For the past few days, there's been a bit of extra military air traffic over Colorado Springs. The US Air Force Academy's commencement going on as I write, and the Thunderbirds are giving their annual demonstration for same. I've seen the Thunderbirds many times over the years, having lived on or near a good number of the Air Force's installations as a kid. We also were stationed at Nellis, where the Thunderbirds are permanently stationed, and our home was under their performance pattern. Regardless of how often I've seen them fly, I'm in awe of the talent shown by the pilots of these amazing aircraft. When I was working on my own pilot's license, I wanted to be two miles away from other aircraft, being a bit of a coward. These guys are flying at hundreds of miles per hour, a few hundred feet off the ground, a couple of feet apart. That's amazing to me.
Anyhow... Today's the USAFA's commencement, and the other service academies have theirs scheduled not long ago (or not far in the future). If my math is right, the classes of 2009 would've made their commitment to their academies during wartime. They couldn't know this war would still be waged in when they graduated, but I'm sure they had to have considered the possibility. To all of those who answered that call when it was most difficult to do so... Thank you, and God bless.
May 27, 2009
May 24, 2009
Open space
Being new to Colorado, I'm still amazed at how much open space there is here. My memory from living hear in the 1970s tells me that there's a lot less of it than there used to be, and my family who've been here a while tell me that the lights of homes and development creep further and further up the hills as time goes by. It still does, however, amaze me how open the spaces are here.
Today, Amy and I took a ride out past Canon City into the canyon for which it is named. We drove along the Arkansas River, and were surrounded by amazing geological features and rushing waters. While there were cars and trucks racing by, and a ton of Union Pacific and BNSF rolling stock sitting on the other side of the river, it was amazingly secluded. One cannot hear the traffic racing by over the din of the rushing waters. The spring thaw has the river cold and swollen. Being lost alone out here would be nightmarish, as finding a cellular signal is nigh on impossible until you break out one end of the canyon or the other.
One really interesting thing was the bighorn sheep standing atop one of the rocks... Seemingly surveying his domain. It's amazing that such rugged and forbidding terrain can be home to anything. Amazing creatures, all that live out in that. I really am beginning to love my new home.
Today, Amy and I took a ride out past Canon City into the canyon for which it is named. We drove along the Arkansas River, and were surrounded by amazing geological features and rushing waters. While there were cars and trucks racing by, and a ton of Union Pacific and BNSF rolling stock sitting on the other side of the river, it was amazingly secluded. One cannot hear the traffic racing by over the din of the rushing waters. The spring thaw has the river cold and swollen. Being lost alone out here would be nightmarish, as finding a cellular signal is nigh on impossible until you break out one end of the canyon or the other.
One really interesting thing was the bighorn sheep standing atop one of the rocks... Seemingly surveying his domain. It's amazing that such rugged and forbidding terrain can be home to anything. Amazing creatures, all that live out in that. I really am beginning to love my new home.
May 22, 2009
I am a packrat
When I was a kid, we moved a lot. It's the life of a family with a career military man at the head of the household. How much did we move? I ran through the list of primary and secondary schools which I attended before I went into the Air Force, and we counted thirteen. Now, I'll grant that some of that is the fact that you change schools into junior high and high school, but still... That's a lot of mobility.
What's that got to do with me being a packrat? I'm getting there.
When we were making all of these moves, we were limited to the amount of stuff we could drag with us. They take a look at the rank of the military member in the family and put a weight allowance on it. Clearly, the bulk of that weight allowance went to important stuff like furniture, appliances, and the like. We kids were given the "before we move, take a look through your stuff and see what can be pitched/donated/whatever." Decisions were made, and some stuff went off to the great PCS (no, not Sprint's cell service... Permanent Change of Station. It's an Air Force term) pile o' detrius.
Since then, I've still moved quite frequently. Since 1988, I've lived in ten different apartments or houses. I think we brats wind up with some sort of nomad gene turned on that doesn't necessarily live in civilian kids. Clearly since I've had ten homes in twenty-one years, I've had to move "stuff." I had friends and family help me move some of it, but let's be honest here... Since I wasn't paying for a mover, nor was DoD, I don't really look too hard at what the hell I've got before moving it. I've actually had boxes move, unopened, more than once.
Every once in a while, though, I find something that I honestly had no clue I had. Earlier this week, I found the senior class tee shirt from high school. What with me weighing in at a less than hefty 145 pounds when I graduated high school and currently weighing about eighty pounds more than that, I did not bother to even make an attempt at wearing it. It was cool to look at the list of names on the back. All 53 of them. Hey, it was a small school.
Sometimes, being a packrat has its advantages. It's instant nostalgia.
What's that got to do with me being a packrat? I'm getting there.
