We had a pretty low-key weekend compared to the previous weekend when we flew in the Tri-Pacer.
Thanks to food poisoning, we stayed indoors most of the time, except for my solo excursion to Nay Aug Park on Saturday afternoon, and David managed an outing for a few hours yesterday.
Medically-speaking, last week was actually a continuation of the improvement trend. David is currently in a 14-day schedule of radiation to his neck, left shoulder, with spot treatment to his right hip. I'd say he's about two-thirds of his way through, except we lost track last week, when they kept changing the appointment times every day and cancelled Friday's treatment because The Machine broke down. So I don't know how precisely how many days he has left; he might be finished this round at the end of this week or early next week.
Chemotherapy is on Tuesdays, indefinitely.
They give David an anti-nausea drug (Neulasta) before the run of chemo, then a post-chemo white blood cell booster 24 hours after treatment, which he loathes because it makes him too sore to move. But, as with everything, he takes it, albeit with a wince or two. Or three.
As you can imagine, Tuesdays are dreaded days, what with radiation stacked on top of chemo. But David said he was feeling OK afterwards, good enough to attend the weekly Civil Air Patrol meeting in the evening. This is a breakthrough -- his first CAP meeting in months! In an uncharacteristically domestic moment I baked cookies and sent them along, it was like his first day back at school. I was so pleased.
David came home cookie-less and tired but awake, so we watched a Netflix DVD, "Kissing Jessica Stein". Suddenly a craving kicked in. Luckily our fridge/freezer is stocked in Pregnant Lady Fashion:
- sweet midget gherkins
- vanilla ice cream
- Boost (meal supplement), strawberry and chocolate
- Creamsicles
- Italian ice
- frozen macaroni and cheese
- Rogers Chocolate-covered ginger
- ginger ale
- Fresca (this is the newest craving)
- cranberry juice (3 different kinds)
- cheese sticks
Et cetera. But David's biggest craving of last week was frozen egg rolls. I offered to get him FRESH egg rolls, but he was hell-bent on getting frozen ones, and I couldn't find any at our local supermarket. But the previous Sunday he found "Cohen's Egg Rolls" at another grocery store. In his own words:
Dave's Logbook: Clarification
I should also clarify that I DO clean out the fridge of old items from time to time. David's a self-admitted packrat (see? another uncomplimentary rat reference), and I am forever throwing stuff of his away, especially hole-y socks and trinkets from romances gone... er, stale. But he won't let me touch the tin of yams in the pantry from the previous millennium, so it's a slippery slope. I forgot about the condiment container -- the one where packets of soy sauce find new ways to ferment next to mutating mustard. The condiment container is probably the culprit of David's food poisoning, combined with Jewish egg rolls. I tried one, but he ate the rest.
I didn't mention it until now because David's suffering has been insufferably embarrassing for him at times since last Tuesday. But he finally wrote about it, which is a temporary suspension of the Unwritten Spousal Nondisclosure Agreement of Bodily Dysfunction. Poor, poor guy. He's been occupying only the part of the second floor that houses the bathroom, the second bedroom, and the corridor in-between. I use the downstairs bathroom. Usually food poisoning lasts a day or two, and the common recovery method is "just ride it out", but having a compromised immune system means an extended sentence of gastro-intestinal conflict, with no chance of parole.
Amazingly, David managed to go to work for a couple of hours on Thursday AFTER radiation and a CT scan of his pelvis, while still in the throes of food poisoning. He's had some other internal problems, which probably shouldn't be mentioned here so David can still feel like a man under 40, at least on the Internet.
Tomorrow is Tuesday's Terrible Two-Fer again: back-to-back chemo + radiation. Wish him luck.
Monday, November 14, 2005
My New Red Scarf
I also needed a new icon in Flickr. David didn't like the somewhat stylised version on the right, but I argued that the left photo had too much detail, which doesn't translate well into icons. Flickr icons are so tiny that the best photos are the ones with minimal details, the fewer colours the better. In case anyone thinks I "Michael Jackson-ed" myself, HELL NO! I'm always the last one to slap on the sunscreen, so I have to live with Farmer's Tan for months.
Sunday, November 13, 2005
The Rat
A sleek rat charm given to us by our dear friend Socar.
