Author Archives: joe bielawa

15 Years

Again, another space of time has occurred since I have blogged…no excuses…just a space of time.

Oddly, fifteen years ago today, at 98 pounds, spiritually, emotionally, physically and financially bankrupt, I entered a drug rehab facility for the first time to address my crystal meth addiction. Kind of a funny phrase, actually: “to address my meth addcition”. I suppose I addressed it every time I got a bindle, loaded a pipe and put it my mouth to inhale. I guess the correct term should be I entered rehab to try and find a way to get clean and not use drugs.

Also oddly, I had a sober using dream night before last. And by “sober using” I mean a dream in which everything is ready to go, except for one component, the mirror breaks, the lighter won’t light, the pipe won’t draw, or breaks, or as was the case night before last: I couldn’t get the drug off the mirror into the pipe and when I did, I cooked it so fast it just blackened the pipe. And as is always the case, I feel such of frustration, and then I awake and realize it was just a dream…and I am relieved.

Many things have changed in last 15 years…I have been clean off meth for 8.5 years, but just celebrated my actual clean date five days ago because I used the marijuana maintenance plan for 18 months to ease my self off the narcotics. Not really a practice I would suggest. In a way, all that I once was then is certainly gone…but yet I am still that man. I am some of my past, not the sum of my past.

Things are well in my life. I deal with life on life’s terms.

However, today. I am feeling an overwhelming sense of sadness, yet I know it is temporary. Just got home after viewing “Hungarian Rhapsody – Queen LIVE in Budapest”. And it affected me so. Don’t know if it was the song “Friends Will Be Friends” or seeing Freddie Mercury in all his prime or what.

But this is what recovery brings to me. I get to feel my emotions…even if I don’t understand them and don’t have to knock back what I am feeling with drugs or alcohol.

Life is such a great adventure…with it’s ebb and flow of accomplishment and downfall. I am not so sure if I hadn’t altered the course I was on 15 years ago that I would be here today, yammering on this blog.

I will try to keep up with this yammering on….

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The Great Minnesota Get Together

It’s Minnesota State Fair time!!!

And that means, at least for me, great photo ops, food and people watching.

This year has a different spin on it as I am covering the 12-day event for the media company I work for; and the main coverage is of the Grandstand musical events. I was slated to cover half of the events, but so far two of the artists have declined photo passes.

Anita Baker declined all media, so it is an “off” day.

The Fairgrounds are located in Falcon Heights MN, just north of St. Paul and are a convenient 20 minute bus ride away from downtown Minneapolis, which to me is the easy way to get out there…no hassle over driving or parking. Although there are some colorful people on the bus ride home late in the evening.

Opening Day – 8/23

My nephew is moving to Denver, so we decided that as a last hurrah before he leaves, we would spend the day out at the Fair. This was fun for me because he played my mule and carried my gear bag as I had my cameras hanging around me neck. I was able to get some good crowd shots. We sampled some fair food, along with my Fair two staples: a pork chop and a stick and a turkey leg.

Scarfing a pork chop on a stick

Scarfing a Turkey Leg

I heard of a new food being offered this year at the Holy Land Deli. The Middle Eastern delicacy, Lamb Fries, which are deep–fried lamb testicles.

I had to sample some just for fact of saying I ate lamb balls and they weren’t BAAAAD.

Nephew and I shared a batch and they were quite tasty. I was expecting something like the consistency of chicken gizzards, kind of chewy. But the fries were more like liver, both in consistency and flavor. I enjoyed them. Somehow, I don’t think nephew really enjoyed them as much as I.

Here is the image of nephew as he gets his first taste:

We wandered around the Fair Grounds awhile and as is the case when I spend time with him, I always manage to display a trait of crazy Uncle and/or old man buffoon. And I don’t mind. To me the richness of my life is the zaniness that seems to surround me. Of course these moments of “DOH!ness” tend to result in galls of laughter. Kind of like being on acid, without all the strychnine.

At one point nephew stated “This was the best way to spend my last day in the Twin Cities” (Awww!) I patted him on the back and said I feel the same way.

The full set of Opening Day can be viewed here:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/joebielawa/sets/72157631215033724/

Day 2 – 8.24 – Alan Jackson

This was my first gig at the Grandstand utilizing a new media representative. I barely made it in the Main Gate of the Fairgrounds at the time I was to meet my contact to get my photo credentials.

A little nervous, I called her cell number listed an email and let her know I was in route, but might be a few minutes late. Never having met nor talked with me, after I babbled nervously telling her my tale, she said to me: “Joe. Honey. BREATHE! Relax. I haven’t left the front office yet, so you have time.”

I chuckled to myself, that here was someone I had yet to meet and she already knew the tactics to slow me down. Ok, so I can be a hyper Joey sometimes.

I arrived at the meeting spot by the Grandstand and there were a couple other photographers I had worked other events with before. companies.

When the media contact arrived and I introduced myself to her, she smiled, placed her hands at each side in a meditative stance and said “BREATHE IN and exhale” I d followed her lead an did, then clasped my hands in front of my chest and bowed and uttered “Namaste”

And I though: how cool is this? Media contact/mood mellower.

The Opening Act was Jamey Johnson and he just kind stood there stoically, sang and played guitar. Almost had an aura of not wanting to be there.

Jamey Johnson

Jamey Johnson

The full set of Jamey Johnson can be viewed here:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/joebielawa/sets/72157631232009894/

We left the pit and went outside the venue while Jamey finished his set, then it was back inside to the pit to get ready for Alan Jackson.

The mood had changed: it was a little darker as the sun had set. The energy of the crowd seemed revved up. It was a party atmosphere. I took my place a little of center stage to the left.

Fans began to stand up against the railing of the pit.

All lights went dark, crowd goes wild, a video begins to play on the monitors. Crowd gets crazier, monitors go dark the band takes the stage, lights go up and Alan Jackson walks on stage.



This is the second time I have shot a country act. Not really a country music fan as in I don’t listen to it much, if at all.

For me, this was a test to see if I could produce quality work with no emotional attachment to the music. Usually I am shooting bands I know, but these State Fair gigs are completely different.

I enjoyed my time shooting. Alan would toss guitar picks out into the crowd some would bounce off peoples hands and land on the floor of the pit. I would pick up the guitar pick and hand to one of the screaming fans. I had no emotional tie to it, but their face just lit up as I pressed the pick into their hand.

