Everything’s due in this afternoon, and I’m pretty much sorted. Thank goodness. I’ve handled my time much better than last term, and this week has been non-stop busy but not panicky, which is nice.

Yesterday I labelled all my slides with a rollerball pen, and the ink hasn’t dried in 18hrs - I’m wondering if the surfaces are just incompatible - but there’s not much I can do about that other than handle them carefully.

I thought my workbooks were ok until Wednesday’s email, and now realise they’re average at best. Still, at least I’ve something to go on next time - making it up as you go is a slow process.

Not looking forward to lugging all the library books back to London, but it’ll be worth it. Only a few hours to go…

We were given our uni project details, for one particular module, in February. There were three projects, each requiring various images and a workbook showing our thought processes. The workbooks have been fairly mysterious since day one - there’s deliberately been no guidance so that we produce individual work, which is irritating but fair enough. The projects are due in on Friday, and I finished all my workbooks on Monday. I’ve been essaying since then, and am nearly complete. I was just starting to relax…

Then this evening we get an email with a big list of items the teacher would like to see included in the workbooks. With many things I’m pretty sure none of us had thought of. We’re not to worry if our workbook doesn’t include it all, though. Obviously. As if we would.

Geez. 48hrs notice is a bit mean, really. I can’t decide whether to spend tonight and tomorrow madly typing and printing (a ‘journal of your development for the duration of the module - this can be done on a day to day account of how your shoots have gone’) or just let it go. I can’t imagine a botch job will do me any favours, but what if I’m the only one who doesn’t?

Russell T. Davies, the executive producer of Doctor Who, is stepping down at the end of this series. Steven Moffat, my favourite TV writer after Aaron Sorkin, will take over.

He’s a brave guy. And brilliant. His four DW episodes have been, in my opinion, stunning, and Blink was a nigh-on perfect piece of television. So good, in fact, that I can’t imagine an entire series keeping it up - it’s not that I doubt the guy’s ability, it’s that most episodes of everything are worse than Blink. Which is why he’s brave, because the loudest of the Doctor Who online fans are savage to the point of insanity, and they’ll turn on you in an instant.

Spend more than a few minutes investigating Doctor Who online and you’ll find many people trying to make scriptwriters cry. You know, in the name of criticism. They’re fans who deserve high quality entertainment, and will throw around the strongest of adjectives if you don’t meet their standards. Honestly, you’d think the world was at stake: throwaway lines are ‘unforgivable’, scripts are turgid or (horror of horrors) sentimental and writers have agendas and are worthless. I read these people for a while, before realising they don’t, in point of fact, know shit. But they’re loud and, when eloquent, very good at inducing deference.

Some can enter the fray with a wry smile and a kevlar sensibility, but I lack the self-confidence to be a part of an online community with critical bully-boys at its centre - it wears me down, and I start to doubt myself. I don’t bother any more; I simply watch and enjoy. I’m sure Mr Moffat doesn’t have this problem, and is more than capable of dealing with rabid ‘fans’, but he’ll inevitably come in for a large amount of abuse, and that’s nobody’s idea of a good time.

Doctor Who is taking a break next year, so Steven Moffat’s series won’t begin until 2010. I’m looking forward to it already.

I don’t know enough modern poets. I think I’m missing out.

It’s hard to beat an interesting delivery of interesting words.

My 26th year begins today. Ra. I have a lovely photography book to read through, as well as the so-far-gorgeous Rockferry.

Today also marks the completion of my Year 25 Project. I wanted to get the final photo uploaded today, but I’m unfortunately almost two weeks behind in the uploading schedule. I’ll get that sorted asap and write it up properly.

I am also, regretfully, single again. I’d quite like to hide under a rock for a bit, but I have far too much to do.

I just came so very close to losing my afternoon’s work. I started a new Google Document at around 1500, and it’s been open ever since. I noticed at around 1800 that the ’saving’ message was there continually, but I couldn’t say when it had appeared. I left it for an hour, came back and there was no change. ‘Save and Close’ didn’t work, so I closed the tab. I refreshed Google Docs to be informed the document hadn’t changed since 1507. I opened the document and saw a blank screen. Oh, crap.

Thankfully, a little stab of paranoia had saved the day. When I originally went to close the tab the ‘you have unsaved changes’ message popped up. It always does, but for once I paid attention. I select-all/copied the entire document as a last ditch backup, and thankfully this was still in the clipboard a few moments later¹. I lost the page breaks, but that’s no big deal.

That’s the first time I can recall Google completely killing a document. That would have been bad. So, if in doubt, reload Google Docs in another tab and check the modified time.

1. actually I had another backup layer, as I run the security-nightmare but oh-so-very-useful Ditto [↩]

I’ve been itching to know the Vatican’s thoughts on extraterrestrial life. Good news!

Writing in the Vatican newspaper, the astronomer, Father Gabriel Funes, said intelligent beings created by God could exist in outer space.

They know this from all the astronomy mentioned in the Bible, as well as their extensive questioning of astronomers.

Just as there are multiple forms of life on earth, so there could exist intelligent beings in outer space created by God.

…well, no. That’s a bit circular, really. The Times has the exact quote:

Father Funes said that just as there existed a “multiplicity of creatures on Earth”, so there could exist “other beings created by God, including intelligent ones. We cannot place limits on God’s creative freedom.”

Immovable objects; irresistible forces. Just saying. Anyhow, we haven’t got to my favourite bit yet.

And some aliens could even be free from original sin, he speculates.

Planets where they don’t have fruit? Where God didn’t take his eye off the ball? Where there isn’t a power-hungry cult trying to control people’s every thought? I lose my sense of humour when people start talking about original sin. It doesn’t take more than a moment’s thought to see original sin for what it really is, and those who preach it lose their right to be treated politely. Twisted, manipulative bastards.