The Rat is the first Sign of the Chinese Zodiac, and it is a Yang Sign commonly associated with the Water Element. Recent Rat years have been 1948, 1960, 1972, 1984 and 1996. The typical Rat personality traits include charm, intelligence, passion, elegance, opportunism, sentimentality, practicality, and honesty. Some of the less attractive aspects of this Sign include greed, excessive calculation, and an overdeveloped business sense verging upon workaholism. The Rat is very smooth and even-tempered, but can turn into a grouch if things don't go their way, and even explode from time to time if provoked for too long. They are very successful in the business world, but whether this arises from their positive or their negative properties is anyone's guess.
Rats are a symbol of good luck and wealth. Clever, intelligent and quick-witted. This Sign is ambitious and strong-willed, and is motivated by its own interests, which often include money and power. Natural charm and persuasion. They are energetic and versatile and can usually find their way around obstacles, and adapt to various environments easily. Its natural charm and sharp, funny demeanor make it an appealing friend for almost anyone. The Rat likes to know who is on its side and will treat its most loyal friends with an extra measure of protection and generosity. The Rats are strongly family oriented. Although they are often hoarders, Rats are very generous to their family and friends. The Rats have a great capabilty of accruing and holding on to items of value.
Source: Wikipedia
I was born in the Year of the Rat (1972), so perhaps I'm predisposed to liking rats, although until I met Stella, I'd never seen one up close and personal before. She was a Giant Gambian Pouched Rat, though, and wasn't conditioned to be 'up close and personal' with anything but dinner, unlike domesticated rats such as Rat A and Rat B.
By and large, domesticated rats get short shrift as far as being on par with other pets. They're misunderstood (yeah! yeah!) and oftentimes mistaken for the vermin seen scurrying away from dumpsters or across the path in Stanley Park. When I used to bike around there, gigantic rat encounters were frequent, and unsettling (like, off-the-bike-seat unsettling). Stella's sheer size was initially off-putting, but then again, there were those teeth -- the same ones that would gnaw through her thick plastic carrying cage. But she was charming in her own exotic way, and she will be greatly missed for her bird-like chirping. In fact, I should upload one of her videos to YouTube.com, an old favourite. (She was too busy hoarding food to chirp in this one, so I put it to music.)
At any rate, many thanks to Socar, the ultimate Friend of Rats (and Year of the Rats) everywhere, for the rat charm now perched aloft in our office, the Official Overseer of Financial Matters and The Selection of Pennsylvania Powerball Lottery Numbers.
Stella, the Giant Gambian Pouched Rat
RIP (? - 2005)
Music: Da Da Da - Trio
The Rat is the first Sign of the Chinese Zodiac, and it is a Yang Sign commonly associated with the Water Element. Recent Rat years have been 1948, 1960, 1972, 1984 and 1996. The typical Rat personality traits include charm, intelligence, passion, elegance, opportunism, sentimentality, practicality, and honesty. Some of the less attractive aspects of this Sign include greed, excessive calculation, and an overdeveloped business sense verging upon workaholism. The Rat is very smooth and even-tempered, but can turn into a grouch if things don't go their way, and even explode from time to time if provoked for too long. They are very successful in the business world, but whether this arises from their positive or their negative properties is anyone's guess.
Rats are a symbol of good luck and wealth. Clever, intelligent and quick-witted. This Sign is ambitious and strong-willed, and is motivated by its own interests, which often include money and power. Natural charm and persuasion. They are energetic and versatile and can usually find their way around obstacles, and adapt to various environments easily. Its natural charm and sharp, funny demeanor make it an appealing friend for almost anyone. The Rat likes to know who is on its side and will treat its most loyal friends with an extra measure of protection and generosity. The Rats are strongly family oriented. Although they are often hoarders, Rats are very generous to their family and friends. The Rats have a great capabilty of accruing and holding on to items of value.
Source: Wikipedia
I was born in the Year of the Rat (1972), so perhaps I'm predisposed to liking rats, although until I met Stella, I'd never seen one up close and personal before. She was a Giant Gambian Pouched Rat, though, and wasn't conditioned to be 'up close and personal' with anything but dinner, unlike domesticated rats such as Rat A and Rat B.
By and large, domesticated rats get short shrift as far as being on par with other pets. They're misunderstood (yeah! yeah!) and oftentimes mistaken for the vermin seen scurrying away from dumpsters or across the path in Stanley Park. When I used to bike around there, gigantic rat encounters were frequent, and unsettling (like, off-the-bike-seat unsettling). Stella's sheer size was initially off-putting, but then again, there were those teeth -- the same ones that would gnaw through her thick plastic carrying cage. But she was charming in her own exotic way, and she will be greatly missed for her bird-like chirping. In fact, I should upload one of her videos to YouTube.com, an old favourite. (She was too busy hoarding food to chirp in this one, so I put it to music.)
