When we were young

As a kid growing up in Fargo, ND my younger sister had an imaginary friend named Jocka. Later, Jocka had an imaginary girlfriend named Joolin. Good 'ol Jocka and Joolin, always a good time with those two! I tried having an imaginary friend a couple of times, but we really didn't have the same interests.
Also, for a while we lived next to an Indian guy named Goo-doss (that's how it was pronounced anyway). Goo-doss had a goat which I thought was pretty cool since I was a city kid, not too may people with goats in the city. Sweet.

If I Had a Dog I'd Name Him "Toe"

That makes me laugh, although I'm not sure why. Probably my upbringing. Just kidding Mom... "Come 'ere Toe!" Ha... ha... that's so awesome.

Reality TV

Here is a scholarly article about criticisms of Reality TV by one Laura Grindstaff. While the piece starts off with some vitriolic quotes condemning this controversial genre, it begins to back off by pointing out many of its critics appear to be elitist with respect to their views on what counts for acceptable media. True to many scholastic essays the analysis stops short of taking sides. Additionally, the work contains numbered footnotes whose accompanying information is unfortunately missing. Still, it does provide ample food for thought about reality television as well as making some passing remarks on televised media as a whole.

Biodiesel: Good Idea or Pipe Dream?

Recently listening to NPR's "Story of the Day" I came across a podcast concerning biodiesel. The main thrust of the article was about a Texas truck stop that was going out of business. Before closing the owner was contacted by Willie Nelson who suggested that he convert the a pump to biodiesel. Long story short, ALL the pumps were converted and the result was a success story. Seemingly, the topic of biodiesel has become a popular topic among the country's truckers who's main motivation for buying biodiesel is to "decrease America's reliance on foreign oil." Another interviewee mentioned that were american truckers to get behind biodiesel in a big way, the country's soccer moms would not be far behind. The environmental benefits of biodiesel are significant. For one, biodiesel produces 50% less carbon monoxide and cuts carbon dioxide emissions by 78%. Additionally, biodiesel produces 20% less particulate emissions. On the economic side the ease of manufacture (you can make it in your own home) from recycled "waste" oil, such as grease traps from restaurants, have given rise to a growing cottage industry. So why not convert to biodiesel? In a word: efficiency. Reports done by governmental and private researchers have show that the energy inputs required to process the base plant oils is still too high to justify a full scale conversion. Like most renewable energy resources the process is still too inefficient. Perhaps more importantly, is the issue of land use. Considering traditional plant sources, studies have shown that the United States does not have enough arable land to fuel the nations vehicles. Similarly, plans to increase biodiesel production in the Phillipines and Indonesia will lead to the deforestation of tens of millions of acres. Still, other research, especially with certain forms of algae which produce a much higher oil yeild, are promising in this regard. Finally, the prolifieration of "homegrown" biodiesel production flies in the face of the conventional assumption that large economies-of-scale are more profitable and efficient by keeping revenues and resouces local, reducing environmental impact, and, reducing waste. Clearly, biodiesel has a future, just how big a future is another question.

End of Summer

Well it seems as thought the highly unusual warm (sometimes hot!) weather we had here this summer has abruptly and unceremoniously come to an end. Summer is almost officially over and with that has come our other season, the rainy one. I think that it has rained every day now for two weeks straight. Real rain too, not drizzle. This last week we've even had some pretty significant thunderstorms. It's all fine with me since I don't mind the rain. I will, however, miss the sun. Our local star only seems to shine for about one to two months of the whole year. It's no wonder Van Gogh was so depressed!

My Motivation

To obtain a challenging position that creatively employs my exceptional communication and interpersonal skills. I am highly motivated and learn very quickly. My education and experience have given me a solid foundation of skills sets that are widely sought in the communications field. While I feel that I may be best qualified for a writing or editing position I would welcome the opportunity to apply myself to positions in communications more broadly defined.

Sounds simple enough, eh?

Blogs

I've been doing quite a bit of blog surfing recently and I must say it's something of a runaway phenomenon. I have linked to some blogs that I personally find interesting and some which are maintained by people I know. Every couple of days I view the "Blogs of note" section on the Blogger website. While some are very creative and interesting, others I find difficult to believe are so popular. Perhaps I am just a jealous man with a small, cold rock for a heart? In any case I think my blog is pretty choice.

