Self-reflection, annoyances, and other random oddities

Sounds like an album name by Collective Soul, doesn’t it?

Anyway, that’s a long-winded way of saying, “Here, let me tell ya…”, and I’m gonna tell ya.


Oh, where do I start?  How about fireworks.  July 4th, or 4th of July, or whatever you want to call it.  Independence Day.  And with that goes fireworks.  So many people loooooooooooooove fireworks.  I couldn’t shit care less.  Seriously.  They do nothing for me.  Ok, yeah, they’re kinda cool, but my reaction is more of a… 😐

Being a semi-serious photographer, I totally don’t get the fascination with fireworks photography.  Seriously, what’s the point?  All the photos look close enough to the same that they might as well be.  There is no discerning difference from one photo to the next.

Ooh, a story:  Many years ago I was leaving Disneyland one night, and while walking to the car the fireworks show started.  That’s not what caught my attention, though.  What made me stop and stare and chuckle was all the Japanese tourists… and if you don’t see the humor in the stereotype, you’re hopelessly liberally unfunny… stopped and ran for a better vantage point and started shooting dozens of photos.  What were they hoping to get?  Were these fireworks any different from the fireworks they’d see in Japan or anywhere else?  Would they be able to tell the difference?  Was it that they were Disneyland Fireworks that made them all that more special?  The mind boggles.

And of course, right now, all the yahoo neighbors are out setting stuff off and generally having an inbred good time.


Procrastination is the bane of my existence. That should be my official trademarked slogan… Ken Boardrow: Procrastination is the Bane of My Existence(tm). Example: When was my last post here? That’s right, about a month ago.  Ish.  Oh, I’ve had plenty of ideas, on an almost daily basis.  I even start writing them down on occasion, and get some pretty good stuff set to keyboard.  But do I do anything with it?  Not often enough.  No, I sit and read random Wikipedia articles, learn about the second largest island in Norway, for example, and generally do nothing productive.

Selective Hearing

I hear what I want to hear.  Ok, not that literal, but sometimes.  If you’re constantly harping on me, then of course I’m not going to listen or pay attention.  Why would I?  I don’t get anything from it.

On the other hand, sometimes… more often than even I like to admit… I’m so far off into my own world that I’m not hearing anything around me at all.  The best part is that I’m probably recreating what I should have said in an argument 30 years ago.  Really important stuff.

How can you tell by looking at me?  You can’t.


My older family and friends can probably relate to this, but my memory is slipping.  I don’t remember things in minute detail like I used to.  I have lost count how many times I have had to get out of the car, and go back in the house to get what I forgot.  The best part?  It’s almost always sitting right next to where everything else was that I did take.  So, apparently it’s not only memory, but eyesight as well.


What?  Oh, tell me tomorrow, I’ll deal with it later.

The Windows to Your Soul

As you will no doubt learn while reading my blog, I have pet peeves. Many pet peeves. Some people probably will think too many pet peeves. (It has been noted… *cough*) But hey, some things need to be said, and some people need to be told, and I’m the person to set them back on the right path. Well, there is an increasing trend that is sweeping the nation, and it is of epic, almost Biblical, proportions.

Have you noticed that when people post photos of themselves they are almost always wearing sunglasses? Quite often even indoors. Sunglasses are becoming ubiquitous. Even celebrities are wearing sunglasses in official functions. I was watching Wheel of Fortune the other day and Pat and Vanna were wearing dark sunglasses while making a promotional pitch. Several years ago then-San Francisco Giants manager Dusty Baker did a television commercial for a charity and, yep, you guessed it, he was wearing dark sunglasses while making his pitch.

What’s wrong with that, you say? Everybody’s doing it, right? Well, everybody re-elects their Congressperson and you can see where that got us. Anyway, dark sunglasses covers your eyes. Still shrugging your shoulders and wonder why that matters? Your eyes are the window to your soul. Your eyes convey personality and character and trust. Your eyes tell me who you are. If I can’t see your eyes, I can’t see YOU.

I get it, it’s sunny. You are shading your eyes. I do that, too. But when sharing a photo, you sitting in a tropical resort means nothing to me without the warmth of your personality coming through. You might as well wear a mask, and a cheesy smile doesn’t make up for it. When Dusty Baker was pitching his charity, I had no reason to even want to contribute. He removed all potential sense of trust when he covered his eyes. Might as well have been a hit man, or something, for all I knew. Regardless, he didn’t convey trust.

So, lose the shades for the photo-op. It takes only a few seconds, then you can put them back on again. I want to see you, not some generic soulless creature.