Excuse me, Mr. President, but that was my foot you stepped on

I had a strange dream. I was in an auditorium sitting in a row with several members of my family. My brothers were there and my Aunt Barb and Uncle Bill. The auditorium was attached to a local truck stop that's about 2 miles from my house.

Up on the stage President Trump was speaking. I'm not sure what he was talking about. I don't remember any of the details of what he said. But as he finished speaking everyone was getting up to leave, as was I, and I had my foot out into the aisle. I turn toward the stage and find myself face-to-face with the president, who is walking toward me. And he steps on my foot. And then he was gone.

I woke up shortly after that.

I rarely remember dreams, but this one has stuck with me today. Not sure why. It was silly and made so sense. So I thought maybe if I wrote it down it would let go of its hold on me.

We apologize for the delay

This is the first post I've made to this blog in more than 7 years. To be honest, I forgot I even had, or created, this blog. I rediscovered it tonight.

A while back, after posting some photos and posts on Facebook, a friend recommended that I start a blog or something to capture some of those posts and observations somewhere other than Facebook. I wasn't ready to do that at the time, so I didn't look into it. But lately, I've been thinking about it more, and decided maybe I should do something about it.

I used to keep a journal with some regularity, but I haven't done that in a very long time. But there has been a lot going on in my life lately, and it my head, and perhaps I could use an outlet for expression for that ... stuff. And maybe some photos too. Although to be honest, I haven't done much photography lately. So, we'll see what happens.

But it's good to know that I don't have to completely start from scratch. There's some infrastructure in place.

A few hundred words on the worth of a picture blog

So, I have this blog, which has been neglected for months, and I'm thinking about starting a new one.

Crazy.

Perhaps the smarter thing would be to actually start posting on this blog regularly.

That would be the smart thing.

I'm not sure I'm a very smart guy though. But there is a method to my madness.

The reason I'm thinking about starting a new one is twofold. One reason is that the blog could be, in a roundabout way, related to work. One of the hats I wear at work is to do the photo editing, cropping and color correcting of staff photos. I've been trying to share photo tips with the staff to help them improve their photography, but the way I've been doing that, with staffers scattered in four states, has been to write up photo tips. It's not very visual. Photography is sort of a visual medium. So, text-based tips seems just wrong.

The other primary reason I'm thinking about starting a new blog is to start it in WordPress. I've using Blogger for a long time and really know nothing about WordPress, so I was thinking it would be a way to expand my knowledge. I like to stretch my skills and try to make myself learn new things in this whole digital media realm.

I suppose there is actually another reason too, that really isn't about work. It's about returning to a first love. Photography and photojournalism got me in to the newspaper businesses long ago. I have recently been confronted with the reminder that I really do still love still photography. I came to realize it would never pay my wage full time long ago. But maybe a photo blog would get me out shooting some more, even if it was just for my own enjoyment and selfish purposes.

I haven't decided whether to start a new blog, or to include photo posts here or even on a work blog that already exists. But I thought confessing the idea here may push me to made a decision one way or another, sooner, rather than later.

I may be just the push I need.

Emotional legacy of 9/11

The fear is gone. The questions of how and why have been resolved. The feelings of unity of purpose and resolve have long-since disappeared.

But 10 years after Sept. 11, 2001, the pain and emotion remain just below the surface, like water behind a dam just below the level of the spillway. All it takes is the least bit of rain, the smallest wave, to make the emotions spill over again.

I am not delving in to much, or any, of the 9/11 anniversary coverage. I don't want to be overwhelmed by the pain and sadness anymore. I'm tired of tears.

The rawness of emotion exposed on Sept. 11 has never healed in me. Any sad news seems to strike that same sensitive wound created on that surreal day. My heart bleeds at the slightest touch.

This weekend, I'm just trying to get through and not poke that sensitive spots any more than is absolutely necessary.

Smudging my digital fingerprints

My digital life is too complicated. I have too many usernames, addresses, accounts, IDs, passwords and profiles.

I started off intentionally trying to keep some parts of my digital life separate. Keeping home away from work. Keeping family away from hobbies. That sort of thing. But I am beginning to wish I was part of a younger generation that doesn't compartmentalize life that way. With all these accounts, it would be much simpler to just let me be me, regardless of which hat I'm wearing.

I am so tempted to just go through and start merging or deleting accounts and just let Google or Facebook be my conduit to the whole digital realm.

But that scares me too.

I thought I simplified my life when I was able to merge calendars and check multiple e-mail accounts on my cell phone. But I got digging around some of my accounts tonight and realized I don't know which one I use for some services anymore. And don't even get me started on things like phone numbers.

I couldn't tell you what my direct line phone number is at work if it wasn't printed on my business card. If my phone ever breaks and I'm left stranded on the side of the road, I wouldn't know who, or how, to call anyone for help. I guess I could call my parents. I remember their phone number. They've had the same one since 1973. That I can remember, but their address, which changed some years ago to make it easier for police and fire department find their house, well I haven't known their address since then. I think I have it in my GPS. If the battery is charged.