Quality

I recently recieved an email from my friend Sara in Kentucky. She's a fabulous photographer/activist/human being who is doing wonderful things for the arts in Louisville. She and five other women have started a local art collective to get emerging artists together with young buyers in a situation where everyone benefits. Currently doing themed exhibitions, the photo above is from the flyer of their most recent event. Congrats Sara, way to kick @$$!!!

Kickin' it Old School in the 'Nati

Here's a pick from Cincinnati's Mt. Adams a friend of mine recently sent. Thanks JO'D! Shout-out to the Northside!!

Bloemen

I just happen to like this picture. It's very...mmm...picturesque!

Jell-O Pudding

Speaking of the pudding, here's a pretty funny Bill Cosby spoof. If you like it, there's more funny stuff to be found at AlbinoBlackSheep.

Later Nerds!

Food for thought Part 2

Why do the Dutch put pudding in milk cartons?

Food for thought Part 1

Tats, creative expression or sorry looking discoloration of the skin when you're fifty?
Note: For those who get tats at the age of fifty, what will that look like when you're eighty? Rebellious, I'm sure.

Know any good riddles?

Incidentally

I've been told several times in the last couple of weeks that my Dutch is getting much better. I still remain a skeptic, but it is sort of fun to just stumble your way through a language. Since I'm currently learning both French AND Dutch I sometimes end up speaking a hodgepodge of Esperanto. The looks I get are quite priceless, but the only way to really learn a language is to simply say something. Cliche, but true. I like trying to make sentances purposely more difficult to test my skills. For instance, instead of saying, "Waar is het toilet?" I'll say, "Waar can ik het toilet finden?"
Being here for nine months, a lot of what I've learned is simply by osmosis. There are quite a few TV channels that broadcast programs in English (besides the BBC and CNN) but they are subtitled in Dutch. I sometimes get a kick out of the differences between the audio and subtitling. Commercials and children's programs are also a good way to pick up some basic sentance structure and vocabulary.
All told, learning a language is kind of fun once you get over the fear of being a foreign mangler of the native toungue and the frustration of not able to express yourself in the way you're used to in your own native language. It's a process that takes time, but is very rewarding.
Plus my language skills are SWEET!!!

You know you need to get out more when...

....You've spent all day editing your blog that only about 3 other people in the entire world will ever read, posted nearly a dozen new entries, and viewed nearly a hundered other blogs, all of which are better than yours.

Well, my adoring public may be small, but at least they are loyal.

Seriously, I need to get a life.

SASSY!!

I can't help myself

I was surfing blogger.com and came across this blog and I couldn't resist checking it out. It's pretty damn funny if you ask me.
www.lookathisbutt.blogspot.com
Scroll and read the captions!

I've Come to Enjoy our Time Together

Pretty standard day here in south Holland. Rain, clouds, etc. Unfortunately this may preclude a trip to the beach this weekend. I think that later on today I will make a trip over to the local "outdoor" retailer and drool over all of the fancy gear. I really love technically advanced camping gear. Perhaps this is because I've always enjoyed camping ever since I was a child. Some of my earliest memories were of road trips in my grandparents' RV. It wasn't the biggest on the road but it was pretty comfortable for two adults and two young kids. Things got a little more crowded when my parents came with, During those times my sister actually slept in the bathtub (which, come to think of it, explains a lot). Most of our trips were within a couple hundred miles of home with the occassional longer journey. I remember that we went to Canada at least once every summer. My favorite part of these trips was the visit to the Winnepeg airport to watch the planes taxi and take off. I was fascinated by airplanes and my grandparents liked to cultivate our dreams.
I never did end up becoming a pilot, but all the traveling we did all those years, all the places we visited, and the things we saw really nurtured my wuderlust. Perhaps that is why I've always felt restless after living in one place for too long, there's just too many places to see.
Back to my point. After graduating from "camping" in the "camper" I learned the joys of sleeping in tents. When my mother remarried it was to an avid bass fisherman which ment lots of camping as we went from tournament to tournament. The best was finally having my own tent. Unfortunately these were "K-mart specials" that often leaked when it rained and my Star Wars sleeping bag, while tres cool, didn't always do a bang up job of keeping me warm and dry. Hence the fascination with gear. By college my woefully underequipped outings blossomed into "gear envy." I seemed to never have the stuff that fit the bill. My friends cooked on portable gas stoves while sitting in collapsable camp chairs and slept in down bags uder spacious dome-tents while I sat on the ground, ate what they shared with me and shivered the night away in my hand-me-down tent and bag.
All of this began to change when I planned to leave for Europe and purchased my first internal frame backpack. That "no-name" pack has been with me for over a decade and was truely my first forray into the world of suitable camping gear. I still have gear envy from time to time. In fact, it was pretty severe when I lived in Colorado, a place where in some circles one's status as a human being is judged by the type of outdoor equipment one owns. Heaven forbid you should be one of the pariahs who doesn't have a membership at REI!!!
Even today I am far from what I would consider to be adequately eqipped, but I am now much more savvy and I have just enough gear that when night falls I sleep like a baby.