When we were making all of these moves, we were limited to the amount of stuff we could drag with us. They take a look at the rank of the military member in the family and put a weight allowance on it. Clearly, the bulk of that weight allowance went to important stuff like furniture, appliances, and the like. We kids were given the "before we move, take a look through your stuff and see what can be pitched/donated/whatever." Decisions were made, and some stuff went off to the great PCS (no, not Sprint's cell service... Permanent Change of Station. It's an Air Force term) pile o' detrius.
Since then, I've still moved quite frequently. Since 1988, I've lived in ten different apartments or houses. I think we brats wind up with some sort of nomad gene turned on that doesn't necessarily live in civilian kids. Clearly since I've had ten homes in twenty-one years, I've had to move "stuff." I had friends and family help me move some of it, but let's be honest here... Since I wasn't paying for a mover, nor was DoD, I don't really look too hard at what the hell I've got before moving it. I've actually had boxes move, unopened, more than once.
Every once in a while, though, I find something that I honestly had no clue I had. Earlier this week, I found the senior class tee shirt from high school. What with me weighing in at a less than hefty 145 pounds when I graduated high school and currently weighing about eighty pounds more than that, I did not bother to even make an attempt at wearing it. It was cool to look at the list of names on the back. All 53 of them. Hey, it was a small school.
Sometimes, being a packrat has its advantages. It's instant nostalgia.
May 21, 2009
Becoming a business owner
I never really thought of it as "I'm owning a business" when I started this. I just figured I was a dude with a camera, a selection of lenses and lighting, a functioning computer which runs Photoshop, and the desire to take pictures of people and things. Of course, I also wanted to get to the part where I could convince other people to pay me for my pictures. That started a couple of years ago when a brewer in India saw a picture I'd taken and asked for a high-def image.
Since then, I've had friends ask me for large pictures for their homes. I've given a few away as gifts, as I thought the people I gave the pictures to would like them. I even have one of my recent pictures as a 16x20 in my bedroom because, well, dammit I just like it a lot.
I am self-taught, and I somehow figured that meant that I'm not a real photographer. I'm just some dude with a camera. Thinking on it, however, I figured that if people like what I'm making enough to ask me for prints (and better, I have recently had folks even want to pay me for some of those images) that does make me an artist of sorts. At the very least, I figure that the fact that people want to see my pictures makes them "photographs" and not "snapshots." I think that's pretty cool, now that I think about it.
Of course, if I'm going to have people pay for these images (especially since I will do some events), I figure it's probably best to set it up as a limited liability corporation so that when people sue the company, they don't necessarily bankrupt the next four generations of my family. I also have to get some insurance and all that. A web presence is easy, and that's ready to go when I've got the rest of it done.
Bill Pappert. Professional Photographer.
That has a neat ring to it, especially as I am (as noted earlier) self-taught. I will never be able to retire on the income from it, but it should be fun. The only thing I like better than getting out and making photographs is cooking. While my mother's example seems to indicate that hard work and chutzpa are enough to make one a chef, I don't see myself following in those footsteps.
Anyone who is looking for photo work in Colorado Springs, please look me up. I'll be hanging a shingle soon... as a business owner. Go figure.
Since then, I've had friends ask me for large pictures for their homes. I've given a few away as gifts, as I thought the people I gave the pictures to would like them. I even have one of my recent pictures as a 16x20 in my bedroom because, well, dammit I just like it a lot.
I am self-taught, and I somehow figured that meant that I'm not a real photographer. I'm just some dude with a camera. Thinking on it, however, I figured that if people like what I'm making enough to ask me for prints (and better, I have recently had folks even want to pay me for some of those images) that does make me an artist of sorts. At the very least, I figure that the fact that people want to see my pictures makes them "photographs" and not "snapshots." I think that's pretty cool, now that I think about it.
Of course, if I'm going to have people pay for these images (especially since I will do some events), I figure it's probably best to set it up as a limited liability corporation so that when people sue the company, they don't necessarily bankrupt the next four generations of my family. I also have to get some insurance and all that. A web presence is easy, and that's ready to go when I've got the rest of it done.
Bill Pappert. Professional Photographer.
That has a neat ring to it, especially as I am (as noted earlier) self-taught. I will never be able to retire on the income from it, but it should be fun. The only thing I like better than getting out and making photographs is cooking. While my mother's example seems to indicate that hard work and chutzpa are enough to make one a chef, I don't see myself following in those footsteps.
Anyone who is looking for photo work in Colorado Springs, please look me up. I'll be hanging a shingle soon... as a business owner. Go figure.
Things I need to do...
