Not a T-Shirt but Totally Post-Worthy

Hello there!

A year ago, I shared this video:



...which, happily, sparked a bit of conversation in my comments section.

Today, the brilliant team that created that intro has a new video to share, focussed on the science and technology that drive the GMO industries and how they affect the food system.

My video gadget in the sidebar displays both videos, newest first, so if you can't quite remember the website (https://feedingninebillion.com/) you can always find it here!

Please watch the new video (it's less than six minutes long) and share with EVERYONE.



On the t-shirt front, I'm considering a blogging return after March Break. Need to reorganize the t-shirts again... ;)

Cheers!

Picking Sides and Sidedoors

Back in 2010, I was on Spring Break in Hawaii with a couple of girlfriends when Conan O'Brien announced his Legally Prohibited From Being Funny on Television Tour on his Twitter-feed. Specifically, I was in a line at an airport towing my luggage when the announcement was made and I immediately tweeted my frustration at being nowhere that I could feasibly buy a ticket from. To my rescue swoop my Newfoundland friends, Brian and Lori (THIS is why technology is awesome), who speedily bought me an e- ticket for a Vancouver show (the sold out #conezone one) which they forwarded to me through email (again, technology = awesome) and which is why I am now able to sport the Team Coco branding.

It is beyond fitting that technology provided a loophole for me to acquire a ticket for this show in particular as the whole tour was a giant loophole through which Conan evaded the illegality of him being funny in the public arena. In a nutshell, when he split with NBC in early 2010, he was not allowed to perform on broadcast television until September 2010. Live performances and any subsequent photos, recordings, or streamed videos resulting from said performances were not covered by the contract however and thus, the tour was born, fed on a steady diet of social media/networking until it grew to the mammoth proportions of a Self-Pleasuring Panda.

err... yeah, not exactly sure where I can go from that link so that's all I got for today but I may decide to wear the other Conan shirt tomorrow...

With a Little Help

Short post today. 

I'm not the world's authority on any specific band. Instead, I tend to gather general (some would deem it trivial) knowledge on a wide range of music and musicians. However, while living in the UK, I made the pilgrimage to Liverpool almost specifically for the Beatles-value of the place. (For full disclosure, Liverpool also had a Hard Rock Cafe at the time). In my memory, it was a dynamic weekend of incidental experiences. Aside from the grumpier hostel lifers (who SNORE), I met a group of extremely friendly Irish students who were determined to treat me to the craic (a good thing) and, although I did not get the chance to take the "Ferry Cross the Mersey", I did spend a lovely afternoon exploring the revitalized waterfront and its shops and historical interest points. There was no footie on that weekend but I took some pictures around the Liverpool FC stadium, Anfield, while humming "You'll Never Walk Alone" (It occurred to me then that hockey lacks a lot of the singalong interactiveness that soccer has.)

Of course, I had a meal at The New Cavern Club which isn't EXACTLY where the Beatles were discovered but very, very close (and built with many of the same bricks as the original club) and took the Magical Mystery Tour with the amazingly knowledgeable tour guide (I want to believe his name was also John) who was a born and bred Liverpudlian and not only attended school with a couple of the Beatles but has chatted with Sir Paul in the past about the fact the tour has stopped at McCartney's childhood home more times than McCartney himself ever did.

By strange coincidence, my visit to Liverpool happened just after a tragic accident claimed the life of Vancouver musician Paul "Lolly" Lawton. A friend of Lolly's knew where I was heading and asked me to pick up an Everton F.C. scarf from the team shop while I was in Liverpool as Lolly had been an avid Everton supporter. It was a trick to find the shop as it was the most unassuming little hole-in-the-wall but I was happy to do it as it gave a rather frivolous jaunt some meaning in the big picture.

All in all, it was an interesting weekend getaway but traveling alone always reminds me of how much more fun trips can be when made with friends. Of course, it depends on the friends in question - some travel better than others - but experiences like exploring an unfamiliar city are often made richer for being shared.

Spirit Week: PJ Day

The spirit is definitely moving me this week. Today took some effort. Sure, PJ Day sounds convenient: Just roll out of bed and trudge into school in whatever you sleep in. Yeah, not so much when one typically sleeps in old (non-blog-worthy) t-shirts and lives a forty minute commute away from school. And even if one were to own a proper set of pajamas, wearing them on the bus with "outdoor" shoes (in my case, my trusty Blundstone boots) and a bigger-than-usual overcoat to disguise the fact your bottoms are leopard print cotton sweats makes for a rather self-conscious and uncomfortable trip - rather like, I figure, a flasher's first deliberate escapade.

