Tag Archives: goggles

Welding: More than just metal

Posted on

I’ve never been great at building or working on things with my hands- woodwork– mechanics– electronics– they arent really my fortay. Everytime I buy a new piece of camera equipment for one of my cameras, I tend to stare at it, Google terrible instructions and then walk up to my male roommate and ask him to put it together.

And to be fair, When I built the birdhouse with my mom, I admit, she did most of the leg work.

To be honest, I don’t remember ever successfully putting together a puzzle as a child. Sad isn’t it?

So when my friend Jason offered me the opportunity to learn how to weld with him over Thanksgiving , I accepted with an abundance of excitement. “learn to be good with my hands— yes why of course I’ll do that!”

To my surprise — and maybe even to Jason’s, I picked up welding pretty quickly. I followed his directions, pulled down my mask so not to blind myself and did what felt like chiseling away. After just a couple of attempts I had welded in a straight line and Jason had applauded my efforts.  However, if I said the straight line was the most rewarding part-I would be lying.

While welding away with metal– I was also welding away at something else–a friendship.

Much like my birdhouse making experience with my mom, the welding experience served as a really great bonding experience.

I met Jason two years ago at NYC Media, where I used to work. Over the last two years, we developed a friendship full of morning hellos and afternoon goodbyes–and small talk about our personal projects during breaks in the work day. On only one occasion did we head out to lunch. Sadly, neither of our schedules matched up to allow for more than an occupational friendship.

So when J first said we should do a hobby together back in April– I jumped . Again, our schedules conflicted. But finally, just this past weekend our schedules matched- and we were hobbying. We were being… Friends.

I met Jason’s fiancé, rode around in a 1969 mustang that J built, and got an opportunity to see what life was like for him outside of our 26th floor office. A lot of people asked me what I’d be making at my welding lesson—before the lesson, I wasn’t quite sure–and now I have a good answer for that, no wait–a GREAT answer for it: I was making a friendship.

 

Picture 24

 

Check out Jason’s current project at jsworks.org

Advertisements

Swimming with Sharks

Posted on

“How much will it hurt if someone gets bitten by one of these sharks?” I ask one of our shark experts.

“It would just feel like a lot of pressure–it wouldn’t be “painful” really. But people have to worry for infection after getting bitten by a shark.”

“How likely is it that one of us will get bitten?”

“Not likely.”

I continue quizzing our instructors for a bit, with a smile on my face. Part of me is joking around, and the other part of me is serious. I mean–I am about to jump into a tank full of sharks!

But the truth is–I am not scared at all. A lot of people ask me how I feel before I dive into the more extreme activities–and honestly–I feel fine. It’s the more intimate–1 on 1’s that get me.

To me, jumping out of a plane (as I am doing this coming weekend–pending hurricane Sandy doesn’t destroy my plans), or swimming with sharks–is much easier than sitting down–or standing with a good friend and taking a lesson. I am much more intimidated by the talent driven hobbies than I am by the thrill seeking ones. At first this may seem surprising, but because the number one fear in the world–over dying–is public speaking, I get it.

As humans, we want to be accepted, we don’t want to be judged poorly, and we want to succeed at everything we try–I know I do. But if there’s anything this project has taught me–it’s that the only person judging us most times–is oneself.

At this current moment, with sharks swimming below me–I really just can’t wait to jump in.

I pull on my wetsuit, throw on my snorkel, and wait for my cue to duck underwater and take a look. When I finally do, I am amazed. I can see sharks swimming in the distance. And then I spot one swimming our way. He looks like he’s smiling. I laugh to myself. The laughter causes a small leak in my mouth piece, so I surface momentarily–causing me to laugh at myself again. I readjust and reenter the water. A fish flashes across my face–and then another one. And then from the side I see a shark with a nose shaped like a saw swimming toward our way. He’s waving his serrated edges back and forth as if he knows food is near. Our instructors pull us back until the shark is out of harm’s way.

We go back below. A shark comes toward me, and I imagine speaking to it.

