts as it so reliably does. My shoulder is throbbing, a lingering effect of the long flight here. I see some ibuprofen and a hot cocoa in my future. And rain. Lots of rain.

Unrealistic Expectations.

No matter how free I feel, I will look up and remember that I am still swinging from the limb of depression and my hands will always smell like thick metal links.

__________


It's no secret that I've lived with depression most of my life although it's not a topic I converse of freely.  Just like many other disorders and diseases it may be controlled through prescription medications combined with other forms of therapy.  Sometimes the condition flares up and the regimen must be altered.  As time progresses such episodes can decrease and you learn again about new triggers and coping skills to combat them.

My most recent episode occurred during my Texas stint, obvious if you read my ramblings regularly or answer your phone when I call.  After receiving our (disappointing) marching orders I tried to look on the bright side and stay optimistic -- that is what we're supposed to do, right?  I researched online, studied maps and began to picture what a happy, satisfying life in Texas would be like.  I imagined a fulfilling job, an active Family Readiness Group, a stimulating photography club, exciting weekend getaways and happy hours with friends.  It all seemed possible because I had every single one of those things while living in the Pacific Northwest, every single one.

So we made the big move, found a great rental house in a safe, quiet area and settled in.  I began working, searching for groups, writing emails, meeting people for coffee but none of it was going anywhere.  So I worked better, tried harder, made stronger efforts but nothing was getting better.  Around this time my husband was shipped across the world and I needed to meet my goals to make it through this time mentally intact.  But I was crumbling and falling apart and alone.

I know when to ask for help, but man is it tough.  The most difficult task is dialing the phone, making an appointment then answering the question, "And what do you need to be seen for?"  I breakdown, the tears come and I struggle to find the words to ask for help.  Somehow I do.  The appointment is scheduled; I am going to be okay.

Back on my trusted antidepressant I begin ten sessions of talk therapy.  Everyone should go though that, the insight you gain is invaluable.  Talking with a trained professional should not be stigmatized as it in our society and it irritates me endlessly that it is.  This time I learned that I place unrealistic expectations on myself and in my life.  (I do not like to lay blame on others for problems of my own, but this is an exception)  I blame this condition on all those people who told me in the past, when I was still struggling to understand what was wrong with me, what depression was and how in the world was I ever going to cope with it, to "cheer up", "look on the bright side", "think positive", "stay optimistic", you get the picture.  For years I repeated these mantras out loud, in my head and in writing.  I believed them and placed hope in them.

The discovery of my unrealistic expectation issue came as a shock.  I didn't want to believe it, didn't want to throw away what I thought was the foundation of turning depression upside down.  How could thinking positive be bad?  In small doses, it's not.  But when you put all your hope and might into it you push the idea into the realms of dreaming, and we all know that dreams don't come true.  Sure, that sounds mighty depressing, but I'm talking about fantasy dreams, not a dream that you make into a goal to work towards and succeed.  And this is when is gets fuzzy.

What difference is there between realistic and unrealistic goals?  How far do you push positive thinking into reality until it reaches fantasy?  Where is the line?  We are raised to believe we can "reach the stars" when in scientific reality we cannot.

When my therapy sessions ended I was confused, but in a different way than when I began.  I started with my head in a very jumbled place, with pieces of thoughts scattered everywhere in unfocused, illegible writing that I couldn't make sense of.  At the end I could read the thoughts and was understanding better how they fit together.  See, a therapist doesn't directly solve your problems, they help clarify your thoughts and teach you skills to work on improving them yourself.


__________

My train of thought was broken.  I am already missing my private space I left behind; a one-room lodging space is not conducive for uninterrupted thought.

In summation, the purpose of sharing this story is to place a foundation for my experiences here in this new environment.  For you to understand my excitement, my trepidation and my anxiety you must know where it stems from.  All I want is to live here fully and purely.  To walk out each day with an open mind and an understanding that I will not be in my comfort zone, that I am a foreigner in a vastly different country and that I may be treated as such.  I will be uncomfortable.  I will feel awkward.  I will be misunderstood and misinterpreted.  All I hope is that I will walk one foot in front of the other and face each challenge on its own merit.  Whether I have a smile on my face is unknown; I must keep my expectations realistic.

[While re-reading this I begin to see that it is a condensed version of events.  I hope that eliminating the minutiae does not detract from the essence of my point.  I moved to Texas with ideas of what could be, unknowing that those ideas may have been unrealistic.  I have now moved to Japan and am unsure how to make plans and build excitement without crossing the line into dreaming.  I am confused.  How do I make the most out of this once in a lifetime opportunity without setting myself up for failure again?  I don't know what to expect, I don't know what I will find yet I still want to explore every sight, every smell and every footstep of discovery possible.  I still just don't know...]

The Lost Years.

After graduating from college in 1999 I spent two years in Phoenix, Arizona where I learned, truly, what a downward spiral is.  No matter how good your circumstances are in the beginning, and how much control you think you have, that one slip into the spiral takes everything under.

I call those the lost years.

__________


Me:  "Anywhere but Texas.  If it's Texas I'm staying here."

Him:  "It's Texas."

Me:  (pause)  "Well, at least it's not El Paso."


