So Long

It seemed like maybe this wasn't goodbye. Then of course, it was.

I had all kinds of words to say to myself. The experience will live on. There's a part of this that doesn't die. Things will go on in a different form. You're always with me.

The fact remains. I can't talk with you anymore. That's a tough pill to swallow.

So I told myself that this is the beginning. I know it's ended now. There's no more of this to come back to.

Every day is going to get easier. Now I've hit bottom. Once bottom is achieved there is nowhere to go but up. 

I sat with that for a few minutes. It sounded good. Unfortunately none of it is true.

Things will look up. Then they will plummet down again. There might be a gradual upward course, but it won't be a straight line. There will be ebbs and flows and unexpected turns. It will move from side to side.

Good - crappy - better - okay - crappy - good - great- good - okay. And so on.

I had to sit down for a few minutes. Then I proceeded to adjust to this trajectory.

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Nothing

Grace

Without You

You are here and simultaneously nowhere. This is where you are not.

Not in this vista, on this rooftop, in this foreign country, or your very own city, with these people. This one is with that one, the people you introduced, the people you forgot about, the ones you still long for.

Today, you feel the smart of not having a table number, not being at karaoke, not buzzed on cocktails splayed across a couch, not arms around each other, not laughing hysterically while the person taking the picture tries in vain to get a good picture of all of you.

You are not an infant. You tell yourself how expensive weddings are, how this is an exception, how people are busy, how not everyone can be included, how sometimes almost no one is included.

You allow yourself no self pity because that is a waste of time and make an inventory of your better friends.

You don't linger there. You like them anyway. Or not.

But there's this one time. You wade further in for some reason. You let the sting sting you longer. You sit with it. 

You learn that the blue cast isn't the end of the world. Nobody will throw you in jail for feeling sad. 

You remember the work of Margaret Mead. Like it or not, you're a primate. You're part of something bigger than you. Of course you feel bad. It's how you've been made.

You're with a friend in her sunny loft. She takes a quick break from the conversation to return a text. Her other friend does the same. You take a fast look at social media. Just for a moment.

You see what you see there. And you're not there.

You are not with those people because you are with these people. You are not in those places because you are in this place.

Not to mention the people who you will see later today, not talk with but text, the strangers on the train, the loved ones, the future friends, the friends reconnected.

You're with who you're supposed to be with, where you should be. The other people you were thinking about before are just the people who live inside your phone. 

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Emotional Support From The Security Guard

I like to go to this running track in my neighborhood. Right before you go in the gate you see this man who sits in a booth. He isn't just any man. He's the security guard.

He waves me in. I always say hello, goodbye and thank you. I am trying to be on friendly terms with this security guard. One reason for this is that I am a very nice person.

I do have some other motivations which are self serving but generally harmless.

If possible I would like to become allies with this security guard. I'm hoping that if he sees me enough he'll wave me in anyway, even when the track is closed for stupid reasons. 

Some of these stupid reasons include a tiny bit of ice or snow on a small sections of the track, an unscheduled Columbia sporting practice where there is still plenty of room for me, or unknown random events that are not visible to the naked eye.

I feel like it's going pretty well.

I like to imagine the security guard, sitting in the booth and maybe glancing up from his phone to notice the recovery process unfolding from my broken ankle. When I first started using this track, I walked very slowly until my ankle hurt, then walked even more slowly. Then I started to slow jog a bit. Now I'm jogging more and more. 

I haven't been expecting anything but once or twice he gave me a thumbs up.

Today he waved me in.

I did my usual routine. My physical therapist has taught me all about alignment. She's also trained me to be aware of my entire foot surface. Going to the track and exercising is almost like a walking mediation. That's how good it is.

I did some cardio for 30 minutes. I was almost to the gate when I stopped and took some photographs. The sky was very opaque, which made for some interesting relationships with the bleachers, the trees, and the light. 

As I'm exiting the gate the guard stops me. 

Why aren't you smiling today? He asks. His friend is there with him, hanging outside the booth. What's up? the friend asks.

I've had a hard weekend I said to them. But going to the track helped a little bit, I added.

What were you taking pictures of? The security guard asks. Yeah, said the friend. We were wondering.

When they said pictures it came out sounding more like pitchers.

Oh, I'm an artist, I said. I take some pretty weird pictures. The friend nodded, yeah, I like doing that too, he said. I like taking weird pictures.

