Test Images

So, I've been mulling a new camera. I made the fatal mistake of mentioning this to David over at authorblog, and he's making sure I'm getting the most out of my old camera. Maybe I just wanted a new camera, David! Heh. Anyway, I told him I'd take a few pictures in different conditions and then post them. So away we go.

Here's some azaleas blooming out in front of casa del Bart. Straight forward, this isn't the sort of thing that gives me trouble at all.

Here's one of Scheurholz Field, the baseball park at TU, from the University Union balcony. I wanted to get a decent shot of those sprinklers at the back fence, but the zoom is pretty rudimentary. Maybe 3x.

The destruction of the Lida Lee Tall building. First step, paving the way for a new liberal arts building. Focus seems a bit wonky to me on this. I think the cars in the foreground threw off the autofocus.

A Bart's Eye View of my workshop, from my desk. Here's where things get weird...to look this good, I had to throw on the "nightscape" scene. So it looks like my office is in full light, when it's not. At all. The only light in my office is from a desk lamp and monitor. So...not exactly what I was going for, really. I do like the neat effect it gives to the overhead fluorescent in the workshop. But if I were to try to take it natural, the autofocus can't settle, and if it does, it takes forever and a day. Considering the amount of low (not no) light pictures I like to take, this is a problem for me.

A Bart's Eye View of my work bench. Relatively clean, too. Once again, relatively straight forward, and the camera handled it well.

A macro shot of pair of wires on a shelf above the workbench. The macro function works fairly well for the point and click nature of the camera, I think. I know it surprises me sometimes. But again, the autofocus takes forever and a day on this kind of shot. I'm not talking a couple of seconds, I'm talking minimum of ten.
So, there we are. Make of this what you will, faithful few.

A View from the Booth

Here is my view of a lacrosse game at Unitas Stadium. I thought you guys might enjoy a "Bart's eye view" of things sometimes.

Here Come The Men in Black:

No, not those MiB. No aliens involved here.

I've made mention to my profession a few times. I'm a professional technician. Which could mean anything, really, in this day and age. Audio/Visual Event Technician narrows it down some. We are the men in black...for real. That's our "uniform" (though I infamously among my co-workers scoff at that and on a day to day basis wear what I want. Hey, I'm in a hot workshop, cut me some slack).

My profession is a really weird one. If we do our job right, you don't even know we're there. If something goes wrong, everyone knows we're there. And 99% of the time we're unfairly blamed for technology failing. That's what technology is there for, to fail. Especially in the digital era. Now, we've got 10 components in one piece of equipment, and if that fails...you just lost 10 components. Yeah, it's lighter, but...

Anyway, this is a shout out to all the other pro techies out there. We stand united, brothers and sisters. We of the profession where everyone asks our advice, but never heeds it. The profession where people always complain about how everything costs so much, and then complain about the end product when they "value-engineer" the event. And those of you who aren't of our particular ilk...thank your technician at events. You'll find them in the corner, usually, with wary eyes.

Here's a couple work pictures to amuse you all.

A look at our area during a commencement. That's me up at the rear board (the lighting console).

A better look at me in that scene.

And back in the theatre days, me waving like a madman from a fly (curtains) gallery, probably right before curtain on the show "The Music Man."

Tooting My Own Horn

TOOT.

So, besides all the other awesome things I do for the world, how many of you know that I'm a thespian, too? Oh yeah, baby. Ain't met a creative endeavor I haven't made my personal biznitch. Well, except drawing. Unless you like stick figures. I rock the stick figure.

But anyway, yeah. I've been known to dibble dabble with acting. It's actually how I fell in to my profession. Started out on stage, drifted backstage, learned the backstage craft, refined the craft, adapted that craft, and blammo. Pro techie for the events department of a university. I had done little things here and there over the years, then took a great many years off. Ha. Like I had a choice in it, I was really too busy and focused on other things. But last year around this time, I was talking to one of my student employees, Monsignor Chris Taydus, esq, CPA, STD, and I told him that, him being an Electronic Media and Film major, and President of the campus television station, that he ever needed an actor over the age of 25, I'd be happy to do so. His response was roughly, "well...you know..."

And basically, thus started my involvement in Film School.

Film School was a lot of fun, and I hope we're able to finish up the first season's episodes (scheduling difficulties really put a damper on shooting. To put it nicely). It's basically a Scrubs derivitave, but with (get this) a focus on Film School. Msgr. Taydus plays the main character, and I play the former hot shot director turned professor who tormentors him. You like that? Torment + mentor = tormentor.

