Red Bull Stratos - Freefall from the Edge of Space

Watching Felix Baumgartner dive from a capsule almost 39 km above the earth yesterday was intense.  I can't imagine the thoughts that were going through his mind as he made the almost two and a half hour ascent to the edge of space.  It was a pretty amazing feat to witness live; one of those moments that will forever be etched in my memory.  It's also one of those human achievements that conjures up a spark of ambition to suggest that we, people, are capable of things that could easily be passed off as impossible.

While watching the sky dive on YouTube, I took screen shots to capture the moments.  Below are snapshots of the historic jump.

 

Podcast: Is expensive wine worth the extra dime?

In this podcast I explore the question if it's worth it to spend the extra money on an expensive bottle of wine.  Could the difference between cheap and expensive wine just be in our minds?  The research on the effects our surrounding has on us as we consume wine suggests room ambiance, sound and price does affect wine's perceived quality.  However, these factors also make it difficult to directly attribute the real quality of a wine by it's cost alone.



Feel free to comment on the content of the podcast and add any information on wine tasting that could further the conversation.

Church. Chicken. Cycles.

Yesterday my folks and I went to First Assembly church.

First is my favourite church and it's always great to be able to visit when I'm in town.  Some of the most amazing people I know I met there and it's always good to see them again.  Jessica DiSabatino was guest speaking and half way through her sermon a kid pulled the fire alarm, so everyone had to evacuate.  Then, like a cliché, we went for chicken.

After chicken, my dad wanted to show me the new parking garage at SAIT.  I went to SAIT over a decade ago and it looks like they've made some amazing changes since I roamed the campus.  What they did here was built a parking garage on a soccer field and then turned the roof of it back into a soccer field.  The outside is covered with giant engineered plates that have holes punched in them, bent at different angles to produce a picture of clouds.  You can see the soccer net bordering the top of the parkade.

Then it was bike shopping time because mom wanted a new bike for cruising.  It took a few hours and two stores, but eventually Bow Cycle had the perfect ride.

They also had unicycles.

After that, we went to my Uncle Derrick and Aunt Mardo's place for a visit and huge feast.  And I mean huge feast.  I also got to see the new house they're building in Bear's Paw which is far from finished, but will be amazing when it's done.

After publishing another Two Minute Tech Trip this morning, dad and I attacked the renos in the first bathroom and got the tub in, plumbing checked and walls ready for tile!

I sure do miss my true love.

Chutes and Ladders

I woke up early yesterday because I'm still on London time.  I usually spend my first waking moments checking out the news and tech stuff, but I got side tracked by philosophy and brain science videos on TED.  I usually get to bounce my philosophical and existential thoughts off my true love, which made me miss her.  Provoked by the brain science video, I was acutely conscious of metacongnition and wondered why I think the thoughts I think.  Something to keep my mind occupied as renovations continue.

We managed to plumb in the guts for the new tub and faucet in the first bathroom; a task that consumed as much time figuring out how to make everything fit as it did fitting them.  I'd like to think I'm versed in plumbing, but there's always a little relearning that has to happen when it's been a while.  I hope all the connections hold.

My uncle Mark and auntie Dawn were over on Friday night and we listened to some songs from Chimes of Freedom: The Songs of Bob Dylan.  If you're looking for a really good compilation of really good songs, check this out!  My favourite so far is Sinead O'Connor's cover of Property of Jesus.  After listening to her a few times, I thought to put on John Lennon's I Found Out and wanted to play my bass.  Sometimes I think they don't make music like they used to, but then I listen to something like Hot Water Music's Drag My Body and I know it's just something older people say.

Somehow I twisted a muscle in the front of my neck this morning.  My mom thought it needed a massager treatment.

It didn't work.

Heading West.

When I stepped off the plane in Calgary and walked the narrow path of the jet bridge, the first sight that met my eyes was the Starbucks sign.  I'll admit that I'm a bit of a coffee snob and in that moment I thought; if there is a heaven, this is what it might feel like to approach it.