Both artists had a two song cap, so within 15- 20 minutes it was over and we left the pit and the deal was done as the concert got underway.

The full set of Alan Jackson can be viewed here:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/joebielawa/sets/72157631232192756/

Day 3- 8.24- Blake Shelton

After my kerfuffle the night before, I allowed more time to get to the thru bus traffic, the fair crowds and made my way to the Grandstand about 30 minutes early.

Tonight’s shooting would be done from the soundboard, a ways back from the stage. I positioned my self on a concrete road barrier that was in place to hold down the canopy over the soundboard. I used a 70 – 200mm, with a 2x tele-convertor mounted on a tripod. It was somewhat of a cramped space and I had to contort my body to shoot from this angle.

The opening act was Sunny Sweeney.

The full set of Sunny Sweeney can be viewed here:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/joebielawa/sets/72157631247665604/

As it was as the night before, we were led out after the first three songs to wait for Sunny to finish her set and Blake Shelton to take the stage.

I repositioned my self on the same concrete barrier and it might have been to my disadvantage. They were using a lot of back lighting and I had a big ole spot right next to Blake’s head glaring into my lens. These images wouldn’t have the caliber that the previous nights did.

View from the sound board.


The full set of Blake Shelton can be viewed here:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/joebielawa/sets/72157631247896458/

After the show I wandered around the Midway doing time-exposures. As the fireworks started to erupt, I knew it was time to head out, so I grabbed smoked turkey leg to go and a pork chop on a stick to scarf on the way to the bus.


One thing I have noticed in the last couple of nights as I am up late editing and uploading. I see how I fell into the delusional thinking of “needing” narcotics to assist me staying up all night to get everything done.

Shooting shows like this is somewhat of an emotional high and I am still flying on adrenaline when I get home. I am a little bugged eyed and groggy buy the time the deal is done a few hours later and the next day, I feel as if I got hit by a truck! UGH. How I would feel if a little drink or drug was thrown into the mix.

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Who’s in my Head…

Ever since my ticket purchase last week for THE WHO’S QUADROPHENIA – LIVE this upcoming November, Who tunes have been running thru my head.

On July 24th, I saw the single night showing of the movie QUADROPHENIA – CAN YOU SEE THE REAL ME? at a theatre in the West End, Minneapolis, which just made me understand Quadrophenia even more.

From the first time I saw Quadrophenia, I could totally indentify with the main character, Jimmy Cooper. I didn’t realize that he was portraying someone who was quad-polar or “quadrophrenic,” with the four polarities being a trait of each member of The Who ruling Jimmy’s mind at different times.

Jimmy. I have always loved that name… maybe because it was the name of my first real childhood friend. Or maybe because it was the name of a very significant friend in early adulthood. …well, the latter was a Jim, but with the boyish nature of our relationship, to me, he will always be a Jimmy.

Jimmy Cooper was kind of a fucked up lad, (weren’t we all?) trying to find where he belonged, trying to become his own man, yet just in a whirlwind; being pulled by these emotions and energies; loves and hates, looking up to false heroes, crashing down hard as the heroes were revealed as their true selves. And of course, masking all of it with alcohol and drugs; yearning for love, but acting out with empty sexual encounters.

Jimmy moves through a series of jobs, travels, friends, destroying what he loves most, his Vespa; becomes disenchanted with his Mod lifestyle, his drug use escalates, bringing him close to death, where he has an epiphany and he sees through all the personalities, the “real him.”

I thought Quadrophenia had something to do with it being recorded in quadraphonic sound.

My life has been wrought with different (yet, in a way, the same) insanities throughout my existence and for years I self medicated through drugs, alcohol and sex. Some of these mental warbles were inherited, while others were developed, self-imposed. Although at times it has been a struggle and brought some heartache…the mental storms have never been enough to warrant serious prescribed medication.

It is only by maintaining a clean and sober life that I have begun to understand this.

In early recovery, medical professionals were quick to give me (as they do most entering a rehab facility) the textbook, quick-fix label of bipolar-manic-depressive – which oddly enough are the same symptoms of an active crystal methamphetamine addict. I refused to start taking any medication until I was off all drugs for a year and my brain and body detoxed from the crystal meth and other substances. Sure enough, the traits that they first labeled me with diminished as I maintained a drug -free lifestyle and they withdrew their early diagnosis and chemical plan.

My life has always been cyclical…ruled by, I believe, astrology..the placement of the planets and their orbit in the universe. I seem to experince certain highs and lows over the course of the year in various seasons and certainly lunar. Usually in patterns against the norm; I am depressed in the early and mid- summer, at peace and more active in the early and mid-winter. Spring and fall are always periods of change for me. Full moons usually bring calm.

For over 30 years, events always happened in two-year patterns.

Before getting clean (off drugs), the spring and fall would always be time of upheaval and major change; either with dramatic cross-country moves; people leaving or coming into my life, major employment changes. Since maintaining clean time, changes have been (seem to be) minor things, but important nonetheless, just not as devastating, dramatic or carrying such severe consquences.

I joke at times that life seems somewhat dull for I haven’t been assaulted, evicted, incarcerated or had employment terminated in years. With clean time comes stability.

I am just exiting a low or depression and actually felt a change in my being with the passing of the last full moon three days ago. Up until that full lunar, I was sleeping a lot, lacked motivation, eating empty calorie junk food, not working out and was under frequent advisement of my shitty committee… those little nagging voices that seem to criticize existence. In the drug days, I would try to silence the shitty committee with use or just act impulsively, thinking my rash decisions were based in a solid healthy, thinking pattern, which in an active drug psychosis, made perfect sense.

I spent my early years in recovery at 12 step meetings and on a shrink’s couch under the delusion that by maintaining clean time, this shitty committee would go away and the nagging negativity that drove me to use drugs would disappear. I finally came to the understanding that no, these things do not disappear, they diminish. I have just learned by maintaining clean time to how to handle them…to recognize them.

At least this how it has been with me…I can’t speak for all in recovery. I can be honest enough to say this: There is still the nagging voice; I just try not to feed into it as much or let it control my life.

And through the years and the, um, phases I have gone thru …I have seen the real me. It just it has taken time to fully realize who that is and embrace it for who I am.

Only love
Can make it rain
The way the beach is kissed by the sea.
Only love
Can make it rain
Like the sweat of lovers’
Laying in the fields.

Love, reign o’er me.
Love, reign o’er me, rain on me.