At any rate, many thanks to Socar, the ultimate Friend of Rats (and Year of the Rats) everywhere, for the rat charm now perched aloft in our office, the Official Overseer of Financial Matters and The Selection of Pennsylvania Powerball Lottery Numbers.
Stella, the Giant Gambian Pouched Rat
RIP (? - 2005)
Music: Da Da Da - Trio
Saturday, November 12, 2005
NASCAR grape tomatoes?
Cross-marketing gone weird.
I was about to make a salad, and did a double-take on the cellophane. NASCAR? Why would NASCAR put their branding on produce? Is there a product tie-in between vegetables and car racing? Did I buy into a subliminal message that the glamorous lifestyle of race car driving is just a tomato away?
Here's what I found:
Courier Post Online - February 21, 2005
Maybe NASCAR is looking for Mr. Goodwrite
I was about to make a salad, and did a double-take on the cellophane. NASCAR? Why would NASCAR put their branding on produce? Is there a product tie-in between vegetables and car racing? Did I buy into a subliminal message that the glamorous lifestyle of race car driving is just a tomato away?
Here's what I found:
Courier Post Online - February 21, 2005
Maybe NASCAR is looking for Mr. Goodwrite
Enter
Taken March 25, 2005.
In Manhattan, you miss out on a great deal if you don't look up. Of course, this is at the risk of colliding with something or someone, but so much beauty is far above eye level... especially when you're my height (5'3" or 160cm).
When I was taking a photo of this door, an older gentleman offered me its historical background. (This was the second person to approach me... who says New Yorkers aren't friendly?)
More door photos:
In Manhattan, you miss out on a great deal if you don't look up. Of course, this is at the risk of colliding with something or someone, but so much beauty is far above eye level... especially when you're my height (5'3" or 160cm).
When I was taking a photo of this door, an older gentleman offered me its historical background. (This was the second person to approach me... who says New Yorkers aren't friendly?)
More door photos:
Down to Earth
Mosaic created with fd's Flickr Toys. Individual photos can be found here.
Last month when I was in town, I stopped for a chat with a landscaper who was planting some flowers in front of a bank. We talked about life and landscaping, and she was pleased I took photos of her handiwork (I mailed them to her later).
In the course of our conversation, it was clear to her that I wasn't from the area, so I told her the short version of how I ended up in Scranton by marrying a local. (Without a trace of sarcasm.) I also told her about the wedding, the lung cancer diagnosis, and how the treatment was going. She said -- with as much conviction as I'd ever seen anyone convey -- that she would pray for him, and think of us.
It was then that she told me about her husband, who was reading a newspaper in the van parked on the street a few metres away. He'd had a stroke a number of years ago (I vaguely recall 10, but it might've been a bit less); she'd been taking care of him for a long time. His condition had apparently improved, since he was sitting up and reading, but it amazed me that she was looking after him, their little dog (who was watching me carefully from the van), all the while working as a self-employed landscaper. I knew she had a full-grown son, because when I offered to mail her the photos I took, she gave me her son's business card to send the pictures to that address. So she was probably near retirement age, but as vivacious as could be.
"I love working with plants and flowers," she said, pointing to all the nearby businesses whose flowers she'd planted earlier. "It gets me outside and keeps me active."
I walked back to the car, pondering our conversation. I compared it to my experience at Mercy Hospital, when David was having an MRI and I'd gone up at the cafeteria for breakfast.
The cashier stared at me. "Do you work here? You look familiar."
"No," I said. "But I'm here a lot; my husband's sick."
She immediately launched into a recitation of traditional wedding vows while she gave me change. Her tone was a verbal wagging of her finger:
"You said the words -- in sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer, for better, for worse... [for] as long as you both shall live...!"
I was so shocked I didn't know what to say. I don't know what this woman thought she would accomplish by shoving those words in my face -- in a hospital, no less -- but when I sat down my pre-coffee brain finally kicked in and I wanted to rush back and say, "WHO ASKED YOU?!?" I swear, some of those Mercy Hospital people need a muzzle.
The very last thing I need -- now or ever -- is a brick of tradition flung at my head by a complete stranger. Who responds to that positively? Anyone? I couldn't help but compare her to the landscaper, who was a living example of someone who took care of the priorities in her life with equanimity and didn't present them as obligations. At no time did she ever suggest that it was her duty as a wife to take care of her ailing husband, nor did she suggest that it was mine.