So as I'm getting ready to go the security guard gets pretty direct with me. Next time I see you I want you to be smiling, he said.

So I said okay and walked off, when I was a few feet away I gave a little wave. This exchange put a spring in my step on the way home.

I have friends who know where I was yesterday and what I was doing. I'm not mad at them for not checking in. Until I went to the track, I hadn't really thought about it.

The security guard knew something was up. That was a breath of fresh air. You never know where your support is going to come from or who your friends may turn out to be.

A few minutes later, I came to a new conclusion about the security guard. If the track is closed, the track is closed. I'm not going to ask him for special treatment. That's not what friends do or what friends are for.

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What I know, what I don't know

It’s a shift.

I know without a doubt. This corridor is narrow.  It’s unmistakable.

There's no argue, no negotiate. You don't work it out with what is. 

After a time, a minute, maybe an hour, there's a small bit of wiggle room. 

I realize I know what. What is what I've been talking about.

What I don't know is where and most importantly when. 

Knowing what I don't know makes it sort of okay.

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The Best Thing Someone Never Said to Me.

30 Minutes a Day: Before and After

History

In spring of 2015, I implemented a tradition of taking a 30-minute walk. I strolled. I meandered. I gave myself a break. I took photographs. You can read more about it here.

The walk morphed a bit in the summer of 2015 and again in the fall. Finally, I fired it.

Before

In December of 2015 I was experiencing holiday stress. I took up my 30-minute walk again. First, I un-fired it. Then I changed it.

The other walks I took earlier that year were slow. I decided that even though I was alternating cardio with yoga and Pilates most days, I needed even more vigorous movement in my day. So I instituted a 15-minute power walk. At the end of the 15 minutes, I'd do a slower walk and take some photographs or just look around.

It turns out that this walk was working out beautifully and the extra pumped up movement paired with slower movement was putting a dent in my anxiety and bad holiday attitude.

I had no reason to stop doing my walks as December 2015 turned into January 2016. Except for one thing. I broke my ankle.

After

I wasn't exercising, power walking or doing anything adventurous when it happened.

I was walking down the street minding my own business. The sidewalk wasn't icy or unusual. It was a run of the mill sidewalk. But my foot got caught in a crack and stayed there when I fell. That's how I ended up with a mild fracture and a bad sprain.

I adjusted to the lack of my usual movement. I took up guided meditation.

After starting PT and healing a lot, I decided to go for a walk outside without my orthopedic boot. I was wearing regular sneakers.

I went around the block twice. I became accustomed to the uneven surfaces, the inclines, the dips and the hit of fresh air.

I stayed inside during a massive snowstorm. The next day I made my way in a careful fashion to Chinatown for my daughter's birthday party.

The next afternoon, I went around and around my block, at a healthy clip for 15 minutes. I confined myself to this area because the sidewalk was clear and dry and safe. I didn't have to negotiate black ice, snow or frozen slush. When I was finished walking fast, I walked slow. I took some photographs.

I did it again today only for 20 quick minutes and 15 slow, creative ones.

I like the predictability as I ease back into cardio. My body is remembering what to do. The novelty happens as I am walking slowly. The scenery changes ever so subtly. The light is different every day. So is the snow. What is covered up one day is revealed the next.

The snow is melting more quickly than I thought it would. Soon, the other sidewalks and the curb cuts will be clear enough for me to go farther afield. At some point in the future my ankle will be fit to sustain a careful run. I'll cut a wide swath through Inwood and beyond. My period of relative confinement will be a memory.

I like to travel sometimes. But I don't need to. Having this injury proved it. When the block is all I have, it's good enough. Better than that, actually.

My slower than usual pace allowed me a moment to notice this scraped wall awaiting plaster - and the nearly bare branches in front of it.

This neatly folded leaf stands in contrast to the crystalline snow.

I'm finding beauty in the withered and ruined.

It wouldn't be post-blizzard if I didn't photograph one car covered in snow.

Nature provided me with pristine perfection to explore.

This tiny piece of foil became the latest addition to my Beautiful Trash Series. The snow melted at a prodigious rate of speed leaving this sooty patch in its wake.

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My Future Crappy Work

Sometimes - often - I will do some writing, a collage or photography and realize quickly that it is crappy.  In many cases, I abandon it entirely. Delete.

Other times, I salvage it. A few tweaks and then it's good. I wrote about that experience here in The Crappy Collage.

