After I left my magnanimous former employer, I was out access to Photoshop. Now, I suppose I could manage with the Vista built-in tool, or Picasa. But I'm not one to do things the easy way. I chose to mess with Gimp, the illustrious open source image editing tool. More specifically, especially since I have a PhotoShop background, I went with Gimpshop, which gives me a Photoshop-esque experience. Better, I suppose, than downloading CS3 from bit torrent or something. Though I'm not a power user, I find the thing quite nice. Some day, I hope that I'll be able to turn the most grotesque face into a supermodel. We all have our dreams, eh?
Driving along in Kirkland , home of the modern yuppie, I’m passed by a new Mercedes. Lovely, silver, shiny, new, bling-bling; a part of me loaded with insecurity twinges while I purr along in my Toyota. Why? How come this is a metric of my self-esteem? Am I being unfair to myself, being upset by this train of thought and it’s influence? Consider, please, how much this viewpoint is drilled into us. Look at how often this imagery gets pushed into our faces, and how long that’s been going on. It shouldn’t surprise me, really, that I sometimes feel this way. Though my conscious values oppose this, the lingering thread of this programming has threads into the depths psyche.
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