Only love
Can bring the rain
That makes you yearn to the sky.
Only love
Can bring the rain
That falls like tears from on high.

Love Reign O’er me.

On the dry and dusty road
The nights we spend apart alone
I need to get back home to cool cool rain.
The nights are hot and black as ink
I can’t sleep and I lay and I think
Oh God, I need a drink of cool cool rain.

~ Peter Townshend

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Freedom from Pants Ride VI – July 4, 2012

Last year alittle before the 4th, I discovered the Freedom from Pants Ride on Flickr and was kind of amazed that it was an actual organized ride here in Minneapolis. I usually ride my bike in a certain stage of undress (shirtless), but haven’t ridden pantless since my time in the desert of Southern California. I didn’t muster the bolas to participate last year, but set my sights on this year. I just wanted to enjoy the ride, so I left my Nikon at home and just brought along my little Olympus point and shoot.

THE MEET UP…..at 6:10pm it was 99 degrees, I head to the Soap Factory in SE Minneapolis. I arrived about 40 minutes before the 7pm start time and there were about 40 people gathered, almost all were in their underwear. I got off my bike, took off my shirt, and dropped trou and thought ” ok, I’ll just stand around here in my undies and wait for this thing to start” as I snapped my fingers and slapped my right fist into my left hand once….what do you when you’re nervous and have no pockets to burrow you hands into? or for that matter: NO PANTS!

Here are some pics of folks waiting around for the start:


Everyone was real friendly, and I chatted with a few people. There were beers and drinks flowing, I had my water bottle for comfort/security. I mingled around getting to know people. For most, like me, it was their first ride and others had been doing the ride for the whole six years. I idled the time away introducing my self to the folks who were milling around me. One guy mentioned that the few people who where there clothed looked odd in comparison to everyone else who was in their underwear. I chuckled at this, because it was quite true

Here is what it looked like as the start time approached:

The call went out to mount up and everyone started to hoot, whoop and holler as we slowly made our way onto 2nd Street SE and towards the Stone Arch Bridge. As we passed Pillsbury Park, then across the Stone Arch Bridge people began cheering us on, others exclaiming ” What the HELL?” and kids would point and say “They’re in the UNDERWEAR!!” I was immediately at ease and knew I had found my tribe for the night.

As we passed the pavilion on the south side of the Stone Arch Bridge, the guy singing in the band that was playing said right in middle of the song,”oh, WOW! They’re all in their underwear”

When we got onto Washington Ave, we took up the entire northbound lane and we just kept moving, a parade of bikes, thru the red light as individual units of the parade would stop/block traffic and let us thru the intersection.

With the 300+ riders, the entourage lasted easily 6 or eight blocks long, just a mass of bikes with scantily dressed riders moving thru the city.

As we went along Nicollet Mall, the older folks would scowl at us, but for the most part people where cheering and taking pictures. A guy opened his pants, and flashed his underwear. Women would lift their shirts and flash their bras. Punks would run out in the street and slap some ass.

When we would see other bikers not in our entourage we would yell “take off your pants and join us!!” Most would say “thanks no” others would hesitate, then get off their bikes, pull their clothes off and join us in their underwear.

As whole we began to chant “NO MORE PANTS! NO MORE PANTS” when that died down individual chants would go out. Mine was like a beer seller shouting his wares at a ballpark in a deep bellowing: “FREEEDOOOOOM FROOOM PAAAAANTS!” Others were shouting “take off your pants” or “you can take my pants, but you can’t take my freedom”

The mood was so jovial, upbeat and fun..it was just a riot to be part of this mass of moving exhibitionism.

Here is a shot looking back down Nicollet as we stopped at Franklin Ave and the bikes go for blocks:

As I had to learn the hard way in the past: drunkenness and biking are NOT a good mix. There were some wipe outs, it was inevitable with so many people on bikes, a few liquored up and most not paying that close attention. I almost collided with a couple of different bikes as I was checking out the “scenery” and not watching who was close by until tires rubbed or bikes clanked.

THE FIRST REST STOP occurred at Stevens Square Park. Just by biking at slow pace, I kept to the front of the pack and it was cool to see throngs (thongs??) of people come biking into the park, dismounting and hanging around. Just a sea of people in their undies, outside in a park, just as natural as can be.

Here are some shots of the First Stop:

Everyone jut started milling around, a couple of the riders, one on a Surly Big Dummy and another with a trailer had tunes blaring. Some started to gyrate to the music; a couple of guys with super soaker squirt guns began to move in circles around people, soaking them. I got hit dead center in the chest, then smack in the ass. Girls where doing yoga, and handstands, a guy and a girl where competing in some sort of yoga stance, smokes where burned, beers were cracked.

I chatted with a guy who told me the story of his incredible never-ending absolutely shitty day, but he exclaimed, the highlight that ended his incredible never-ending absolutely shitty day was as we passed him riding his bike, some yelled at him “Take off you pants and join us” so he did.

I chatted with another dude who had a decent DSLR with him…and I could see now there were a few other cameras around. We talked “shop” for awhile. I thought ‘I should have brought biz cards’, then realized pulling a card out of my underwear to give to someone probably wasn’t the best move. I surrendered and remembered I was just here to enjoy the ride.

The call to mount up and “pick up your shit” (trash) was yelled. And the mass of near-naked people made their way out of the Park, through the city towards Lake Calhoun. We again took up the entire lane of traffic or the entire street if it was a one way, chanting “NO MORE PANTS” whooping and hollering as we rode. People still cheered us on, most had the cell phones going filming the undie hooliganism. And only in Minnesota, cars were pulling off to the side to let us pass. LA, Chicago or NYC, I doubt they would have stopped traffic for a bunch of freaks in their undies riding bikes…

As we approached Lagoon and East Calhoun Parkway, there were two Minneapolis Bike Cops on the street at the corner waiting for the light to change. The bike mass stopped at the red and we all began to point and chant at the cops “NO MORE PANTS!! NO MORE PANTS!!” The cops just laughed and shook their heads. One pulled out his cell phone and started filming as we continued to chant. The other cop mouthed “No Way” as his smiled and continued to shake his head.

We got to the Lake Calhoun Beach as the sun was setting. People dismounted and things got a little “jiggly” as some women and men stripped down and went skinny-dipping. I wasn’t quite really to let it all hang out…not on this first ride, anyway.

Although they’re kind of dark, here are a couple of shots from he Calhoun Stop:

After a few minutes of swimming, there was a call for the group photo. We all gathered on the beach and the photogs climbed up on the life guard station for the shot.

