January 2009 Archives

Cinequest 19 is only 28 days (or one February) away. The festival released this year's list of films earlier today. The program is available online, including a version for mobile devices (I'm still waiting to try the iPhone app), but when it comes to reading summaries and choosing which films to see, I prefer the program in print. Luckily, I found a healthy stack of guides at the Peet's on Santa Clara Street, where I grabbed a copy.

After a few passes, I have a rough idea as to which films I want to see this year. There are 150 or so to choose from. Knowing I'll be working during and volunteering at the festival, I set a limit of ten. Realistically, I won't be able to see all of them due to scheduling conflicts, but at least I was able to find ten films that caught my interest (something I haven't always been able to do in past years).

Here's the list with a link to each film's details on Cinequest's site...

1. Corpse Run
2. Blue Road
3. Garrison Keillor: The Man on the Radio in the Red Shoes
4. Canary
5. Living in Emergency
6. All About Dad
7. Why Am I Doing This?
8. Capers
9. Night Train
10. How To Be...

I'm looking forward to seeing as many of these movies as possible and helping out at this year's festival. I can't wait for it to come.

It's Tuesday, which means it's a good day to laugh. You're probably quaeritating, "Why is it a good day to laugh?" Well, I'll give you two reasons...

1. This video of Axis of Awesome's hilarious song, "4 Chords", which reveals the hidden-in-plain-sight truth that one only needs to know four chords to write a hit pop song.

It also explains why I like so many of these songs, which is both enlightening and embarrassing. (I thought my musical tastes were more sophisticated than a basic combination of chords, but I was sadly mistaken. Apparently.) On a brighter note, I'm feeling more inspired than ever to try my hand at songwriting.

(found via Neatorama)

2. Save the Words. It's a campaign dedicated to saving words that have been dropped from the dictionary due to disuse or to make room for new words. To keep these words from disappearing from the English language forever, the site encourages folks to adopt a word and use that word as often as possible in everyday conversation and correspondence.

Now, when I started researching this cause, I was rather skeptical, especially after looking at a sampling of the words (and their definitions). I mean, some of them were simply ridiculous. But then I thought, "What if they are real words? How could I let a word that made me laugh out loud die -- never to be said or read again? I wouldn't be able to live with myself."

That's why I adopted the word "quaeritate", which means "to ask", as in "There was a question he wanted to quaeritate her, but his courage failed him." It's a word that brings a smile to my face every time I mispronounce it. With any luck, it will be a word future generations will be able to mispronounce, too.

(found via Digital Inspiration)

Happy Tuesday.

(or, What I Did The Last Weekend of the Year of the Rat)

This weekend, I

> attacked a stack of magazines. In my renewed attempt to combat clutter at home, I went through one of many giant piles of magazines that occupy various shelves and boxes around the house. I managed to get through several years of Via and Sierra. Next up will be tackling old issues of Outside. The whole process is taking ages since I'm sifting through everything page by page, pulling articles I want to keep, and recycling the rest. Ultimately, I will scan the articles I saved so there won't be any loose paper hanging around.

> watched the first season of Two Guys and a Girl on YouTube. I was catching up on old episodes of How I Met Your Mother when I had a sudden craving for Two Guys and Girl, a sitcom from the late nineties and a show that will likely never reach DVD. It introduced me to two of my favorite comedic actors: Ryan Reynolds and Nathan Fillion. By the way, both are Canadian, which is a piece of trivia that may be worth something someday (or not). Anyway, to me, the strength of the show was the physical humor and banter between Pete and Berg, which echoed another comedy I watched when I was younger: Perfect Strangers.

> celebrated Chinese New Year. We had dinner with my mom's half of the family (a.k.a. the Chinese half) in Santa Cruz on Saturday. In addition to the usual suspects, my great-uncle and his two sons joined us, which was a happy surprise since we rarely see them. All told, there were ten us - a small gathering by most people's standards, but a massive one by ours. We monopolized a corner of the restaurant, a place so small it only had one corner. As usual, my grandfather ordered more food than anybody could possibly eat in one sitting, which means my folks have enough leftovers to last through Wednesday. All in all, it was a fine way to welcome the Year of the Ox.

To everybody who celebrates it, Happy Chinese New Year!

On Monday evening, M and I went to Coyote Lake-Harvey Bear Ranch County Park, which is on the eastern edge of San Martin, a tiny community sandwiched between Gilroy and Morgan Hill, as you can see in the following illustration...

For those who are accuracy-inclined, here is a more traditional map...

While M went for a run on the Martin Murphy Trail (a flat, paved loop trail, roughly two-miles long), I went for the briefest of hikes. Due to the lateness of the hour (it was nearly 4:30), M planned to only run four miles, which meant I had approximately 45 minutes to hike.