At the end of the day, the conscience should speak the loudest.
It's been a month since I spoke to the landscaper, and her words and positivity still echo in my mind, especially when I drive by the PNC Bank on Spruce Street. I hope she likes the pictures.
Last month when I was in town, I stopped for a chat with a landscaper who was planting some flowers in front of a bank. We talked about life and landscaping, and she was pleased I took photos of her handiwork (I mailed them to her later).
In the course of our conversation, it was clear to her that I wasn't from the area, so I told her the short version of how I ended up in Scranton by marrying a local. (Without a trace of sarcasm.) I also told her about the wedding, the lung cancer diagnosis, and how the treatment was going. She said -- with as much conviction as I'd ever seen anyone convey -- that she would pray for him, and think of us.
It was then that she told me about her husband, who was reading a newspaper in the van parked on the street a few metres away. He'd had a stroke a number of years ago (I vaguely recall 10, but it might've been a bit less); she'd been taking care of him for a long time. His condition had apparently improved, since he was sitting up and reading, but it amazed me that she was looking after him, their little dog (who was watching me carefully from the van), all the while working as a self-employed landscaper. I knew she had a full-grown son, because when I offered to mail her the photos I took, she gave me her son's business card to send the pictures to that address. So she was probably near retirement age, but as vivacious as could be.
"I love working with plants and flowers," she said, pointing to all the nearby businesses whose flowers she'd planted earlier. "It gets me outside and keeps me active."
I walked back to the car, pondering our conversation. I compared it to my experience at Mercy Hospital, when David was having an MRI and I'd gone up at the cafeteria for breakfast.
The cashier stared at me. "Do you work here? You look familiar."
"No," I said. "But I'm here a lot; my husband's sick."
She immediately launched into a recitation of traditional wedding vows while she gave me change. Her tone was a verbal wagging of her finger:
"You said the words -- in sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer, for better, for worse... [for] as long as you both shall live...!"
I was so shocked I didn't know what to say. I don't know what this woman thought she would accomplish by shoving those words in my face -- in a hospital, no less -- but when I sat down my pre-coffee brain finally kicked in and I wanted to rush back and say, "WHO ASKED YOU?!?" I swear, some of those Mercy Hospital people need a muzzle.
The very last thing I need -- now or ever -- is a brick of tradition flung at my head by a complete stranger. Who responds to that positively? Anyone? I couldn't help but compare her to the landscaper, who was a living example of someone who took care of the priorities in her life with equanimity and didn't present them as obligations. At no time did she ever suggest that it was her duty as a wife to take care of her ailing husband, nor did she suggest that it was mine.
At the end of the day, the conscience should speak the loudest.
It's been a month since I spoke to the landscaper, and her words and positivity still echo in my mind, especially when I drive by the PNC Bank on Spruce Street. I hope she likes the pictures.
Friday, November 11, 2005
How to Really Confuse Your Party Guests
I was following a link on Muckdog's blog, and came across this rather wicked-looking set-up:
http://www.livejournal.com/users/zestyping/97476.html
Quite a lot of work for a party trick, but would make some nifty photos! (And utter chaos if you've had one too many.)
http://www.livejournal.com/users/zestyping/97476.html
Quite a lot of work for a party trick, but would make some nifty photos! (And utter chaos if you've had one too many.)
Two for Tea
Taken yesterday in Wilkes-Barre, while David was at work.
I like the whimsy of the photo, that in all the crumbling brick and boarded-up windows, someone had the sense of humour to paint these two figures having a cuppa. (Upon closer investigation, it looks like they're drinking martinis, not tea, but I like the original concept.)
This is the kind of scene that really excites me about taking photos. It's a metaphor for living.
I like the whimsy of the photo, that in all the crumbling brick and boarded-up windows, someone had the sense of humour to paint these two figures having a cuppa. (Upon closer investigation, it looks like they're drinking martinis, not tea, but I like the original concept.)
This is the kind of scene that really excites me about taking photos. It's a metaphor for living.
Thursday, November 10, 2005
Flying Over the Hudson River in a '29 Biplane
Old Rhinebeck Aerodrome's 1929 New Standard Biplane takes us up over the Hudson River in upstate New York, September 4.
Dave's Logbook: The Best Medicine
My first time in a biplane!
Open cockpit!
Noisy? Oh YES.
It was also my first time to land on grass.
Bumpy? Oh YES.
Music: To-Wa-Bac-A-Wa - Louis Dumaine's Jazzola Eight
David says Old Rhinebeck Aerodrome in upstate New York is his Happy Place, a living museum of aviation history: "This is what the inside of my head looks like."
