I was a little stressed out yesterday morning. If you read my previous blog, then you know why. One thing I've always struggled with is the whole concept of "letting go." I want to let it go, I want to give it over, I want it to not bother me, I don't want it to fester and affect my day or how I treat those around me, but I don't know how to get from Point A to Point B.
That's one thing I admire about Sarah. She just doesn't let things get to her. I don't know how she does it. She just...does it.
I was trying to not let my emotions get the best of me, but Sarah could read on my face I wasn't succeeding. I was walking from one end of the apartment to the other and she intercepted me. She stopped me where I stood and put her hands on either side of my face. Her eyes got really big, she leaned in close to me, and she said in this really weird raspy whisper, "Peace be with you, my son."
I burst into laughter and Sarah giggled and scurried away.
I need to remember that I don't always have to figure out how to get from Point A to Point B on my own. I've got someone with me who knows how to get there and she's more than willing to show me the way.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Sunday, October 24, 2010
The Joys of Renting
Sarah and I are in the midst of making plans to move into a new place. When I wrote to our landlords to confirm the amount of our security deposit (they bought the apartment from the previous landlord, whom I'll call Doobie, earlier this year), they responded by telling me Doobie told them there was no security deposit on the place when he sold it to them (he also told prospective buyers our rent was higher than it actually was to try to get people to buy the place during a real estate slump) .
I sent our landlords a copy of the lease I signed when I moved in and in the lease it clearly says how much the security deposit is and that it was paid. I signed it, Doobie signed it - heck, Doobie even wrote it - and the proof we paid a security deposit was right there in black and white.
The landlords then wrote me back to say they talked with Doobie and he basically said, "Um...no...that lease was wrong."
So, instead of taking our word for it and believing the copy of the lease, our landlords have decided that we in fact never paid a security deposit because Doobie said so.
Am I angry? Yep.
I sent our landlords a copy of the lease I signed when I moved in and in the lease it clearly says how much the security deposit is and that it was paid. I signed it, Doobie signed it - heck, Doobie even wrote it - and the proof we paid a security deposit was right there in black and white.
The landlords then wrote me back to say they talked with Doobie and he basically said, "Um...no...that lease was wrong."
So, instead of taking our word for it and believing the copy of the lease, our landlords have decided that we in fact never paid a security deposit because Doobie said so.
Am I angry? Yep.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
On Aaron
Tonight I was going through some old folders on my computer and came across a file named "ON AARON." It was last edited April 13, 2005.
"ON AARON" was a tribute I wrote to/about my pal, the late Aaron Marrs. I don't know exactly why I wrote it. Was I going to post it online? Send it to friends? Or was it just my way of coping with my thoughts and feelings about losing a friend?
It's basically the story of how we met and includes a number of anecdotes I'd forgotten. Anecdotes I thought I would never forget, and I forgot them. I don't remember writing this memoir, but I'm really glad I did.
As far as I know, I've never shared this with anyone or posted it online. It's pretty lengthy, but once you start reminiscing about friends, it's easy to ramble. Here it is, unedited and in its raw state, the file I stumbled across that made me remember how much I miss my friend.
Ed
My friends aren’t supposed to start dying. Not yet at least. I’m 34 years old and the majority of people I hang out with are younger than me so thoughts of those close to me clocking out haven’t even started to cross my mind. After all, you should be at least 50 before you have to start concerning yourself with that kind of deep thinking. Right? Right?
I met Aaron Marrs in the fall of 2001. I was visiting the Nashville area to interview for a job as a promoter at a record label. Aaron was working as the graphic designer and his work is incomparable. He found a way to take the fantastic images he saw in his head and capture them on paper (or in Adobe Illustrator as it were).
Aaron was the kind of guy who immediately made you feel comfortable being around him. He was a hefty guy who loved to laugh and whose blond thinning hair was a frequent cause of grief and anguish. Upon first meeting him many people compared him to Chris Farley and although Aaron enjoyed Farley as a comedian he hated the comparison.
