Junk Box

There's a lot of Macgyvering that goes on at my studio. A large percentage of the clever solutions that I write about involve some type of recycled item.

This is a paradox of sorts because I hate clutter. I don't like things stacked up or piled in the corner. If any item is going to survive at my place, it needs to find its place where it can be retrieved when needed, but otherwise out of the way.

Often that location is the junk box. The joke is that the stuff inside isn't junk at all. They're useful items that are in-between jobs. (You can't protest too loudly about this or people will think you to be a packrat in denial.) I know that these odds and ends will have their moment when they are the perfect solution to a problem.

This reminds me of a favorite George Carlin quip: If you have a pile of odds and ends on a table, and they are all swept off except for one, what do you have left? An odd or an end?

Here's an example: for today's TDS article titled, LED Panels - Great, but Diffuse Them, I found the perfect square of diffusion material in a junk box. It was part of an old soft box setup that had an inner panel as well as one on the outside. I didn't need the inner panel back then, but I kept it. And now it's part of my LCD rig.

It's funny how often readers will ask me where I got a mentioned tripod head, clamp, grip, or other item that in reality came from the box. I feel kind of bad not being able to point them to an item in the B&H catalog. But the honest answer is, if I had to wait for a delivery every time I had a brainstorm, very few of my inventions would ever see the light of day. 

That's why the junk has to be somewhat organized. Not being able to find an item that you know you have is maddening.  It kills the moment, and all the Macgyverness fades away.

I know some people have junk drawers. But honestly, that's just not enough real estate. Because truth be told... I actually have more than one junk box.

But you already knew that.

-Derrick

The Weight of the World

There are so many things of which we have no control.

Decisions made in the workplace often feel capricious, especially when they directly affect our livelihood. The actions of family members, whom we're inextricably connected to, often fall outside of our influence. And don't even get me started on geopolitical events.

To combat this, I've learned the difference between control and action. And it's the latter of the two where our power lies. 

Here's a mundane example. I have no control over traffic. Where I live, it's somewhat predictable at best. And instead of stewing in my car over things that I cannot change, I do something. I get off the freeway and find a coffee shop where I can work and be productive. I take an alternate route that may be longer, but at least I'm moving. And because I travel light, I always have the tools I need to implement the change of course that's required.

I can't control the other cars, but I can certainly take charge of my sanity.

This is another facet of nimbleosity: the ability to pivot. It matters not that you knock me down if I know how to fall. I'm just going to get up and move again (and most likely in the opposite direction).

We should not carry the weight of the world on our shoulders. Choose a light messenger bag instead.

And let your burden be measured in ounces, not pounds.

-Derrick

There's More to Work than Business

Everybody has bills to pay. We all know that.

But how we go about fulfilling those obligations leaves room for choice. I've noticed that some folks have a broader view of their job than others. And as a result, conduct themselves differently.

For example, here in the Bay Area, we have a young man playing basketball for the Golden State Warriors named Stephen Curry. Among his many accomplishments, he's a two-time all star, NBA MVP, world champion, husband, and father of two daughters. I visit him at his office as much as possible. In fact, I'm a season ticket holder. 

Professional basketball is an expensive pastime. I signed up when the Warriors were a losing team. That story is interesting in itself, but I'll save it for another time. My motivation was to spend quality evenings with my teenage boys. Mission accomplished. I have many great memories with them at Oracle Arena.

In order to support my visits to Mr. Curry's office, I have to sell he bulk of my tickets each season. This arrangement has had its own benefits, chief among them is meeting other dads with young ones who have the same intentions as mine.

Last night, one of those dads, Joe, took his son to see the Warriors for his birthday.  I advised Joe to go early while the players were warming up, and to show his son where to position himself to get autographs. My boys loved doing this.

"But don't get you hopes up," I cautioned. Most players don't sign, and you never know what, if anything, you'll get. I crossed my fingers for them and waited to hear back the next day.

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Stephen Curry signing autographs at Oracle Arena. Photo by Joe Ghio.

Joe wrote me and said they had a great time. He thanked me for the tip and said his son was very happy. Attached to the email was this photo of Stephen Curry signing. The stars were shining for them last night.

Some people are better at their jobs than others. We pay Stephen to help us win basketball games. He does that very well. But he takes it upon himself to go beyond that. 

On these nights, while he's preparing to battle men much larger than himself, he looks up and sees a line of young fans standing along the edge of the tunnel, clutching Sharpies in hand. And on many of those nights, he stops for a moment to create as many memories as possible.

Is it because he's a father too? I don't know. But I believe what makes some people special goes beyond the definition of their job. It's what I call court vision. Seeing that there's more to work than just business.

-Derrick

Inside Out

It's interesting that many things are the opposite of what you'd think.

On my bike, for example, low gear is actually the big sprocket at the top of the gear cassette. High gear is down at the bottom. (I'm squinting my eyes and shaking my head as I process this.) Same with cameras. A high number, f/16, is actually a small aperture opening. But a low number, f/4, lets in more light. I know it's a math thing, but really?

I've learned that the lighter I travel, the more capable I become. How does that make sense? But the way it works is that I have more energy, think better, and approach challenges with expanded creativity... instead of digging through a bunch of stuff for an answer.

This is why judging things and people can be a waste of energy. What we see on the surface may be exactly the opposite behind the scenes. We're constantly amazed by plot twists in murder mysteries. But in reality, the clever author knows the sort of conclusions we typically jump to, then plays off those to surprise us.

In the Pixar movie, Inside Out, it's Sadness who saves the day. Yes, Joy was the driving force who never gave up on young Riley. But in the end her salvation was the opposite of what we'd expect. The family was reunited through their shared pain of missing their home, and their life, in the Midwest. It's a happy ending with tears.

We can bring these lessons to our artistic expressions. We can be the clever author who surprises the reader. If you go out with your camera today, photograph something that you've never attempted before.

And while doing so, if you encounter someone whom you'd normally judge harshly, just for a moment, consider them your peer.

You just never know how these things are going to work out.

-Derrick

If Change is Constant, Why Am I Still Wearing the Same Shoes?

Even though it's been years since I've reported to a cubical, and therefore was subjected to the cheerful HR posters that lined the hallway en route to the bathroom, a number of those cliches still rattle in my brain.

For example, "The only thing constant is change." This gets trotted out every time something new happens that we don't like. It's a thin blanket on a cold night.

Allegedly this wisdom was chiseled on to a marble HR tablet by the Greek philosopher, Heraclitus. It has since been repurposed as a suck-it-up directive expressed prior to an unsavory job reassignment or termination of employment.

The reality is, however, that our daily routines are rather constant, only intermittently interrupted by change. My family, friends, and even source of income rolls along somewhat predictably. Yes, some months are better than others. And I've never had two tacos that tasted the same. Then, when lightening does strike, we act like this is an ongoing experience as we run for cover.

I've seen a lot of change this year. Yet, when I add up the biggies, I can count them on one hand. That's not constant. That's occasional. My experience with change is that it's uncomfortable at first, sometimes even frightening. Then I address the issue, recalibrate, and make the best of it. Sometimes I even initiate change.

The way I look at it is this: if you have your health, anything is possible. It's like when the doctor says, "this is going to pinch a little." That's code for it's really going to hurt. But then the pain subsides, and I get better.

So, I want to augment this centuries-old saying. Here's what I'm going to chisel on my tablet: "If Change is Constant, Why Am I Still Wearing the Same Shoes?"

Yeah. Drop that one on your coworkers the next time they whine.

-Derrick