My PJ bottoms actually are leopard-print cotton sweatpants (and my go-to slippers are zebra striped so I'm killing all sorts of fashion etiquette today) so, this morning, I changed out of my PJs, packed them in a bag with my housecoat and slippers, brought them to school and changed once I got here.

Check that: I wore the t-shirt top (pictured above) rather than changing altogether. But I wore a coat over it. And I drove. Like I said, effort.

As I mentioned yesterday, PJ Day is usually the most popular day of Spirit Week at this school. That being said, only about 1 in 5 students observes/participates/remembers it. I was considering it yesterday in preparation for today and wondering why I don't remember it being a thing at all in my high school years. I came up with a couple of explanations.

1) Context is important. Wearing your PJs to school in the BC Lower Mainland fall, winter, or spring is a very different thing than in Saskatchewan where the school year is best outlined as September, SNOW, or June. I remember the last day of Grade 8, also the last day of elementary school when one classmate, who lived across the street from the school set himself a goal to be back in bed at home after signing yearbooks and picking up his report card before the sheets had a chance to cool down. He still got dressed to come to school. And that was June.

2) The acceptability of PIP (PJs In Public) has grown. I blame this in part on Lululemon(TM) and the yoga gear fad. I'd have to consult with the fashion-minded frugalista Annabelle Hepburn to be certain but I'm pretty sure by 1990, leggings and the like had been deemed beyond passé (see? I can be French-esque too) but then lululemon athletica was founded in 1998 and by 2000, it was fashionable to wear unflattering, high-priced, patterned stretchy skin in place of trousers. And those who couldn't afford $60 - $100 for a pair of stripped-down stir-up pants could be forgiven for interpreting the sudden prevalence of über-casual dress on public transit and at the workplace as a tacit societal acceptance of a comfort-first approach to clothing.

3) Loss of privacy. This goes back to discourses on social media, common sense, the diminishing of the term "friend" and crowd-sourcing. When I was in high school, you held sleepovers with maybe a half-dozen of your close friends. They were the ones who got to meet your parents, annoy your siblings, chase your pets, hang out in your room/closet/basement (whatever), and watch movies/talk/crimp hair late into the night.  It was a fairly exclusive experience that could be shared second-hand at school the next week in discussions. It allowed for safe risk-taking, potential embarrassment that was understandably manageable because of the small number of witnesses. Nowadays, if sleep-overs do still happen, they are streamed, tweeted, shared, and updated so persistently, nothing is sacred or safe anymore. And, similar to the word "friend", "privacy" in this arena has become so de-valued that the approach has become extreme - either you share everything or you share nothing at all. ever. Neither is really healthy emotional development and both can be potentially problematic socially. 

To end where I started, PJs are a source of comfort in theory. I have my winter PJs - red fleece reindeer printed ones and seafoam green fuzzies that I refer to as my Muppet-skins - and a couple of sets of cotton coordinates that appeal to my humour (see today's) and my own personality (see today's). PJs may, in fact, in their natural state (ie. not-Spirit-Week requirement), be a source of truth for how we see ourselves. I believe we sleep best when we are at ease and there is some evidence that we learn best when at ease too. However, the jury's still out on how well teens learn while asleep.

Knowing Where You Are

*Published verbatim on 27 May 2013, tee actually worn on 23 May 2013 hence the backdate stamp*

So I'm back on the wagon (aka Canada Line) and looking to confuse folks as I have tshirts from Tues & Wed (and one from a week & a half back) to write about and will probably back-date them all for accuracy's sake.

Today's tee is a bday giftie (from this most recent birthday!) from my Newfoundlander family who travelled 7,500km (with a toddler powered by Energizer bunny power and a far-too-cute-for-her-own-good 5-month-old) across the continent/country to attend my wedding. Yes, I got married during my blog hiatus (and aged out of a marketing category two days later). It's all about timing...

For those who have never been lucky enough to visit St. John's, NL, the tee depicts the city's harbour with Cabot Tower on Signal Hill on the left. It's a beautiful vista, almost as lovely as the people who live there. And the geekery factor of the 8-bit text-game presentation is amaze-balls.