On a normal day I'd stop for a jolt of dark roast, but my brain (still somewhat hazy from getting up way too early and suffering the lag from few sprits from the night before) was filled with the excitement and anticipation of seeing my dad and getting down to the business of scoping out what's new in the place where I grew up.

It's awesome how much Calgary and Airdrie have progressed in the time since my true love and I left to live in London.  Leaving the airport terminal, there seemed like there were enough cranes in the area to par Dubai and the familiar roads from the airport have subtle changes that suggest this place is always getting better.

Walking in the door of the house I grew up in will always be familiar.  The first thing I noticed was that Scooter wasn't there and for the rest of the day her memory would pop into my mind as I half expected her to come around a corner or let out a sharp bark by the back door.  The second thing I noticed was that my parents keep an extremely clean and tidy house; a trait that I'll admit I only half inherited.  I'm here to help my dad renovate two bathrooms and install a new back door.  It was really fun to unpack my luggage, abandon any notion of getting to work and set up my video equipment to produce my Two Minute Tech Trip's while I'm here.  The support and interest from my dad as I pursue my career in broadcasting really means the world to me.

We eventually got started on the renovations and I'm optimistic the labourious amount of work ahead of us will be shadowed by the memories we'll create as we share in the frustrations of solving problems and later revel in the satisfaction of finishing up.  And I know that might sound cliché, but that's okay with me.

Project: Two Minute Tech Trip

I have started a new project, titled Two Minute Tech Trip.  It's a quick science and technology update that I have been doing daily for just over a week now.  On the weekends, I'm doing a flashback to another year, highlighting inventions and technological breakthroughs that are interesting.  Here's yesterday's Two Minute Tech Trip:



Here's a flashback to 1902:



I have also set up a Two Minute Tech Trip page on Facebook for anyone who is interested.

From A Dog Named Scooter.

I can remember when I first met those hairless faces. Those four gigantic creatures who took me in and gave me such a fitting name. The boy was tall and lanky at first and would occasionally join me and mom on some of the thousands of kilometres we would eventually stride, side by side. The girl was pretty. It was neat to see her come and go and her hairstyles change as she grew over the years. There was a dog that she would bring over sometimes and as much as everyone hoped we would be friends, I reserved my excitement and loyalty for my birth mom and sister who lived in the country. The girl eventually brought kids around and that made me anxious as I entered the autumn of my life, yet mom and dad were smitten with them, so I tried my best to show countenance.

The back yard they gave me to protect was sublime. Dad kept the grass short in the summer and moved the snow in the winter, so my routine was mostly uninterrupted. I did my best to monitor the intrusion of other hairy or feathered creatures on my domain; mostly keen to ward off those appalling varmints they called cats. One whisper of the word, cat, had my heart racing and adrenalin pumping as I raised my voice in protest. On my last trip to the mailbox with mom, and even though my eyes lacked the focus of my youth, I could make out one of the little buggers and maintained my authority as I let out one low bark. I always looked forward to my adventures with mom through the park; me on all fours, her on just two. It was probably a good thing my feet tracked so much distance because I'm sure some of the food dad gave me wasn't privileged to most of my kind.

Dad was my favourite. When I was young, he would go away in the morning and I wouldn't expect him back until supper time. Eventually, he stopped whatever it was he was doing when he would go away and started to stay home with me every day. It was great because it meant I no longer had to get up early and force my routine before everyone left. I could lie in bed as long as I liked and knew dad would be somewhere close to open the back door when I decided to join the day. I eventually learned to open the screen door on my own, a feat that impressed them. I was also a pretty good sprinter and could circle the yard at light speed (at least it felt like light speed). In my youth I was rambunctious and playful, but when it was time to relax, the safest and most comfortable place in the world was lying down beside dad.