A 20 something couple were standing close by watching and the guy says
“I wanna be in this picture, but I can’t.”
I said “why not?’
He replied “duh” and tugged on his shorts.
I said “well, take ’em off”
“ok” he said and kicked off his shoes and pulled off his shorts. His girlfriend looked at me and said kinda snappy “Thanks alot” I laughed and said “Well, it didn’t take much” and she smiled at me.

After the the group photo, the ringleader made the call to mount up and to “don’t leave shit” meaning again the trash. A dude close to me got a puzzled look on his face and asked me “Did he just say don’t eat shit?!?” I roared with laughter and said ‘no, man he said don’t LEAVE shit’ The guy laughed and said “I couldn’t figure why he would tell me not to eat shit, I mean you know.”

We mounted up and began to make our way over to Powderhorn Park to watch fireworks. Some of the jiggly continued as a few female rides didn’t put their bras back on and two male riders began the trek naked…except one had a baseball cap on so, you know, he wasn’t TOTALLY naked.

We made our way through Uptown, along Lake Street to Lyndale, down Lyndale to 32nd, then onto Powderhorn Park. I was standing up on my pedals at one intersection and a group of guys in a yard where hollering at us. I yelled at them to drop trou and one yelled back ” Nice panties Bro! Way to represent” I yelled “they’re not panties” and he said ‘oh, sorry, manties then’ I laughed, he gave me thumbs up, I flashed a Peace sign at him.

Again, I am at the front of the pack as we descend down the hill into Powderhorn Park and it is just the coolest thing to see all these bikes with lights just keep coming over the hill into the Park. By now it is some what dark and as people realize there are about 300 folks in the park in their underwear, some move away…others move closer.

We congregate en mass in the middle of the park. A couple of bikers have some sort of smoke bomb/stick and are circling the pack dousing us with smoke to keep the bugs away. As was with each stop, but now that we are at the “destination” the party relly starts. Suddenly one of the bikes with the music lights up with xmas lights and a disco ball perched high above it illuminated by an LED head light. Little stars seem to dance in circular motion on the ground. A crowd gathers around the xmas tree light-bike-disco ball and it gets funky!

The fireworks are going off all over the park. The main event of the fire works start to boom and end, but this bike party just keeps going. People are doing beer bongs, bottles are being passed. I am in the crowd of underwear dancers enjoying my water, trying to do my best white boy boogie.

CURSES TO THE WORKDAY….I have to go to work in the morning and after my night before at the Ziggy Marley concert, I need call it a night and head home. But I don’t want to…I want to be the carefree one of yesteryear and just stay out until who knows when and go home with who knows who. But…

I put my pants on and start the ride back home, and as I do, I think, yep a new Fourth of July tradition has started tonight. What will I wear next year?

Here is a link to the route recorded by my Garmin:
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/196146595

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The Son of the Prophet-mon.

I just had the extreme pleasure of attending a Ziggy Marley concert at the Minnesota Zoo Amphitheater….in 90+ degree temps with humidity of 70%

He opened with “Let Jah Will Be Done” but when he sang “Conscious Party” and the lyrics of: ” I got no booze to lick dem head. I got no drugs to lick dem head” I just took off.

This was the first time in a LONG time that I rocked out to the reggae beats in such a fashion. 105 minutes of nonstop dancing in the aisles.

My friend Mona Wong accompanied me and she swayed to the music as well.

I used to so groove to this music back in the 1980’s and early ’90’s when I was a pot smoking fool. As the harder drugs came into play the reggae fell away. But there always was a certain spirituality for me in reggae music. I traveled to Jamaica for a couple of years to celebrate Bob Marley’s birthday.

To the Rasta, dancing to music is an expression of the soul and did I get back in touch with that tonight..as if I returned to a ideology that lay dormant…it’s as if something I turned my back on suddenly came roaring back to life.

No, I am not high now. There wasn’t even that much weed smoking going on… one guy sparked and shared it with two of his buddy’s is all I saw. But it was just a weaselly American joint, not the caliber of the true Jamaican sense.

The theme of a universal love has reawakened in me. It makes the most sense to me. World religions don’t preach a love for all..it is believe as we do or be damned to hell. False ideology is what they treach/preach.

He sang a mix of his songs along with a few of his fathers: Is this Love, Could you be Loved, Get Up (Stand Up).

Another launching point for me was when he played ” True to Myself”  WOW!

I am sure in time, I will become sleepy..but for now I am wide awake on one of the purest highs I know…that feeling of connectedness that reggae always gives me.

“I got da reggae in my head, mon!”

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June 2012

It has been a while since I have posted any thing here. So I will give the month a review.

June started out with gaining access to photograph President Obama’s arrival in Minneapolis at MSP International on the first. This as a significant event for me on a number of levels. That I was granted White House clearance to be part of the White House Press Pool was probably greater than photographing the man himself, but that, too is fairly significant.

 Images here:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/joebielawa/sets/72157630004141834/

 On June 3rd, I was at the Xcel Energy Center to photograph Roger Waters perform The Wall-LIVE. This wasn’t really my best work. I feel I choked some and didn’t get the quality images I am capable of; but I still managed to get a few good ones.

 Images here:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/joebielawa/sets/72157630043556606/

 I photographed the Minnesota Lynx five times this month, 4 games and one Season Ticket Holder event. I am becoming recognizable with the team. At the Ticket Season Holder event, I got a chance to talk with Simone Augustus and gave her my card.

 Images can be viewed here:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/joebielawa/sets/72157630073311742/

 http://www.flickr.com/photos/joebielawa/sets/72157630235689700/

 http://www.flickr.com/photos/joebielawa/sets/72157630258411476/

 http://www.flickr.com/photos/joebielawa/sets/72157630344278200/

 I photographed the Minnesota Twins hosting the Chicago White Sox at Target Field. This was the first event where I used a fixed 400mm 2.8f lens. It was massive. It actually brought me in too close for some shots, so I had to move farther away from Home Plate to get a good batting shoot.

 Images here:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/joebielawa/sets/72157630342850716/

 I passed on photographing the Minneapolis/St. Paul Pride events…and avoided the whole event all together.  Sometimes, with Pride I am ‘YAY! These are MY PEOPLE” and at other times  “THESE are my people!?!?!?”  This year it was the latter.