It took me a little time to figure out why this irked Aaron so much. I would have taken it as a compliment. Aaron was deeper than that, though. He wasn’t just the “silly fat guy.” There was so much more inside of Aaron than the over-the-top big-guy character and the fact that he may just be seen as The Funny Guy (which he was, believe me) was a bit frustrating. And at Aaron’s memorial service in January 2004 it all finally came together. I landed the radio promotions job and it didn’t take long for Aaron and I to become close friends. He lived right around the corner from work and was always asking people to come over. He loved being around people. You very rarely saw Aaron alone and if you did he was probably on his way to meet someone else. If you looked up the phrase “people person” in the dictionary, you not only saw a picture of Aaron Marrs but it would also give you his address and directions to the house.
Like most of us, Aaron was multi-faceted. He was a guy who loved to rock and was the lead singer of “Forever Texas,” an indie band that just didn’t care (but really did). He rocked so hard that he tore his ACL during a show not once but twice. That, my friends, is rock and roll.
And at the opposite end of the spectrum was Aaron’s soft side. He was extremely sensitive to others and loved to give of himself. He was generous and open about his vulnerabilities. He had no interest in keeping up any sort of macho charade. If he was hurting he let you know and if you were hurting he wanted to do all he could to take the hurt away. When you came to the table with Aaron he showed you his cards and then did what he could to help you take the pot. Unless, of course, you were literally playing cards. In that case he was shrewd and usually walked away with twice as much as he brought to the table. And in a sense I think we all did.
Aaron and I shared a lot of the same passions. We were both music lovers (although where he would listen to The Darkness for hours on end I tended to lean more toward Sugar Ray) and we both shared a strong passion for film.
It wasn’t long before that passion brought us together to work on a short film that we had co-written called “The Pen.” Our main character was a pen and we followed it from fresh out of the box to finally being discarded after traveling through a variety of hands and situations. Our very opposite methods of shooting probably should have caused some tension or strife but it turned out that his meticulous eye for detail and shot set-ups nicely complemented my rapid point-and-shoot commando style. Wes Anderson meets Robert Rodriguez. It wasn’t until much later that I realized how our pen was a metaphor for Aaron; bobbing and weaving through life and impacting everyone he came in contact with along the way.
Spontaneity was our friend. Aaron was always up for anything. White water rafting tomorrow? Sure! Driving an hour and a half to visit a deserted Bible-themed miniature golf course? Why not? Camping this weekend? Hell yeah. And while you’re at it, let’s not bring any food. We’ll eat off of the land (Fast forward to Sunday morning where we are weak and starving. Needless to say, the fish weren’t biting).
Aaron shouldn’t have been this carefree and fun loving. Life threw a lot of crap at Aaron, definitely more than his fair share, and he would pick the turds out of his teeth and keep on moving, smiling and laughing all the while. After all, this too shall pass, and Aaron knew it would. And after it had passed it would make for a heck of a story to pass on to others.
Aaron would have made a great old guy. His story telling was unmatched and he could bring you in and leave you hanging on his every word all the while taking you on a roller coaster of emotions. Laughing one minute; brows furrowed with concern the next.
And Aaron had some good ones. Did you hear the one about his girlfriend dumping him on the phone while he was in Africa on a missions trip? What about the one where he went to a friend’s house to help her move and walked in on a robbery-at-gunpoint in progress? You know, the one that ended up with Aaron, his friend, and her sister tied up in the closet while the assailants escaped in Aaron’s Range Rover. How about the story of Aaron getting fired from the record label on the day the office closed for Christmas break? [Something else Aaron and I had in common, as I was fired on the first day back from that very holiday vacation.] And despite the fact that he had no backup plan of income he still took that trip to Europe he’d been looking forward to. Where a lot of us might have tried to cash in the plane ticket for money he still decided to hop across the pond and backpack through France and England. I mean come on; we all talk about that being an ideal vacation destination but who really does backpack through Europe? Aaron Marrs does.