When I entered the winter of my life, I started to slow down. Things became blurry and I could no longer join mom on our long journeys. The boy and girl both moved away and it was mostly me, dad and mom at home. They did everything they could to keep me happy, dad even built me special stairs when I could no longer jump like I used to. When it was my time to go, it was comforting to know I was leaving my family with countless memories and a bond that will never be forgotten. Even though I might not have always shown it, they meant the world to me. Because four hairless faces thought I was someone special, I was blessed with an abundant life and dearly loved.

The Existential Auteur

An auteur is a film director who is unmistakably identifiable. They incorporate unique themes, camera techniques, and lighting to forge their signature and personal style. Auteurs can be recognized by watching only a few scenes. They go beyond the role of director and into the realm of an artist. A director that has earned the status of auteur is Woody Allen. His obsession with infidelity, love, art, intelligent dialogue, complex relationships, narration, existentialism and almost theatrical camera takes make him stand out as an artist.

In 1977, Woody Allen won the Oscar for best picture for a romantic comedy titled Annie Hall. In Annie Hall, Allen plays the main character of the story, Alvy Singer. Alvy is a complex character whose story twists through tales of lost love and existential attempts to understand the meaning of life. When Alvy meets his love interest, Annie Hall (Diane Keaton), he has already come to naught with love twice, suffering two failed marriages. The opening scene is a medium shot of Allen telling jokes that reflect his view of life, directly to the camera.There are more scenes throughout the film where his character breaks away from the scene to get intimate with the audience. Talking directly into the camera or using narration is something that Allen does in his films to make a direct connection with the audience. In a scene where Alvy and Annie are in line at a movie theater, there is a pedantic character behind them that is muttering on and driving Alvy crazy. When he can’t take it anymore, he breaks from the scene to express his opinion and pulls a real life character (Marshall McLuhan) into the scene to make his point. After proving himself intellectually superior to the pedantic character, Alvy says, “If life were only like this.” This existential theme has become constant throughout Allen’s body of work.

Woody Allen’s films are soaked with complex characters like Alvy and Annie. They are multidimensional and represent either a political right or left way of thinking. Allen seems to portray people on the left, with a higher level of education, a pursuit for artistic endeavors, and knowledge of complex issues as superior to those who take refuge in the comfort of religion and settling for the nuclear family. Most of Allen’s films revolve around the relationships between couples and not families. He credits artists and creative characters the only one’s truly worthy of engaging in love, even if it is an act of infidelity. In Vicky Cristina Barcelona, two young travellers find themselves leaving America and spending the summer in Barcelona. Vicky (Rebecca Hall) is a character who doesn’t take risks and analyses everything. Cristina (Scarlet Johansson) is described by Vicky as impulsive and neurotic. The two meets an artist named Juan Antonio (Javier Barden) who is the catalyst for a twisted love affair. Vicky was engaged to be married to a man named Doug (Chris Messina), who is a business man concerned with the more material aspects of life. There is a constant theme with Doug about where they will buy a house and what will go in that house. When out and about in Barcelona, they are seen shopping and not taking in the artistic amenities that are in abundance in Barcelona. Juan Antonio exemplifies Woody Allen’s existentialism by making a proposition to Vicky and Cristina to take them to Oviedo for the weekend to eat, drink wine and make love. Vicky and Cristina have polar responses with Cristina accepting Juan’s invitation. By the end of the summer, Juan has managed to sleep with Vicky, Cristina and his mentally unstable ex-wife Maria Elena (Penélope Cruz) and because he is an artist, it is portrayed as an acceptable situation. The characters in Allen’s films that are artistic, creative or rise above being content with living the conventional American dream are the heroes of his films. But then, his movies are also unpredictable. There are often foreshadows of things to come, but the connection is made after the fact.