 My Flickr is getting a lot of attention world-wide and I have been approached by a promoter of John Paltatinus European Tour who are seeking to use my imagery that I shot during the opening of his US West Coast show in Palm Springs last Nov.

 The Mojave Land Trust used my Joshua Tree “Midnight Moonlight” image again.

 The New D90 is unlike the old one, which is still in the shop awaiting a part that will arrive supposedly 7/3. It produces the same results, but play back features are different. So the consistency isn’t as I had hoped.

My friend, mentor and old employer, Cy Breen passed away last week, 4 months into his 100th year. I posted about him last February when I was in Palm Springs, CA. What a life he led. I was fortunate to have him in my life for those brief couple of years. He was more a father to me than my own father was. He taught me much and I felt a love for him.

The corporate world— my day job is driving me insane…or I am allowing it to drive me insane. I must practice Zen and the Art of Corporate Existence in the 9-5. But I clearly admit, I create my own struggle. I really have to learn to just let go.

 

 

 

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Photo Clearance for POTUS – June 1, 2012

The media company I am shooting for arranged press clearance for me to photograph the arrival of the President of the Untied States (POTUS) at the Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport on June 1, 2012.

First off, I have to say that the first thing I had to adjust was my lingo: ‘the shoot.’  I shot the Lynx and the Twins on Opening Day, I shot Van Halen, I will be shooting Roger Waters on 6/3/12. The shoot, the right shot, shooting; all terms that are part of my lingo. And I own no guns. So I had to become conscience to use the term ‘photograph the President” and not “shoot the President”

When my editor called me on Weds. 5/30, we discussed which of the two venues would work best for photographing the President, his arrival at the airport or at the venue he would be speaking at. We both agreed the arrival of Air Force One and POTUS deplaning and greeting supporters on the tarmac would have more of a dramatic effect.

The event was closed to the public and I would need to be cleared through the White House Press Pool, which undoubtedly would require a background check. I came clean about my background to my editor and he said “Joe, I don’t think there are many photographers out there WITHOUT some sort of drug charge in their past” This put me at ease, somewhat.

I went thru the process of filing an expungement of my criminal record 6 years ago, but had never really put it to the test. Ten years ago, I could not even get simple employment due to my  drug possession/criminal background.

So I knew, if I was granted White House clearance, which is, obviously on the Federal level, than the expungement was indeed final.

The request was submitted on Weds. afternoon around 2pm, 22 hours ahead of the noon deadline on 6/31.

The morning of the 31st, I was angst because not only was I awaiting word to photograph POTUS, but the real test was if the background clearance would go through.

The deadline was at noon, I called my editor at 12:49 and asked: “Ok, so are we gonna call the White House and see if I was denied or are we just not follow up or what?” The other end of the phone just went silent for a few seconds, which seemed like minutes and then my editor said: ” Dude, it’s been 49 minutes past the deadline. Let’s give them some time., ok?” I laughed, realizing the anxiousness was all mine and said, meekly: “Oh, ok.’

Twenty -one minutes later I received an email from the White House Press Pool informing me that my name was on the list to photograph the arrival of POTUS. The email went on to detail the order of events of the day, what gate at the military base I would enter, and what was needed to gain access.

Now with all this in process, the request submitted to my editor and then to the White House, the prestige of the shoot; there was just one small detail. I didn’t have a camera to shoot with.

I had ordered my back-up camera, a new Nikon D90 on Tuesday 5/29, with two day delivery.

I went ahead and reserved a telephoto lens and a 2x convertor from my photo resource, West Photo in SE Minneapolis.

So the angst of being granted clearance had passed, but now it was replaced with if the camera would arrive in time.

With 9 minutes left in the delivery day, UPS showed with my new Nikon.

The morning of the shoot I went into a coffee shop to get a mocha and the twenty-something baristas were all in their customer service mode and one of them asked me “It’s going to be a beautiful day today, any big plans?” I laughed and said  “I am heading out to the airport to photograph the arrival of POTUS”

“Who’s that?” one barista asked and the other quipped “Must be a punk rock band”

I laughed and said, “No POTUS is the President of the United States” both barista’s eyes kind of widened and one of them said “That is the coolest” Laughing again, I said “Ya, it kinda is, huh?”

After getting the coffee, I made my way out to the airport and the Minneapolis-St. Paul Air Reserve Station.

At the gate I was given this pass for the dash of the car:

After passing thru the gate, I was escorted to a building within the base next to an area right off the tarmac. I placed my gear bag on the ground for the dogs to sniff for yet another round of security checks. I met with a Secret Service agent and he gave me my badge for the day:

I was then escorted into the lobby of the building where I went thru yet another security check of a hand held metal detector wand. I was then escorted out onto the tarmac to take position on the media platform. Every outlet was represented: StarTribune, St.Paul Pioneer Press, The Minnesota Daily, ABC, CBS, NBC, Fox, AP, UPI, and a couple of other local publications.

Since I was one of the last to arrive, I didn’t have a spot staked out, but this gave me freedom to move around the platform. There was about an hour and a half wait before the estimated arrival time. All of us just kind of mingled, some were working on stories; others, telling them. I found it humorous that I wasn’t the only one adjusting his verbage from “shooting the President” to ‘photographing the President.”

Various Minnesota dignitaries began to appear on the tarmac and the motorcade arrived and took position off to the side.

Sen. Amy Klobuchar, Minneapolis Mayor R.T. Rybak and Congressman Keith Ellison

The time seemed to go fast, and in no time an announcement was made that “All activity on the tarmac was to cease and the airport was shut down” It was kinda wild to see the once busy airport with trucks and vehicles scurrying round and the roar of jets launching suddenly come silent and to a standstill.

A few minutes later, the Secret Service agent who escorted myself and the others to the platform came forward and said “Air Force One would be appearing over the tail of that airplane over there” as he pointed to the south-south east. We all turned and then, out of the clouds a jet appeared, as AF-1 began its descent into Minneapolis.

Air Force One’s wheels smoke as it touches down at MSP International

I had seen Air Fore One once before as it flew over me to land at Palm Springs Airport as I was riding my bike along Ramon Road in Palm Springs, in the mid 1990’s with Bill Clinton on board. The thing is massive and I stopped n my bike to marvel as it touched down at PSP International.

But this was different, as I knew it would taxi right in front of the platform I was standing on, and this time I was positioned to photograph the event.