I think it’s a mistake for the Vatican to start looking to the stars. They should stick to vague historical claims that can’t be proven one way or another. There’s more wonder in astronomy than the world’s religions combined, and space has the annoying habit of supplying fresh data. It’ll only veer towards comprehensible, and the Vatican should know to stay away from comprehensible. Like Perry DeAngelis used to say: if you’re going to believe in a God, you have to give him something to do.

A while ago I was casually asked if I’d stand in for a dance photographer at an upcoming event. I agreed before the question was finished, and Sunday was the day. It was nuts. Long periods of nothing punctuated by ten minutes of frantic activity. Fun though, at least once I stopped worrying all my equipment was going to spontaneously combust.

It was a dance competition day, held at a sports centre in Worcester. The prizes are for general prestige, as well as qualifying for entry into the larger events, and a crazy number of competitions are needed to cover the many levels of dancing. The ballroom section consisted of 12 competitions, each with 1-5 dances and most with multiple heats required to whittle people down to the final six. I don’t know how many rounds I watched, but it took almost 10 hours to get through the Juniors, Juveniles, Adult Ballroom and Adult Latin dancers.

I was photographing the trophy handovers and dancer line-ups. I had it easy, really, as most competitors were experienced and didn’t need to be told ‘left foot back, right shoulder forward’. Still, I had trouble getting them to move close enough to each other that there were no gaps. I thought I was doing an ok job, but much chimping¹ of the Ballroom line-ups showed various spaces through which you could drive a milk float. But I got all the necessary shots, thank goodness. At one point the announcer was ahead of me, and the trophy was being handed to the next winners as I’d just finished photographing the previous line-up. I got the shot by sliding into position, clicking the shutter before I’d finished moving. This either looked extremely cool or completely stupid.

Then, right at the end, I sold a photo! I’ve never sold anything to a stranger before. One of the winners wanted a copy of her line-up photo. I was taken aback and had no idea about price, but she wasn’t bothered and told me to send an invoice. Quite a little milestone, really.

I continued my project of trying to take dancing photographs that don’t completely suck, and by the end of the evening had enough confidence to start playing around. I put my wireless flash in various positions - it only got knocked over once, although that was bad - and wandered around the room trying to get some interesting angles. I haven’t had a chance to process them yet, but there were a couple that seemed ok. Here’s an early version:

The light level was such that the flash was on full power. Poor dancers.

1. incidentally, anyone who says chimping is a bad thing can bite me - instinctive chimping no matter what the scenario isn’t a good idea, but 90% of the time checking the rough image is a bloody good plan. Yes, you should know roughly what the image is going to look like, but a) people make mistakes b) people have to learn. So there. [↩]

I used to adore that show.

This entrances me:

Cinco De Mayo Carnival from Andrew Curtis on Vimeo.

2683 images, taken with 1 second exposures every 2 seconds. I like the ride at 2:15. Full-size link.

I sometimes really wish that all fiction books of all genres for any people over the age of about 12 were simply filed alphabetically by author, because as Patrick Nielsen Hayden once pointed out to me, shelving by genre simply tells people the places in a bookshop that they don’t have to go.

I’d never thought of it like that, but it makes perfect sense. I expect this will now pop into my head every time I walk into a bookshop for the rest of my life.

This morning’s post delivered a bunch of cheapo close-up filters - essentially magnifying glasses for the lens - so I spent the evening finally taking my ‘abstract’ pictures. I lost any sense of coherence after a while, but I’m hopeful there’ll be something usable. Some of the digital test shots turned out ok:

I’m hoping the filters didn’t degrade the slide quality too much.

I’ve been panicking over my ‘Urban Landscape’ project today. I have a massive sheet of ideas, all of which are either too ambitious - recreating this effect - or too dull - traffic cones in various odd places. So just before midnight I jumped into the car, slapped my camera onto a dashboard-mounted-monsterpod and went for a drive:

These turned out better than I expected, and would certainly fit the ‘urban landscape’ remit. I took a bunch of shots on slide film, but the daylight balance means they’ll all be way orange. Still, they might do, and if they’re nearly ok I can always get some filters…

Warning: you might want to skip this if you’re squeamish.

I’ve never been bothered by blood. I’m not saying this to be macho - plenty of things do bother me - I’m just lucky that the sight of blood doesn’t affect me. So, donating blood has never been a problem. Today was no different, but an unexpected release of my blood did cause some trouble.

I hadn’t given blood for a few years, but after discovering the donation centre was literally two minutes walk I didn’t have any excuse. So this afternoon I trotted down, presented my little blue card and after the usual checks was happily excreting bodily fluids. I like to see what’s going on, so I watched the needle go in and the blood wind its way around the warren of tubes and containers, and it was apparently coming out pretty quickly. This wasn’t a problem, and once it finished the nurse told me I could go to the biscuit table without waiting, if I was feeling ok. Which I was, so I did.

I grabbed a cup of Ribena, at which point I apparently sprung a leak. I didn’t twig it for a couple of seconds, by which point I was halfway to my seat and a not insignificant amount of blood had dripped, well, everywhere. The nurses were there in an instant¹, and I got cleaned up while they wiped the floor down. I genuinely wasn’t bothered at all, but someone at the biscuit table fainted. Oops.

Walking home in a bloodstained shirt gives a teeny macho thrill, though. I’m not sure I should admit this. It’s not like there are many situations where it’s a good thing.

1. these people rock - every nurse I’ve ever met has been continually cheerful, caring and on the ball [↩]