System Backup

I'm not going to write much today since I'm backing up most of the files on my hard drive which is going to take about 8 hours. I've had this computer for something like three years now and I've never backed up my stuff. VERY DANGEROUS! Most of it consists of my music library and my photos, two things that fill up one's hard drive very quickly. After three years, I'm nearing the limit of my computer's 40 gigs of space, and I need to delete some stuff to make more room. I've made a few additions to the links on the side including a couple of blogs that I visit regularly. Feel free to have a look, and with any luck all these space issues on my computer will be somewhat nearer to their resolutions by tomorrow.

Name that Celebrity

Taking a break from her more domestic passtimes, this commedienne/social critic cum malcontent was spotted "on vacation" imbibing a glass of Amsterdam's finest in the trendy Jordaan district. When asked how she felt about her thoughts on Europe she replied, "I hate having to pay to use the toilets." And while she admitted that Amsterdam's Red Light district made her feel "kinda' creepy" her visit to the world famous den of legalized prostitution was thoroughly disappointing since the giant penis sculpture outside Casa Rosso had recently been removed.

Blogger Down!!!

I guess "Blogger" will be down for a while this evening and I just had to say that I went go-karting last night and it was great fun. I banged myself up pretty good though. No guts, no glory!!!! My second race I even had the fastest lap time of the entire group. It's a sweaty, intense rush. I can't wait to do it again!

"I am a Scientist"

I am a scientist
I seek to understand me
all of my impurities
and evils yet unknown

I am a journalist
I write to you to show you
I am an incurable
and nothing else behaves like me...

chorus:
and I know what's right
but I'm losing sight of the clues
for which I search and choose
to abuse
to just unlock my mind
yeah, and just... unlock... my mind...

I am a pharmacist
perscriptions I will fill you
potions, pills, and medicines
to ease you painful lives

I am a lost soul
I shoot myself with rock n' roll
the hole I dig is bottomless
but nothing else can set me free...

(chorus)

I am a scientist
I seek to understand me
I am an incurable
and nothing else behaves like me...

everything is right
everything works out right
everything fades from sight
because that's alright with me

-Guided by Voices

Hard @$$ F**k

I missed both Satuday and Sunday I'm afraid but I'm back again for a quick update post. Hopefully more will follow tonight. Saturday Kimberlee and I woke up early to meet a friend of ours in Amsterdam. We met his boyfriend and the four of us went to Amsterdam's annual Gay Pride Parade. I think what made this a unique event is that the parade is held on the canals so the "floats" literally float. I hope to post some pictures at some point. It was good fun as we sat on a barge with other spectators to view the parade, drink beer, and soak up the festive spirit.
After 6 hours of sun, beverage, and half naked homosexuals however, Kim and I were exhaused so we returned home for a quiet evening.
Yesterday, I ate breakfrast at a Dutch resturant that serves "traditional" (if that is the word for it) English Breakfasts replete with beans in tomato sauce. It was good, but not as good as on the island. The 14 euro price tag was also a bit steep. I guess you pay for the priveledge of getting a cappuccino with your meal (as oppossed to simply tea). In any event it was straight from there to the beach with a handful of friends. I tried my hand a windsurfing and just as I was getting the hang of it, I found myself a long way from shore and too tired to get back. I was towed in by a friendly Dutch womand and here son in the end, but not before I felt completely embarassed. Still, I tried something new and I have resolved to give it another go as soon as the opportunity affords itself. The upside is that my tan is starting to come along now that it's the end of summer. That night we had a barbeque and enjoyed one anothers' company. A full and somewhat exhausting weekend.