Most similar Google Image I could find to the tee graphic

Part of knowing where you are has to do with knowing who you're with and, perhaps, making a conscious judgement call as to who is and who isn't a positive influence in your life. Family is family and there is an innate acceptance where they are concerned. Everyone else is present by choice - mostly a combination of theirs and yours. Some people are hard work and there can be times where the pay-off isn't worth the investment. 

I'm living proof of this.

And then there are some precious few who belong in your life no matter how far apart you live geographically or how many changes your life goes through.

Then and Now:
You really should be focussed on how much camera technology has improved ;)

I met Brian Kidney in the summer of 1996 in Hamilton, ON, at the annual CanJAC convention (he wasn't tweeting then). He was the tallest person I had ever met. His humour, warmth, and confidence was (and is) striking and of all the people I met that week, he is the only one I have kept in contact with over the last seventeen years. We wrote actual letters to each other (and even mailed them), sent birthday cards to each other (I have the advantage in remembering his birthday as he shares the day with my brother) and made odysseys across this great country of ours to see each other (his wife, Lori, won a cross-country VIA trip and they made optimum use of it, coming to Vancouver, while I took advantage of the most skookum airfare deal ever to go see them get hitched). As is common with many of my guy friends' significant others, I learned a lot about Lori before ever meeting her - police decoy, seal enumerator, lucky horseshoe, rescue beagle delivery person - and she exceeded every expectation. Add super-mom to the mix now. 

He and Lori have travelled extensively in their work and play and never fail to generously add to my Hard Rock Cafe pin collection on every excursion. This trip was no exception. After my wedding, they packed their happy little family into the mini-van and traipsed down to Seattle and back (before the bridge on Skagit collapsed, thankfully) and I found a new HRC pin from the Seattle store tucked in with my tee (which, appropriately, smells of baby powder - the tee, that is). I should also point out (if my faithful readers hadn't already clued in) that a large section of my tee collection originates from the East Coast thanks to Brian and Lori.

Of the many, many blessings I thank the 'verse for, I cherish the good people in my life who keep my feet on the ground, my head in the game, and my heart in the right place. Whenever, I need a guiding star, they're there no matter how far away the GPS puts them physically. And that, ultimately, is probably the key to knowing where I am.

Search Me, Browse Me

... but don't mess with my access.

The Internet is such an integral part of our lives in the First World it seems (the UN has even declared Internet freedom to be a basic human right) that, like modern food supply, we rarely think too hard about where we get it from or how it gets funded. So when my Google homepage started asked for money in exchange for a t-shirt, I have to admit I was intrigued. 

Mozilla has a mission statement. Heck, it has a MISSION. That, in and of itself makes it degrees of magnitude cooler than Internet Explorer could ever hope to be. 

I also happen to think its icon is really cute.

But getting back to the Mozilla Mission, it states that the World Wide Web should remain in the hands of the people. What said people do with that is up to us, I guess. I live a fairly open online life ... within limits. I try to keep my photos representative and my posting interesting. Eight of the ten results Google returns on my name are me but since Google filters geographically (as well in as other ways), that might be because I'm searching from my stomping grounds. One thing I did not know would pop up in my search was my postal code. My current postal code. And another thing I did not know until last Friday is that all one needs to access a person's cellular phone account is a name, the cell phone number, the birthday, and postal code of said person. Ask me how I learned. :(

I don't think Internet freedom is a bad idea. I think the Internet has reshaped the world in amazing ways since it became a truly accessible thing. But I do think people need to be aware that their information is out there and its value is limitless in the wrong person's hands. I also think people should realize that even a mall kiosk has security cameras ALL OVER THE PLACE.

The Power of Place

Today's shirt isn't exactly exciting or eye-catching but the memories of my visits to Oxford always thrill me a little. The thought of walking the same lanes and seeing the same vistas as Tolkein, Shelley, Wilde, and Adam Smith boggles... and I mean BOGGLES... my mind.