“Hello Mr. Shark.” I quote Little Red Riding Hood, “How big your teeth are, Mr. Shark”

“All the better to eat you with, my dear.”

I laugh to myself, this time keeping my mouth on my snorkel. “Good thing sharks can’t really talk–and good thing this isn’t the rising action in a fairytale.”

But it is–it’s the rising action in my project–or what we should just refer to as my life.

I sit back in the shark tank and continue to take in the view. I ask myself how I got here–in a tank full of sharks.

“Easily,” I answer. “All I had to do was say yes.”

________________________________________________________________

Camden Aquarium
1 Riverside Drive
Camden, New Jersey

The Hobby Hoarder Heads to the Sky: Pilot Lesson

Posted on

Music by: Suzy Sellout

For the first time in my life, my head was in the clouds–and I was completely okay with it.

Shaking. Palms sweating. Thoughts racing through my mind. I don’t usually get nervous, but moments before lifting off the ground in a small airplane–that I was piloting, nerves suddenly were flowing through my veins. My adrenaline pumped, and I could feel my heart beating straight out of my chest. There was no looking back now–I was about to pilot a plane…and that’s freaking awesome.

As I felt the plane leave the ground, I stayed focused on the details my co-pilot/instructor, Nicholas had told me: When it reaches 60, pull back a bit, stop, and stay still.

Golden.

Now reaching peak altitude, I took a moment to look out the window and take in the view of the beach, the neighborhood houses, and the open sky ahead. I smiled–a big wide grin like the cheshire cat. I was flying a plane–I was really flying a plane. It was a symbol of something much larger though for me. I was really making things happen. I AM making things happen–and that’s what this year is all about: No fear. No looking back. No hesitation. I was–and still am–on top of the world.

______________________________________________________________________
Global Aviation Corp.
http://www.learn2flyny.com
http://www.globalaviationcorp.net
Support Global Aviation Corp. by heading to
www.missionsmallbusiness.com ,
searching for Global Aviation Corp. and clicking Support!

The Hobby Hoarder Aims, Shoots, Fires: Shooting Range

Posted on

Inhale. Exhale. Aim. Shoot. Fire. Inhale. Exhale. Do again.

The last time, and only time I shot a gun, I was on a camping trip with my sixth grade boyfriend at the time. His father, his brother, he and several other men were excited to head out to middle of the woods at a deserted camp site and shoot guns. As a guest, I went along for the ride, believing I wouldn’t have to touch a gun.

Half-way through their target practice, the older–very good looking–brother handed me a gun–a pistol–and said here–aim at the target and shoot. Nervously, I took the gun. I shot, and I fired. Shaking, I handed the gun back to the older brother of my then boyfriend and said, “Not for me–not again–this is scary.”

I believed that my first time pulling a trigger would be my last time. But as the hobby project came into play, I decided that learning how to shoot a gun–for real–and safely–would be interesting and useful–in case of an absolute emergency. You see as an avid Law and Order SVU watcher–as well as action movie fan, I have always predicted that I’d be the girl to try to shoot the gun and discover very quickly that the safety was still on. In real life–this could be the difference between my living and my dying (in worse scenario–of course). The lesson at the West Side Rifle & Pistol Range served as the perfect educational model for learning to use a gun.

Two of my friends joined me, and we anxiously awaited our instructor on the day of our lesson. As our teacher described the parts of the gun, my palms began to sweat more and more. “I was really going to pick up a gun again.” As he told us that we needed to find out which eye was our dominant eye, I stared at him, and attempted to mimmick him…He laughed. “You are doing it wrong.”

I began to shake a bit more. “If I can’t get the parts right where we don’t hold a gun…How will this guy ever trust me pulling a trigger?”

But he did…and I shot-I aimed-I fired–safely–fifty times. Looking a bit nerdy too:

Thank goodness, I didn’t shoot my eye out.

West Side Rifle & Pistol Range
20 West 20th Street
Manhattan, NY


%d bloggers like this: