Long story short:

It was almost four years ago.  I was on tour with American Aquarium.  We were playing a show at The Evening Muse in Charlotte, NC, with Jeremy Fisher and the North Labrea All-Star Conquistadors (to be specific). I was turning 20 at midnight.

(photo from that night)

I was sitting at the merch table, blogging away (writing this one, actually), and I check my MySpace inbox to find a message from a Brandi Price – my older sister. At this point, I’d never heard anything about a sister. Needless to say, this came as a little surprise.

My dad had died a few weeks ago, and apparently in the sorting through of his estate it was discovered that he in fact had another child. The estate lawyer contacted her and provided her with information that eventually led to her finding me on MySpace. She unfortunately never met my dad, and had no idea who he was until receiving the news that he was dead.

All of this was a bit emotionally taxing, if you will, but man, it’s an exciting feeling to discover you have another sibling! Interacting with her was amazing – she has an eerily similar sense of humor and even writing style to me – I sometimes felt like I was writing to myself. Genetics at work, I suppose.

Brandi and I obviously had a lot of catching up to do. The next six months were filled with long letters back and forth, ranging from lining up our pasts to talking about boyfriends. It was awesome. And then… she disappeared. Her messages stopped coming, and eventually she deleted her MySpace account completely, without a word.

I’ve spent the last two and some years incessantly searching the depths of the internet for her (how can someone related to me be so hard to find online?), I had pretty much given up on finding her again.

Then, Saturday morning, I check my inbox to see an email from Brandi Price.

Guess what? She lives an hour and a half from San Francisco, and we’re grabbing a drink on Friday. I finally get to meet my freaking sister.

23 years late, but it’ll do.

Seriously guys, I’ve been wanting a new site forever. The other one looked fine and all, but it was extremely limiting in a variety of ways:

1) I couldn’t post a blog without a photo to accompany it. That’s silly. What if I just want to post a word or two (like this post, for instance)?
2) With the old design you could only browse one post at a time, and in a way, this made me feel like every post I made had to be some epic production. Maybe this was possible when I was touring or traveling, but these days, not so much. I now need something better suited to casual scrolling.
3) I had no leeway with the design. I couldn’t add a sidebar, nothing. Also silly.
4) It was a free WordPress template that anyone could copy and use for themselves. I’d rather have something a bit different.

So I’ve slowly been working on this new design, on and off, for probably 10 months now. I would have loved for it to happen sooner, but I am teaching myself HTML and CSS as I go, and that, in combination with being busy with life in general, made the learning/researching/coding an exhausting and timely process. I still have a ton of kinks to work out, but I think it’s ready enough to make live and just go with it until I read some more tutorials and stare at the code long enough to figure it out (or until I get a headache and back off again).

ALSO – I’ve gone back and added a ton of epic old stories from touring and traveling – I had never posted them online other than in my old email list and on my MySpace blog (throwback). Feel free to browse through them by clicking on “travel stories” or “tour stories.”

Again, YAY! Happy 2011.

xo,
hp

My life has been hella busy for the last few months. I have a bad habit of devoting way too much time to productive activity, and I have spread myself a bit thin. I had to put my standard activities on hold for a while – things like creative elaborate photo blogs. Or taking photos to put in said photo blogs.

However, I did find a new activity that seemed to be a perfect fit for my new change in lifestyle: taking iPhone photos and microblogging.

I’ve been taking iPhone photos for a while, but recently became obsessed with it. There is something so appealing about being able to whip a camera out of your pocket and discreetly shoot whatever is right in front of you. I’m also really into the lo-fi quality of the photos I create with said camera.

I created a Tumblr a few months ago to have a place to put these photos (I don’t think this blog is the right place for them), but didn’t really use it. Then I figured out how to upload straight from my phone in real time, and all of a sudden I’m Tumblr-blogging like a madwoman.

So if you want to know what I’ve been up to, a good place to check is definitely my Tumblr blog: http://www.helenadagmar.tumblr.com. Twitter‘s a good place to find me as well. You’re welcome to continue checking here too, of course.

I’ve had quite a few significant changes in my life lately. Some good, some…

Well, now is a good time to tell you how I view the world & my life in a nutshell. I’m a storyteller. I live to have epic experiences, then share those experiences. That said, when I began writing publicly (starting with my travel email list in 2007), I started viewing all of my experiences as one of two things: 1) Good. 2) Ironic. (note: there is no “bad.”)

EVERYTHING falls into one of these two categories for me. Both are integral parts of storytelling, or in my perspective, a rich and fulfilling life experience.

I won’t go into a ton of detail over both the epically good and ironic events that have occurred in my life as of late, but here’s one that is particularly relevant right now:

I’m unemployed.