Geography is so much more than co-ordinates on a globe. In the movie Collateral, Jamie Foxx's character has a photograph of the Maldives tucked into the sun visor in the taxi he drives. When things get rough, he takes a little holiday by looking at that picture and thinking about that beach. That power of place depends on the depth of feeling associated with the memory or the dream. We never recapture a specific moment but we do try, don't we? And being in a place that has deep meaning for us can invoke the memory of that moment so that we can choose to relive it, reflect on it, even re-evaluate it through our more experienced lens. Returning year after to year to the same restaurant to celebrate an anniversary. Spending Christmas morning with family in the same living room every year. Stopping at the same viewing point every time a road trip passes by it. It's where nostalgia and deja vu have a love child and produce the essence of a place. Those little snapshot moments in our minds' eye give us solace and respite, maybe even resolve and motivation.

And then there are places where we've never physically been to that still resonate with us. For me, that was most keenly felt in Florence, Italy. The first day I woke up in that city and stepped out of our crazy amazing fabulously-priced hotel and onto the via that runs along the banks of the Arno, I felt as though I had returned to a well-known and long-loved place. I traced this feeling back (past my multiple screenings of A Room With a View) to my undergrad degree spent buried in multiple courses on medieval history. Dante, Boccaccio, the Medici family... I studied their writings, their art, their politics. I lived, breathed, and dreamed their legacies for four years. It shouldn't have surprised me that their stomping grounds would seem familiar. But it did. And that's the power of place. 

Anyone have an example to share?

**Now that I'm thinking about Florence, I gotta share images from the hotel.

Those paintings are the DOORS to the rooms

That's the front lobby and the check-in counter

And THAT's a typical room. Not even kidding. The ceiling had LED "stars" and you could signal "Do Not Disturb" by pushing a button on the bedside console.

 

Defining By the Negative

It's sometimes hard to know what something or someone IS right away. It's an easier exercise to eliminate what IS NOT. 

Shirt sourced from RVB - Quote citation: Pvt Donut

Canadians often define themselves as "not American" probably because a general definition of "American" is so widely recognized. I find myself describing myself as "not an English teacher" often (mostly because I balk at claiming to be able to keep up with the amount of work they do -- just not happening). And my fellow teachers often feel it necessary to remind non-teachers (and students) that "teaching" does not equal "baby-sitting" nor does school take the place of social work, counseling, a finishing program, hygiene centre, laundromat, or dating service.

The problem with defining through elimination is that eventually someone wants a positive, affirmative statement of what actually IS. When hour-long television comedies appeared without laugh tracks and with long-game story arcs, the term "dramedy" followed shortly afterwards. When novels of contemporary manners and social foibles became popular in the bookstores and libraries, "chick lit" became a thing. Terms like "bromance" and "pwn", often with esoteric origins, now serve a purpose or become appropriated to fill a definition niche. It may be a previously undefined melded category. It may be a needed superlative. Language is magical because it can be changed and challenged in so many innovative ways. 

Defining by the negative is the first step in giving name to your world but if it's your only strategy, you may end up like the kid who only knows what he doesn't want to eat - grumpy and hungry for something you can't name.

So... how do you define yourself as AND as not?

When a Plan Comes Together

A lot of successful endeavours in life are a direct result of having a team of individuals that pull together in a cinch. I grew up watching The A-Team on TV and when the movie version idea first came about (with the dream team of Mel Gibson, Ving Rhames, Jim Carrey and some pretty boy, I think it was Matt Damon at the time) I couldn't wait. Of course, the dream team never emerged but the cast they assembled for the 2010 movie was solid (and the cameos were stellar) and sold the concept in an appropriately over-the-top manner.

My maid-of-honour, Kerri got me this shirt years ago when she discovered the joy of custom-made shirts. I wore it to every final exam I had after getting it (I believe in the power of subliminal learning, especially for professors that mark their own tests) and often donned it during exam week at the high schools I worked at to get the kids thinking positively.

In terms of plans coming together, the wedding's less than 200 days away now. Might sound like a long run-up but considering the countdown started at over 400, it feels very close by comparison. Kerri's a part of my A-Team for the execution of this production even if she's supporting from a distance. My mom is excited but strictly hands-off and Jeff's mom has been cautiously helpful. The strangest thing I find about this whole scenario is being asked "How are the plans coming along?" NOW. STILL. In my mind, the plans were done within a month of deciding to get married. Everything else has been implementation. Being asked about plans NOW borders on the ridiculous. 

Still, knowing who my main players are is helpful. It is a team effort and being able to delegate duties early is a relief. Friend Lesley provided me with some official-sounding army terminology yesterday like "battle procedure" and "operations order" that I'll try to work in to my "war council" (<< my preferred term even if it isn't accurate) of wedding party members that I want to call in the early spring. After all, I got to design my team's uniforms, they might as well be the uniforms of the victors, right?