AF-1 made its way along the tarmac and came to a stop in front of the building we were positioned in front of. The MN dignitaries made their way to the bottom of the stairs that were wheeled up to the door of AF-1. The door was opened and after a few minutes, President Obama appeared and made his way down the staircase and greeted the dignitaries. It would have been nice to hear what was said because when he got to Sen. AL Franken, whatever Franken said had Pres. Obama laughing quite hard.

President Obama exits AF-1

Sen. Al Franken quips something that reduces Pres. Obama to hysterics.

After the greeting the MN dignitaries, the President made his way across the tarmac to the group of supporters who were next to the media platform. Most of the photographers went over to the side of the media platform to shoot down onto the event. This left me with a wide open space at the front of the platform, I sat down and placed my feet on the gate between the platform, tarmac and AF-1 and photographed POTUS from the side.

After meeting with the 30 or so people who had gathered, Pres. Obama waved to the crowd and made his way to the Presidential Limo, got in and the motorcade began to make its way across the tarmac to exit the airport.

I had about a 3.5 hour lag until the second phase, so I left the shooting area, went off base and returned home to upload images to my editor.

I returned out to the base and the second time through went alittle quicker, but it was still the same. As I waited for the dogs to sniff my gear bag I took a call and during it I mentioned I was “out at the airport to shoot the President” when I hung up, a guy in plain clothes with a badge and gun on his belt came up to me and smiled and said
” You were talking about your with your camera right?”

I exclaimed “HOLY CRAP!!  Yes, sir, my apologies, I am here to take pictures of the President’s departure” He smiled and patted me on the back and took me to the metal detector and said “Lets check this guy out.” he smiled and winked at me as the military guard began to wave the metal detector over me. After everything was an all clear, I was escorted back to the media platform.

The media pool had dwindled some, so there was alittle more room to move around.

I had this taken while I waited on the media platform:

It was the same as earlier in the day, but in reverse. This time the announcement was made that the airport was shutting down. And then the head-lights of the motorcade appeared at the west side of the airport.

The Presidential Motorcade arrives at MSP International to depart the Twin Cities

The motorcade made its way across the tarmac and around to the side of the AF-1. President Obama got out of his limo and made his way quickly up the stairs, and at the top, turned and waved to us on the media platform, then went inside of the plane.

It took another ten- fifteen minutes for the media pool traveling with the President to board AF-1. Once the door was closed the engines of AF-1 began to roar. As it taxied away from the media platform and turned onto the tarmac, I was almost blown over by the wind coming off the engines. It was the coolest.

Feeling the thrust of AF-1’s engines

AF-1 made it’s way around the tarmac to the main east-west runway, then began to gain speed and it was wheels up and AF-1 lifted into the sky to the west and then banked to the south and eventually became a speck in the sky.

AF-1 airborne and heading off to Chicago.

This assignment certainly was unlike any other. And it was a lot of fun to do.

The full set of images from the event can be viewed here:

POTUS.DSC_2805.6.1.12
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Book signing with Augusten Burroughs

Tuesday night I went over to the University of Minnesota Bookstore at Coffman Union to listen to Augusten Burroughs read from his new book “THIS IS HOW”

I have read much of his previous work, was amazed by his “RUNNING WITH SCISSORS”, but clearly identified with “DRY” and his experience with rehab. He went thru the same rehab facility as I, a couple of months ahead of me back in 1997. His description of his first night at the place was so spot on, it tripped me out. And I just love his writing style.

THIS IS HOW is probably the last self help book I will ever read, for it clearly has opened my eyes, but more importantly my mind, to so many things. I particularly liked his chapter on suicide versus ending your life and believe that ending ones life is, at times, crucial. Also his chapter on quitting drinking and his take on AA is so right on. It is what I have felt for a few years but didn’t articulate.

This book has helped strengthen my voice.

From the moment he took the stage, I was enthralled with all he said. He read some passages from his book and I was amazed that his reading of his own work was not at all how it was written. It was choppier, didn’t flow at times, but then at others it was smooth and just flowed.

Many times throughout his sharing I just burst out laughing. The guy’s sense of humor, his delivery but most of all, his mind is just amazing…and of course it is all of these things that I so enjoy about his writing.

After about an hour of his sharing and then a question and answer period; which was at times, incredibly enlightening with people questions or down right dreadful with their presumptuousness, he began to sign books.

I had about a 15 minute wait before I got to the table where he was signing.

When I got up to the table, I told him I went thru the same rehab as he a couple of months after him and he exclaimed ‘Oh GOD!” with a pronounced understanding that we shared a mutual hell. I laughed and ran my hand across his back and told him “You were so spot on with how you described that, especially with that damn Fuzzy Wuzzy. And then, your take on meetings in this ( as I pointed to the copy of THIS IS HOW he was signing) is exactly correct. You hit the nail right on the head. Thank you for writing this book.” He looked at me, gave a quick, small smile and said “Thank You” then we turned to the photographer who had my cell phone for this:

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Max Schultz

As is the way with me lately, I received word today that my friend, artist Max Schulz died of a massive heart attack. He was 56..or 58?

Max….

Jeez, what a life he led. I was fortunate to share some of it with him.

I met Max when he was a bartender at Streetbar in Palm Springs, CA in 1991. The bar-tending was the income for him then, but he was producing works of art that where similar to that of Georgia O’Keefe, but in more vibrant colors: Black apples, purple pears, bright blue hibiscus.

As was the way with many of the artists I met in California, our relationship was built around our mutual love of their work. And my photographic ability to capture the piece with (then) film for reproduction to be used for advertising and print.

Ours was the perfect neurotic artistic collaborative. As we would be the closest of friends and then some instant would occur and we would be at each others throats, hurling insults at each other, shredding and humiliating each other publicly only to become the best of friends soon after and just laugh off our latest round of volatility.

He was a gourmet cook and no meal was a simple occasion. His plates were a work of art with the way the food was arranged.

His eyes were the brightest greenish blue, they instantly drew a person in. They were one of his powerful features and I loved to photograph them.

We would travel up from Palm Springs to San Francisco, Guerneville and the Russian River. It was on one of these trips we went to one of his friends farm and I participated in a fall marijuana harvest and it was just an insane time. Too many folks with guns and acute paranoia for my tranquility. But the weed was awesome. And we all climbed up on the roof of the farmhouse to smoke fat joints and watch the sunset over the Pacific.