Since I knew I couldn't go far, I decided to do an out-and-back on the Harvey Bear Trail. In my head, I budgeted my time -- 25 minutes out, 20 minutes back, taking into account that "out" was all uphill.

I didn't have much time, but I tried to make the most of the time I had. This largely involved stopping often to admire the view and photograph the trees, hills, and horizon.

I got so caught up admiring and photographing, I overran my budgeted minutes. It was 5:00 and the light was fading quickly. I turned around and rushed down the trail. Halfway back, I spied the last of the sun dipping below the horizon.

I got back to parking lot just as M was finishing her run. The timing worked out perfectly. Now we just have work on getting there earlier so we have more time to enjoy the park.

To see a few additional photos, you can always visit Flickr.

Earlier today, the web was buzzing about Barack Obama's inauguration. News sites were streaming the proceedings and anybody who wasn't writing about it on his or her blog was giving updates or expressing opinions about it on Twitter.

With so many folks focused on this single event, I was tempted to let the occasion pass without mentioning it, if only to prove to somebody (that ever-present, invisible, and oh-so-judgmental somebody) that I was above it all. Yet, as I sit here, I feel compelled to write about it, so Future Me has, at least, a brief personal account.

I listened to the proceedings this morning on NPR (thanks to the miracle of real-time streaming audio). I heard California senator, Dianne Feinstein, say a few eloquent words, after which she then introduced Aretha Franklin, who sang "My Country, 'Tis of Thee". I must admit I temporarily zoned out while Aretha did her thing. When she was done, I listened as Justice John Paul Stevens swore in Joe Biden as vice-president.

Afterwards, Itzhak Perlman, Yo-Yo Ma, Anthony McGill, and Gabriela Montero performed "Air and Simple Gifts", a song composed by John Williams.

As soon as they started playing, I was transfixed. History had my full attention. The casual observer would have noted the sudden lack of typing in the vicinity of my cubicle around nine in the morning, Pacific Time.

I listened as Barack Obama and Chief Justice John Roberts struggled through the swearing in. Obama stumbled first, accidentally stepping on Roberts' line. A flustered Roberts then flubbed his line, which caused Obama to pause.

Those first few seconds were awkward and uncharacteristic of both men, who are gifted speakers. Part of me wondered if both were suffering from nerves, both aware of the historical significance of the moment. Luckily, once they got past those first few lines, the rest of the oath went smoothly.

Then came the best part: Obama's inaugural address. For twenty minutes, I hung on every word, and I must admit that as soon as it was done, I eagerly sought the transcript so I could reread the "good parts", which only goes to show what a big dork I am.

My favorite passage from the speech came near the end (a transcription follows the clip)...

"Our challenges may be new. The instruments with which we meet them may be new. But those values upon which our success depends - honesty and hard work, courage and fair play, tolerance and curiosity, loyalty and patriotism - these things are old. These things are true."

"They have been the quiet force of progress throughout our history. What is demanded then is a return to these truths. What is required of us now is a new era of responsibility - a recognition, on the part of every American, that we have duties to ourselves, our nation, and the world, duties that we do not grudgingly accept but rather seize gladly, firm in the knowledge that there is nothing so satisfying to the spirit, so defining of our character, than giving our all to a difficult task. This is the price and the promise of citizenship."

Last Tuesday, on the Writer's Almanac, I heard a poem written by Roseann Lloyd called "What To Do the First Morning the Sun Comes Back". I share it here so I won't lose it...

What To Do the First Morning the Sun Comes Back

Find a clean cloth for the kitchen table, the red and blue one
you made that cold winter in Montana. Spread out
your paper and books. Tune the radio to the jazz station.
Look at the bright orange safflowers you found last August?
how well they've held their color next to the black-spotted cat.

Make some egg coffee, in honor of all the people
above the Arctic Circle. Give thanks to the Sufis,
who figured out how to brew coffee
from the dark, bitter beans. Remark
on the joyfulness of your dishes: black and yellow stars.

Reminisce with your lover about the history of this kitchen
where, between bites of cashew stir fry,
you first kissed each other on the mouth. Now that you're hungry,
toast some leftover cornbread, spread it with real butter,
honey from bees that fed on basswood blossoms.

The window is frosted over, but the sun's casting an eye
over all the books. Open your Spanish book.
The season for sleeping is over.
The pots and pans: quiet now, let them be.

It will be a short day.
Sit in the kitchen as long as you can, reading and writing.
At sundown, rub a smidgen of butter
on the western windowsill
to ask the sun:
Come back again tomorrow.

For me, perfect moments are extremely rare, so when I have one, I feel compelled to make note of it.