On occasion I'll jump ship on the first attempt, then re-do it from start to finish. I do this when the idea is good but there is something wrong with the execution.

If I share some writing, collage or photography that means I like it. That's the simple way of looking at it.

It might be almost perfect. But I allow for some other things to happen. Sometimes I try something new on for size and see what sticks. I might consciously decide to explore a new direction or post something I'm a little on the fence about.

If I insisted on perfection every time, sure every time, well developed every time, I wouldn't share anything and I wouldn't do anything.

For the most part though, if I share it I'm proud of it.

If I'm lucky, I stay proud. There's stuff I've made or written that I love as much as the day I finished it. These are rarified moments in artist-time. I cherish this.

There is an in-between thing that happens frequently. Time passes, and if I had it to share again, there are small things I'd change. A paragraph I'd get rid of. Something that could have been more refined. I could have shifted my vantage point a bit to the left. Cropped something out.

So far, I've acknowledged this, but left the words or the image alone. I'm more interested in moving onto the next thing. It was a moment in time and I'm willing to let that be. This isn't brain surgery. This kind of imperfection never killed anyone.

If I get anything published I'll work with my editor and address it then.

Every once in a while, something else happens. I won't beat around the bush.

There is work that I created and shared at some point in the past. This work is crappy. I did not realize it at the time. I thought it was good six months or three years ago. My intentions were good.

It took some time and distance for me to realize it was crappy.

I took a bunch of crappy photographs and wrote a bunch of crappy words. While doing this, I learned a few things. The work I do now is much less crappy because of it.

I stay pragmatic and I stay positive. However, it sometimes takes my breath away, just how crappy something I did is. It's like the air being let out of a balloon. Or the terrible sound the needle makes scratching against an LP.

I keep it in perspective. How important is it that I shared a crappy photograph of moss in 2012? Or that a collage that accompanied a blog post is the paper and glue version of a train wreck? Bad poetry isn't the worst thing that can happen.

Crappy work is something I try my best to avoid but once it's been out there a while it's like carrying a screaming two-year-old out of the lake whose lips are turning blue. He needs to come out of the water. He doesn't want to come out of the water. He's making a lot of noise and kicking. People are looking.

He's your third child. He's acting crappy. You know he's acting crappy. All of these people at the beach know he's acting crappy. You’re not worried or defensive about what these people are thinking. You and these people are in agreement about the crappy screaming. It's best to contain things and move on. Don't overthink it like you did with the first.

That's exactly how it is with the crappy memoir piece I wrote.

My problem isn’t with what I did. My problem is with what I am about to do.

I write a blog post. I do what I always do these days. I write it.  I get rid of some of it. I make a collage. It had no diagonals because I am sick of diagonals. I use my computer printer in a ways that utilize classic printmaking techniques with an irreverent twist. The entire effect is beautiful.

I have a satisfied feeling that comes from doing a good job. I am proud of my work.

But then it occurs to me that I was proud of all the other work I did before and then at a later date I realized that some of it was crappy. Furthermore, there wasn't much rhyme or reason to which work had staying power and which work would become crappy later.

That's when I realize that I might have just finished some future crappy work!

I sit with the worry for a little while. Then I let it go.

It's easy for me to not publish crappy things in real time. I'm not an idiot. I’m not lazy.

The only way to avoid sharing work that I am sure wouldn't ever be crappy later would be to make work and then sit on it for several years before sharing it. Then after a decade, I could see what was still good.

Or I could keep working and working without sharing until becoming a near perfect writer or artist or photographer. I'd emerge, fully formed seeming like an overnight sensation or hidden genius.

These ideas are romantic and not without appeal.

Here's why I'm not doing it.

When I was younger there were limited ways of sharing your work. There was no social media. You could be in a gallery show, you could be published in a book or magazine, you could get commercial assignments, you could show your portfolio of carefully crafted prints to other people.

I did all of these things. But there could be long, lonely spaces between shows, assignments, and publications. Things remained buried in drawers and clamshell boxes. Sometimes I couldn't get anyone to look at my work.

In the best of all worlds, I'd shoot beautiful still life photographs that almost no one would see for six months because that was the lead-time of the magazine.

I wasn't made to work in isolation. Social media is one of the best things that has happened to me.

There is something democratic with all of this. In a global sense, there are no gatekeepers. Our lives are crowded with crappy work that we now need to delete, filter or ignore. Some people dislike this. There's no one keeping the riffraff out.

