Saturday, July 25, 2009

Nerve-wracked


I'm photographing my former music teacher's wedding today. They're old friends of the family (played music for both mine and my parents' weddings) and now they're tying the knot!

I am so nervous. I'm more nervous than I was about getting married.

Wedding memories are pretty much a lifetime thing, and the thought of managing to capture them all without missing a beat is making me a tad uneasy.

(I hate the picture above, but it accurately describes this morning's mood)

Thursday, July 23, 2009

Pain vs. Discomfort.

Before I begin this tirade, I will redefine, for the sake of my argument, one of my subjects: By discomfort, I do not mean the type that your doctor or dentist will use to describe a feeling you may have as a result of a procedure they are about to perform on you (often used interchangeably with the word "pressure"); that feeling is actually "pain," the other subject of my argument.

I submit that pain is most often better than discomfort.
"What?" you say, "Blasphemous!" you say, and perhaps I am being a tad twisted (I have been known to laugh through a charlie horse or two), but here's the reasoning of this:
The single sharp sensation derived from being poked by a pin could never compare to the constant annoyance factor of a too-tight waistband or a pair of shoes that aren't exactly too tight, but chafe just enough to make themselves a nuisance. I would rather deal with a headache than the uncomfortable sensation of being stuck to a leather couch on a hot day. The marked contrast between these feelings is two-fold:

  1. Ability to concentrate on the task at hand. When one is in pain, pain becomes the task. With an enormous toothache or a throbbing cut on one's finger, other things are irrelevant and inconsequential, affording your full attention and ability to the ordeal you are currently suffering through. On the other hand, to be uncomfortable is only a distraction from something that is important and must be done. Recall, if you will, the last time you had a ball of sweat rolling down your forehead or a stray hair tickling your neck while your hands and shoulders were otherwise occupied. A nagging sneeze or plugged ear is distracting, but does not require the immediacy of response that an open wound would afford. Therefore, you must continue with your task in a state of mind that is, in some ways, rather tortuous... as you cannot give your task your full attention, but cannot drop your task to see to your annoyance. Which brings me to,
  2. Ability to complain or avoid work. A painful stomach flu gives you every opportunity to evoke the sympathy of others while meanwhile diverting any chance of manual labor---whereas complaining about or drawing attention the fact that you um..have an uncomfortable wedgie is completely out of the question.* A well-deserved pity-party over something that is causing you obvious pain is almost always joined into by your friends and family, whereas any frustration expressed over a slight--but looming--discomfort makes you seem like a baby.
Do you see what I mean?

Now to see if I'm crazy...
Your turn:
Given a choice (and fully understanding the variables at hand) which would you choose,
Minor Pain or Major Discomfort?

*as a side note, I have found that, often, the most uncomfortable things are also the most embarrassing things

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Pondering Placing Poetry (here)

I wonder if this little blog could handle some of my ridiculously bad free-verse. It might even be angsty.

Somehow, I think that would fulfill multiple blog stereotypes and shoot me directly back to fifteen years old on the maturity scale.

**pondering continues**

I'll post my verdict soon.

Monday, July 20, 2009

Our Life

(with apologies that the picture quality makes it look like a third-world country)




Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Time to Say Things

First of all: Pictures of the apartment are coming, but I'm having a little trouble keeping every inch of the apartment clean, therefore I'm having to take pictures intermittently at various "angles" so as to obscure a pile of (clean) laundry here, or some unwrapped appliances there. It's testing me to my creative core.


Also: Since it's becoming old news before it was any news, Eric and I are the proud owners of an Iguana named George. He's an eensy, weensy, teensy bit of scaley cuteness and we pretty much love him. Pictures of him pending as well. We're actually not sure of his gender, but - as you can tell- we've contented ourselves with assuming his maleness.


On my mind lately is what sort of art to hang up in our little apartment. As of right now, we have several of Eric's movie posters in the living room, including this amazing and GIGANTIC Creature from the Black Lagoon:

But except for that awesomeness, our walls are pretty bare.

Now, I'm a sucker for Art Deco and Art Nouveau-type things:
But I'm thinking it won't quite work for our "theme," which is a psuedo-retro monstrousity that has taken on a life of its own and defies me at every turn!

It's all very dramatic.

Ideas?

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

MARRIED!

(Our photographer is lovely)

I really can hardly believe it, everything was amazing, the honeymoon was great, and now it's back to reality... which is rawther nice too.


And here's the thing of it: My button on the time-clock at work now says "Mallory Drazin"

Très cool.

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

"I could DIE, right now"

If my fiancee weren't such a handsome hunk, I'd have to say that River's Cuomo has a good chance of being my obsession:

*le sigh*
That being said, I have to say that my fiancee is, in fact, *the* handsome hunk.
This is my desktop background, by the way.

Okay, seriously. No more engagement pictures, I promise!

Plans are going great... My dress fitting was last week, and it only needed to be hemmed, so I'm stoked. I found some awesome things for the bridesmaids on Etsy, and...
I'm sick of talking about the wedding, actually.

No, for real.

I might actually talk politics, or theology, or literature maybe:
Since my friend Em had me read a few of his poems, I'm a little bit obsessed with Robert Frost: he twists around just enough in the head to keep me coming back. Especially a few points in the poem "Maple"

....She would forget it. She all but forgot it.
What he'd sowed with her slept so long a sleep
And came so near death in the dark of years
That when it woke and came to life again
The flower was different from the parent seed.
It came back vaguely at the glass one day,
as she stood saying over her name aloud,
Striking it gently across her lowered eyes
To make it go well with the way she looked.


It really just strikes me as fascinating; a common human theme to wonder if our name makes us... or we make our name. I'm sure Frost was trying to say so much more, but that's how I relate to the piece.

Well, this has been one long ramblyness that should probably end for now.