The funny thing is, I'm basically playing me turned up to about 100 (you want me to play it cranky and belligerent? That's a stretch. Also, The Queen commented that I'm not actually turned up all that much), and the relationship between our characters is basically our real life relationship but more antagonistic (we're much less serious about it).

Film School is WMJF's first foray in to a continuous narrative sitcom, and I'm proud to be a part of it. So, without further fanfare or self congratulations, I give you a link to find episodes. Look for the "click for video" links.

Film School.

Quick Hit

Re: The Bourne Ultimatum.

The first trailer looked bad ass enough to lure me in, considering I loved the first one and really liked the second. Two bits of dialogue from the second trailer have me moving this up beyond "At Worlds End" to my second most anticipated film this summer:

Pamela Landy: This is Jason Bourne, the toughest target we've ever tracked. He's really good at staying alive, and trying to kill him and failing...just pisses him off.

Jason Bourne: Listen very carefully to what I'm about to tell you. I remember...I remember...everything.

August 3rd. I'm there.


Note: Here's the list.
1) Spider-Man 3
2) The Bourne Ultimatum
3) PotC: At World's End
3) (tie) Harry Potter and The Order of the Phoenix
5) The Simpsons Movie

The Greatest Theory Known to Man.

The "I was just talking about that movie!" theory. The vast majority of this is actually a repost from that crappy little MySpace blog. I can't remember exactly the movie it occured with this weekend, but it did, so I was reminded of this theory. I promise you that this will be the most awesome theory you'll read in this post today.

So, a few years ago, I think with my friend Nat (now playing bass for Cinder Road, who opened up on a US tour for Chris Daughtry!), I came up with this theory, and I haven't thought about it for years. Here's how it goes. If you haven't seen a movie in a long time, at least 5 years, and you talk about it it will come on TV. Maybe not immediately, usually two months at the most. I first noticed this in late middle school or high school. I was talking to one of my oldest friends, Bosch, about "KISS Meets the Phantom of the Park" and lo and behold, within a few weeks it was on TV (WGN I think). I also noticed after awhile that you can't reference this phenomenon or else it doesn't work.

So, why am I mentioning this? I haven't thought about it in awhile, mainly because I hadn't mentioned any really old movies that I haven't actually seen for several years. But last night, I watched the last half of "North Shore." Anybody else remember that movie? Kid from Arizona wins a wave pool surfing contest, goes to Hawaii, learns life lessons as he learns to big wave surf? Yeah, it's bad. But anyone that knows me knows I love bad movies. Well, I can't remember who I was talking to about this movie not that long ago. Might have been Josh and Fernando, maybe it was Greg, but whoever it was, we somehow started talking about Sideout, and I mentioned that I liked it better when it was about surfing and called North Shore (The exact same line I use for Fast and the Furious and Point Break). Now that I think about it, it might have been Mad Dog at a volleyball game. So color me surprised when I flip through the channels last night and see North Shore. I turned it on right when the poor hoale (pronounced howl-lee, brah) is getting his ass whupped by the brothers of the girl he's trying to get with. Of course the idiot falls for a local girl. But that has nothing to do with the theory.

Seriously, this works. Of course, you can't practically test it since you can't just start talking about movies you haven't seen in a long time with the intent to get it to happen. It just has to happen. But once it does, you'll notice it. Alot.

Bask in my glory, everyone. You may want to put on SPF 30.

Ugh!

EDIT: Well, part of it has to do with Mozilla Firefox formatting the page slightly differently. But there's still a regular margin over there that I'd like to utilize.

See all that dead area over there on the left?

I'm downright sick of it.

And to do something about it, I need your help. I have tried to find a way to fix it, and all the tips I've found haven't done the trick. Help me out, folks. I want to be able to plug stuff in over there, because I hate unused space. I can condense things, put more gadgets up, whatever. SOMETHING.

In the Interests of Equal and Fair Time:

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Tonight, we have a very special interview. This time with Annie the Cat. Once again, I'll shall be providing translation for you all who don't speak Feliniean.

Bart: Thanks for being here, Annie.

Annie: Make this quick. I have napping to do.

Bart: I've been known to refer to you and Elmo as Garfield and Odie. What do you think about that?

Annie: That's ludicrous. I'm not orange. I do not eat lasagna. I actually kind of like Mondays. Elmo, on the other hand, makes an excellent Odie.

Bart: Why do you swipe at him all the time?

Annie: I can't yell at him, like you do. Not that he listens to you. Or remembers I have claws.

Bart: Why do you like to lay on our magazines and books so much, when we lay them down on the couch, or bed?

Annie: Your books and magazines?

Bart: Yeah, we bought them.

Annie: Of course you bought them. For me.

Bart: I don't really think...

