THIS IS NRTHWST
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THIS IS NRTHWST
Monday, 2 October 2017
Thursday, 28 September 2017
Listen to this!
Recently in Comm class we had a discussion open up about Listening. Can you remember a time when you listened poorly? How could you have listened better?
There's no way I'm the only one, but I can't remember every conversation I've ever had. Of the bad ones, I'm sure my brain has been like "nope, we're gonna throw that one out of the memory bank... that was pretty embarrassing." Of the good ones, I can't remember the exact words that were used but definitely the outcome (getting a job after the interview, or winning a scholarship.)
So how do you remember a time when you listened badly? Immediately the first thing that pops to mind is when you break up with someone, or perhaps when you got in a fight with your roommate. But those could have been caused by actions, not poor listening. But then again, couldn't poor listening explain a bad action? For example, maybe you were talking to your roommate about a problem he's been having with his girlfriend, and being a dude you suggested advice (action-oriented) when he was expecting empathy (people-oriented.)
There's no way I'm the only one, but I can't remember every conversation I've ever had. Of the bad ones, I'm sure my brain has been like "nope, we're gonna throw that one out of the memory bank... that was pretty embarrassing." Of the good ones, I can't remember the exact words that were used but definitely the outcome (getting a job after the interview, or winning a scholarship.)
So how do you remember a time when you listened badly? Immediately the first thing that pops to mind is when you break up with someone, or perhaps when you got in a fight with your roommate. But those could have been caused by actions, not poor listening. But then again, couldn't poor listening explain a bad action? For example, maybe you were talking to your roommate about a problem he's been having with his girlfriend, and being a dude you suggested advice (action-oriented) when he was expecting empathy (people-oriented.)
Roommate: "Dude, my girlfriend got mad at me for asking the chick librarian for help today"
You: "Well maybe you shouldn't be so stupid and not need help from the librarian"
The above "example" would probably result in a swift smack from your roommate.
Even writing out this post right now, I'm having an extremely hard time trying to figure out a time where I listened badly, or what type of listening style I used. I supposed listening badly doesn't have to have a bad reaction or a bad outcome, it could just be a misunderstanding. Maybe you didn't write your blog bio correctly the first time. So here's a scenario for you: I completely misunderstood Mr. Bryce's outlines for our blog bio. It was supposed to be professional and concise, instead I went to gonzo humour with too many superlatives and adjectives. Luckily, Mr. Bryce is an exceptionally considerate grader and let me redo it with no penalty. To summarise, I was most likely pseudo-listening in class when he was going over the assignment guidelines (I was looking at camera sales on the computer in the lab.) A more appropriate style would've been comprehensive listening; the style you use when communicating with instructors and learning basic skills.
It won't happen again Mr.Bryce!
Thursday, 21 September 2017
Long exposures of cars at night
Went out earlier to practice some long exposures of cars driving down Cedar Hill Rd. Focal length of each shot is 28mm.
Practice, practice, practice....
Practice, practice, practice....
ISO: 200
Exposure: 4" at f / 6.3
A little blurry and the highlights are too bright. Try again...
ISO: 125
Exposure: 15" at f / 13
So close, let's open it up a bit...
ISO: 125
Exposure: 15' at f / 11
Third times the charm! (Just kidding, this was after dozens of shots)
Remember, always keep a log book of your shots; your settings, your expectations, and then the results.
Tuesday, 19 September 2017
X RIFFLANDIA X
Rifflandia has come to an end, and goddamn that shit was good. It was four intense days of dancing, drinking and going full ape shit on Victoria. We took over the city. Electric avenue, RAP, the bars, the clubs. It was glorious. I ran into a friend, who was wearing a sweater with JT riding a unicorn shooting lasers out of its ass in space, that said: "Rifftoria man, I feel bad for the poor fuckers who have never experienced it."
When I did my first Riff 7 years ago, it was in its childhood. There was no curfew, no night shows at every bar in the city, Mother Mother was the headliner every year, the Metchosin One was a celebrity, and you didn't even have to try to hide those Blue Bucks. Riff has 100% evolved into something thathas become a part of is Victoria. This year I had to book off time from work 6 months in advance just to go, and I couldn't even make it to Sunday without an IV drip.
When it comes to music festivals, some like to drive over to Pemberton, others wear daisy crowns and pretend it's 1966 at Coachella, and a few cntrl+alt+delete for a week at Shambhala. But me, and every other tourist loathing Victorian, we like to get absolutely fucking tanked at noon in thrift clothes and see who can still make it through Mother Mothers set.
There's a sort of bona fide camaraderie between residents of Rifftoria. I was walking down the street on Friday night in my flamboyant pink Phillips summer shirt, and this guy runs past me and starts waving at this car that was leaving a parking spot on the side of the street. Buddy rolls up to the guy driving and in a heavy Russian accent just says "Me save parking spot!" and starts yelling in Slavic up the street to another muscovite who was obviously on the phone with some rent-a-whateverfuck trying to find a parking spot, not knowing that Riff was in town. I keep walking and see the car that pulled out drive past me. I saw the dude driving was wearing a floral shirt, we looked at each other and just shook our heads and we both agreed: "fuckin' tourists eh?"
Needless to say, I'm already stoked for the 2018 edition of Rifflandia. Just one thing... for the love of god, don't bring back Mother Mother.
When I did my first Riff 7 years ago, it was in its childhood. There was no curfew, no night shows at every bar in the city, Mother Mother was the headliner every year, the Metchosin One was a celebrity, and you didn't even have to try to hide those Blue Bucks. Riff has 100% evolved into something that
When it comes to music festivals, some like to drive over to Pemberton, others wear daisy crowns and pretend it's 1966 at Coachella, and a few cntrl+alt+delete for a week at Shambhala. But me, and every other tourist loathing Victorian, we like to get absolutely fucking tanked at noon in thrift clothes and see who can still make it through Mother Mothers set.
There's a sort of bona fide camaraderie between residents of Rifftoria. I was walking down the street on Friday night in my flamboyant pink Phillips summer shirt, and this guy runs past me and starts waving at this car that was leaving a parking spot on the side of the street. Buddy rolls up to the guy driving and in a heavy Russian accent just says "Me save parking spot!" and starts yelling in Slavic up the street to another muscovite who was obviously on the phone with some rent-a-whateverfuck trying to find a parking spot, not knowing that Riff was in town. I keep walking and see the car that pulled out drive past me. I saw the dude driving was wearing a floral shirt, we looked at each other and just shook our heads and we both agreed: "fuckin' tourists eh?"
Needless to say, I'm already stoked for the 2018 edition of Rifflandia. Just one thing... for the love of god, don't bring back Mother Mother.
Thursday, 14 September 2017
Welcome
Hey thanks for checking out my blog! I'll mostly be using this for sharing things with classmates and doing school projects, but every now and then I'll post interesting things about photography and editing with Adobe programs. Click that follow button and witness me!!!
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