Aaron trekked through life seizing the day and it was a conscious effort on his part. Sure, some of that was probably infused into him as his natural makeup, but he spoke on more than one occasion that it was something he was always striving for. Why spend your life behind the 10-foot fence we’ve erected in our back yard protected from our neighbors when there’s a whole world of life out there to experience if we’ll just take the initiative and look around a few corners?
In Europe Aaron gained a new outlook on life. To say it was a life-changing experience would be a severe understatement. He stayed in a small village in France for a couple of days and he loved the fact that everyone walked to the market for their groceries. There was no such thing as Kroger’s, Albertson’s, Ralph’s, or Publix. Just a small, locally owned market where one brand of soap was all you needed.
Aaron returned from Europe disenfranchised with the American way of life and its excesses. Even the fact that Americans produce as much trash as they do did not escape him. He was disgusted with our wastefulness and longed to return to the simplicity of the small French countryside lifestyle. After returning to the States Aaron told me about a dream he had where he stood in a supermarket in the bathroom supplies aisle. As far as he could see up and down the aisle filling the shelves was a countless and endless supply of toothpaste. Every brand imaginable and some brands that he’d never heard of were there, all promising to whiten your teeth and prevent cavities whilst reducing plaque by 99.9 percent. Bright red and blue and yellow boxes stacked to capacity. And Aaron could only stand there amid a thousand choices of dentist-recommended brands and weep. It was just too much.
I asked him what it was about it that upset him so much and I watched as he tried to put his thoughts into words. I knew then that he wouldn’t be able to do it. I wouldn’t be able to understand even if he had been able to express himself. It was at that exact moment that I knew Aaron had undergone a life change and I knew things would be different from that point on.
Aaron Marrs was operating with a new purpose and drive.
Aaron took a trip to California to explore a few job opportunities and through a series of curious events found himself in a cattle call for a new reality program. The basic premise of the show was to take a bunch of regular guys and put them with a ridiculously gorgeous girl. What would happen then? The casting director fell in love with Aaron and she too was taken in by his personality. The smart move would have been to choose Aaron for the show. America would fall in love with this guy and everyone who knew Aaron could attest to that fact. But something about the show and Aaron didn’t fit.
At one point in the interview they revealed to Aaron the premise of the show and asked Aaron his thoughts. Despite his lack of stereotypical Hollywood reality show chiseled features and rock hard abs, Aaron wasn’t comfortable with being referred to as “regular.” Because he wasn’t. He told them that he didn’t see himself as a regular guy, that no one is regular. We all have different aspects that make us incredible and if you wanted to think of him as regular and run-of-the-mill there wasn’t anything he could do to change your perspective but that didn’t mean he agreed with it.
The casting director couldn’t help herself. Although she knew John and Jane Q. Public would eat this guy up she made a confession to Aaron; one she probably shouldn’t be telling him but couldn’t help herself. Aaron just has that effect on people. The show, as you may have guessed, turned out to be “Average Joe”. An interesting premise, I guess, but fairly forgettable as reality shows go. You may recall it being on the air and you may recall the cast of Average Joes as well. Aaron definitely wouldn’t have fit in because people would have liked him. Loved him. And there in her casting office the casting director confessed to Aaron that although he would be great on air, that the camera loved his expressions and personality, she couldn’t do that to Aaron. She couldn’t put him on a throwaway reality show that would present him as just average because Aaron was right. He wasn’t average. She didn’t want a show like this to be Aaron’s introduction to the general public.
Although she promised Aaron she would keep him in mind for other upcoming projects, everyone who’s met with a Hollywood casting director has probably heard the same thing and Aaron left California with another great story to tell. Besides, Aaron’s thirst for life would guarantee to lead him to the next great adventure.
He and some friends journeyed to the Gulf Coast of Florida on a shark fishing expedition and he fell in love with the open water.