Friday...

I finished reading "Cloud Atlas" this afternoon. Sheer brilliance! I devowered all 529 pages in two days. It was Nietzsche with an optimistic twist. Bravo, and once again Kudos to Kevski for his insistance that I read it. I've been sending out quite a lot of emails as of late to old friends whom I haven't heard from in a while. I recommend everyone do this from time to time as the rewards are fantastic. I always love to hear what new projects people find themselves immersed in. And of course, it's always a boost to my own ego to know that I'm friends with such fabulous people, no matter where in the world they may be. After some jogging this evening will be a restful one as tomorrow I'm taking in the Gay Pride Parade in Amsterdam. I can only imagine.

Sludge

Sludgy thoughts, is more like it. I've not come up with anything interesting to write about today. It's a bit grey outside. Lots of rain the past couple of days. I like the taste of octopus, I've found. I've had it a handful of times now and while unagi nigiri is still my favorite, octopus has moved securely into second place on the sushi rankings. A bit like chewing on faintly fishy rubber. Sounds appetizing eh? I'm reading a very interesting book right now by David Mitchell called "Cloud Atlas." You were right, Kev, sorry for being so obstinate.

Reincarnation

If I had my say in it I'd come back as a cat, with one qualification, I have to have my own human butler. I'm not being greedy here, I don't need an entire family, even though they're cute like that.
Why, you may ask? Because anyone who has ever owned a cat (I'm using the word "owned" loosely here becasuse everyone knows that humans are owned by cats, very posh cats, that is) knows that they tolerate our existance becasue we make such nice things to sleep on. One of my favorite things in life is to see a cat sprawled out in a patch of sunlight, preferably in a bookshop window somewhere. I think I could handle the routine as well; eat, nap, move to another location, nap, stretch, chase birds, sleep, eat, nap... you get the picture.
One thing I could never figure out though is why dog-lovers seem to virulently hate cats. The reverse is less likely, cat people don't despise dogs, they just like cats a lot more. Perhaps it's because cats are solitary and aloof while dogs are dependent and let's face it, slightly less bright. When a dog looks at you with its tongue hanging out the expression reads, "me like you" while the expression on a cat's face usually reads, "what's up, you're still here huh? Suits me, I'm going to take a nap." Or something of the sort.
Yeah, I'm a cat person.

Never... Ever... fly through Luton Airport

Such a scathing title usually preludes a inflammatory critique and this post is no exception. Still, my ire was piqued on this occassion and writing about it may prevent someone else from having to endure a similar debacle, as herding cats seems like an appropriate metaphor.
First, a word on the name. London-Luton airport is a tad misleading because while (I believe) this airport is in England and not India, attaching London to the beginning is a cruel exercise in deception, but not one without it's well concieved intentions. The truth is that this airport is located somewhere in the English countryside (the Lakes district perhaps) and seems like it is closer to Birmingham than London. In any case it's a good hour and a half or more by train into London proper.
Maybe the journey was less stressful on the way out of the airport than it was back in because the outward bound leg is colored by anticipation of an adventure while the return is marred by the realization that one is resuming "life as usual." The truth is that traveling on Friday afternoon is much different than traveling on Sunday afternoon. I will conceed that WHEN you travel, is perhaps more important than WHERE you travel.
To recount, return trip from East Medon to Luton was, as near as I can recall, as follows:
Wake up on hard ground inside tipi after long night of binge drinking and intermittant sleep at approximately 7:30 am. Contemplate civalrous and selfless offer to let my girlfriend use my down sleeping bag. Sidestep regret, bite tongue, and feel good that my darling was comfortable. Morning toilet and breakfast without incident. Good-byes followed by 9:30 departure by car for Petersfield station (15 minutes) with kind soul by the name of Darren. Train delayed for 45 minutes due to "animals on the track." Switch trains in Woking, (meagre) standing room only Next to annoying Dutch couple talking ceaselessly in alternating Dutch and English (convinced they are showing off). London underground: misplaced ticket + only 80p in Sterling left = 20 minutes of lost travel time + mounting frustration. London Bridge tube station experiencing "significant delays" due to God knows what. Reroute to Blackfriars. Board train to Luton, train nearly empty. Next stop, train as full as market day in Calcutta. I sit across from a lady holding a two year old who keeps kicking me and behind a middle aged chav whose gravelly voice and persistent hacking of mucus lead me to believe she will loose a lung before the trip is finished. Arrive at Luton Airport Parkway. Indifferent chav sporting sweat pants, tank top, sunglasses, baseball cap, and requisite cigarette unemotionally crams dazed travelers onto shuttle bus. I spend the 15 minute journey forced to stand with yet another chav's armpit in my grill and his arse uncomfortably close to my crotch all so his girlfriend(?) can stand with a at least a good 12 inches of space around her entire person. Finish off waiting for two hours in an arport that seems nearly devoid of seating, chav central. Board plane with at least 10 screaming, sugar-hopped children and an odd number of crying babies. In a stroke of luck manage to obtain seat near emergency exit with ample leg room only to have a guy sit behind me who smells so bad that I nearly lost my lunch. Seriously, I puked a little in my mouth. Think about sign in airplane toilet, "consider using your paper towel to wipe off the sink for the next person" and contemplate proposing a sign which reads, "for the comfort of your fellow passengers, consider...BATHING." Never so happy to reach Schipol ever before in my life. Quiet, nearly empty train ride back to Den Haag.
I know. Perhaps I have an anger management problem. It is after all, no-frills flying, and they mean it. All the same I believe I'll think twice about flying through Luton again.