Annie: Of course you don't. Silly man. Everything you do is for my benefit. *sniff*

Bart: Interesting concept. Next time you get antsy for food, maybe I won't fill your bowl up to your liking. How's that sound?

Annie: That's dirty pool. It's bad enough you let that slobbering thing eat my food...

Bart: Simply trying to point out an obvious fact of life.

Annie: You bore me. Excuse me, I see a fleck of light on the ground.

This is where the interview sadly ended, as Annie found the fleck of light highly addictive.

Sticks and Stones

Note: This post is inspired by Deborah's post today over at Uncommon Notions.

I'm not going to lie to you good people. I cuss like a f'n sailor. I'm sure that disappoints my mother, but I really don't care. I could justify it by saying I'm blue collar, or that I like the raw emotion that these words bring to a sentence, but that'd be hollow justification to me. In the sense that this is not how I feel about the issue.

I simply believe that curse words are arbitrary. Utterly and completely.

Think about this...what makes a curse word a curse word? Simple: we say they are. That is it. That's the beginning, middle, and end of the process. We have put the stigma of "badness" on those words. We've built them up to be some incredibly taboo thing, something you should never say in polite company. Things you get million dollar FCC fines levied upon your TV or radio station if one of them slips by. Things that change a films rating from PG to R (for a better dissemation of how screwed up that is, see South Park: Bigger, Longer and Uncut). But here's the thing:

They are only words.

Back when I was a boy, and teased mercilessly (you try having a name that rhymes with fart), I was taught my first linguistics lesson. Sticks and stones can break your bones, but words can never hurt you. But Bart, you say, that's something mothers tell their kids when they come home crying from being teased all day. Maybe. But it's also a very pertinent linguistics lesson. Words can never hurt you. Words are dispassionate, unbiased. In the hands of a talented person, they can be melded many different ways, but in the end, they are still words.

The only difference is that somewhere, some time ago, people with enough clout deemed curse words to be vulgar.

Which brings me to my next point...do any of you know what the origin of the word "vulgar" happens to be? It's derived from Middle English. It's the word for the common people. Vulgarity came from the aristocracy looking down their nose at the commoner. This is even more prevalent in the language, since the nobility, since the Norman Invasion, had French roots, language wise. Which is why, in the English language, a French word is the "classy" word to use in a situation. Think about that for awhile when you're talking about someone being vulgar, or using vulgarity. The entire concept was borne of class distinction. Not the most glorious of births, huh?

I'm not saying everyone should curse like I do. Or like my one boss, who probably couldn't string together a sentence if he was deprived of the f-bomb (I teased him one day after he got through a sentence by saying "8." That's how many he used in one sentence.). But I do think we should realize that we're being completely arbitary when we say that these are "bad" words. Irregardless. THAT'S a bad word. The other ones are words that people, long before any of us, or even our parents, were born, deemed to be "common."

Words can never hurt you, my friends.

Exclusive Interview with Elmo:

Good evening ladies and gentleman, I'm your host, Bart. Today, we've got an exclusive interview with Elmo the Dog. We're so happy to have him here tonight, and we hope you are, too. Since most of you don't speak Dogese, let alone Russelarian, I'll translate for you.

Bart: Welcome Elmo.

Elmo: Where's the food? I was promised food.

Bart: It's in your bowl. Where it always is.

Elmo: The one on the left, or the one on the right? I like the one on the left. But that one goes away a lot. Put it back.

Bart: That's the cat's food. Yours is the one on the right. But let's move on. What makes you tick, Elmo?

Elmo: Food. Where's the food, again?

Bart: Besides food.

Elmo: Sleep. Walks. Hey, are we going for a walk?? Are we?

Bart: No, not right now. How do you get along with the cat?

Elmo: There's a cat here??

Bart: Yes...you eat her food all the time. She swipes at you on a regular basis. You root around in her litter box! How do you not recognize we have a cat??

Elmo: I'm hungry.

Bart: Ugh. Okay, changing topics...why do you mess with us when we try to sleep?

Elmo: Because you need to be feeding me. Or walking me. Preferably both. Hey, are we going for a walk?

Bart: No. And put your lipstick away.

Elmo: I can't help it.

Bart: Yes you can! You can stop licking yourself!

Elmo: ...why would I do that? Wait, if I stop doing this will there be food?

Bart: Okay, I'm done. Here, have a treat. Your breath stinks.

Elmo: OH MY GOD OH MY GOD GIVE ME THE FOOD GIVE ME THE FOOD!!

I'm sorry, ladies and gentleman. He promised us that he'd show up fed and walked. This is the danger you enter when interviewing such a capricious animal. Til next time.

