There isn’t a day that passes without me crossing something that spikes my interest in completely new and different directions.
On the one hand, that keeps life interesting and fresh. On the other hand — if I would let it — it can be a bit depressing. I mean, so many things that I would like to do and there’s just not enough time left.
Then, I remember . . . there never was. Enough time, that is.
We can set our sights on many things and lightly touch all of them or narrow our focus and delve a bit deeper into fewer subjects. We can further narrow our vision and interest and become knowledgeable in two or three areas of interest. Or, we can decide one subject is our passion and explore the crap out of it.
My approach has been to aim for an above-average knowledge in many subjects while stopping short of being an expert in any one of them.
That’s also the approach I’ve taken with physical activities. While I’ve explored many interests, there were many more that not only I’ve not been able to pursue, and are now outside the possibility of me pursuing no matter my level of interest.
Some people will tell you it’s never too late and there’s always time, but that’s just not true.
Actor, musician, martial artist, politician, investment banker, pilot, sailor, lawyer, teacher, chef, architect, carpenter, car racer . . . the list goes on and on.
Sure, I could pick one or two and still pursue them as personal goals but — realistically — the odds are stacked against me both because of age and opportunity.
Even smaller and less ambitious goals are slowly dropping off the list of possible achievements.
Walking on all seven continents, sailing the seven oceans, seeing the pyramids, the Great Wall of China, having a discussion with the Pope and explain to him where and why he — and, by extension, his church — is wrong. It would be interesting discussing case law with members of the Supreme Court, attend a luncheon with the Firefly cast, drive the moon rover (on the Moon), soar in the Martian atmosphere, and watch a Neptune sunrise.
There’s just not enough time. But, I’m not asking for sympathy nor want consolation for I always knew I could only ever do so much, and while I don’t know how much longer I have — or even what I will and will not do — I’m not unhappy about what I have been able to do and not sad about things left undone . . . other than the Pope thing; I really would like to straighten that whole mess out.
Some might still say “we shall see” but I say . . . we seashells.
On a completely different tack, where the heck is the P1000? Nikon has been dropping hints and leaking rumors and yet, here we are at the end of April and there’s no announcement.
Why do I care? Honest, if I could get a slight improvement out of a single camera with an obscene zoom range, I’m certain I would get rid of all the other camera equipment I own.
Mind you, I still think about dropping multiple $K on more capable cameras and better lenses, but the practical side of me asks “why?”
I don’t plan on selling photos and even if I did, who’d buy them? I certainly don’t plan to interact with people and do shoots for families, weddings, executions, or funerals. The majority of what I do is eventually viewed on tiny screens that aren’t even color-calibrated. Honest, I could just post phone photos and most people wouldn’t be the wiser (I already post many phone photos and unless obvious or I mention it, I don’t think people know).
As with everything else, I do photography for me, and I’ve already reached the level I’m happy with. I could shoot for marginal improvements but to what end? Like with many things, once I “know” I could do better, it’s not as attractive a goal, especially if there are diminishing returns. Perfection is not an actual goal of mine in anything I do. I shoot for “a bit better than most” and even then I probably cheat by inflating the value and quality of what I do. Well, not “inflating” per se . . . more like saying “I like it” even if it looks like crap.
Once you say that, you can stop working on something. That’s the approach parents these days take with their offspring; they overlook all the faults and think they’ve created a masterpiece.
You know what I think I would enjoy? Being a cartoonist. I don’t mean a widely successful, but rather capable of presenting a visual joke.
Yeah, like that.
I still have plans to take drawing classes and potentially come up with my own style and characters I could then lend a voice to.
The problem? I know I can copy things, but I don’t know if I can come up with original stuff.
Well, OK, I can draw this stuff, but that’s with little intent or purpose.
That’s the same problem with writing . . . my ideas seem (and are) nothing but a rehashing of stuff that already was (that’s where — after all — I get my ideas from). And yes, at an intellectual level I know there’s nothing new and that everything is derivative.
Maybe that’s it. Maybe what I really want is to come up with something uniquely mine. But, everywhere I look . . . it’s been done.
Ear wax sculpture . . . done.
Toenails clippings art . . . done.
You name it, it’s been done.
Wait . . . I might have misspoken; toenails clippings art . . . I don’t see anything on Google(TM) . . . hmm . . . Ah, no; THERE it is.
And . . . that’s it
Some of these posts will likely be longer as the mood hits me, but most will be thus; short, uninteresting, bland, and relentless.
You can read about Project 313 HERE.
That’s it. This post has ended . . . except for the stuff below.
Note: if you are not reading this blog post at DisperserTracks.com, know that it has been copied without permission, and likely is being used by someone with nefarious intention, like attracting you to a malware-infested website. Could be they also torture small mammals.
Please, if you are considering bestowing me recognition beyond commenting below, refrain from doing so. I will decline blogger-to-blogger awards. I appreciate the intent behind it, but I prefer a comment thanking me for turning you away from a life of crime, religion, or making you a better person in some other way. That would mean something to me.
If you wish to know more, please read below.
Note: to those who may click on “like”, or rate the post; if you do not hear from me, know that I am sincerely appreciative, and I thank you for noticing what I do.
. . . my FP ward . . . chieken shit.
Finally, if you interpret anything on this blog as me asking or wanting pity, sympathy, or complaining about my life, or asking for help and advice, know you’re likely missing my subtle mix of irony, sarcasm, and humor.