I've said it before. The cream will rise to the top. It always does.

I can't worry about what work will remain suspended and preserved in amber, or for how long. I can't worry about what will seem antiquated in a month, what will gain meaning with time or look like amateur hour a year from now.

So if you look and read, you'll see my process. It's not a fairy tale. That would be a lovely work of fiction. You never know. I might just write that fable someday.

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Facebook New Year's Resolutions

I was relatively late to social media. In my case, waiting was a good idea. I got to observe from the sidelines. I avoided learning some things the hard way.

When I finally joined Facebook I was ready. That's important to point out. 

That's why I was surprised and appalled to have had not one, but two, skin crawling, nauseatingly negative experiences on Facebook. One of them was a couple of years ago, but still smarts. The other one was a week ago. 

Both experiences made me feel badly on two levels. One was that my feelings were deeply hurt. Another was that there was something about the way they went down that, in retrospect, might have been prevented had I been a little more savvy or careful.

It is tempting to publicly describe what happened. As difficult as it is in the short run, I think I will be happier in the long run taking the high road. Another way of putting it is that I am keeping it classy. A third interpretation is that I am above such behavior. Putting myself on this social media pedestal is a very satisfying feeling at this juncture.

It was surprising to note that things that happen via social media can feel just as crappy as things that happen in "real life.”

Nasty Facebook events have not happened in a vacuum. I've been given an opportunity to learn from any mistakes I have made in my choice of Facebook company.

I've taken a long, hard look at my Facebook life. As a result, I've come up with some resolutions. I am calling these New Year’s resolutions, but, truthfully, I've put them into effect immediately.

I am hoping that by implementing these safeguards, awareness, and common sense measures, I might avoid feeling emotionally battered in the future. Maybe it will help you, too.

Remind Yourself That You Don't Have Your Entire Toolbox

When we meet a person face-to-face in real time, we are evaluating them on levels that we are not fully cognizant of in the moment. We use eye contact, body language, nuanced conversation, and social signaling. Even the quality of a handshake or a smile can tell us tons of information about a person. Is this person safe or a threat? How is our chemistry together? Am I looking to extend the conversation or politely exit? Are we laughing?

When we meet someone for the first time on social media, we are stripped of abilities that for most of us are so natural, so ingrained that we might not appreciate their full function. It behooves us to remind ourselves that when we make friends on Facebook, we are doing it with one metaphorical hand tied behind our backs.

Continuously Ask Yourself: Do I Like This Person? Do I Still Like This Person?
This may seem obvious. But when I was honest with myself about the living, breathing cautionary tales I call former Facebook friends, I came to a shocking conclusion. I didn't actually like these people in the first place.

Things change. Maybe the funny stoner you liked in high school casts a negative pall on your newsfeed. Maybe you liked someone two years ago, but don't like them anymore.

Or maybe you didn't think being Facebook friends was that big a deal.

If you wouldn't consider being real life friends with someone then consider why it's okay to be Facebook friends.

I took a spin through my current friends list. The vast majority of the people on it are people I like - a lot. A couple of people gave me pause. That brings me to the next pointer.

Quietly Un-Friend People Before It Turns Completely Toxic
Just unfriend. Don't private message people to tell them why. Don't call them out on your status updates. Take the high road. But do it.

If Things Have Already Turned Toxic, Block Them
If the person gives you the heebie jeebies or you just don't want to see their crappy stuff in your newsfeed, block them. Especially do this if they bother you with private messages.

Continuously Ask Yourself: Does This Friend Like Me?
I admit to not having thought of this much previously. But sometimes I like certain people more than they like me in my non-social media life. I tend to move on quickly if I sense the other person doesn't like me. This can and should apply to Facebook.

If I find that I'm the one dishing out encouragement, comments, and likes with nary an acknowledgement, I’m going to start looking at that.

If I find that I am not feeling included in certain discussions, am not fine art enough, bereaved enough, gay enough, snarky enough, gorgeous enough or just not enough, I'm going to start quietly unfriending. If people are cliquey I'm quietly unfriending. I'm 52 years old. I graduated from high school a long time ago.

Consider Unfollowing
This is a late discovery of mine. There are three possible ways I am planning to use this capability.

I am going to put some people on probation. They are showing me some red flags. It will be a stopgap measure between being their friend and not being their friend. I'll check in with their wall once in a while to see what I think. In any case, If I can use a break from their updates.

I will unfollow and then follow again depending on what is happening.

