Oh hey... whatcha got over there? A taco?

All right ya jagoff, I'll get my own damn taco.

So it's almost a shame that I post this photo above the below photo, but unfortunately, I've been, um, disinclined to post my work within the last two weeks. Not that I didn't like it, just that I didn't find the stories that interesting. Ok, that's a lie, but fuhgeddaboudit.

The good news is that I have new babies. A solid 85mm prime and a handy-dandy extension tube. For those not photo-oriented, an ET is an alternative to directly buying a lens that was designed for macro photography. All you do is twist it onto your camera body, grab a lens and away you go. Granted, not all lenses work with it, but that really doesn't matter.

I wasn't feeling incredibly inspired but I really, really wanted to play, soo I thought of things around the house that went with a comedic line or some sort of silly story. Now mind you, this was all macro photography, so I was kinda limited in what I could do. I came up with the following:

1. The brass goose my mom dropped on my head when I was little.
2. The coffee table that still has my little 6-year-old's teeth marks in it.
3. My collection of cool hotel keycards, however, vetoed because I could write a book from all the stories packed into those suckers.
4. Some beautifully crafted jewelry I picked up in an awesome Thai market for three bucks - which goes with a haggling story at its best, might I add.

and

5. The newest addition to my Enzo Angiolini shoe family. I don't own many shoes, but the ones I have I love quite dearly. These. Are ridiculous, but I love them: twenty bucks too!

But anyway, here's the story: Linda and I were wandering in DSW when this man, wife in tow, approached us for our opinions on his selection of a dress shoe. Linda immediately says, "Oh, I don't like them." He then looks at me, I look down at the shoe and say, "I don't really like them either, but I spent the last few months working for a fashion network and all the guys wore them."

Which would have been a perfectly acceptable answer, had I not been dressed like an idiot. These sequined, quaintly obnoxious ballet flats, some tight, worn bootleg jeans, a zip-up hoodie that Linda bought for my brother about seven minutes prior, which was about three sizes too big WITH the tags still on and was only on me because I was too stupid to bring a coat, and last but not least, a French braid that by this time of the day, was just shy of disaster.

Eek. Well, for whatever reason, the poor sap listened to us and ended up purchasing a much more mundane shoe. In case you were wondering, this guy had big feet and was trying to wear a lengthy square-toed shoe, which, is the equivalent on the absurd scale of girls above a size 7 wearing pointy-toed stilettos. And by the way, if someone can give me one good reason those shoes are flattering, I will go back into this post and write: "In my opinion" for every one of those statements...

If you're wondering the same about my shoes? Craftsmanship, ladies and gents, craftsmanship.

T-funk and I immediately got off to a great start:

"Hey, are you the girl that shot the Wailers last summer?"
"Yeah dude."

Chalk that one up to some music scene street cred.

Haha, but man, this guy is one of the most exciting bassists I have ever and probably will ever photograph. This dude rocks out so hard that I actually wished he would just slow down for 30 seconds and stay in the frickin' light... and I am NEVER one to discourage a good, solid rock-out. Not only am I pretty sure that his gold shoes walked every inch of stage left, I had to assist him, post-show, in locating his dread band, lost mid-crazy-headbang.


Really, there's so much to say about this guy from both an audio and a visual standpoint that I can't say anymore except: Yeah!!!

So I walked into Starbucks in Shadyside a few weeks ago with only my standard expectation of a decent cappuccino and a surprisingly good slice of blueberry coffee cake.

However, I was treated to the pleasure of meeting one of the most reassuring breaths of fresh personality I have encountered in awhile. Walking past the little preparation station, we were softly greeted by one of the employees, who flashed a smile of modest confidence from behind the espresso machine and went back to steaming some milk. As I unwrapped my scarf and took one last gander at the menu (uh, duh, my ritual and sometimes purgatorial "hm, maybe I want something else"), I was still quite enamored with the energy coming from the left corner. This chick had to be cool, perhaps some kind of artist ... and wait, what was she doing brewing espresso at Starbucks?

After Matt and I finished talking shop and got up to leave, we took a detour to the exit by paying our espresso-friend a visit.

Turns out that she is one hell of a talented girl, a musician whom Pittsburgh has certainly never raised before. Her name is Sonji and I think that she's got somethin' goin' on.

In lieu of focusing on my colloquial dangling of prepositions, check out Sonji's jams.

There is nothing better in an architectural photo than linear perfection. I think this photo is pretty close to my definition of that concept, though I can't take complete credit for the shot.