Sometimes it's a daunting task ahead of us and I'd much rather be a cog in the machine than the owner/operator/engineer but the choices we've made so far feel right and, ultimately, it's about sharing a wonderful day with friends and family and making good memories to start a life together with.

I was trying to figure what motto (related to today's post) I could reference when describing the process of planning this day and, funnily enough, the only line that resonated was: 

Overkill is under-rated

Of course, that has to do with the planning not the aesthetic. :)

Music T Friday: Ya Gotta Have ...

to be...

 

Sisters, Ann and Nancy Wilson have been making incredible, indelible music for a long time as the band "Heart" and when I saw them in 2010 at the Orpheum in Vancouver (a city they credit with fostering much of their success) it was clear that their fans had never considered their hiatus anything but a temporary absence. Their music and stage presence continue to draw crowds eager for new and classic songs featuring Ann's signature vocals and Nancy's impressive guitar skillz. 2010's Red Velvet Car was a return to the soul of Heart (o_O ... hrm... ) - music that reaches out to their listeners and sticks with them long after the song has ended. They are an act that eschews drama and scandal, choosing to focus their public lives on creating quality music that evolves and grows the way true art always does. They are women who staked claim on the boys' own territory of rock 'n' roll of the '70s and carved out a throne all their own. When I talk Heart with friends and fellow music fans, it's always about the music, the craft, the amazing talent the Wilson sisters exhibit and how wonderful it is to know that there are musicians who can live their lives with purpose, branching out all the time with daring, knowing that their roots are firmly anchored in their art, their relationship, and their public. It's a positive story in an industry filled with cautionary tales.

So, from my archived videos from that concert in 2010, one of my favourite songs sung by the phenomenal Ann Wilson. Happy Friday, everyone!

An Dontcha Fergit It...

Hint: Name the letters out loud left to right

It's true. See?

I'm reaching a bit today to make a connection between the t-shirt of the day and anything all that relevant to the world. I've had a lot of trouble sleeping the last few weeks so it does feel like my brain has been reduced to a series of seemingly meaningless letters and I don't think I'm the only one so there's that. 

The shirt is a souvenir from the musical Avenue Q which itself was inspired by Sesame Street (brought to you by the letter "Q") so that's kind of timely considering the "Big Bird-gate" going on in the US and the avalanche of memes that have popped up showing Sesame Street ready to rumble. 

Avenue Q is known for its humour and cleverness (and puppet sex!) and its most famous songs are pretty controversial (like "The Internet Is For Porn" and "Everyone's a Little Bit Racist") but there's an amazing song at the end of the first act that easily wins a spot in my Top Ten of All Time Favourite Musical Numbers. "There's a Fine Fine Line" was almost my anthem at one point and it remains a reminder to me that, even though Kate Monster does (SPOILER ALERT >>>>) backtrack to reunite with Princeton, there IS a line that, once crossed, changes everything.

There's a fine, fine line between a lover and a friend;

There's a fine, fine line between reality and pretend;

And you never know 'til you reach the top if it was worth the uphill climb.

There's a fine, fine line between love

And a waste of time.

There's a fine, fine line between a fairy tale and a lie;

And there's a fine, fine line between "You're wonderful" and "Goodbye."

I guess if someone doesn't love you back it isn't such a crime,

But there's a fine, fine line between love

And a waste of your time.

And I don't have the time to waste on you anymore.

I don't think that you even know what you're looking for.

For my own sanity, I've got to close the door

And walk away...

Oh...

There's a fine, fine line between together and not

And there's a fine, fine line between what you wanted and what you got.

You gotta go after the things you want while you're still in your prime...

There's a fine, fine line between love

And a waste of time. 

- Robert Lopez & Jeff Marx

This is the cast recording of Stephanie D'Abruzzo singing "There's a Fine Fine Line" 
(she was also my favourite guest star EVER on Scrubs - "My Musical" - seriously, look it up)

My Mulligan Monday

This t-shirt is fun

No deep story to go with

It is from Threadless

It makes people laugh

Punch line is obscured sometimes

Because I have boobs

Haiku writing time!

Anyone? Bueller? Bueller?

Participation!

No, seriously.
Write me a killer haiku.
Mondays really suck.