Porto Franco Records & I have parted ways. It’s okay though. I don’t regret a bit of working with them, and I have learned SO much about my preferences for future employment. I’ve now been able to reach out publicly in regard to my job search, and have been BLOWN AWAY at the amount of feedback I’ve received. Within days I have three interviews at three companies I would LOVE to work with, as well as a plethora of other job opportunities, recommendations, and temp work offers. My fears about being homeless have subsided. All seems like it will be well.

On the plus side, I can finally update my blog! Expect lots of old photos to pop up in the near future.

Looking forward to sharing great news with all of you soon.

Love, hp

My close friends Bill and Jessica are getting married. I met Bill while packing a giant van full of instruments, which we were to drive around the country in for the month immediately following. I toured with his band, American Aquarium, for a good portion of 2007 and some of 2008. I can’t even begin to cover the ridiculous adventures we’ve been through together (though I did post some old tour logs on the blog here and here). I met Jessica briefly during that tour, and we became good friends soon after. They have been dating since high school, and it was no surprise to me that they decided to tie the knot. Not one of those… we’ve-been-together-long-enough-so-we-might-as-well kind of things. They really dig each other. It’s pretty neat.

Anyway. I was a bridesmaid for this thing. The only bridesmaid that happens to live not only outside of the greater Raleigh area, but on the opposite side of the country. I was totally out of the loop as far as everything that I needed to do and how this all was going down. But I winged it.

Winging it = Me being the only bridesmaid with black shoes (the rest were wearing red with their red dresses… how logical), black nail polish, and hair down. West coast bridesmaid represent!

The wedding was great. I saw so many old friends, and met some new ones. I ate lots of glorious buffet food and danced around the top of the Clarion, Raleigh’s signature cylindrical hotel with a bar at the top.

I didn’t take many photos, as I was a bridesmaid, not the photographer. But I managed to snag a few.

I definitely planned on going out with the wedding crowd post-reception, but I ended up passing out instantly upon Logan’s couch and waking up 15 hours later.

END!

I am not pleased.

I have been selling photos through my ridiculously cheap Etsy photosale (it ends Friday, so you should buy a print before then!), and today was get-photos-printed-and-mail-them day. I usually go to Wolf/Ritz Camera in Raleigh to get my prints for my Etsy sales, but as I am in New Bern, I am left with Target, Wal-Mart, and 1/2 Hour Photo. I chose the latter, as it is closest to my house and I can avoid distractions such as clothes or food or shoes or home accessories.

So I talk to the man who appears to be the owner. I tell him I need five 8″ x 12″ prints, and one 16″ x 9″ print. Nothing more. I hand him a disk of my images. Nothing needs to be done to them. Just hit print.

He checks me out, swipes my card, I sign and head on my way. It’s not until I am in my car that it hits me: he just charged me 90 dollars for my photos. I clearly saw the amount he swiped me for when I was inside, but didn’t take a minute and do the math until I got outside. $90 for six photos.

For some printing, this is totally reasonable. However, this is for my ridiculously cheap Etsy photo sale. I want standard printing. Standard printing that usually costs me less than half of what he just charged me.

So I turn around and head back to the store, arriving a few minutes later.

Elderly customer is currently speaking to 1/2 Hour Photo Man about how he feels he was drastically overpriced for a photo restoration. Fancy that. I let them work it out.

My turn. I tell 1/2 Hour Photo Man that I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to cancel my order. PhotoMan says that he has already started working on the project. I ask what work he could have done. He says that there already three of the six photos in queue to be printed, and there’s nothing he can do to change that.

He ends up only charging me for $50 for the three photos he was “already working on.” I ask him if this is the standard printing price for his photos. He says that it’s the pricing for high-quality printing. I explain that I am working on a low-budget project and did not say I wanted high-quality printing prices, and usually pay half of this cost for the same printing. He says… sorry.

So I pay, and ask him when I should come pick the photos up. He says 3:00 tomorrow. I leave.

I’m driving home. Still thinking about what has just happened.

- If the photos are in queue and won’t be ready until 3:00 TOMORROW (at 1/2 Hour Photo, mind you), how was it impossible for him to cancel the order? Since when do printers not have a cancel button?

I am feeling like I got got, for lack of a better word. I get home, look up the phone number, and I, possibly the most laid back and non-confrontational person on the planet, call 1/2 Hour Photo and get saucy.

Photoman answers.

I ask him if he can explain to me why, if my photos are in queue and won’t be ready for another 24 hours, they can’t be cancelled.

Photoman stutters.

Photoman says that they are printing, and that’s why they can’t be cancelled.

I then ask Photoman why he has charged me $13 for an 8″ x 12″ when an 8″ x 10″ is $7. That’s almost double the price for not-double the photo.