Pirates of the Carribean: Dead Man's Chest

Recently a friend of mine had this to say about the summer blockbuster hopeful "Superman Returns,"

"...and who really cares?

Seriously, was anyone as unimpressed with this movie as I was? It was nearly 2 and 1/2 hours long, and after it was over, I was seriously trying to even remember what really happened. Pretty much nothing, except for a long-ass love-triangle story. As Ebert wrote, even the special effects seemed dreary, and tacked-on instead of incredible.
What was missing? Oh yeah - the fun. Where in the hell was the fun in this thing? My lanta, this thing was boring.
Chalk this one up to "The Hulk" - probably better on a second viewing, but one that won't come for quite some time.
Perhaps there IS something to a name after all, and this should have been titled "Superman Begins". It worked for Mr. Wayne, it should've worked for Mr. Kent."

Incidentally, Pirates... was also a bit of a disappointing sequel. It found it to be a roller coaster of a film that was in some ways more disorientating and confusing than entertaining. Moreover, it's length and abrupt ending glaringly highlight the fact that this is a story which will be concluded only with the next installment. Sadly, I could have watched the last ten minutes of the movie and would still have been amply prepared for the third film, and that would have freed up my evening to say... Oh... clean my toilet perhaps. In short a film that takes a long time to go nowhere.

....

I like thunderstorms. The best thunderstorms are the ones over the plains in North Dakota and Minnesota. I love the way one can smell the rain coming when it's still a half hour away. This is usually accompanied by the noticable absence of birdsong. The fresh smell of cooler air approaching along with the sudden quietude is followed shortly by a faint rustling of the trees which gradually gains momentum. As a young boy I can remember that these were the signs that inspired a quickening of my pulse in anticipation. Sometimes when I was a considerable distance from home I knew that I would need to pedal hard on my bicycle in order to make it back without getting wet. Then the skys darken and the angry cumulonimbus clouds rise up in ominous grey tones, the best containing patches of red, yellow, and green. The wind picked up and began whipping the branches on the tree lined boulevards into an excited state. Distant peals of thunder began to be heard along with the occassional flash of lightning. Sometimes the warning sirens would start up all across the city indicating the possibility of a tornado. The adrenaline pumping, I pedaled furiously, the proximity of danger making me feel infinately alive. The air rushing past me as I pick up speed on a downhill run and the wind angering the trees as far as I could see only heightened my mood. It's close now. I estimate no more than a few minutes before the rain begins pounding my neighborhood with fat, wet, wind-driven rain. Will I make it? I can tell it will be close. As I race around the last corner, I can see my house down the block, and I can hear the rain approaching at a rapid pace, the sudden drop of air temperature and pressure confirms my apprehension that the precipitation is not far behind. I dismount as I enter my yard throwing my bike down and running those last few meters to my back door, the wall of rain nearly following me inside. This time I have remained dry and I will enjoy watching the summer storm from the comfort of my living room.