An Excess of Excess

Saw a documentary recently about being overweight in America. Which could honestly be for any "westernized" country, though especially so for the good ol' US of A.

Essentially, it analyzed what's become a culture of over eating. It traces back to the Great Depression, and the reactions of an entire country after being on rations. Basically, they say that once the country righted itself, we had Scarlett O'Hara syndrome. As God as our witnesses, we will never go hungry again. Now, restaurants and grocery stores are very much about supplying the most food for the least buck. Couple that with increasingly processed food products and incredibly increasing sedentary lifestyle, and BAM! We're fat, we're fat.

I have to admit, I totally was influenced by it all. Especially since I was raised in a family that really stressed getting the value out of a dollar. I would see any uneaten food as wasted money. I still do, unfortunately. Of course, now, I know what I was doing and work against it. I'm not afraid of food going to waste now. Those starving folks in Africa be damned. No, wait, I didn't mean it like that...great, now I'm gonna get hate mail. I simply mean that the guilt trips don't work anymore, I won't be guilted in to over eating.

I've lost 32.6 pounds since Jan. 31. I'm just above 180 lbs now, and I am shooting for 167. The Queen marvels at how she can now completely put her arms around me and then some. A belt is pretty much a necessary accessory, as I've lost about 4 inches off the waist.

And if I can do it, all fat asses can. Though, this documentary also mentioned that once you have weight, the body will go to great lengths to retain it. So the heavier you are the harder you have to work. But I'm seriously one of the laziest, most unmotivated person around, and I eat very quickly, which lends to obesity (you don't realize your full until you've already eaten too much). What's your excuse then?

Also, small tip. You ever been eating, and midway or so through the meal you've sighed? Stop eating. That's your body saying "I'm cool." You should always listen to your body.

Side note...I barely broke 135 at best in high school. Sopping wet. I don't think I'll ever see that weight again, because my body changed around 19 or so (shoulders widened significantly, for one), but it's tough to even remember being that thin anymore. And that worries and motivates me the most.

Haiku Action

Exxon kills 4Q?
Gee, I can't believe that at all
How much is gas now?

How dare you CHEER at a ballgame!?

Not all of the ushers at Camden Yards are a joke.

But some of them are. And it's absurd. Every year, with the O's down and the Yankees and Red Sox up, and relatively close, Camden Yards gets "invaded." And for some reason, the ushers seem to have been told to favor the out of town fan. Even if the out of town fan is over the top vulgar, making the scene, etc etc. I relay this story posted on the Orioles Hangout forums, by poster S'GOS. I wish this story was an isolated incident. Unfortunately, I can't tell you that. In actuality, I've heard hundreds of similar tales.

I'm a long time reader, but first time poster. Last night's game inspired me to finally get on here and put in my two cents. I'm a young guy, 2 years removed from college, work for a baseball scouting and college placement organization, and live and breath Baltimore sports. I try to hit up about 40 or so games a year. My friends and I always occupy the bleachers just right of the foul pole next to the flag court. We cheer our lungs out, start chants, drink a few beers, and get a little rowdy. But we have always took pride in our abilities to keep profanity and disrespect to a minimum. We bring nothing but positive vibes and try to get other O's fans "into" the game. Basically, to steal a quote from Raven's games, "Don't be a jerk!!"

Well, last night was one of the most dissapointing moments of my life. We ventured to our usual spot to find it littered with Red Sox fans. Big Deal, its something I have come to expect, but it didn't mean I was going to shy away from cheering for my team. Lowen started off really well and we were getting up on 2 strike counts. The Orioles scored early so we were up for that as well. There were a few Red Sox fans behind us that didn't take to kindly to that and the New England smut that followed made me sick to my stomach. I tried to stay oblivous to it, making a few exceptions to spin around and throw my hands up as if to give them high fives, but it was all in good fun.

Around the 5th inning or so, we were cheering durring a two strike count for Lowen and the bombs started dropping again, and the ushers came over and started pointing at us oriole fans to sit down. I ran down to the usher to see what he thought was suitable behavior for a home team fan. I kept my cool and even after the usher refused to make eye contact with me, I returned to my seat.