In just a matter of weeks Aaron was back in Florida (I was fortunate enough to join him on this venture) with video cameras in tow. He had made a deal with the captain of the Miss Mary, a deep-sea fishing boat for rent. Aaron promised to make the good captain a commercial for the Miss Mary’s fishing excursions. He would bring a crew of friends down to film a day on the open water and hand over a 30-second spot that could be aired on any of the television stations. Aaron would receive a day of deep-sea fishing in exchange (actually two days if you count the day we went out to film) and we also ended up staying at the captain’s beach trailer free of charge as well. Although the captain ended up extremely pleased with the finished commercial product and ended up placing it on TV for a run of a few weeks, I can’t help but think we got the better end of the deal. I still to this day am not one hundred percent sure just how Aaron got that deal finalized, but that was Aaron.
After that second fishing trip, there was little else that Aaron could think about. In his spare time he was online gathering all the information he could about the world of deep-sea fishing. He read books, downloaded countless pictures and video clips, and often had his television tuned to the Discovery Channel and one of its many specials on what was touted as “The Most Dangerous Job in the World.”
Soon the inevitable happened. It gradually went from an interest to a passion to a decision. Aaron was moving to Alaska to enter the harrowing world of deep-sea fishing. He would take a movie camera with him and film a documentary on the people who had chosen to make his newfound interest a way of life. Maybe he was looking for answers. What was it about the water and the ocean that captivated him? Why did he feel drawn to it? Perhaps in asking others what brought them to where they were he would find the answers he sought for himself.
Before leaving Nashville, Aaron gathered his friends at a local pub as a last goodbye hurrah. That was the last time I ever saw Aaron, alive or dead. I asked him to be careful, get some good footage, and come home soon. Of those three requests, only one of them would be heeded.
Aaron and three friends traveled to Alaska to film and they captured just what they had gone looking for. Beautiful scenery, colorful characters, and they were invited aboard the Big Valley crab boat to document the crew along their journey. After spending the summer at sea Aaron’s crew returned to their respective homes and Aaron stayed on a bit longer than originally scheduled. It was too late. The bug had bitten Aaron and there was no going back.
He returned to his hometown of Louisville for a short time and then in January 2004 returned to Alaska. He was returning to the Big Valley but this time there would be no cameras. Aaron would be boarding this time not as a bystander but as one of the crew. I didn’t get a chance to talk to Aaron while he was home but as I understand it he was excited and eager to return to Alaska (even moreso than he was before his first trip out there).
On Saturday night, January 16, I received a call from a mutual friend that Aaron was in trouble. Details were still sketchy and fuzzy but it seemed that the Big Valley, the crab boat that had drawn Aaron back, had gone down during the early hours of the harsh Alaskan winter morning.
What followed was a frenzied relay of e-mails, phone calls, and instant messages between a network of people that Aaron had drawn together. Had anyone heard anything? What was true and what was speculation? They’d already found 2 bodies…was Aaron either of them? Seventy miles away from the closest land mass is no place to be treading water during the month of January in Alaska.
As soon as I got the call, something deep inside of me told me that Aaron was gone. I knew it and I accepted it, even though I didn’t like it.
Others that I spoke to were not so convinced. Perhaps Aaron had on his “survival suit.” Perhaps he’s adrift on a piece of wreckage, cold and wet, but at least out of the water. Or maybe a passing boat had picked him up.
Sure these were all possibilities and it wouldn’t surprise me if any of the above actually came to pass. But I knew it wasn’t so. If Aaron could have chosen the way he had to go, this would have been it. He’d never be able to top this story.
And so it was.
The Big Valley had a crew of six who were on board when the boat capsized, exploded, and sank. Cache Steel, a Big Valley crewman, made it into a lifeboat. Although two other men made it into another life raft Steel was the only survivor. The remaining three fisherman, including Aaron, were never found.
Almost a week later a memorial was held in Louisville for Aaron. It was like nothing I had ever seen before. The service was held in a large church that was Standing Room Only. People couldn’t make enough room to fit everyone in who wanted to pay their respects to a man who had made an impact in their lives similar to what I had experienced. Coming in from as far away as the West Coast, people figured it was the least they could do to honor someone who had so enriched their lives.
