Wait Up!

I'm still, amazingly enough, riding the bike. I'm still enjoying the scenery. The cats are gone and it's still pretty secluded up there. The wildlife is the most amazing part about the ride. The other day I startled a hawk which flew over my head and landed on a telephone wire that sagged under it's weight. It watched me as I came closer. It was about six feet directly over my head when it flew off again. I continued pushing up the hill, wishing I had a camera. I looked back and it had landed on the top of one of the poles. I kept going and it followed me, flapping to the next pole and then the next.

Today was different. A neighbor of mine heard I was riding and wanted to come along. His bike is one speed because his derailer broke and he just took it off, so I thought he'd have a hard time keeping up. Fine with me, I'm not a racer--more of a meanderer. Boy! was I wrong. He cruised up the hills like they were flat, saying, "Lance Armstrong loves these kinds of hills." I had a hard time hear this, though, because I was so far behind him. Twenty minutes later (it's usually thirty when I'm alone), he was waiting for me at the top of the hill. I slogged up, sucking wind, and turned around, grateful for the rest I'd have coasting back down the hill. Back home, we talked for awhile, then he said, "Do it again tomorrow?" "Sure," I said, wondering how I was going to manage getting up at 6am again. So my pretend workout is becoming real. Scary.

Drawings

I don't have my drawings site anymore. A few people have asked to see them so this will be the place for them (click to enlarge):

The Ride

There was a little action on my almost-daily bike ride this morning. About three times a week I get up at about six and ride for half an hour. It's been going on for a while now but it doesn't seem to be having any effect on my physique which unfortunately looks like the guy in "Supersize Me" at the end of his thirty-day ordeal. It was just seven years ago when I resembled his before picture. I keep riding though, hoping that something will happen eventually and because it's such a beautiful ride and I feel rejuvenated when I'm done.

I take a dirt road on the edge of the forbidden wilderness known as Kennecott Property, home of the Kennecott Copper mine. It's only about thirty yards from 84th West, a rather busy highway, but it feels very secluded. On one rainy, windy morning I coaxed myself out of bed to make the trek, and I was very glad I did. A stunningly beautiful mist hung around the tops of the hills and the freezing rain soaked into my clothes and skin, making me feel alive. About a week ago, in much calmer weather, I nearly ran into two does. The trip always starts out up hill. I don't dare go down hill first because I'll never make it home again, so I ride for 25 minutes up hill, then I turn around and take ten minutes to get home. On this particular morning I was cruising pretty fast and, as I was coming round a bend, I didn't see the deer until I was almost on top of them. They hesitated for only a second then jumped over a barbed wire fence in tandem.

A few days ago I noticed a dead black cat in the road. It puzzled me because I've only ever seen one car on the road. I hoped it would decay quickly so I wouldn't have to see it every day, but I knew it would be there for a long time because no one goes there. Today there was a second cat, a long-haired white one of some sort, lying in the road. I'm not sure how this is happening. As I rode past, my calf started to itch. I scratched it and it itched again. I looked down and saw a large black fly making me his dinner. I swatted at it to brush it away and smeared it all over my leg, streaking blood on my hand. I was pretty squeamish because a friend of mine had told me the other day about watching the program, "Nature" about parasites and how this guy was walking in the jungle and was bitten by a black fly on the stomach. The resulting red mark grew in size over a few weeks and he found himself the proud papa of an inch long larva.

I kept going and startled a jack rabbit. I would have enjoyed this more, but I kept thinking I'd better go to the doctor. I'm not going to wait around like that guy. He even called the thing "George," for crying out loud! No Georges alowed in my leg, thank you very much.

Entertainment Journal

You can read my articles for the EJ in PDF format. My lousy picture and bio are there, too. Let me know what you think.

Knock Knock

Is anybody here? It's been a long, long time. I can't say no to any project that comes along--even if it doesn't pay that well--so I haven't had much time. When that happens, my contact with the online world suffers. It's amazing that I haven't been here for months and yet I still average nine visitors a day.

Let me just fill you in on what has been keeping me so busy. My business has really picked up--strictly word-of-mouth advertising. I'm working for a local girls soccer club that has fourteen teams, some of which are highly ranked in the country (one is sixth in the whole nation). They have me shooting a lot of their games. It's a good deal for them but it's getting me some exposure and practice. On top of that I have a great relationship with two producers in town who throw work my way every once in a while. I just finished an eight minute video for a title company seminar and I'm working on a dvd production of a play I shot by myself with two cameras.

The seminar video kept me up all night last Sunday. My editing schedule was frequently interupted by soccer games and other responsibilities so I found myself working all night the night before the video was due to be proofed. I pushed on through the night, catching the late, late, late movie, Pushing Tin, (it didn't impress me much), and a Tony Robbins infomercial along the way. At one point, I turned the channel to see that the local morning show hosts were up already. I checked the clock and it was 5 am and I wasn't ready to have my work approved. I kept going until 7 am and dumped it to tape so I could bump it over to dvd at work. There wasn't enough time to author it and put it on dvd at home. I got the boys up and took them to school and I went to work. Everyone at work has waited until today, when I look alive, to tell me I looked like death warmed over on Monday. I stumbled around all day drifting in and out of consciousness. Then the incident happened.