On a couple of these trips, we would share a bed and Max was an intense snorer. I cannot handle the slightest snoring noise and was getting incredibly irritated as this z-z-z-zonking going on next to me. I decided “fuck this, I am going to sleep in the car” but not before I would pinch Max’s nose closed to just wake him up, as he gasped for air, then let it go and he would gain air and fall back into sleep. I would entertain myself for a few minutes repeating this until I got bored, then got up and went to sleep in the car.

On our travel excursions, Max was always pointing out things for me to shoot, but as it would happen, we would be seeing the same scene, but Max would exclaim as I saw the shot “Joey, LOOK!” “yayaya” I’d snap, “shut up and let me shoot” But I loved how we could be having the same vision in what was a mutual minds eye.

Here is one such image:

Old Woman in the Park, San Francisco, 1993

Max’s flower paintings inspired me to look more closely at the details of a plants & flowers. As he borrowed from O’Keefe, I borrowed from him.

Here are a couple of examples:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/joebielawa/3339150286/in/photostream/

Flower 2

http://www.flickr.com/photos/joebielawa/3339150054/in/photostream/
I am not sure what happened to the one above with the exposure and the scanning, but it is not manipulated in any way. It’s one of those screw ups that just works
.

Flower

I shot Max for the cover of MegaScene, the newsmagazine I worked for shooting cover photographs in Palm Springs in the early-mid 1990’s before the meth began.

Three years ago, I had that image “Warhol-ized” (four colored printed). I gave a copy to Max when I went to visit him. He loved it.

I have so many stories of Max, ones I lived through and ones he shared with me. His life could be one of which movies could be made. It was a crazy artistic driven life with more richness than an ‘average” person could ever experience in 10 lifetimes.

I will have to go into my negative vault and find some images and post them in honor of Max.

He was a very good friend, and he enriched my life, personally, professionally, but most importantly, artistically.

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Pisces the Fish

Probably, one of the most accurate, detailed, concise generalizations (smiles) I have ever read, and the traits of both the Piscean Man and Woman are quite glaring.

Pisces the Fish
February 20th to March 20th

Pisces is a mutable-water sign. Mutable signs have a longing for movement and extremely restless. Pisces is the most watery sign. It is constantly trying to adapt itself to its ever-changing feelings and to the moods and whims of others.

How to recognize Pisces:

Very few of these people can stand being confined for long in one place. You’ll have better luck if you wander into a spiritual séance, visit an art gallery, walk through a convent or a monastery, attend a concert or catch a floor show in a nightclub. You might check at Authors League meeting, drop backstage after a play or try some sunbathing on a yacht.

The chances are you’ll come up with a pretty good catch in any of those streams of life. The more creative and artistic, the more leisurely and esoteric the surroundings, the more fish you’ll find.

Most of them wouldn’t give a minnow for rank, power of leadership, and wealth holds little attraction. Few Pisces people accumulate money by the bushel, unless they marry it or inherit it.

The typical Neptune heart is free of greed. There’s a lack of intensity, almost a carelessness about tomorrow. There’s also an intuitive knowledge of yesterday and a gentle tolerance of today. It’s more common, and it takes less effort, to go with the current wherever it takes them. But to swim upstream is the challenge of Pisces – and the only way she ever finds true peace and happiness. Taking the easy way is a trap for those born under this Sun sign, a glittering bait that entices them, while it hides the dangerous hook and wasted life.

He’s indifferent to most limiting restrictions, if they don’t rob him of his freedom to dream and feel his way through life. Very little will excite him to violent action or reaction. The typical Pisces will normally take the path of least resistance, and the cool waters of Neptune continually wash away his anger. To arouse the fish to a display of temper is rather like tossing a pebble into a clear, mirror-smooth lake. You’ll create some ripples, but the surface wil soon be calm again.

The fish was born with the desire to see the world through rose-colored spectacles. He knows well enough about the seamy side of humanity, but he prefers to live in his own watery, gentle world, where everyone is beautiful and all actions are lovely. The rejected Pisces is to inclined to face the ugliness of failure by deepening his false hopes, when a determined switch of course or some new, forceful action might shower him with real, instead of imaginary, success.

You may have read that the Pisces symbol of two fish, swimming in opposite directions, indicates that the Neptunian is torn by dual desires. It’s not so. The two fish s reversed directions symbolize the choice given Pisces; to swim to the top – or to swim to the bottom and never quite reach his goals. Pisces must learn that he is to serve mankind in some way, and eschew worldly possessions. Piscean Einstein, who swam upstream, formulated a whole new world of relative time. Pisceans who swim downstream serve by washing dishes or shoveling snow.

In spite of their natural timidity, they often become some of the finest performers in the theater. But, only if they fight their distaste for the hard work of grueling rehearsals, and the dullness of the dreary, but necessary years of experience. Memorization is never a problem. The Pisces memory is legendary. Neptunians accept most storms with tranquil equilibrium. When Pisces has a feeling something will happen, it usually does.

Astrologers who speak of an old soul refer to a soul which has gone through many lives, retaining the wisdom of each. Often, they refer to Pisces, because a life as the fish is either the most difficult obligations a soul can choose – or a choice to reach perfect fulfillment.

The Piscean love of music and art, and her highly develop senses and versatility she owes to other signs, but her deep wisdom and compassion belong only to her, culled from the combined knowledge of every human experience.

The fish typically doesn’t take very good care of herself. Chances are she spends most of her excess energy (and she doesn’t have too much to spare) helping relatives in trouble or taking on the burdens of friends. Their trouble can be emotional or financial, but either can be a serious drain on Piscean health, which is rarely robust to begin with.

Humor is one of their secret weapons. Pisceans grin to cover unshed tears. They’re masters of satire and you may cringe from a bright remark thrown at you so casually that you’re unable to pin down the exact meaning or the intent. Sometimes the fun is warm and harmless, sometimes it’s cold and merciless, but it’s always a cover for another emotion the fish wants to hide, seldom spontaneous of itself. Pisces wears his laughs as a mask, and they disguise her well.

To help is her first instinct. The impositions of those who would trample him force the fish to hide his true spirit. Since the depth of Neptune’s waters causes him to absorb every pain and joy as if they were his own, it’s little wonder many Piscean pretend disinterests in hearing sad stories. But, remember that they are pretending. If you’ve been rebuffed once, try twice, and the real fish will surface.

The glorious Piscean imagination, their marvelous elfin humor and the Neptunian sense of beauty can create the most delicate, yet eternally lasting prose and poetry. Indeed, the world couldn’t do without their artistic efforts and their great compassion for a moment.