And that says a lot about Aaron. A building jammed full of people and Aaron made each of them feel like they were his best friend and vice versa. We all knew Aaron was a great guy that people loved but I don’t know how many of us truly understand the number of lives he touched.
Our love and respect for Aaron wasn’t the only thing we all had in common. To different extents I think we all wanted to be a little bit more like Aaron. He rarely got wrapped up in the toils and troubles of a life of routine and if he did, it didn’t last long. This was a guy who lost his job and still spent the New Year underneath the Eiffel Tower instead of staying home and saving that ticket money like most “sensible” people would suggest you do. This was a guy who tore his ACL during a rock and roll show and just weeks later was clumping around in roller blades in a hockey player’s outfit for Halloween. Aaron didn’t concern himself with social status or fitting in. He loved you regardless. This was a guy deeply in love with God and often times drove himself crazy trying to find God’s will for his life.
I don’t know if Aaron even realized that all the while he was fulfilling that will. He was chasing after God. And sometimes if you work hard all of your life and make an impact on people the way Aaron Marrs did, you get to cut class and come home early. Aaron went home early. Twenty-six years old is pretty early if you ask me. The selfish ones that he left behind (present company included) wanted him to stay. But I’ll be darned if he didn’t inspire me to live life the way he did.
Because let’s face it: We all want to go home early.
4/13/05
"ON AARON" was a tribute I wrote to/about my pal, the late Aaron Marrs. I don't know exactly why I wrote it. Was I going to post it online? Send it to friends? Or was it just my way of coping with my thoughts and feelings about losing a friend?
It's basically the story of how we met and includes a number of anecdotes I'd forgotten. Anecdotes I thought I would never forget, and I forgot them. I don't remember writing this memoir, but I'm really glad I did.
As far as I know, I've never shared this with anyone or posted it online. It's pretty lengthy, but once you start reminiscing about friends, it's easy to ramble. Here it is, unedited and in its raw state, the file I stumbled across that made me remember how much I miss my friend.
Ed
ON AARON
My friends aren’t supposed to start dying. Not yet at least. I’m 34 years old and the majority of people I hang out with are younger than me so thoughts of those close to me clocking out haven’t even started to cross my mind. After all, you should be at least 50 before you have to start concerning yourself with that kind of deep thinking. Right? Right?
I met Aaron Marrs in the fall of 2001. I was visiting the Nashville area to interview for a job as a promoter at a record label. Aaron was working as the graphic designer and his work is incomparable. He found a way to take the fantastic images he saw in his head and capture them on paper (or in Adobe Illustrator as it were).
Aaron was the kind of guy who immediately made you feel comfortable being around him. He was a hefty guy who loved to laugh and whose blond thinning hair was a frequent cause of grief and anguish. Upon first meeting him many people compared him to Chris Farley and although Aaron enjoyed Farley as a comedian he hated the comparison.
It took me a little time to figure out why this irked Aaron so much. I would have taken it as a compliment. Aaron was deeper than that, though. He wasn’t just the “silly fat guy.” There was so much more inside of Aaron than the over-the-top big-guy character and the fact that he may just be seen as The Funny Guy (which he was, believe me) was a bit frustrating. And at Aaron’s memorial service in January 2004 it all finally came together. I landed the radio promotions job and it didn’t take long for Aaron and I to become close friends. He lived right around the corner from work and was always asking people to come over. He loved being around people. You very rarely saw Aaron alone and if you did he was probably on his way to meet someone else. If you looked up the phrase “people person” in the dictionary, you not only saw a picture of Aaron Marrs but it would also give you his address and directions to the house.
Like most of us, Aaron was multi-faceted. He was a guy who loved to rock and was the lead singer of “Forever Texas,” an indie band that just didn’t care (but really did). He rocked so hard that he tore his ACL during a show not once but twice. That, my friends, is rock and roll.
