For the Love of Fossils
When I was a kid, I wanted to be a doctor and the president, and an archaeologist on the side. I was ambitious. I also thought you could have an “operating room name” like actors have stage names; naturally, I picked Amie, because it’s juuuuust different enough from my real name (Jamie) and it’s also a non-traditional spelling of Amy. What can I say? I was … ok, weird. I was weird.
ANYWAY.
I’m telling you all of this because of the archaeology part. I was fascinated with finding old stuff in the ground (listen, I was 5 … I now know archaeologists do a lot more than that). Turns out, I STILL AM! So earlier this year, I remembered going to a stream with a friend and her father, sifting rocks and sediment and finding fossilized shark teeth and squid parts. I turned to my trusty friend Google, and found it: Big Brook.
According to the county, Big Brook Park consists of 379 acres of farmland formerly used by the now-closed Marlboro Psychiatric Hospital. The Monmouth County Park System purchased that land in 1997, and an additional 36 acres in 2010, bringing the park up to 415 acres. In addition to plenty of green space, though, the park offers its eponymous brook — which cuts through cretaceous-era sediment deposits.
This means fossils. Read more…
Cities of the Dead, Part II
I’m not a religious person — today, I happily identify as an agnostic existentialist — but I was raised in the Roman Catholic tradition. I suppose that accounts for my predilection toward idolatry, shrines, and the pomp and circumstance surrounding ceremonies — and my lingering Catholic Guilt.
Although I have not attended Mass since my confirmation, I still bow my head (OK, sometimes I just think about bowing my head but whatever it still counts) whenever I hear “Jesus.” Despite the fact I know it’s just some plastic beads melted onto a string in China, I cannot bring myself to throw away the Rosary I received in first grade in Catholic school (I’m not alone, this is totally a thing). And I am not ashamed to admit I still occasionally pray to the Blessed Virgin Mary when I really need a hand, and am planning some type of sanctuary of honor (idk what you call these things when you’re not into religion) for her that will most definitely include some of those awesome supermarket candles with her face on them.
I guess that past is what made it so easy for me to jump on the bandwagon of one of New Orleans’ most popular legends: asking voodoo queen Marie Laveau for help in life, more than 100 years after her death.
The likely final resting place of Marie Laveau — and one of the most-visited tombs in the United States. *
Cities of the Dead, Part I
It’s not a shocker: New Orleans has a lot to offer, but The Big Easy is — first and foremost — a party city.
Carnival season, or the weeks leading up to and including Mardi Gras, is the most festive in NOLA by far. Everyone decorates their homes, businesses pull out all the stops and smaller parades lead up to the big event on Shrove Tuesday. I’m sure purple, green and gold are more than common colors to see in New Orleans at any given time, but the weeks leading up to Fat Tuesday provide an extraordinarily festive atmosphere with a background draped in those hues.
I speak with some semblance of authority because I just returned from NOLA. OK, let’s be real, I only spent three days there in February, but I do feel like I had the chance to soak up a lot of the local culture and flair. And outside of the beads and decorations, the city has so much to offer, including by way of food and beverages — not only did I enjoy the first (ahem, of many) Sazerac of my life, but I crossed one off the ol’ bucket list and drank a bourbon on Bourbon Street.
But something else really caught my attention: the cities of the dead.
An alley in St. Louis No. 1, a city of the dead. *
Here We Go Again, Star Wars Edition
In life, some things are forgivable.
Some things are not.
When I heard Mark Hamill, Carrie Fisher and Harrison Ford will all likely appear in George Lucas’ newest Star Wars films, I was immediately excited in the way only a 10-year-old seeing “Return of the Jedi” in a theater for the first time (ahem myself in 1997) could be.
High-quality film still.*
But then, a knot immediately formed in my stomach. Read more…
The Dome House: Part III
When we last left the dome house, we knew the weirdo structure was in need of a new deck, dock and water system.
We also knew it was in really rough shape otherwise.
But, that didn’t matter — my love for the structure transcended petty things like tens of thousands of dollars worth of repairs! I mean, really, you can’t beat the location. Or the unbelievably strangeness of it all. Read more…
On Holidays and Traditions
[Update: Since this post was originally written, Lytro has shuttered. I’m leaving this here for posterity’s sake. And maybe one of these days I’ll figure out how to access and embed the old photos taken with the Lytro…]
Happy holidays, everyone!
Early warning: This post is mainly an excuse to post some pictures of holiday decorations I took with my Lytro camera. The thin guise of “traditions” will be the mechanism to metaphorically bind the photos together in a blog post.
Anyway. Onward.
So, it’s the holidays! This time last year, I was in St. Augustine. Realistically, and more specifically, I was probably sitting in a bar (drinking is an important part of any family holiday, kids). But this year, Ron (my father) and Mary Lou (my crazy mother) braved the cold to come to New Jersey. Read more…
We Will Not Merely Endure: We Will Prevail
The title of this post is an adaptation of a William Faulkner quote:
I believe that man will not merely endure: he will prevail. He is immortal, not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice, but because he has a soul, a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance.
The past few weeks have brought catastrophe to the Jersey Shore in the form of Hurricane Sandy and the aftermath she left behind. Last weekend, I wrote A Thing about the storm a little less than one week after it hit the stretch of sand and ocean I call home — Manasquan. Like many of the communities surrounding it, Manasquan is barely more than a square mile. Don’t blink, you’ll miss us. But the sense of community here is unreal; more on that later.
