Secret Swings Photoshoot Fail?
Girl Code. Is it Okay to Copy Ideas?
So I got this cool idea (from someone else) to take pictures at La Jolla’s Secret Swings location.
I’m not sure why something about getting upset at a friend for stealing your idea sounds elementary, but that’s exactly where that phrase brings me: back to horrible memories from elementary school. Of whispering an answer to myself to ensure I was correct, only to have the person next to me blurt it out loud.
Apart of me thinks it’s perfectly adult-ey and reasonable to get upset if someone steals your idea. After all, that’s what plagiarism is all about right -and that word is so adult (unlike adult-ey).
However, if you can’t tell, I’m kind of thinking that it’s still childish because it’s more like sharing a great idea than “stealing” an idea. Unless you give credit, but I kind of don’t want to give credit for this because, like, this person did the same thing to me before, but after I did it.
I guess I can give you context.
A friend of mine wanted to go visit these “Secret Swings” in San Diego that everyone tries to find. She totally messaged me last minute (that’s just what friends do):
“Hey, I’m going to the swings come with,” she said.
“Okay when?” I asked.
“See you there in 30,” she asserted.
And I didn’t want to tell her that I was at an adult store returning sex toys and making up ridiculous truthful lies, because who does that at noon?!
“Oh, I’m grocery shopping and I’d have to throw on makeup and clothes so…raincheck?” I replied.
Which is true, I was looking a mess!
So in response she said it’s cool that she’ll wait an additional thirty minutes because she wasn’t taking no for an answer, and so I was faced with the dilemma of either being a flake or being a pushover, so I chose to be a flake.
“What about tomorrow?” I flaked.
Besides I was still bloated from the super-salty unhealthy food I ate and wasn’t going to look like the pudgy friend on a swing while she took her time getting glammed out, nope! Not me.
“No not tomorrow it’ll be cloudy,” She explained.
“But clouds are perfect for pictures,” I encouraged.
…And eventually she said okay.
Then she flaked on me, so I wasn’t sure if she ever went but I’m assuming not because she never posted pics. If you go, you’ve got to post pics.
I hit her up weeks later to ask about what happened to visiting the Secret Swings. She never responded, so when a photographer wanted to work with me my first thoughts were, “the Secret Swings,” and that’s when my moral dilemma kicked in.
Am I obligated to invite her? After all, she’s not really responding to me already. Am I banned from taking pics at the Secret Swings, it was her idea, but she also flaked? Idk.
Either way I did it and maybe the Idea-Gods got their vengeance on me because I swear that day I struggled so much to get to those damned swings.
Secret Swings Photoshoot Fail?
The day of, I woke up and did my make-up only to find out that one of my loyal lashes had gone missing on me.
I rushed to the store just before I was due to leave to get more lashes.
Then on to the next unfortunate event it was for me.
Anyone who knows me know I have a fear of heights and traffic, so it comes as no surprise that when I realized I had to cross a narrow bridge to get to La Jolla shores, I freaked.
My hands got weak and I broke a tiny sweat as I told myself to hold on and not look out, but straight ahead. I reduced my speed so slow that I could see the car behind me getting irritated, which only worsened my anxiety as I then felt pressure to go a speed I was sure would send me flying from the ramp.
I lived if you couldn’t tell, but that’s not the point.
THEN my GPS couldn’t find the cross streets that the photog and I would meet at! I just parked at some random paid parking near the designated starting spot. There are no directions to the swings, just landmarks.
Lo and behold the paid parking machine wasn’t working. In response, I resorted to driving slowly up and down the street. Drivers were even more irritated. I ended up getting flustered and settled for the first spot I could find.
I thought I scored a deal with the first person leaving their spot.
I ended up walking two miles to find the photog because I refused to believe that he parked that far. It would’ve been one mile, but I kept prematurely turning around.
…You get it, I failed.
By the time I got there, he couldn’t find the swings and my make-up was all sweaty. I was also still bloated from eating bad the night before, which is part of the reason I flaked in the first place.
Total Number of Fails: 6
In the end…
Good news: the photog turned out not to be a murderer or else I wouldn’t be writing this today.
Other good news: he also found the swing.
Upside: The shoot turned out to be great!
Downside: I still feel guilty