Why I love photography

I love capturing images I don't think others would see. This was taken in our apartment complex in the fall of 2004. People probably drove by it hundreds of times and never noticed it. I walked by it once with a camera and had to capture it.

I love when photos I take refect people's personalities. My parents have been married for 35 years, and they have so much fun with each other, I've always imagined many couples are jealous of them.


The promise of youth.

Photography makes me want to embrace the world in such a different way. I feel like I experience things more intimately, like I'm being forced to examine the things around me more carefully.
When I carry a camera, I feel like a part of my brain directly connected to my eyes turns on, and I'm seeing things more clearly.
My interactions blur the line between myself and the world.
And my photographs are the only evidence.

HOLY MOLEY!

They just said "bullshit" on "Nip/Tuck" on FX.
I know it's cable, but still ... it shocked me!

NBA on TNT

I'm pretty peeved that they're pre-empting "Law & Order" for the NBA on TNT.
I know they've come out with the three "L&O" shows on DVD, but I like the random deliciousness of watching it on TNT when you don't know if you're getting Moriarty or Waterston.

Trivial matters

Yes, that's me at the No. 1 slot.
Am I thrilled about that?
You bet.
When I'm at a bar, I don't have much to work with.
I don't much like hanging out with a lot of people at once (it can be difficult to deal with so many different personalities), I don't much like meeting new people (it takes too much energy - and once you get to know them, it turns out more often than not that the time was just wasted), I'm never the best pool player in the bar (even for a girl) and people don't really flock to me (which, as you may have gathered, suits me just fine much of the time).
So I was thrilled when this bar my friends and I frequented months ago subscribed to a national networked trivia game.
After all, for years, I've excelled at quiz games: Trivial Pursuit, quiz bowl (where high school teams compete at other schools) or the odd "Jeopardy!" round.
So this fits in perfectly with who I really am: A relatively brainy person who really wants nothing more than to sit around, not talking to anyone and just delighting in what I can dredge up from the recesses of my mind.
Finally, I can be the anti-social person I am at heart without actually seeming anti-social.
It's a salvation of sorts!

Coin-cidence

When I left Target last night, I found a nickel on the ground right outside my car.
Minutes later, when I was pulling into the Ralphs parking lot, I saw a man picking up a penny from the ground right outside his car.
Cosmically, it felt pretty cool.

Press site fun

For the last month or so, I've been having trouble logging on to a certain TV network's press site, so today, I finally sent them a note saying, "Please fix my account, so that I can continue to run photos with articles about your great programming in my paper."
The person who received it sends me back an e-mail saying what my username and password are (things I already knew) and that my account is now cleared for my use.
So I log on to the Web site to search for pictures ... only to discover that while I can log on to the Web site, I'm not cleared to access any pictures on the site.
Now, what do you suppose the folks thought I wanted to do on their press site, if not access photos?
I'm sure the presidents of their network and their parent company and their parent company's parent companies are great guys, but I don't care about what they had to say at some conference on sweeps.
I bet the "Ray's My Pal" show is doing great in the ratings, but I don't need access to its market share.
And while I'm sure it would be interesting to read how they justify leaving Robbo on "Refugee: The Balkans" even after news of his drug arrest got out, that's not what I need.
The geniuses behind this press site kept me from exactly what I needed to give their programs publicity.
This experience, of course, stands in stark contrast to the experience I had with this network's competition.
When I had trouble with them, three different PR representatives worked with me on e-mail over a couple hours to speed my application through and give me access to their press site as soon as possible.
This network's offerings may not be that hot since "Buddies" went off the air last season ... but at one paper in Southern California, you can read your fill of stories about its shows "Jimmy," "The Helper" and "Saturday Evening Not-on-Tape."

What Paris Hilton has to say about "House of Wax"

"Ours is hotter, though," Paris says of her movie. "Vincent Price is not as hot."

No, Paris, Vincent Price was not as hot. But he was INFINITELY more talented ...

That's how life works sometimes

While reading an article about the band Kasabian at work, I read this quote by the lead singer:

Meighan doesn’t see Kasabian going down for the count like so many Brit bands in the ’90s — including obvious influences like the Stone Roses — who could rustle up only a cult following over here and then broke up.
“The problem with Stone Roses is they had four years to make a (follow-up) album, and no one should take that long,” he says. “You take that long to make an album, you destroy yourself. They were fantastic, but they just took so long. We’re not going to have that downfall. Our songs are too good.”