Artists, writers and musicians who followed their hearts, explored the human condition, and questioned social norms defined Paris in the 1920’s. In Woody Allen’s latest film, Midnight in Paris, the main character, Gil (Owen Wilson), is a Hollywood screenplay writer who wants to be a novelist. The opening of the movie is a collection of shots of the Paris that tourists love. The cobble stone streets, the old architecture that was too beautiful to become suffrage to the destruction of World War II. Si tu vois ma mère plays in the background, and although the scenes are modern, the audience gets a taste of a different time. Gil believes that his life would be better if he had lived to write while living among the likes of Pablo Picasso and Salvador Dali. In this film Allen plays with time travel, but doesn’t deviate from his staple obsession with love. Gil, like many of Allen’s characters, was engaged to Inez (Rachel McAdams). Through his venturing back and forth between Paris in the 1920’s and today, Gil falls in love with Adriana (Marion Cotillard). Even though the audience knows Gil is engaged, the enchantment seduces them to embrace the romance. Any hints of disapproval of Gil’s deviation from Inez are quickly dissolved when it is learned that Inez was having an affair with the pedantic character in the film, Paul (Michael Sheen). By the end of the film, Gil finds his modern day Adriana with Gabrielle (Léa Seydoux) who shares his love for Paris in the rain.

Woody Allen’s obsession with infidelity is almost exaggerated in You Will Meet a Tall Dark Stanger. Littered with accomplished actors, Allen’s tangled story of struggling artists, wealthy people in search of meaning and characters with a twist of eccentricity, exemplifies the drama of fading love and newfound lust. Every couple in You Will Meet a Tall Dark Stranger falls victim to some kind of uncertainty or infidelity at some point. There is Roy Channing (Josh Brolin), who is married to Sally (Naomi Watts). Roy is a medical school graduate, turned author, who lets his feelings for Sally dwindle, as a girl who has nothing but red clothes in her wardrobe captures his attention. Eventually Roy and Sally’s marriage dissolves and Dia (Freida Pinto), the girl in red, becomes his muse. Sally’s parents are also victims of Allen’s obsession as they are both enamored with the search for a human connection that will give their life some kind of meaning. Sally’s father, Alfie Shepridge (Anthony Hopkins), leaves his wife, Helena (Gemma Jones), only to wind up with a prostitute named Charmaine (Lucy Punch). By the end of their relationship, Charmaine is having an affair with at least one guy from the gym and ruins Alfie’s hope of having a son. The film, in Woody Allen fashion, is soaked in existentialism and ends without any real validation for their souls.

One of the most unique qualities that Woody Allen employs in his movies is the use of long takes. Scenes are written and shot in takes that can last up to 40 seconds in length. These kinds of shots require dedication and commitment from the actors and reflect more of a theatrical performance than a conventional shoot and cut technique. While long shots can sometimes lend boredom to an audience, Allen’s use of long takes creates a more realistic experience; there is a feeling like what is on the screen is actually happening. Another technique that Allen incorporates is the split screen. In Annie Hall, Woody Allen uses the split screen to illustrate contrast. When Alvy and Annie are in therapy, the audience gets a glimpse into both therapy sessions; Alvy’s consuming the majority of the screen. In Vicky Cristina Barcelona, the split screen is used while the narrator is explaining the contrast between Vicky and Cristina. Most of Woody Allen’s films are shot during the day, with natural light.

With credit to almost fifty films, Woody Allen has mastered the art of writing and directing films. Many critics are stuck on the notion that he has to live up to the genius and success of Annie Hall. Midnight in Paris attracted rave reviews and won the Oscar for best original screenplay last year. Allen’s absence from the Academy Awards would suggest that he’s not in it to win it, but satisfied with writing and directing for the love of writing and directing. When Annie Hall was up for Academy Awards, Allen declined to attend because it was on a Monday and he played jazz clarinet at a club on Monday nights. Like a diary, Allen’s films put the experiences of love and relationships under the microscope and explore the meaning of existence. There is a reoccurring theme of love, art and infidelity with existential ideas and questions woven in to give the audience a glimpse into the mind of Woody Allen. His contribution to the film community and cinematic culture is invaluable. With the release of another film this year, To Rome with Love, the world will get to enjoy, yet, another helping of this wonderful auteur.

Saturday Morning Paper.

Not Your Grandma's Poetry.