September 4 was a great day out for him, and I've been wanting to document it properly since, but there's no simple way to do it. It just takes a lot of processing time, so I've been working on it sporadically. But in the meantime, I figured I could make a quick video by stringing together the clips from our glorious ride in the 1929 New Standard.
The video clip is part of the theme this week at the House of Fielding: aviation pioneers. (If you've seen our book and film collection, you'd conclude every week to be "Aviation Pioneers Week".)
David received a DVD box set from Mister M last Friday called "A Century of Flight", which is an excellent companion to the encyclopedic volume "Flight: 100 Years of Aviation" that he received from some of my family as a wedding present. Between the DVDs and the books and Airliner.net, David has been completely spellbound by the aviation corpora available to him. That is, until last Saturday when we were up in the Tri-Pacer:
"You know, I can look at thousands of pictures of airplanes, but then I just gotta fly..."
There really is no substitute for the Real Thing, but I must thank everyone again -- and you know who you are -- for keeping David enthralled while he's been grounded and in treatment. The archival footage film reels and the full-colour illustrations have captured his imagination and have been the Next Best Thing to being airborne.
Dave's Logbook: The Best Medicine
My first time in a biplane!
Open cockpit!
Noisy? Oh YES.
It was also my first time to land on grass.
Bumpy? Oh YES.
Music: To-Wa-Bac-A-Wa - Louis Dumaine's Jazzola Eight
David says Old Rhinebeck Aerodrome in upstate New York is his Happy Place, a living museum of aviation history: "This is what the inside of my head looks like."
September 4 was a great day out for him, and I've been wanting to document it properly since, but there's no simple way to do it. It just takes a lot of processing time, so I've been working on it sporadically. But in the meantime, I figured I could make a quick video by stringing together the clips from our glorious ride in the 1929 New Standard.
The video clip is part of the theme this week at the House of Fielding: aviation pioneers. (If you've seen our book and film collection, you'd conclude every week to be "Aviation Pioneers Week".)
David received a DVD box set from Mister M last Friday called "A Century of Flight", which is an excellent companion to the encyclopedic volume "Flight: 100 Years of Aviation" that he received from some of my family as a wedding present. Between the DVDs and the books and Airliner.net, David has been completely spellbound by the aviation corpora available to him. That is, until last Saturday when we were up in the Tri-Pacer:
"You know, I can look at thousands of pictures of airplanes, but then I just gotta fly..."
There really is no substitute for the Real Thing, but I must thank everyone again -- and you know who you are -- for keeping David enthralled while he's been grounded and in treatment. The archival footage film reels and the full-colour illustrations have captured his imagination and have been the Next Best Thing to being airborne.
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
Shooting At Your Own Risk in NYC
A cameraphone photo I took last Friday at the 42nd Street (Times Square) subway station.
A family of buskers, part of the MTA's arts project Music Under New York.
I've been reading an interesting discussion in the New York Flickr group today about the harrassment photographers get while shooting around New York.
This shot is a threat to the security of the United States
It's essentially about the security paranoia that the average (and above-average) photographer encounters around New York City. Although, I should add that many of the photogs who have participated in the discussion own conspicuous high-end equipment, not touristy point-and-clickers. It shouldn't matter, but it seems to invite strong-arming by the Powers That Be, whether they're security guards or transit police or regular NYPD. It's getting to the point where you can't take photos of anything without looking suspect. Somebody even mentioned that tripods require a permit in many places.
It's been argued that New York City has every right to be paranoid. Others argue that this heavy-handed blanket of security that affects everyone has protected no-one and won't deter terrorists from subversive activity. I tend to agree with both points, but the second point is actionable.
First of all, these longstanding structures like Grand Central Station and the Empire State Building have been around for DECADES. People have been taking photos of them and in them since they were built, and preventing people from doing so now isn't going to protect them. The same goes for the New York metro -- if a terrorist wanted photos of the underground, they wouldn't even have to take photos, there are many thousands of these images already in existence. It's probably not difficult to obtain blueprints, either.
I suppose it begs the other question -- do New Yorkers feel safer if they see photographers get stopped from taking pictures?