A couple of things have come to mind that I need to do. First, I need to work a bit harder at getting past my procrastination habit. My parents will attest to the fact that I've been this way since my early years, with it being most prominent during my high school years. Back then, I would have six weeks' warning to get a project done only to get it started two days before it's due. I managed to overcome the proclivity for academic procrastination by going to college and writing checks for the classes. Paying for poor grades just didn't seem like something I wanted to do.
Another thing I need to do is get out and take some more photographs. I think I'm reasonably talented with a camera, and have sold photos in the past, but I think without practice, practice, practice, I will find myself with diminished skills in that area. So with that, I'm going to start training my eye a bit more and taking at least a half dozen frames a day. Some may suck, some may be good, but I need to get out and shoot.
The last thing I need to get on my "to do" list on a daily basis, or at least a more frequent basis than I have been, is to write in my blog. Again, I like to think that I have some level of talent with writing. Unfortunately, that's a talent that is mostly directed to writing e-mail or presentations for work of late, and that's not nearly as fun as doing this blog. With that, I'll start writing a bit more here, too.
I'll get on all of that stuff tomorrow.
Another thing I need to do is get out and take some more photographs. I think I'm reasonably talented with a camera, and have sold photos in the past, but I think without practice, practice, practice, I will find myself with diminished skills in that area. So with that, I'm going to start training my eye a bit more and taking at least a half dozen frames a day. Some may suck, some may be good, but I need to get out and shoot.
The last thing I need to get on my "to do" list on a daily basis, or at least a more frequent basis than I have been, is to write in my blog. Again, I like to think that I have some level of talent with writing. Unfortunately, that's a talent that is mostly directed to writing e-mail or presentations for work of late, and that's not nearly as fun as doing this blog. With that, I'll start writing a bit more here, too.
I'll get on all of that stuff tomorrow.
May 04, 2009
Roadway rantings
I had some time in the car this afternoon, and I have a few gripes from the roadway that I felt necessary to share with the world...
First, to the young lady who was driving the red Grand Am with the passenger side wing mirror hanging loose: Hang the God damned phone up and drive, would you? You were weaving like a drunk, and I have a feeling you'll be more capable of driving a straight line and less likely to shear off parts of your automobile if you pay a bit of attention to what the hell is going on around you rather than discussing whatever it is that is of great import to women under 25 these days.
Next item is to the gentleman who is older than the posted speed limit between Colorado Springs and Monument. The blinking light on your dashboard is meant to tell you that you're advertising to the entire world that you wish to make a right turn. Being as you were parked in the left lane doing tectonic speeds, it was clear to all who were stuck behind you that you had no immediate intention to get the hell out of the way. Please... Don't give us false hope. Just cancel the damn signal.
Back to a younger dude... Your 1979 (or whatever year it was) Rabbit which was burning more oil than the Iraqi Army did during their retreat from Kuwait during the first gulf war is utterly incapable of handling the speeds which people in the left lane want to operate their cars. Why do you need to wait until someone whose closing speed's in excess of 20mph has reached a spot where they decide to change lanes to get around you before changing lanes yourself? Honestly.
And the last one is to the middle aged fellow in the Caddy with New Mexico tags... It is not your responsibility to ensure that people drive the speed limit. I believe the good people of the State of Colorado pay a police force to enforce traffic laws. There's absolutely no need for you to decide how fast I, or anybody else, can drive in the left lane. That applies to any other lane, too.
There. I feel better.
First, to the young lady who was driving the red Grand Am with the passenger side wing mirror hanging loose: Hang the God damned phone up and drive, would you? You were weaving like a drunk, and I have a feeling you'll be more capable of driving a straight line and less likely to shear off parts of your automobile if you pay a bit of attention to what the hell is going on around you rather than discussing whatever it is that is of great import to women under 25 these days.
Next item is to the gentleman who is older than the posted speed limit between Colorado Springs and Monument. The blinking light on your dashboard is meant to tell you that you're advertising to the entire world that you wish to make a right turn. Being as you were parked in the left lane doing tectonic speeds, it was clear to all who were stuck behind you that you had no immediate intention to get the hell out of the way. Please... Don't give us false hope. Just cancel the damn signal.
Back to a younger dude... Your 1979 (or whatever year it was) Rabbit which was burning more oil than the Iraqi Army did during their retreat from Kuwait during the first gulf war is utterly incapable of handling the speeds which people in the left lane want to operate their cars. Why do you need to wait until someone whose closing speed's in excess of 20mph has reached a spot where they decide to change lanes to get around you before changing lanes yourself? Honestly.
And the last one is to the middle aged fellow in the Caddy with New Mexico tags... It is not your responsibility to ensure that people drive the speed limit. I believe the good people of the State of Colorado pay a police force to enforce traffic laws. There's absolutely no need for you to decide how fast I, or anybody else, can drive in the left lane. That applies to any other lane, too.
There. I feel better.
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