I sent it to Lille with the note: "That's a BOLD statement," followed by "It's almost as bad as Oasis saying they're bigger than the Beatles."

In the weirdest twist of fate, when I looked at the Kasabian Web site later, I discovered that this fall, Kasabian will be touring with ... Oasis.

Insecurities

Welcome to my insecurities.
I know I need to lose weight. The fact that several pairs of pants have suddenly stopped fitting gives away the fact that my body isn't processing food the way it did when I was younger - and that all the pounds people have lost on miracle diets have found a new home in my belly.
And it's not that I'm less active than I used to be. If anything, I'm MORE active. My body just seems to act as a Statue of Liberty for weight seeking refuge: Give me your lost inches, your pounds, your cellulited masses yearning to pad me ...
Despite my best attempts at watching what I eat, my lack of willpower does me in.
So far, the fact that I have a big ribcage has worked in my favor: It makes it seem I'm still somewhat in proportion.
But when I walk, there are moons circling my thighs, their gravitational pull luring the flab there into waves that roll as I stride.
So I'm trying to be better: More salads, fewer fries. More fresh veggies, fewer cookies. More homemade meals, less fast food. More WATER! More EXERCISE! (All of which will help on the 5Ks I'm trying to do!)
I stayed on South Beach for three weeks last year, but one stressful week and BAM! Hello, comfort food!
But it's new leaf time.
I'm happier at work than I've been in at least a week, I'm having lots of fun with this and my flickr account, things are going well.
The timing couldn't be better!
Pesky pounds, get ready for a mass exodus from the Republic of Kate.

Dust migration

While walking through the basement on the way to our office, I saw a pile of dust swept to one side of the hallway.
A couple of hours later, it had been swept to the other side of the hallway.

Story titles

"Cleaning Instructions for a Bulletproof Vest"

I think that would be a great name for a short story.
My mom thinks it sounds like a haiku for the New Yorker.

I love discovering titles, flowing poetic phrases that occur naturally in conversation and make you think there should be a story, book or rock band already using them.

Other titles I've discovered
"Brick Wall Jesus"
"Down Roads We'll Never Go"
"Across an Empty Parking Lot"

At the bar

Lille and I were sitting at the Royal Falconer in Riverside, just chilling on the big comfy furniture inside the front door when a woman walking the "extremely pissed" stride walked from the bar and out the front door.
A couple seconds later, a woman ran heavily to the door, shoes punishing the wooden floor, and slammed her way out the entrance.

"L.A. Story"

This movie is fascinating, the way it works on so many levels.
The first time I saw it, I was single, in college and thought it was a wonderfully whimsical look at romance and an absurdly surreal look at California.
Now that I've been in CA for more than two years and am in a serious relationship, I can appreciate the slight exaggeration of CA lifestyle and I still love how Steve Martin captured romance.
You know those romances, the boy-meets-girl or girl-meets-boy or boy-meets-boy flicks? They completely miss the glow.
I know it seems sappy, but seriously, when the timing is right, when you find the person you couldn't even begin to imagine you'd find? You're surrounded by a buffer.
And that type of feeling just can't be expressed in a world that denies magic. But "L.A. Story" is all about magic. Martin infuses the movie with just enough reality to keep cynics from scoffing, but it's a reality based on mysticism.
Funnily enough, by giving into the surreality of it all, he ultimately made a movie that feels more real than most.
The film is a smart movie, too, chock full of Shakespeare and clever dialogue. I've always thought Martin was smarter than he got credit for and the dialogue ("I keep thinking I'm a grownup, but I'm not," "I was deeply unhappy, but I didn't know it, because I was so happy all the time," "All I know is, on the day your plane was to leave, if I had the power, I would turn the winds around, I would roll in the fog, I would bring in storms, I would change the polarity of the earth so compasses couldn't work, so your plane couldn't take off.") sparkles, soars and touches my soul.
Sometimes I weep over the brilliance of the dialogue, the visions, the music, the performances ...
It is just about the perfect romantic comedy.