Then there are people whom I like and are positive people. But there are only so many cat, dog, or sports pictures I can see in one day. I plan to check in with their wall, see what their up to and if something changes about the tenor of the posts I'll follow again.

And finally, I may need to temporarily distance myself during September, which is Childhood Cancer Awareness Month. Last year, I felt under siege by the sheer numbers of posts. I lived childhood cancer and to some extent I still do. I do not need to be reminded of the ravages or risks to my surviving children all of the time.

Everyone is different. I have an unlimited interest in people's children. I enjoy seeing people's meals. But if you don't like these things, then unfollow.

I found this article helpful on the subject of unfollowing.

Be Careful About The Friend Requests You Accept In The First Place.
In my non-social media life, I am friendly but cautious. I am warm but not particularly initiating. This pattern extended to Facebook - at first. Most friend requests come from others.

But then I got a little sloppy. I accepted friend requests with the sole criteria that the person and I had some mutual Facebook friends. It's time to get a bit more discriminating. I need to vet people more carefully. And once I accept a request, I'll put that person on probation for a bit.

Read Between The Lines Of Your Facebook Friend's Non-Social Media Life
Who seems to have a healthy relationship with family and friends? Group pictures, being tagged, shared family gatherings, party pics, and evidence of breaking bread with others are a clue, however imperfect, to the person being capable of healthy relationships. If they have children, do they seem to take pride in them? There's another clue.

On the other hand, one of my train-wreck former Facebook friends once publicly unfriended her own sibling, and another seemed to be a loner, which seemed romantic and appealing at first, but then not so much.

If Facebook is someone's only form of social interaction it might mean that the person is elderly, fighting chronic illness, living in a rural area or recently relocated. It could also mean something more sinister, and, excuse my language, fucked up is going on.

The capability to maintain social ties in real life says something about a person's ability to be a good friend on social media.

Be Careful About Riding In On The White Horse
One of my best qualities is my ability to step in in a crisis, be a good listener, support people through life stressors, and reach out during times of tragedy.

If your real life friend is undergoing surgery, cancer treatment, a period of unemployment, a divorce or a diagnosis, and posts about their struggles on Facebook, by all means support them there. If they are using social media to seek kinship and encouragement that can be a healthy coping skill.

If your real life friend is going through these things also consider a phone call, visit, a casserole, or hug. But that's a subject for another blog post.

Any empathic person will be moved by a new Facebook friend's struggle with domestic abuse, a child's diagnosis, or a financial setback.

Deep friendships have been formed around struggle particularly if you yourself have experienced something similar.

But be careful about reaching out if you don't know the person well. I've learned the hard way that hardship does not always elevate an individual. I've been a virtual cheerleader, kept vigil through people's follow up scans, encouraged people to seek help, only to find out later that, sick or not, the person was essentially a jerk.

And as unsavory as this is to report, people will sometimes make up stuff and post it on Facebook just for attention. That is a serious mental illness in which you don't need to get mixed up.

Heed These Red Flags
Public unfriending and shaming
Micro-complaining takes up the majority of status updates
Black and white, rigid thinking
Combative questioning and comment style
Lack of healthy boundaries
Excessive attention seeking
Grossly non-reciprocal Facebook relationship
Excessive TMI
Threatens to leave Facebook but never does
Suspected lying or fabricating
Something doesn't "feel right" and you can't put your finger on why.

I Know My Wall Is Weird
I have 21 separate photography series I post on a weekly schedule. I also share this blog. For one entire year I took a photograph of my dinner and posted a description. These are artistic things. These are weird things. I get that.

I post these weird, artistic things in addition to the more usual stuff. Pictures of my family. An occasional selfie. My Christmas tree.

I share some political stuff.

It's a lot.

Here's the thing, though. I'm a generous Facebook friend. I share friends’ art, blogs, crowdfunding requests and petitions. I pray for people. I encourage people. I exclaim over people's kids, home renovations, and accomplishments. People who aren't freaks remember and appreciate this.

But even so, I know I'm sharing a lot of photography of weeds, trash, nearly dead flowers, odd parts of NYC and crumbling Mid-century modern architecture.

I won't apologize for it. But if it's a bit much for you, I invite you to unfollow me. You could even unfriend me. But if you do either of these things, please do it quietly. If I find out later you unfriended me, I will probably block you. Because if we aren't friends anymore, why in God's name would I want to see your posts anyway?

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