Beginnings

Copyright Ruth Seeley

Hard to believe it's been almost three months since I last added to this blog. Writing about Colin's death helped me grieve for him, as has hearing from his father, his sister, his nephew, the folks who adopted his dog, and a woman who stopped after witnessing the accident that killed him. I don't want to overestimate his importance in my life. But whenever something like this happens it's inevitable that one takes stock, even if it's only to make sure you're doing what you think you should be doing.

By August 1st I already knew I had been accepted into a self employment program funded by Service Canada that would allow me to start my own business - I had put in my proposal in mid July and was promptly informed that I'd been accepted. Never one to do things by halves, I also decided in August that it was time to move. Kitsilano may be a wonderful place to live if you want to spend 20 hours a day at the beach, but living right at the corner of 4th and Vine for two years was a hideous experience. For the first time in my life I actually found I wanted to sleep eight hours a day (or night), and that just wasn't possible in that location. With a Shopper's Drug Mart open 24 hours a day across the street, I was almost always wakened at 5:30 AM by the sound of delivery trucks flinging their steel doors open. That would have been fine if I hadn't also been awakened almost every night by either a car accident, a drunken altercation, or the not-so-dulcet tones of Septic Girl complaining about her treatment at the hands of Dog Boy. No Nose, the other semi-permanent resident of the four corners at Fourth and Vine (he tended to favour the Capers corner), was never loud. I'm not sure what happened to No Nose - he is a very handsome young man, but he has a very precise triangular piece of his right nostril missing. It looked to me like it had been done with a very sharp knife, and I could never look at him without thinking of Jack Nicholson in Chinatown when Roman Polanski slits his nose. I also could never bring myself to photograph this trio. I have no objection to street photography, and in fact Bert Bell's Bowery Bums series is one of the most moving examples of that type of photography I have ever seen. I could have asked permission to photograph them - I would have had to - just snapping their photos without permission would have been wrong. I was disinclined to do so. Living on the street is hard enough without strangers attempting to exploit your situation - even if the exploitation amounts to no more than documentation. I felt both powerless and disinclined to even try to help any of them. The most I could ever do was respond courteously in the negative when they asked me for money (or, in the case of Septic Girl, to her demands that I buy her a cinnamon bun at Cobbs Bakery!). I have no way of knowing what led to the waste of these three lives. I do know that I don't have any resources (other than, perhaps, a few spiritual ones) to spare them.

And in the spirit of saving oneself, I am now open for business. Ruth Seeley Writing & Photography is actively seeking clients. Yesterday was the first day in months that I had time to take some self portraits. It felt just blissful to actually have some time for photography. I wouldn't say any of them was a huge success, despite the wonderful floor-to-ceiling mirrors in my new shared space, or the grand piano that graces the living room. But I liked what happened when I played with this one a bit, first autobalancing it in MS PhotoEditor, then applying the watercolour effect, and finally using Picasa to straighten the image (rumour has it there's a program that lets you do all these things in one fell swoop - CS2 are you listening? I'll be happy to test your software and report back to you if you'd like to send me a copy). Isn't there an expression, "Don't it make your brown eyes green?" What I like best about this treatment of my self portrait is that it appears to make my green eyes brown.

Oh - and it is blissfully quiet here in the new home. I'm getting my eight hours' sleep and then some. Hallellujah.