It is the 7th inning now, and BRob is up with a 1st and 3rd opportunity. We start cheering again and trying to get the O's fans into it. Yet again, the Sox fans start dropping bombs faster the F15 fighters over Baghdad. This time the ushers meant business. 3 Ushers came up and singled me out and and told me I had to leave. I laughed it off at first like it had to be a joke or something. Next thing I know there are 5 cops waiting for me at the end of the aisle. Well, at this moment, my heart broke. I couldn't believe what was about to happen. The jerk Sox fans behind me started a "hey hey hey goodbye" chant as I was ushered out. The best part was this; a handful of Red Sox fans came to my defense. They ran down and attemped to stop this tragedy saying, "he wasn't doing anything wrong at all" and "he was cheering for his own team, let him stay." But to no avail. That one butch looking usher ran over like a troll and asked for my ticket, she took it and wished me a smug "good night." I was tossed through the front gates "Jazz from Fresh Prince of BelAir" style. It was embarassing and heart breaking. I turned to the cop who threw me out and asked him where he was from. He said Baltimore, and I asked if he knew what he did was wrong. I told him I understood he was doing the "man's" work and that I have nothing against him, I just wanted to hear him say what just happened was wrong. I told him to shake my hand if he agreed, and shook it.

Luckily for me, I had 2 tickets that night. My buddy from work had given me 2 free tickets, and I couldnt find a taker on the other. So I ran around the warehouse and entered again on the other side. I watched the rest of the game from the bullpen area, and watched Pena's bomb land right in front of me. That was a dagger!! The stadium exploded and I was sulking. I told a few O's fans in the area my story from the night and they couldn't believe it. I made my way back over to meet up with my friends on Eutaw Street around the beginning of the 9th. They got a good laugh out of the whole experience but we all agreed that we needed to reevaluate our outlook on this organization. The game ended and we exited through the same gate I got tossed through and I actually made eye contact with a few of the ushers that threw me out. I shot them a smile as they bickered to one another and stared me down.

The moral of the story:

You can't take back what was never yours.

I cheered
I stood
I believed

But why?

Why do I put so much into something that obviously doesn't want a part of me?


I will continue to support the team, and attend as many games as I can, but this isn't my team, its the "man's"

The usher's at Camden Yards need to be reminded why they're there. Not all of them, but some of them. You're not the No Fun Police. Kicking people out for cheering for their team is absurd, especially when people are throwing out obscenities in the same section. Like I said, I wish this was an isolated incident, but it's far too common.

Straighten your ushers up, Orioles. This is yet another reason why your attendance is falling fast.

For those about to rock...

I salute you.

I used to be a rock star. Okay, not a star. GOLDEN GOD. Okay, okay, I was in a dinky outfit that made it's way up and down the Baltimore-Annapolis corridor. We did play with Good Charlotte, though. Back when they weren't caking themselves with fake tears and when they played good music. You know, before they cut a major label album. But that's a whole 'other story.

I miss it sometimes. Then I remember humping gear in and out of shitty little bars. The good camaraderie gets blacked out by the pissing matches. The fact that I can barely play. Okay, that was an underestimation, but I'm not that good in all honesty. Definitely overstepped my bounds by trying to solo, I'm strictly a rhythm kind of player. But even with all the negative crap, I miss strapping that axe on my shoulders, turning it up to 11 and having a good time.

I've thought a hundred times about getting together another band, a group simply for kicks. Maybe a punk cover band a la Me First and The Gimmie Gimmie's, sans the 'all-star' line up.

But then I remember that most days, when I'm not working, I'd rather be doing nothing. I got lazy in my not quite middle age. Heh. Got. Like I suddenly became lazy. That's a scam if I ever heard one...though why I'm busting my own balls I have no idea...

This picture is totally me, though. No lie, that's me rocking out with my...guitar out. This is my favorite picture of me from that time, because it really looks like I'm a shiny golden rock god. When in actuality there were about thirty people at that show, maybe a bit more, and we weren't even the headliners.

I write, therefore I am.

Except I'm not all that much a writer.

I write awesome stories.

Unfortunately, I've never found a great way to get to those pesky sections. Like the end. And the middle.

It's actually quite annoying. I've had great ideas, but because I can't get past the beginning of pretty much every one, I know have about 50 great story idea beginnings. Worst part is, a lot of times I'll find my idea has been used in the time after I start.

For instance, God, Inc. It's funny. I wish I had thought of it first...oh wait, I did. But that's what I get. I got about ten pages in, and hit the wall. Pretty much like I always do.

It's actually pretty frustrating. Because a pretty huge part of me knows I'm a writer. But a small part of me is a rational person and knows that I have to actually write to be a writer. I know what you're thinking. "But Bart, what do you think you're doing right now?" I'm talking doing it for a living. Or at least as a lucrative side job. Not trying to explain to people how I got my current job with an English degree. Heh.

But I think the most frustrating part is that I'm having problems even starting anything even if I get one of my awesome ideas, because I think, "oh why bother, you're gonna hit that wall." Pretty self defeating, but hey, the whole kit and kaboodle here is a self defeation problem. I think I made up a word right there.