It happened this morning, at approximately 6:54 AM. I was seated near the rear of the bus, facing the back, reading a book (The Most of P.G. Wodehouse), on my way to work. With the exception of a single reading light shining down on me, I was in complete darkness. The only outside light came from the headlights of vehicles passing us on the busy highway.

Somewhere along the way, I looked up from my book and out the window. In that instant, it dawned on me that I was experiencing a perfect moment, created by a combination of the darkness, the light, the comfortable chair, the rumbling engine, the smooth ride, the passing cars, and the company of a good book.

For a second, I longed for a way to capture the moment and preserve the feeling it gave me, but I knew it was futile, so I banished the thought. Instead, I endeavored to soak in every possible second before the moment slipped away.

Thanks to the all-powerful Sketchellite (the only satellite to orbit the Earth that is capable of providing high-resolution sketches), the moment was caught in a drawing.

Last year, I read 20 books, which would have been spiffy if my goal hadn't been to read 52 books. I was obviously doing something wrong and doing it often.

To ensure I don't fail to reach my goal this year, I'm giving myself a few rules and recommendations to follow at the end of this entry.

But first, here's the list of books I read:

1. Pyramids by Terry Pratchett
2. Eric by Terry Pratchett
3. Blood Rites by Jim Butcher
4. A Summer of Travel in the High Sierra by Joseph N. LeConte
5. The Wild Trees: A Story of Passion and Daring by Richard Preston
6. Lost in My Own Backyard by Tim Cahill
7. Microserfs by Douglas Coupland
8. Schulz and Peanuts by David Michaelis
9. The Black Dove by Steve Hockensmith
10. The Noble Outlaw by Bernard Knight
11. Mountain Madness by Robert Birkby
12. The Carpet People by Terry Pratchett
13. Rowing to Latitude by Jill Fredston
14. First Among Sequels by Jasper Fforde
15. Flashman and the Tiger by George MacDonald Fraser
16. Zero Days by Barbara Egbert
17. American Creation by Joseph J. Ellis
18. Nation by Terry Pratchett
19. Henry Knox: Visionary General of the American Revolution by Mark Puls
20. The Book of Guys by Garrison Keillor

The hot author of 2008 was Terry Pratchett (or is that Sir Terry Pratchett now?). I read three of his books. This year, I intend to read (or possibly re-read) three or four more because life is always better with laughter.

Life is also better with charts, which is why I've included a few for your visualizing pleasure.

Now about those rules and recommendations I mentioned earlier. Here they are:

• Always carry a book (it makes the reading easier)
• Read every day (and everywhere)
  
• Read early, when your eyes and brain are fresh
• Read late (think of it as a bedtime story)
• Read at lunch, away from the desk
• Keep a daily log (I just created one using Google Docs)
• Don't read in front of the TV to avoid the temptation of DVDs and the Wii
• Listen to music to drown out distractions
• Take reading hikes (don't read and hike, just hike to a vista point and read)
• Be like Elkit. She read a whopping 53 books last year. Darn overachiever!

If I heed my own words, I should be able to reach the goal of a book a week this year. And since I'm burning through my lunch break to write this, I'll stop here and salvage the last few minutes to crack open a book.

We're only five days into 2009 and I already feel five days behind. It isn't the best feeling in the world, but it could be worse. I'm not going to imagine how it could be worse or list the Top 5 ways it could be worse¹. I'm just certain it could be (and without much arm twisting either).

It seems I'm not the only one slow to start the new year. This morning's bus had a mere six people on it, including the driver. I'd like to imagine that everybody else was still snug in their beds, waiting for spring to arrive or the pain to subside from exercising too much at the gym in an attempt to keep that perennial resolution to get in shape (whichever came first). The transit agency could have saved a few bucks if it had sent a minivan or a bobsled² instead.

The office has also been quiet. The lack of interruptions has been bliss. I've had time to focus and grasp the full extent of how far behind I am. If only it were this peaceful every day of the year. Of course, if that were the case, I might actually get ahead, thereby creating a rift in the fabric of reality and destroying the entire planet³, making it difficult to catch the last episodes of Pushing Daisies this summer or seeing how awful the Giants are this season.

I hope the slow start means nobody will be shopping tonight. I intend to hit the hardware store and purchase the smaller units of my home workshop/hiker hut/future hideout. My current sketch shows it occupying a third of the garage (a.k.a. the cat's apartment). When finished, all of our hiking gear, camping gear, and tools will have a home. I'll also have a place to daydream about the nifty things I'll build when I grow up and become a handyman⁴.

¹ Okay, one way it could be worse would be feeling ten days behind on January 5th. That would be bad.
² That would have been cool. The toughest part would have been jumping into the sled without spilling my coffee.
³ Taking this twisted logic to its obvious conclusion... by being behind, I'm actually saving the world. You're welcome?
⁴ In the mold of Tim "The Tool Man" Taylor, no doubt.