But what do I know? "Xanadu" is another one of my favorite movies.
So maybe I'm actually just a sucker for surreal movies about L.A.

Why I'm sorry I didn't renew my Psychics Anonymous membership

I should have known this was going to happen:
My boss: If that's what I said, that's not what I meant.

Cell phone fun

I'd never had a cell phone before I moved to California a couple years ago, so when I first got it, I was slow to start programming numbers into it.
So when a strange number popped on the screen, I didn't think anything of it and answered the phone.
Caller: Is Dante there?
Me: No, there's no Dante here.
Caller: Dante, I'm looking for DAN-te.
Me: No, no, I swear there's no Dante at this number.
(Caller talks to someone on her end, something about how "this woman saying she don't know no Dante," then comes back to the phone call.)
Caller: You white or black?
Me: White.
Caller: You got a big booty?
Me: Um ... yes.
*pause*
Caller (suspiciously): You SURE Dante ain't there?

One of the coolest pictures I've ever taken. I'm so lucky!
KWW

Page 2
Photo 1: Hefner talking to CNN. I looked online for any CNN coverage of the announcement to see if I could see myself in the background, but no such luck.
Photo 2: Lion statue on the grounds. Reminded me of my cats!
Photo 3: Peacock up close and personal, walking around the lawn.
Photo 4: The mansion! It's smaller than I thought it would be. It was built, according to my research, in 1927, so probably seemed big back then! But it seems like nothing compared to some of the multi-million dollar things being built now. We didn't get to go inside, but I can understand that: I don't really like journalists I KNOW coming over to MY house.
Photo 5: Peacock apparently feeling threatened by so many people! I'd never seen such a sight in person, especially up close! It was amazing!
KWW

I got to go to the Playboy Mansion! Every year, Playboy magazine hosts a jazz festival and we got invited to the mansion for the announcement of the festival's lineup. There were, of course, about a hundred journalists going too, so it's not like this was a unique experience, but honestly, how many people at our social level get to go there? It was pretty exciting! What was really funny was that when my mom told my great uncle that I was going to the Playboy Mansion, he got very quiet, and then tersely asked, "Is somebody going with her?" It's funny to think of anyone being concerned about a woman's virtue these days!
Page 1
Photo 1: The grotto at the mansion. This is part of the swimming pool, but it's built like a cave. It was dark and smelled of concentrated chlorine. I can't imagine the number of people who must crowd in there before it stops smelling like chlorine.
Photo 2: A peacock in a tree on the grounds. It was HUGE! And the photo doesn't do the colors justice. Amazing to see this creature just roaming around.
Photo 3: Two peahens just hanging out.
Photo 4: Hugh Hefner giving an interview. Bizarre seeing him in person. Like with most celebrities, he's shorter and frailer looking in person than his virile reputation and pictures would lead you to believe. Very funny: Women at the place posturing in front of Hef, like they were going to be "discovered" at this press conference. One woman in particular kept walking into his line of sight and tossing her hair.
Photo 5: A parrot on the grounds. Hefner has several cages FULL of animals, and had his animal keepers there the day we were there, probably to keep us entertained! (Journalists are such an unruly bunch!) In addition to the parrots and the peacocks, Hefner has monkeys, rabbits, flamingos and birds I didn't recognize! The back yard also had a trampoline, but it was covered with a tarp. At first, I thought it was to cover it so people wouldn't think that the Playboy Mansion was the type of place that had a trampoline in the back yard. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that it was actually covered so that we wouldn't get on it and play around.

KWW

Star blech

(Subhead) Nude Photographs
(Text) In the hallway are samples of Leonard Nimoy’s photography, including a self-portrait ...

yummy

Triple Chocolate Meltdown: $4.99
Gas to go pick it up: $.75
Eating the dessert and savoring the play of hot and cold; hot fudge, chocolate and vanilla; cake and ice cream across my tongue: Priceless

"SANTA RULES!"

I wanna do a heavy metal song called "Santa Rules!" and mess with people's heads:

He's in red and he rules,
At least one night a year.
With his gifts and his joy.
And eight flying reindeer.

He'll drop in on you
When he's least expected.
Air traffic on his eve's
Not really congested.