Now, I have a special place at work where I can pull a George Costanza--you know the episode where he has a carpenter build a place to sleep under his desk. Behind my editing console is a place where I can stretch out and catch a light snooze with no one detecting me. Sometimes people will come in, but they always see the room empty and leave. At about noon, the fatigue was becoming almost painful. It was my lunchtime and my next client wasn't due until 2pm so I crawled back into my cubby and drifted off. The next thing I remember, I'm standing up and shaking hands with my client. It's now 2:10 pm. I learned later that the scheduler had been looking all over the building for me until he found the photographer who knows about my hiding place. Then he went into the bay, hurrying lest the client come in to find me snoozing. It took him almost a minute to wake me and by that time the client had come in. "Did you find it?" the scheduler asked me, hoping to cover. The client didn't buy it. "What are you doing back there?" he chuckled. Luckily, I've known him for about six years and he likes my work, so nothing I do bugs him. I made his commercials in a haze, like I was still coming off a drinking binge. I'm not pleased with the result and I took twice as long as I usually do, but he liked it and that's all that counts.

I didn't go in yesterday but I was up late again last night finishing up the project. I did get some sleep, though, and I felt a lot better today.

The title company emailed a few changes, but it looks like I can wrap that up and get paid. Now I have four days to get the play finished and send out the invoice. Things might slow down enough for me to pay more attention to this blog, but, frankly, I hope not. I need the money. I want desperately to get out of "survival mode" as a former NBA player described my financial situation a couple of weeks ago. It's what's known as living paycheck to paycheck, and I can't wait till I'm done with it.

In addition to all of this, I've been writing for a local newspaper. I'll post the articles I've written soon. I actually get to invoice for that, now. I guess till now it's been a free gig but I'm told that they're making a profit (after only their third issue!) and they want to pay me. It's not much, but so what. I really enjoy it.

Well, thanks for sticking by me, the nine of you. I really appreciate it and I appologize for not giving you something to do while you've visited.

Busy Busy Busy

The blog's looking a bit messy. I changed ISP's and I've been slow on the uptake. I had two weeks to get all the photos and other hosted elements off of my old ISP's server and I just didn't do it. So now I have to round everything up from multiple folders on multiple computers and disks--a task I find more than a little daunting.

On top of that, the downpour of opportunities has begun. My business is starting to pick up. In the 10 years of editing at a tv station in Salt Lake, I've made some pretty influencial friends and contacts and that's starting to pay off. The local girls' soccer club which is fourteen teams strong has asked me to produce a twenty-five minute video for them; I have other editing projects in the works as well; In addition I have written my debut article for the debut issue of the new Entertainment Journal distributed throughout Utah and expanding to other states(I have three hard copies of the newspaper to prove it) and I've been asked to do two or three more each month--I have a week to get the ones for april done; I'm supposed to be writing the video open and DVD sleeve for the fourth in a series of Utah historical videos right now. The producer told me just yesterday to "get off your ass," because he wants to start editing right away and we can't do that until I've written the open and sent it off to be read for the voice-over. (What he doesn't understand is that I really should be "on my ass" when I'm writing. I didn't tell him that.) All of these are paying gigs. All of them are overwhelming, but not nearly so as the demands of my kids who dug a hole in the yard next to our house exposing the sprinkler system. It was research for a book my 9-year-old is writing called Digging Holes. I've read the rough draft: "A hole takes a while to dig." Pretty good so far, though it needs some fleshing out, and since I won't let him do anymore research in the yard, I'm not sure the book will get finished.

My mom says my dad has been jumping on the mini trampoline since his treadmill isn't working. I think he's supposed to be resting but I know that he'll either long outlive me, or he'll exercise to death. There's no in between.

Dad

My Dad has always been a little larger than life to me, invincible. Always very athletic, he has either run or worked out with weights almost every day that I can remember. A couple of years ago he retired from a job that required excellent health, a rare thing to happen. Very few people reach 65 in that position--security guard at nuclear testing facility--because they can no longer pass the physical training exams. But that was never a problem for my father. Even in my adult life my 5'6" tall dad towered over my 5'11" frame in my mind. I've always been confident that he'd outlive me. That's why the call I got a few days ago stunned me. My mother told me he had had a heart attack. He'd started having chest pains and decided to work them off by lifting weights. When that didn't help, he shoveled snow off the driveway. The pain only intensified so he went to the doctor. I wondered if I should make the drive up to Idaho Falls to see him, but every one was saying that it was very mild and I wanted to wait to find out what action would be taken before I used sick time so I could optimize the time I'd spend with him. Then yesterday we found out that there were far more blocked arteries then the one that the doctor had expected. He said it was more like six or eight. What's more, one of the chambers in his heart was no longer pumping. I told my boss that I needed the rest of the week off and I drove up here to Idaho Falls. I went straight to the hospital and found that he looked a lot better than I expected. He feels better, too. We talked for a long time. The doctor still hadn't come with the results of the tests they'd conducted this morning so my mom, my brother, and I went to dinner still not knowing what might happen. The news is better now, though. I just learned a few minutes ago that the chamber had sort of shut itself down to preserve itself since it wasn't getting any blood. His heart is still perfectly healthy. They still haven't told us whether they're going to perform bypass surgery but that a pretty safe bet, I imagine.