When some people think about poetry, they might recall Robert Frost’s “The Road Not Taken” or Edgar Allen Poe’s “A Dream Within a Dream”. Others might recall the classic writings of Shakespeare, written with elegant words and cryptic metaphors on the human condition. However, in the last few decades, these conventions have been challenged and there’s a poetry movement that’s shaping a new culture. Writing void of strict form or prose and having an equal share of importance placed on the spoken delivery, they call it Slam Poetry.

According to The Complete Idiots Guide to Slam Poetry, in 1984, a poet by the name of Marc Kelly Smith had an idea to start a poetry reading night at a lounge in Chicago. The Monday Night Poetry reading at the Get Me High lounge was an event where people could perform poetry instead of just reading it. As with many spins on convention, the poetry reading needed to be called something new. The weekly event was called a Slam and gave Smith the nickname Slam Papi. Smith’s idea was slightly controversial, but did catch on in the city. To the naysayers, Smith said, “The very word 'poetry' repels people. Why is that? Because of what schools have done to it. The slam gives it back to the people.... We need people to talk poetry to each other. That's how we communicate our values, our hearts, the things that we've learned that make us who we are.”

At a traditional poetry reading, a poet would simply recite or read a poem. Little emphasis was placed on the idea of performing or acting out the emotion of the piece. The audience would listen to the poem, take in the imagery and reflect on the poet’s words. In Slam Poetry, the poems are delivered as a performance. Poems are written with the intention to not only be spoken, but to be performed. If there were an emotion of anger in a poem, the poet would recite it in anger. If there was a lighthearted gesture, a poet might lift their hands and elevate the tone of their voice to exemplify that emotion.

Following the genesis of the Slam in Chicago, the first National Poetry Slam took place in San Francisco in 1990. By this time the Slam evolved from a new way of performing poetry into a competition. Poets would perform their original poems and be judged by their peers. Rules were made and performances had to be delivered within a three-minute time limit and no props or costumes could be used. Five judges would be selected from the audience, who would give a score between one and 10. The highest and lowest scores were dropped and the middle three added up for a total score out of 30. These rules are the same today. The National Poetry Slam included an individual poet competition, as well as a team competition, which introduced the performance of a poem by more than one poet.

The competition in San Francisco saw competitors from San Francisco, Chicago and New York. Over the course of almost two decades, the National Poetry Slam grew to such popularity that it had been hosted in cities all over the United States. In 2003, slam poetry made its way north of the border with support from the Canada Council for the Arts. The Canadian Spoken Wordlympics debuted as a festival at the National Library in Ottawa late in 2004. In 2005, the festival was rebranded the Canadian Festival of Spoken Word and has been hosted in major cities across Canada every year since.

Fast-forward to the 2010 Winter Olympics in Vancouver, BC and the world is introduced to Canadian poet and author Shane Koyzcan. Television Blend Journalist Kelly West commented, “After watching the Opening Ceremony of the 2010 Winter Olympics tonight, the part that stood out most in my mind was Shane Koyczan’s “We Are More” speech.” The speech that West is referring to was actually slam poetry. Koyczan was already over 10 years into his poetry career by the time he performed his ode to Canada at the Opening Ceremonies and was the first Canadian to win the Individual Championship at the US National Poetry Slam back in 2000.

London has it’s own slam poetry community called Speak Your Truth. They hold a monthly slam competition where they invite a feature poet to perform. They have had features from all over Canada and the United States, including Shane Koyczan. In January of this year, poet and author Brendan McLeod, who is a teacher at Langara College in Vancouver, was the feature guest. Having been a slam poet for the last seven years and winning the 2004 Canadian Slam Poetry championship, McLeod says “Back in 2004 … if you were to walk down the street and go to high schools, no one really knew what slam poetry was. Now, 8 years later, there’s almost 20 teams on the Nationals Final stage … and everyone in high school knows what slam poetry is.”

Following the slam, there's a creative writing workshop where the feature poet gives advice on writing and performing for anyone who attends. These kinds of initiatives help to further advance the community and move the community forward to explore new ideas and elevate their creativity. It doesn't cost much to get involved in the slam community and the overall vibe is welcoming and fun. Look for a slam near you and unleash your creativity!