Secondly, would terrorists be so bold as to carry around expensive camera equipment, set up tripods, and make themselves very visible and vulnerable to a search? It seems to me that ordinary tourists with ordinary digicams don't attract as much attention, which has been to my advantage, but wouldn't bode well for me if I started hauling around a DSLR with a giant lens. The past few trips to New York I've been shooting with the Asahi Pentax K-1000, which only made a curious older gentleman stop me for a chat on the street about how much he loved his old Asahi that he picked up in Japan in the 60s. I took shots at JFK Airport, in the subway, in museums, but didn't encounter any nastiness. (One museum guard very politely prohibited me from taking photos of a certain exhibit, but that was for artist's proprietary rights, not security.) Perhaps being female makes me appear less of a threat.
Maybe I don't assert myself as much as the others in that discussion. When I see "No Photography", I generally don't try and take any photos, surreptitiously or otherwise. When I see police or security guards around, I don't take out the camera. The last thing I want to do is ruin my day by arguing about my rights. If I want to take a picture badly, I make sure the 'coast is clear' first. If it's not, I move on. Is that the wrong thing to do? Should I be more assertive and try and stop this erosion of civil liberties?
Part of me thinks it's not worth it, to argue. It depends on the situation, but if I lived in New York and made it a regular practice to shoot such places, I would make more of an effort. After all, it's my stomping ground, it's in my best interests to exercise those rights because I'm going to keep running into these same security guards/persons of some authority, in all likelihood, again and again. But while my time in NYC is measured and precious, I'm not going to waste any of it waving a PDF of "Photographer's Rights" in the face of a confrontational guard when I could be taking photos somewhere else in peace.
[Related post: Apr.26.05 - Metro Photography Concerns]
A family of buskers, part of the MTA's arts project Music Under New York.
I've been reading an interesting discussion in the New York Flickr group today about the harrassment photographers get while shooting around New York.
This shot is a threat to the security of the United States
It's essentially about the security paranoia that the average (and above-average) photographer encounters around New York City. Although, I should add that many of the photogs who have participated in the discussion own conspicuous high-end equipment, not touristy point-and-clickers. It shouldn't matter, but it seems to invite strong-arming by the Powers That Be, whether they're security guards or transit police or regular NYPD. It's getting to the point where you can't take photos of anything without looking suspect. Somebody even mentioned that tripods require a permit in many places.
It's been argued that New York City has every right to be paranoid. Others argue that this heavy-handed blanket of security that affects everyone has protected no-one and won't deter terrorists from subversive activity. I tend to agree with both points, but the second point is actionable.
First of all, these longstanding structures like Grand Central Station and the Empire State Building have been around for DECADES. People have been taking photos of them and in them since they were built, and preventing people from doing so now isn't going to protect them. The same goes for the New York metro -- if a terrorist wanted photos of the underground, they wouldn't even have to take photos, there are many thousands of these images already in existence. It's probably not difficult to obtain blueprints, either.
I suppose it begs the other question -- do New Yorkers feel safer if they see photographers get stopped from taking pictures?
Secondly, would terrorists be so bold as to carry around expensive camera equipment, set up tripods, and make themselves very visible and vulnerable to a search? It seems to me that ordinary tourists with ordinary digicams don't attract as much attention, which has been to my advantage, but wouldn't bode well for me if I started hauling around a DSLR with a giant lens. The past few trips to New York I've been shooting with the Asahi Pentax K-1000, which only made a curious older gentleman stop me for a chat on the street about how much he loved his old Asahi that he picked up in Japan in the 60s. I took shots at JFK Airport, in the subway, in museums, but didn't encounter any nastiness. (One museum guard very politely prohibited me from taking photos of a certain exhibit, but that was for artist's proprietary rights, not security.) Perhaps being female makes me appear less of a threat.
Maybe I don't assert myself as much as the others in that discussion. When I see "No Photography", I generally don't try and take any photos, surreptitiously or otherwise. When I see police or security guards around, I don't take out the camera. The last thing I want to do is ruin my day by arguing about my rights. If I want to take a picture badly, I make sure the 'coast is clear' first. If it's not, I move on. Is that the wrong thing to do? Should I be more assertive and try and stop this erosion of civil liberties?
Part of me thinks it's not worth it, to argue. It depends on the situation, but if I lived in New York and made it a regular practice to shoot such places, I would make more of an effort. After all, it's my stomping ground, it's in my best interests to exercise those rights because I'm going to keep running into these same security guards/persons of some authority, in all likelihood, again and again. But while my time in NYC is measured and precious, I'm not going to waste any of it waving a PDF of "Photographer's Rights" in the face of a confrontational guard when I could be taking photos somewhere else in peace.
[Related post: Apr.26.05 - Metro Photography Concerns]
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