The shock is starting to wear off and this news has helped. I don't know what I'd do if I lost him, but at least I've been given a chance to tell him how I feel.

Supersized

I've seen the movie, Supersize Me, twice now. Superb! It reminds me of Moore's style, which, while I don't agree with his politics, I like a lot. None of us at work are going to eat fast food anymore. We'll see how long that lasts.

It's not as if I'm not busy enough--maybe that I just like to punish myself--but I've been offered something on the side that I can't pass up. My emmy-award-winning, national-television-syndicated, film-reviewer friend is starting a regionally distributed magazine (Utah, Nevada, California) and has asked me to be the music editor. It pays next to nothing, if anything at all, but it's a great opportunity to get my resume going in the direction I had intended when I got my English degree. We're off to the Sundance Film Festival, press passes in hand to see one of the concerts that'll be there this week. I didn't know this, but music is big at Sundance, what with all the bands vying to get their music into films. I'm nervous. I don't fancy myself the best writer, but, as Norman R. Augustine said, "Motivation will almost always beat mere talent." Wait a minute...motivation? Oh, hell. I'm in trouble now.

Opportunity Knocks

But I can't find the door. I didn't realize the consumer video business was so cutthroat. My buddy got a gig following a high school dance team through their season. The coach is a friend of his and when she found out he was doing that kind of thing now, she called up the company the school has always gone through to tell them she was no longer in need of their services. "You know you have to buy the state competition video from us, don't you?" they shot at her. "Your guy won't be allowed in there." We all scoffed at that. Who would keep a couple of guys trying to make an honest buck out of a state dance competition?
We're not laughing anymore. Apparently this other company has a monopoly. No one else is allowed to do business with any of the high schools in the state. How is that possible? What happened to the great American capitalistic concepts like competition and free trade? It looks like the only way we're going to be able to shoot the state comp is to sneak our cameras in and look like proud parents. I didn't realize there was a consumer video mafia in Utah.

Then there's the wedding video crowd. Weddings are huge business in Utah and it seems like everyone and their pet poodle is doing the video thing. There's a wedding expo every year here that costs $700 for a booth. That's understandable. I can deal with that. What I can't deal with is the fact that only five videographers are allowed in, and there's a waiting list with 85 companies on it.

Every novel idea I come up with already has 50 people doing it. I'm not into this struggling for the legal tender thing. Why can't making a living be easy: I do a video that I think looks good and people pay me. What's the matter with that business plan?

The Snow's Here

And I'm going to pummel the local weather man who said we wouldn't get any down here in the valley. Yesterday my buddy and I were cheering him on like he was playing in the Ute game against Pitt. Then today I get up and there are three inches of snow on my car. Lying jerk. If you're going to make that much money to prognosticate, you'd better be right.
And why are there so many accidents on the roads when there's a snow storm like this one? Why do people who live in Utah, whose license plates say "The greatest snow on earth," think they can drive the way they would if the roads were spotless? I don't mind a little slowing--in fact it's necessary. But the roads become shopping mall parking lots because a most of these idiot Utah drivers think snow isn't slippery or that having four-wheel-drive will help them stop when they gotten themselves in deep crap. One guy hit the wall on the side of the freeway and another had stopped in the middle of the right lane and was standing outside talking on his cell phone. OK, that's enough of that.
Princess Rufflebutt is eating again! She'd lost two pounds last week, which, for a twenty-two pound kid, is a lot. That's almost ten percent! We found out that we've been exacerbating the situation by giving her milk. The throwing up stopped and was replaced by the worst case of diarrhea I've ever seen and we were making it worse with the milk. But she wasn't eating anything. I don't know how she's been surviving. The doctor told us to give her anything she'd eat and drink, even soda and cookies. We are and she is going to town on those things. I'm afraid she'll never eat real food again. She's her happy, chatty self again, though, and for that, I'm grateful.

Still on the Road

Another mile marker passed. There's a theory circulating among a few of us at work that time seems to be speeding up lately, and it sure seems to be true. It seems like the millenium came and went just a few days ago.

2004 leaves us with a tragedy that boggles the mind. I can't believe that so many people have died in the Asian tsunami. It's hard to watch the images depicting all of the carnage. I can't imagine what it must be like to be there.

We're a little worried here at home; Princess Rufflebutt acquired some kind of illness a few days ago. For about three days she's thrown up everything she's eaten or drunk, and until today she hasn't wanted to eat anything at all. It's as if her tiny body has developed a sudden disdain for nourishment. All she wants is to be held by me and me alone. She doesn't want her mother, just me. I like the attention, but it makes it hard to get anything done. She's getting better though. She didn't vomit as much today as she has been and she's been playing and bringing me books to read to her. It's a relief. There's not much of her to waste away by not consuming anything.

The rest of the family is doing well, though. We had a great Christmas--Santa was very good to us--and I think 2005 is going to be wonderful. Happy new year!