What a Great Year.

At this time last year, I had just sent in my application to go to Broadcast Journalism school. I was at a point in my life where I felt that what I was doing for a living was a waste of my time and talents. It's the classic, cliche and relatable yawn of getting up early to go and work at a boring job, diligently presenting a positive image that will reflect favourably on the next performance appraisal and biting one's tongue more than not. To no shortage of trying to spice up my work life (pun intended) by joining committees and taking night classes in hopes of advancement, the realization that my passions didn't line up with my profession was a heavy weight on my conscious. A situation that would lead to frequent sad discussion and a few empty bottles. My true love heard a lot of complaining, let me tell you.

If I could characterize myself, I would say that I am mostly curious with a dash of deviousness. I like to question authority, convention and tradition and believe that most truth is not in front of us. That said, I'm not a conspiracy theorist. What caused me to apply to journalism school was my passion for learning, trying to understand the world around me and the need to want to share my findings. From my own experiences, I know things are not usually what they seem and there is so much waiting to be discovered. I drank the purple kool-aid that suggested life is about more than titles, pay cheques and two-week vacations. Let me tell you, it sure tastes good.

I started working on a radio show for the London Poetry Slam called Speak Your Truth on 94.9 CHRW. It airs the last Tuesday of the month at 11:00am EST. I met local poet and rapper, Dana I.D. Matthews while on the show and we eventually ended up working on music together. Over the course or about 10 months, we created around 25 songs, a mix of originals and remixes. Out of that came an album titled Love Unbound which is for sale at iTunes and BandCamp. I don't think anyone has bought it, but the experience was well worth the time invested.

Come March, my true love and I went to Victoria, BC for my cousin Adam's wedding. It was a vintage themed affair and despite a former family feud, it was refreshing to reconnect and, in a sense, let bygones be bygones.

Going to Victoria also presented an opportunity to see my parents and visit my true love's grandma.

Even my sister made it out which I know made my parents really happy that we were all together. Sappy.

I got into college. It was pretty exciting to get that piece of mail, but the sudden reality of making the choice to accept the offer of admission, pay the tuition and leave work life behind seemed a lot heavier than anticipated. When you become accustomed to a lifestyle, sorting out the pros and cons of the situation feels like walking a tight rope and former thoughts that seemed black and white became a strange shade of grey.

With the simple acknowledgement that what I was doing was more draining than rewarding and the support of my true love, I accepted the offer and paid for my first semester. It was really hard knowing that by mid August I was going to be submitting my letter of resignation at work and I chose not to share the excitement of my chosen fate with co-workers or managers.

I was born on Canada day. When I was a child, the city I lived in hosted a Canada day parade and I was convinced that it was for me. Perhaps I can contribute an admission of slight narcissism to this annual occurrence. For my birthday in 2011, I got much more than a parade. My true love and I flew to my new favourite place on earth: Paris, France. If you've read my blog before, it's obvious that I was swept away by the ambiance and magic of this great city. Most of me hopes to one day call Paris home. I've even been dedicating time in the last two weeks to actually learning French. Oui.

The day I quit my job was bitter sweet. I was looking forward to a future I felt I was choosing, but also leaving many years of hard work and, unavoidably, many good relationships behind. Fast forward two weeks and I found myself in a class room surrounded by creative and ambitious people that I envied a little as I couldn't help but feel that I was 10 years behind. I've since shaken off those feelings that you feel when you're the "older guy" and sometimes forget I was born in 1980.

My true love and I welcomed 2012 in style by taking a trip to the Dominican Republic. We met up with my true love's dad and his girlfriend for a week of golf, beaches, surfing and great food.

2011 was definitely a year of immense change for me. I am so grateful for friends and family that give nothing but support and encouragement. I am most grateful for my true love who continues to be extraordinarily brave, genuine and giving as we live out life's adventures together.