We can't say the holiday
In public schools
But we can have kids
who say "SANTA RULES!"

A Killers concert

Site: Killers concert, LA, 7 p.m. 4-16
General comments: GOD! The Killers are awesome. The show, from beginning the end, seemed like a take on old-skool Las Vegas lounge acts, from the black-diamond-on-red patterned carpet on the stage to the "Elvis comeback show" light sign in the back. The band even came on stage to "Viva Las Vegas," which eerily slowed down as they approached their positions. In a weird way, the staging and lights at first reminded me of the Squirrel Nut Zippers' "Hell" video!
It was funny: Kyle'd said he didn't want to go because it would be a boring show because (and I paraphrase here) the lead singer doesn't DO anything, he just stands there. But on stage (as opposed to performing in a video or on "SNL") it's completely different.
In another nod to Vegas lounge shows, he came out on stage in a tightly tailored suit (complete with bow tie and corsage), picked up the corded mic from the stand and proceeded to walk from one end of the stage to the other, giving physical "shoutouts" to the audience. As the only member not tethered by instruments to a single spot, he wandered around the stage and the drum riser quite freely, except when he had to come up front for the keyboard bits, and he did those with humor: He'd stand at the keyboard, hold the mic jauntily in his left hand and play with his right hand with a "ain't no big thang" attitude.
But aerobics do not a great show make. No, he wasn't busting out pop-star dance moves (more like Beckified bizness), but between what he DID do and the lighting configurations, it was an awesomely high-energy show.
Best parts
1) "Somebody Told Me," of course. People went absolutely grape-nuts. Lights blazed. Girls screamed. Frat boys hopped in their seats alongside middle-aged couples out for a date night. Leading to ...
2) The diversity of the crowd. Older parents with their kids, college-aged kids (Forever 21 trendoids and post-1990s pre-grungers alike), me ... speaks to the unifying power of music!
3) The very last song of the evening, "All These Things That I've Done." Felt like what I'd imagine an old-tyme revival in the South feels like. Between the clapping, the lights, the music and the vibe, EVERYTHING came together. We FLOATED out of there.
Worst parts
1) The usher was kind of a dick to the girl who was accidentally sitting in my seat. And it's not like she was giving him attitude, either, she was just confused. She looked like she felt like crying and I felt guilty. It's not her fault she couldn't tell which plaque goes with which seat.
2) The food from the McDonald's down the street. Before driving home, I went through the drive-thru to grab food: Cheeseburger, fries, soda, M&M McFlurry. Seems hard the eff up, especially if food service is what you do for your business. I could screw it up, McDonald's shouldn't. But: The fries were about 30 minutes past fresh (ew!) and weren't salted (double ew!). The McFlurry was less a McFlurry, more a cup of yogurt with a tablespoon of mini M&Ms on top. Even the cheeseburgers weren't what I consider good. Maybe this is part of McDonald's ploy to get customers to lose weight. Serve crap NO ONE would want to eat, and bye-bye super-size problem!
Surreal parts
1) The tall thin blonde wearing a shirt that quoted Sir Mix-A-Lot: "LA face with an Oakland booty."
2) The conversation: "I like Erasure, but I also like Oasis." "She's TOTALLY against one-night stands." "Stick with us. You never know who you'll end up with." And this dialogue: "I didn't want to break up. But since we did, I'm the one who's been going crazy, going out with all these guys ..." "Well, one or three, it's better than none."
Games to play
1) Stand your ground. When everyone stands up to dance at their seats, fight to keep your spot and not get pushed over by the little person beside you who's dancing all over the place.
2) Sniff out the pot smoker. When the unmistakable scent wafts over the crowd, you and your fellow concert-goers can have fun looking around with your nose wrinkled to find the breaker of multiple laws.

Pretty palm trees, all in a row
KWW

Outside the Long Beach aquarium. I just liked it!
KWW

Took these on a whale-watching boat off Long Beach. Dolphins are nutty. They enjoy "surfing" the waves created by the boats. Hard to photograph, but lovely to see!
KWW

My cat has debbil eyes
KWW

Whimsy on a Friday afternoon

We get e-mails from our boss.
A recent one had "Ray out" as the subject line.
I'd like to think he's poking fun at "Seacrest OUT!"
But I don't think he is.