Due to my unhealthy trait of bearing unrealistic expectations (which I promise to explain eventually) I really thought it was possible for central Texas to be not completely horrible, even livable.  I was still employed, though not full-time anymore; The sun always shone and the skies were beautiful, though accompanied by unrelenting heat; Scattered, desolate small towns beckoned to be photographed, though peering and leering eyes of locals kept me away; I put myself out there socially and attended functions, though I still felt pushed towards the wall.

"Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results." - Albert Einstein. 

I gave up.  I am not strong enough to handle such repeat failures.  Once the stress of trying to connect was removed I accepted my situation and lived day-to-day the best I could.  I knew that time would be filed under "Years, lost."  The two Texas years were nothing like my two Phoenix years, which I don't even talk about.  But when thinking back on my time in Texas there were definitely more bad days than good.

[I blame Texas because it's easy.  The real issue is small towns set far from urban areas.  I call myself a city girl even though I've never lived in a downtown setting.  I want transportation options besides a personal vehicle, like walking or public transit.  On that note, I want to walk somewhere with actual sidewalks, where you're not stared at by people driving because you're the only person they've seen walking outside all week and probably assume you're doing so because your car broke down.  So Texas is my scapegoat because it contains the small town I lived in that meets my criteria for "where I don't want to live".]

Most people learn from experience and alter their actions appropriately so as not to repeat them.  What concerns me now is how my Texas experience has changed me; it has, I just don't know how.  This brings my anxiety issues to the surface again with worries of finances, personal growth and social inclusion.  I would like to think that I've learned to let go of worries and take each day as it comes, but to avoid the trap of unrealistic expectations I think I'll just take it a day at a time.

The Struggle to Define.

How much is too much?


Life changing events are occurring.  Right now.  In my life.  But how much do I want to share?  If I deemed a  blow-by-blow recital necessary I would be on Facebook.  I've fought that battle and forfeited.

Blogs are numerous and frequently irrelevant to all but those personally known or blood related.  Being subject to someone's blog is a modern-day equivalent to the vacation slide show of past generations -- a test of endurance rather than interest.  However, when you find a blog personally relevant the situation is entirely different.

During the past months, when my life-changing events were further on the horizon, I forged through years of blog posts documenting the very real lives of women who were living through what I believed my future could hold.  The more I knew, the more I could be prepared what possibilities may lie before me.  But then our trajectory would change course and I found other blogs about other women following similar paths.  At times I felt like a virtual voyeur -- though peeping through windows deliberately left open still feels delightfully strange.  Currently uncertainty abounds and I doubt whether there is a single soul who has gone though (let alone blogged about) the confusion that now rules my every day.  Which leads me to wonder...

How much is too much, how much should I share, and how much could I possibly help another lost woman in my shoes?  (Oh, please.  I mustn't bring shoes into this, that is a new stressor altogether.)

When beginning my photo blog I wanted a linear history of what I've seen; my creative blog was to show what I've done.  Now I debate my desire to share what I think.  Do I really want the public privy to my brain's inner working, to private moments that occur in the walls I live between?  Really, I'm doing it right now, albeit in a vague manner.  Did you just hear the conversation I had with my husband?  No.  But will it shape what I type in the next paragraph?  I don't know.   Therein lies the struggle to define.

I Know How it All Began.

I know how it all began.

Or rather, when it ended.

The beginning of the end started with my promotion at work last fall. It is the position I lost when transferring to a new location a couple years ago. The opportunity arrived and I loathed the thought of anyone else having it because I believe myself the most qualified and couldn't imagine continuing working part time with (and for) someone I most likely would have trained. So with an almost equally weighted pro/con list I accepted.

One item on my pro-list was working the open shift which generally runs from 7am to 2:30pm and for the first few months this worked in my favor. Then a company policy shifted which negated the reason for my position being there that early and I began working typical day hours of 9am to 5:30pm or thereabouts. Then a staffing change occurred which led to more closing shifts of 1:30 to 10pm. Why is this pertinent? Well, I didn't exactly connect the dots until recently.

Those dots are the dates of my blog posts, whether on this blog or my photography blog. My posts became more sporadic after moving to this remote location, then slowed after my promotion and have now become a rarity with my work schedule changes.

I cannot blame my number of hours worked because while working morning shifts full-time I was able to maintain my hobbies (passions, really) but while working afternoon and night shifts full-time my favorite activities have fallen wayside. And I mean waaaaayside. I used to come home around 2 or 3pm, while my thoughts and energy were still in motion, and play with my camera, fiddle with my photos or tinker on some other project until dinner time. Now I come home at dinner time (and much later), cook, eat, watch the news, then wind down and go to bed. I don't have those few, productive late afternoon hours anymore to do what I love.

One huge reason of mine for not having children is because I do not want to sacrifice the few passions I have in life. Well, now I have. Gradually, one by one, my passions are disappearing. I move from family and family moves from me. I find myself in more remote locations, further from cities and urban experiences. Job opportunities are paltry and, frankly, not very enticing. And now, said job has sucked away the last of my energy, motivation and creativity, leaving me to wonder why I should blog at all.

The excuse I tell myself is that everyone eventually sacrifices what they love for the sake of responsibility, whether it be family, children, health or employment. We all seem to give up small pieces of ourselves, one by one, until we become boring adults, doing what we must to get by. I am now among the many who complain about their job, who go through the daily motions between hitting snooze in the morning and taking vitamins before tucking themselves into bed at night. I am not the first or last to lose passion and all the creativity that comes with it. I am an average human being with no motivation left to be any different.