Switch to my History Channel narrator voice:

Constructed in stages from 1892 to 1914, the two main sections were designed by popular Chicago architecture firm D.H. Burnham and Co. Home to Chicago's legendary department store, Marshall Field's, the piece became known around the world for its size and for its delicate atria, including a thirteen-story sky-lit atrium in the northwestern corner (shown above) and five-story Tiffany & Co. mosaic atrium, comprised of 1.6 million pieces of favrile iridescent glass, on the southwestern corner.

Though Marshall Field's was bought out by Macy's and officially renamed "Macy's on State Street" in 2006, all of the original Marshall Field's plates on both the interior and exterior remain intact.

Annnd back to normal me:

I know it seems like it's just a giant Macy's, but anyone who appreciates early nineteenth century architecture really shouldn't miss this anomaly of a department store. Heck, I'm not really a shopper, but I had to explore every floor, though I think it was mainly to check out the different vantage points - orrr that's what I'll tell myself.

For the record, I bought nothing.

Going to Chicago without getting a deep-dish pizza is like going to Pittsburgh and not eating a Primanti Bros.' sandwich. Unbelievable, I know, but yes, it is as big of a deal.

This little ditty is a Giordano's pizza paired with a Goose Island draft.

No longer a Chicago virgin, I figured I'd pay commercial homage to Mr. Harry Caray.

Though, in the world of sports broadcasting, Myron could kick his butt any day, but I guess it's not really fair because Mr. Cope was blessed with the better sport.

Despite the fact that this was taken on a day where the framing tool in my brain refused to function, I really enjoy this shot. I don't know if I didn't want to photograph Chicago or if Chicago didn't want to be photographed, but the former seems unlikely. I mean, frigid cold + gnarly winds = very pleasant Alli, so I can't imagine what happened there.

I probably shouldn't have tweaked it so much too, but I kinda got obsessed with the colors of the sky's gradient and it was all downhill from there.

All right, Bean, you win. I couldn't get what I wanted, so this will have to do.

Happy?

I sure hope so, because I think you should know that you really need to be cleaned and I don't have the patience to do it in post. However, you do look much better from this angle. Have you lost weight?

Yes, I am the girl that buys the toothpaste with the glittering box, just because it's sparkling.

I just admitted that to cyberspace, didn't I?

Heck, while I'm at it, I accidentally dressed myself in all pink today. Glasses, sweater, ring, watch, scarf, hat, gloves... in honor of the late Mr. Myron Cope, "double yoi."

In my opinion, it is quite unfortunate that most females on this planet don't understand the art of makeup and the value in taking the proper time to learn the contours of your face. Even more unfortunate is that most men don't understand that for those of us that do dabble in this ancient art, we aren't doing it to make up for "what is lacking on the inside." The only thing that's lacking is your perspective.

If you understand light and you understand your face, every time you step into the mirror, you have a fresh palette to visually parallel what IS on the inside.

Haha, cheesy, but truth be told, a lot of us are just enamored with change. I like to call it the magic show.

Rachael, our beautiful artiste for this weekend, did a fabulous job, per the usual. This makeup style is fantastically fun, but obviously for very, VERY rare occasions.

This chick was totally not afraid to rock out. I dig it and I'll ditto that mohawk.

Well I've been back a week and I'm already running around like a nut, but if you know me, you know that that is fantastic.

What I've heard from many people recently is that they can't seem to understand why I work so much. In the 2nd most simple way I can explain this, I will say that it's because my work allows me to do things that I otherwise wouldn't be able to do and with such rapidity that sometimes, this blog is the only way I can keep track of me. I generally get pretty disappointed when people tell me to stop working, because that means they really don't understand what I am doing. My work involves meeting crazy people, seeing beautiful things, experiencing life in ways that a 9-5 would never enable me to do. And what of personal relationships, they ask? I say you have no idea how they can grow until you see the results of a collaborative group of truly motivated, passionate people. Imagine working with your best friends, all the time, all over the world. Crazy idea, huh?

This weekend was one of those projects, where we just had a blast with our work. Knowing 2 of 7 of our team beforehand, by the time Sunday rolled around, it was as if we had known each other for years.

But anyway, I'll shut it... actual work aside, my job gave me the long-awaited opportunity to visit Bedford Springs, a treasure of Pennsylvania history about two hours outside Pittsburgh. I won't tell you the story because if you are truly interested, you will check out the site and I don't have to bore you like your 7th grade history teacher (Mr. Hyland, not you, you totally weren't boring... although you were the only teacher ever to give me detention- even if your big heart could only stand it for 30 seconds), but if you want my version at a later date, I won't be shy about it.

Oh wait, what's that? You want to know the simplest way to explain why I work so much?

MONEY.



Hahaha, totally just kidding... bottom line is that I frickin' love my job.