The only thing I would like to add to what I wrote — and what ran as a letter to the editor in The Coast Star and The Ocean Star, published by Star News Group — is an experience from this morning. Just a quick note of disclosure: I am the managing editor and webmaster at Star News Group. This blog is not affiliated with Star News Group. So on to the addition:
My friend and I got coffee at Green Planet, my favorite coffee place that has a location where I live (Manasquan) and also where one of my offices is (Point Pleasant Beach; the other is right around the corner from Green Planet’s Manasquan location).
We later decided to pick up a box of coffee and some pastries to bring to the Main Street bridge for the police and National Guardsmen posted there, enforcing the limited entry to the devastated area to residents only. We dropped it off, and one of the National Guards said something I don’t think I’ll ever forget: “Everyone in this town is so generous!”
He was clearly talking about the Manasquan attitude and response to this storm, something I have been so, so proud to witness. Read more…
The Lytro, Revisited
[Update: Since this post was originally written, Lytro has shuttered. I’m leaving this here for posterity’s sake. And maybe one of these days I’ll figure out how to access and embed the old photos taken with the Lytro…]
Last night, I made a quick post about the glorious piece of engineering that is the Lytro camera.
In my fervor of Lytro-induced bliss, I completely forgot about Creative Mode, or the camera function that allows you to pick an area of the screen — the TOUCH (!) screen — on which to focus. Thanks to commenter Colvin, who works at Lytro, I spent several giddy moments shooting in Creative Mode today.
As it turns out, I stand corrected: the Lytro is an awesome camera for macro shots.
This is a good thing. My macro lens for my SLR is pretty much my favorite, and now I found my newest obsession camera has the same capabilities.
Now, I’m really looking forward to using the camera in a setting where I’m not at work when it’s light out/home when it’s dark out/have time to really have some fun with the Lytro. Though really, who doesn’t want to see my chipped glasses, up close and personal?
The Lytro Camera
[Update: Since this post was originally written, Lytro has shuttered. I’m leaving this here for posterity’s sake. And maybe one of these days I’ll figure out how to access and embed the old photos taken with the Lytro…]
Let’s talk about the Lytro.
Way back at Christmas, Mary Lou wrapped up a picture of this camera and said I would receive it as soon as it began shipping. I was excited, to say the least — the Lytro takes a photograph using the full spectrum of light.
Basically, this means you can focus after you’ve taken a photo.
This is a huge deal.
I can tell you right now — many times, I’ve taken a photo where certain portions are soft (or, out of focus), leading me to kick myself for not adjusting the focus ring just a little bit more.
Enter the Lytro.
This is one of the first images I took with the Lytro. Click around a bit — you can change the focus of the image. After you’ve taken it. Seriously. Just click around a little — on the bell, the newspapers, the frames. Whatever. Just click there.
The Dome House, Part II
I’m the kind of person that goes to the movies by myself. I’ve also been known to frequent museums on my own and, many times, I have been a party of one at restaurants.
Doing things alone seems to freak some people out. A quick, non-scientific poll of my coworkers confirmed what has become my theory on the subject: you are either the kind of person who can do things by yourself, or you’re not. Of course, posing the go-it-alone at a movie, museum or restaurant question did bring up many “situational” yeses and nos. For instance, one of my coworkers said she would do so, but only if traveling. Actually, she first asked if a bar counted in the restaurant category.
“I would drink by myself, yes, if I was traveling,” she said.
Similarly, a male coworker said he would only eat alone if he was in an airport or traveling by himself. Otherwise, he said he would fear people looking at him and judging his solo status in such a public place.
Interestingly enough, the aforementioned female coworker also works at a restaurant — and said she never judges those eating alone. However, she often makes up a back story about the person and why they’re alone, compelling her to want to befriend said lone diner.
When it comes to museums, the aforementioned male coworker said he might go it alone — but he wouldn’t plan to do so, because he wants someone to talk to.
“I wouldn’t do it because I wouldn’t choose to do it,” he said.
Company-loving folk aside, though, there are others like me. Another of my male coworkers said, after only a moment of thought, he has done all three alone, and would do so again. Another female coworker said she has definitely gone to a movie and a restaurant by herself, and would consider a solo museum trip (though she would prefer to have someone with which to discuss the subject matter).
For her, distance from family and friends, as well as living alone, plays a role — she will often go to a restaurant herself to avoid staying a home like a “hermit,” she said, but “it can be a little weird.”
Now, you may be asking yourself why I just spent 350 or so words pontificating on going it alone. I, myself, am surprised I have so much to say about the subject. But I have come to A Conclusion.
My love of individual activities is directly correlated to The Dome House.
It stands alone on the beach, just hangin’ there, by itself.
If there was a movie playing that was relevant to its interests, like the blockbuster “Sitting on the Beach by Myself, Just Watching the Waves,” it would go see it — by itself.
While I’m pretty sure it doesn’t eat anything — there are only old mattresses, pieces of glass and similar inside — if it did, it would order up its dish of glass shards alone.
And you know what? It’s practically a museum, itself.
The Dome House and I were made for each other. Read more…
tiltandswing 