She hates to answer with a yes or a no. it’s always maybe. Their internal nature is as unfathomable as Neptune’s great oceans. The altruistic fish is filled with an inexhaustible, tender love for every living creature which is truly saint-like, when it’s not turned inward, in self-pity and self-love. Typically Piscean are the gregarious housewives with hearts big enough for the troubles of all the neighbors, and the patient bartenders who listen sympathetically to hundreds of tales of woe each week.

He is stronger than he thinks and wiser than she knows, but Neptune guards this secret until she discovers it for himself.

The Pisces Man
To anyone considering becoming involved with a Pisces man. Here is a message from Shakespeare:

There is a tide in the affairs of men,
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life
Is bound in shallows and in miseries.

If you’re about to fall over the dam for a Neptunian, you should paste those lines on your compact mirror where you can see them every time you powder your nose.

A Pisces man can be everything you want him to be – or everything you don’t want him to be. A tide in his affairs is synonymous with opportunity. It requires a firm decision, determined action, and the ability to drown old, soggy dreams that prevent success. The trouble is that some Pisces men never recognize that tide at its flood, even when it sloshes over their feet.

The Pisces man isn’t weak. It’s just that he may linger too long on a fading, silver star, and miss the bright sunlight of success.

There’s the other kind of Pisces, the one who grabbed the tide at its flood. He’s a real catch for any girl. There’s always the chance he could turn out to be an Einstein or a George Washington, which would be simply wonderful. Pisces who fights his way upstream will have plenty of chance to lay the twin gifts of fame and fortune at your feet.

A Pisces man has no prejudices. He’s very short on cold accusations and very long on warm tolerance. The Neptune male possesses a rare sympathy of spirit. The very fact that he’s sensitive means that he vividly feels the emotions of those who seek his ear and get his heart. Pisces people often have to rest for long periods. The Neptune soul must be alone at times so fresh breezes can blow through to heal the wounds of all those vicarious troubles and bring back calm, undefiled individuality.

Remember that the fish is sensitive and can be easily hurt. His shyness is due to a painful consciousness of his own limitations, whatever they may be, and he feels them keenly. He needs to know that his virtues are counted by someone he admires, You. Never hold back encouragement from him.

He may try Yoga and Zen, or experiment with occult beliefs, and he’ll probably be interested in astrology and numerology, even reincarnation. Like the Scorpio, he was born with an understanding of esoteric principles. And these things are usually good for him. They help keep his emotions stable, and they provide an anchor for his vivid imagination. Pisces men get upset now and then, but their anger is seldom violent or long lasting.

Although he’s difficult to fathom himself, Pisces has no problem in seeing all the subtleties of others clearly. It’s difficult to fool him; he’ll look right through to the other side.

There won’t be many tremendous surges of jealousy. Or if there are, he’s such an excellent natural actor, that he’ll probably pretend them away.

It’s his nature to be gregarious. He can’t help it. He does admire beauty, and he may stare at pretty legs from time to time. But you can keep that in bounds and innocent with a little extra effort and your reward will be a gentle husband who’s both a romantic lover and a companion who can talk about everything under the sun.

Pisces are particularly vulnerable to suggestion. Never tread on this man’s dream – he won’t forgive that, or forget it. Give him a chance to turn them into realities by helping him find a good, firm star to hitch his wagon to one that will sparkle instead of flexing out in an eclipse of common sense.

In love, Pisces is a leaner emotionally, which means he needs boundless reassurance and faith, but it also means you mustn’t lean on him with imaginary complaints.

The Pisces Woman
Even without astrology, rumors have spread about the charms of a Pisces female. She has her negative points, to be sure, but at first glance she’s every man’s grade school valentine, with maybe just a touch of a Playboy bunny to add some pepper.

The Neptune female seldom tries to overshadow her man, married or single. All she wants is that he should protect her and care for her. She’s happily content to lean on his big broad shoulder and let him know, with wide-eyed wonder, how strong he is, and how much she needs him in this scary world.

A Pisces woman thinks her male, lover, boy friend, brother, father – in fact, any man – can lick the whole world with one hand tied behind his back, and it takes a surprisingly small amount of her touching faith to convince them of the same thing, men being the way they are.

She is eternally feminine in all seasons. At the risk of making an understatement, men are drawn to her like bumblebees to a honey pot.

A short conversation with her, and a man instantly relaxes. She makes it clear that she’ll never blame him for any problems in his career or any accidental mistakes. After marriage she may nudge a little. To be truthful, she may nudge a lot. Lots of times she’ll even be bitterly sarcastic, but every woman has to have some flaws.

Since the fish swims in both directions at once, she adapts beautifully and quietly to conflicting situations that would turn other women into nervous breakdown

She is not only subtle; she’s sometimes a bit deceptive when she practices the art of wrapping you around her emerald earrings.

She’s delightfully vague and dreamy. Like the March winds, your Pisces girl will have many a mood. She’s terribly sentimental, and when her feelings are wounded she can cry buckets. Pisces female sometimes get the idea they’re hopelessly unequipped for the fierce battles and driving ambition required to survive. At these times you’ll have to tell her she’s admired for her deep mysterious wisdom and her blessed understanding by every single human she has ever graced with her friendship. It’s usually the gospel truth.

The hardest lesson she has to learn is to overcome her timidity and her doubts. If the fears go deep, she’ll shut herself off from others then wonder why she’s lonely.

Now and then a Pisces girl will cover her shyness and vulnerability with wisecracks, a sophisticated veneer and a frigid independent personality, but it’s merely a cloak of protection, worn to hide her uncertainty from the prying eyes of rough people who would bruise her gentle heart if she exposed it.

There are some things one just doesn’t do, as far as Neptune women are concerned, not acting like a lady in public is one of them.

A Pisces girl will give all of her heart to her children. Female fish are the greatest women in the world for understanding the shyness of small boys and the growing pains of awkward adolescent girls. She’ll sacrifice anything so her children can have what she was denied as a child. She may be too permissive. Administering discipline is difficult for her, and she must realize that a lack of firmness is often as bad as sever neglect.

Don’t forget her birthday or your anniversary or the day you proposed. She won’t. That’s the subtle secret of the Pisces woman. Whether she follows Neptune’s call as a dedicated nun in a convent or as a sultry songstress in a noisy nightclub – she’s a girl. All girl. One hundred percent.

From: http://www.agoyangyang.com

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