Photoman explains that an 8″ x 12″ is a bigger size than an 8″ x 10″ (yes I am aware), and that the 8″ x 10″ is $9 anyway.

I explain to him that his online prices indicate otherwise.

Photoman begins rambling.

I tell Photoman that this experience is not settling well with me and I am extremely disappointed in how this has turned out.

Photoman tells me….. sorry.

I ask if I still need to wait until 3 tomorrow to pick up my photos.

He says yes.

So. Yeah, I definitely should have thought about it and said something when I saw what he initially charged me. Regardless, this scenario should not have played out this way. Now, after printing and mailing these three photos, I will have spent $60, the total price that I was paid for these photos. So I’ve lost revenue from three photo sales. And that makes me unhappy.

And I’m still sitting here at my computer, wondering how on earth three photos that are “currently printing” won’t be ready until 3 PM tomorrow. All three are printing? Right now? For the next 24 hours? None of them could be canceled?

I hope your new $50 was worth it, 1/2 Hour Photo Man.

[I'll have a happier post coming your way later!]

I’m starting my MFA program at the Academy of Art in San Francisco in September.  These are the photos that got me into grad school.  

A very random assortment of photos, with disregard to any particular time or location.

I have always seen language as a primary means of illustrating and translating thought.

I myself am not multilingual. I probably should be, being half-Norwegian, but I have only dabbled a bit in the Spanish, French, and Italian languages, only enough to learn and forget the basic mechanics fairly quickly. Despite this lack of exposure, I did have enough to form a hunch that differences in one’s language of origin have a distinct effect on an individual’s psyche.

I first got the idea from my mother. She moved to America from Norway 25 years ago, and is now completely fluent in English. She has explained to me that ever since she has adopted the English language, it is difficult for her to go back and express herself in Norwegian, simply because there are not parallel words in Norwegian to express the thoughts she wants to convey. There just aren’t as many Norwegian words as English words, and my mom now finds herself restrained when trying to communicate with her family, yet before she moved to America, she had no way of anticipating these linguistic differences.

I can be hard for many people to comprehend the fact that many words don’t directly translate between languages, but I had a feeling that there are many languages that contain words to identify ideas that other languages have no term for. What if there are certain words in our language, which define and relate to concepts that other regions haven’t even begun to fathom, and therefore can’t actually be recognized and translated into concrete thought, and vice versa?

Okay let me try and break that down. Not even an hour after I tried to explain this to someone, I stumbled upon a concrete example in my psych textbook — “East Asian languages have no term meant to capture the idea of feeling good about oneself.”

This is kind of a big deal. I checked it out a bit further. It has much to do with the social differences between East-Asian and Western cultures. East Asia has a distinctly interdependent culture, a culture in which individuals tend to identify themselves as part of a collective, rather than as an individual. They have relatively little personal control over their lives, but do not seem to mind or really know the difference. Western cultures, on the other hand, are more independent. People tend to think of themselves as distinct social entities, tied to each other by voluntary bonds, but still essentially separate from other people. In independent cultures, it makes sense to speak of having preferences, beliefs, and abilities that are characteristic of an individual across social situations. In interdependent cultures, on the other hand, you are literally a different person depending on whom you are interacting with. Naturally, this should have an effect on your interpretation and understanding of your existence and its characteristics. Furthermore, if East-Asians do not identify themselves with constant attributes, then the idea of having a sense of self-esteem, an overall positive or negative evaluation of these attributes, does seem a bit farfetched.

Anyway. I hope that made some sense. So do certain languages not possess a particular term becasue they haven’t recognized the concept, or do they not recognize the concept because there is no term to describe it? I think both contribute to each other. Those born into a particular language will develop thought processes that parallel that language. You think in your language of origin. My mom speaks nothing but English except a few times a year when she communicates with family, but she still thinks primarily in Norwegian. Most of us think in English. We use our language to interpret our experiences, and a difference in language may result in a difference of interpretation. If this holds true, that may mean that our personality and logic may have been completely different had we been born in a different region. That’s some crazy shit.

On the other hand, new words are created through new experiences, and as cultures continue to influence each other, languages are influenced as well. For instance, the Japanese have now adopted a term for self-esteem, but it is simply borrowed from the English language — “serefu esuttimu.”

So this idea is nowhere near being concrete. It’s just something I’ve been pondering from time to time when I get bored. If you have thoughts, I’d like to hear them.

[NOTE: I turned a slightly more politically correct form of this as my psychology paper, and it was returned to me with a big fat ZERO, and a note saying "did not follow instructions/topic." I contacted the professor, and he allowed me the chance to resubmit. So I did what the rest of the class did... wrote up a quick one-pager about how their ex-boyfriend or girlfriend did (insert shitty behavior here) and how it demonstrates (insert blatantly obvious social psychology theory here). I got an A.]