Clip art is a stud.
KWW

I wonder if the cashier was able to choose what name to put down. If so, that's the coolest. Tomorrow, I want to go into work and say, "For today, I'm going to be known as 'Mistress in Charge.' Tomorrow, I may go by 'She Who Knows All.'
"But for today, 'Mistress in Charge' shall do."
KWW

I thought this looked a bit like two hands clasped in prayer, or like a face.
KWW

True-life grandmother drama

My grandmother has always been a couple bubbles off plumb, and completely insane about any topics having anything to do with sex. When I was about 7 or 8, she told me that I should always put a phone book down before sitting on a man's lap.
And she's firmly convinced - and will tell anyone who will listen - that men get ahead in the world "because of that thing between their legs."
Once, she decided to tell me all about how doctors can do plastic surgery on hymens "so that there are all these women walking around who've had sex, but have this surgery so they can pretend to be virgins."
I don't know what prompted her to tell me that, but I was tempted to tell her about all the dolls I had when I was a kid who were nudists and only got dressed when she came to visit.

Oh, Howard, you funny, funny bunny ...
KWW

Isn't that the point, Brit?

Pop princess Britney Spears and husband Kevin Federline will make a reality television show in a bid to counter tabloid press gossip about them, Daily Variety said on Tuesday.
...
"I am now going to be expressing my personal life through art," said the blonde bombshell.

Bob snapped the newspaper shut and slapped it on the table.
Dammit! How did this little pop tart have all the answers to creating art?
He needed to spread the word.
Opening his leather-bound address book, one that had his BD monogram on front, Bob turned to the Ss.
"Bruce, Bruce, you'll never believe what I just read!"
"Bob, I've told you so many times, you need to enunciate." His own thick New Jersey accent rendered the scolding ironic.
"Forget that, Bruce." But Bob obeyed: The speaking that had sparked many an imitation was more understandable when he said, "Look, even in Jersey, you can go online, right? Go Google 'Britney Spears' and 'art.' "
"Very funny," Bruce said. "Can those two items even exist in the same universe?"
"No, really, just do it."
As Bruce logged on, he and Bob chatted about their music until Bob heard a sharp intake of breath and "Oh dear Lord."
Bob knew then that Bruce had found the news item that had set his own brain waves on fire only moments earlier.
"Bob, do you know how this could revolutionize music? If singer/songwriters around the world knew about putting their personal lives through music ... " For once, even the "boss" was at a loss for words.
"At not just music, Bruce, ALL art. Movies, paintings, books -- if people started mining their own lives for inspiration? Think of how ALL art would change?"
Bruce and Bob sat in a cocoon of their thoughts.
Bruce finally cut through the silence.
"It's too radical. It would never work, people expressing their personal lives through art."
"I know, I know." Bob sighed. "But it's nice to dream.
"It's oh so lovely to dream."

The vote of confidence

Me (after about a minute of non-stop babbling): Wow, I've really been blathering on.
Supervisor: *pause* OK ... bye.

Why corn chips is the debbil

Every morning, around 10:30, I'm starving. When I'm in my home office, it's no problem. I go to our break room, grab a bagel and I'm good until lunchtime.
But this morning, I had a meeting in a bureau office, so when the munchies hit, I had to depend on a foreign break room.
When we take a break, I head down to the snack machines and consider the choices:

1. Doritos. Cheesy, salty, dependable. I've made meals of Doritos more often than I like to admit. But I have a bag of them at home, and besides, they dye my fingers and nails the life preserver neon orange that washing can't remove.
2. Cheetos. Also cheesy, salty, dependable. But less filling than chips AND they have the same finger-dying properties as the Doritos. Besides, in our college newspaper office, we hung a Cheeto on the wall one September. By December, the grease stain around it was about the size of a CD. Sure, I still eat and love Cheetos, but that's an image that haunts me.
3. Corn chips. Oh, corn chips! Salty, versatile. And perfect.

