After this week, I have come to a few conclusions. Here they are, in no particular order:
1. I love to make things look pretty.
2. I love blogging about making things look pretty.
3. I would love for my blog to look pretty.
4. I am not a graphic designer.
5. Photoshop was created for graphic designers.
6. Photoshop is like a special club for graphic designers, who like to taunt us regular people who know absolutely nothing about their crazy languages and mad computer skillz.
7. I abhor Photoshop. Even more than I abhor green shag carpet (which is a saying a LOT).
So here’s the background story that has led me to these painful yet true conclusions. I decided to create a new blog header for myself this week. I was so excited and filled to the brim with imaginative ideas that were itching to flow from my mind onto the canvas of my blog. I was sure I could create a banner that would simultaneously make people gasp in awe and cry from the sheer beauty of it. Did I ever mention that I’m an over-achiever?
To start with, I have absolutely no training whatsoever in graphic design. What I know, I learned from a good friend named Mr. Google. I can see a picture of what I want in my mind’s eye, but I have no way of getting that vision into reality. Enter Photoshop 7.0 (downloaded for free from the internets by my bargain-loving self, I might add).
Here’s what my brain thought: Using Mr. Google’s vast knowledge and the creativity stored in my little grey cells, I will bend Photoshop to my will and force it to comply with my demands. I will prevail!!!
Here’s what actually happened:
I spent 2 hours of my life trying to re-size an image.
An image! ONE image! Do you know what happened? First, I could not for the life of me figure out how to make the image smaller without cropping it. I wanted the whole thing, just smaller! Is that really too difficult?
Finally, I figured out (through my own trial and error, I might add- Mr. Google really failed me on this one) how to make the image smaller. But when I finally got it to the correct size, I found that instead of being clear and lovely like it was supposed to be, the image was all distorted and pixellated. I googled and fussed and deleted and undid and redid and resized for what seemed like an immeasurable amount of time. I was so focused, I didn’t even stop to eat a snack or go pee. All natural human instincts were completely forgotten in the light of this harrowing quest.
After about 2 hours, my husband finally approached me and asked it everything was ok. Apparently, he noticed that I was hunched over the computer seething like a deranged woman, with my hand slowly forming into a claw around the mouse. I’m sure I had a wild look in my eyes to go with the whole persona as well. Poor, poor Josh. With that one sweet, innocent question he released the verbal barrage of sheer frustration that had been slowly building up in my mind over the past 2 hours.
And that, my friends, is the story of how I came to the conclusion that Photoshop is pure, unadulterated evil. I know you might be wondering why I’m being so melodramatic about something like this, but after you spend 2 hours of your life trying to measure up to a computer program things get a little, shall we say, muddled. So I don’t have a lovely new blog banner to show you, and I probably won’t until I pay someone else to make one for me. The End.