I grab the bag and head back to the small conference room in which my six colleagues and I are meeting.
A side note now about corn chips and my stomach.
I love corn chips and use them to scoop cheese dips so thick they could patch holes in walls, salsas that could clean silver and chilis that MUST be toxic.
My stomach, however, sometimes stages a revolt, choosing to strike with rally cries of burps.
And anyone who's eaten corn chips knows there's nothing like a corn chip belch.
The first burp drops about 20 minutes after I started eating the corn chips.
I manage to stifle the sound with a coughing noise, but am suddenly horrified. What can I do about the SMELL?!
I hold it in my mouth for a bit, then breathe in through my mouth, hoping to tame it before releasing it into the room.
Looking around, I try to figure a path for the foul, corn-chipped air. There are people sitting across from me and to my right. It'll have to go to my left.
After holding my breath for what seems to be an eternity, I lean as far back in my chair as I can without toppling over and open the side of my mouth and exhale.
Thank goodness.
Over the next 45 minutes, I repeat this process eight times.
It's very hard to actively participate in a training discussion under these circumstances.

These were test drawings I did before I finally settled on the drawing that became my profile drawing (http://photos1.blogger.com/img/214/
4081/640/katelines2.jpg). They're kind of odd-looking. I can see parts of myself in each, but no single picture captures the One Stop Weird Shoppe that is me!
KWW

KWW

The finish line.

5K or not 5K

This year, at the age of 34, I've become addicted to 5K run/walks.
Of course, because I can't run, it's the walk part that's important.
I mean, I can run, but as the action somewhat resembles an elephant running through a field of rubber cement, I don't run.
But since most 5Ks are fund-raisers and since I can't smell bone burning when I'm done walking, I figure there are worse addictions.
On Saturday, I did a 5K in a beautiful (read as "snooty") beach community in SoCal.
It's a land of miles of sandy beaches.
It's home to endless ocean views.
So what vistas does the 5K serve?
The awe-inspiring empty lots full of weeds, strip malls and the ubiquitous Starbucks.
And because the course was merely a 1.5-mile loop, I get to see all this twice.
But that's OK, because by the second time I'm going through the course, I spend an inordinate amount of brain power convincing myself I don't have to vomit.
Everything begins well: The starting line is at the top of a hill, so when the starter pistol goes off, I gamely start jogging, using the gravity to my advantage.
When the course levels off, the crowd thins and I slow to my regular pace.
Rounding the first turn, I smile at the woman shouting words of encouragement.
"I just hope I don't come in last," I say gamely.
"Nah, you're doing great!" she says.
And I believe her, right up until the point where I get lapped at the 1-mile marker by the guy who finishes the 5K in 14 minutes.
Halfway through, I really start worrying I'm going to come in last. I see people ahead of me, but no one behind me.
On my last trip through the loop, I pick up the pace, running by people encouraging me so it doesn't seem like I'm wasting their time.
"Don't ... come ... in ... last ... "
I grunt out the words with each breath I exhale.
"Don't ... come ... in ... last ..."
I start playing the game with myself.
Let me just beat that person.
Of course, since the people I'm closest to are about 50 yards farther ahead, 10 years younger and 100 pounds lighter, I don't stand much of a chance of catching up. But I give it the old college try.
"Don't ... come ... in ... last ..."
"Don't ... come ... in ... last ..."
And I cross the finish line running.
Running slowly, but running all the same.
A 6-year-old boy says, "Great job!" then bends over to cut the timing chip off my shoe.
I walk around to cool down and wait for my results to be posted.
Two people who'd finished earlier are checking out their results.
Guy: "I can't wait to turn 30 next year. I'll be in a different age bracket -- and look at how bad their times are!"
When the paper with my results is finally on the board for all to see, I want to cry.
Not only did I beat my personal best (I finished this 5K in less than 44 minutes) but I didn't come in last.
I sure showed that 90-year-old woman.

Ha-ha. This is a self-portrait. They'll rue the day they encouraged me to get my creativity on ...
KWW

Header? I'm trying to jazz up my page a little. Don't quite know how. HTML humbles me in a way numbers and science do. I can see how it all MIGHT make sense, but there's something important missing! It's like making PB&J without bread!
KWW

naughty pics

Piehole!

Me: "You're a goddess and a queen."
Becky: "Shut your piehole."


It was almost like she'd been waiting to say it, that she woke up knowing she wanted to say, "Shut your piehole" that day, and was merely awaiting a situation in which to wrestle that saying into rotation ...