And at the opposite end of the spectrum was Aaron’s soft side. He was extremely sensitive to others and loved to give of himself. He was generous and open about his vulnerabilities. He had no interest in keeping up any sort of macho charade. If he was hurting he let you know and if you were hurting he wanted to do all he could to take the hurt away. When you came to the table with Aaron he showed you his cards and then did what he could to help you take the pot. Unless, of course, you were literally playing cards. In that case he was shrewd and usually walked away with twice as much as he brought to the table. And in a sense I think we all did.
Aaron and I shared a lot of the same passions. We were both music lovers (although where he would listen to The Darkness for hours on end I tended to lean more toward Sugar Ray) and we both shared a strong passion for film.
It wasn’t long before that passion brought us together to work on a short film that we had co-written called “The Pen.” Our main character was a pen and we followed it from fresh out of the box to finally being discarded after traveling through a variety of hands and situations. Our very opposite methods of shooting probably should have caused some tension or strife but it turned out that his meticulous eye for detail and shot set-ups nicely complemented my rapid point-and-shoot commando style. Wes Anderson meets Robert Rodriguez. It wasn’t until much later that I realized how our pen was a metaphor for Aaron; bobbing and weaving through life and impacting everyone he came in contact with along the way.
Spontaneity was our friend. Aaron was always up for anything. White water rafting tomorrow? Sure! Driving an hour and a half to visit a deserted Bible-themed miniature golf course? Why not? Camping this weekend? Hell yeah. And while you’re at it, let’s not bring any food. We’ll eat off of the land (Fast forward to Sunday morning where we are weak and starving. Needless to say, the fish weren’t biting).
Aaron shouldn’t have been this carefree and fun loving. Life threw a lot of crap at Aaron, definitely more than his fair share, and he would pick the turds out of his teeth and keep on moving, smiling and laughing all the while. After all, this too shall pass, and Aaron knew it would. And after it had passed it would make for a heck of a story to pass on to others.
Aaron would have made a great old guy. His story telling was unmatched and he could bring you in and leave you hanging on his every word all the while taking you on a roller coaster of emotions. Laughing one minute; brows furrowed with concern the next.
And Aaron had some good ones. Did you hear the one about his girlfriend dumping him on the phone while he was in Africa on a missions trip? What about the one where he went to a friend’s house to help her move and walked in on a robbery-at-gunpoint in progress? You know, the one that ended up with Aaron, his friend, and her sister tied up in the closet while the assailants escaped in Aaron’s Range Rover. How about the story of Aaron getting fired from the record label on the day the office closed for Christmas break? [Something else Aaron and I had in common, as I was fired on the first day back from that very holiday vacation.] And despite the fact that he had no backup plan of income he still took that trip to Europe he’d been looking forward to. Where a lot of us might have tried to cash in the plane ticket for money he still decided to hop across the pond and backpack through France and England. I mean come on; we all talk about that being an ideal vacation destination but who really does backpack through Europe? Aaron Marrs does.
Aaron trekked through life seizing the day and it was a conscious effort on his part. Sure, some of that was probably infused into him as his natural makeup, but he spoke on more than one occasion that it was something he was always striving for. Why spend your life behind the 10-foot fence we’ve erected in our back yard protected from our neighbors when there’s a whole world of life out there to experience if we’ll just take the initiative and look around a few corners?
In Europe Aaron gained a new outlook on life. To say it was a life-changing experience would be a severe understatement. He stayed in a small village in France for a couple of days and he loved the fact that everyone walked to the market for their groceries. There was no such thing as Kroger’s, Albertson’s, Ralph’s, or Publix. Just a small, locally owned market where one brand of soap was all you needed.
Aaron returned from Europe disenfranchised with the American way of life and its excesses. Even the fact that Americans produce as much trash as they do did not escape him. He was disgusted with our wastefulness and longed to return to the simplicity of the small French countryside lifestyle. After returning to the States Aaron told me about a dream he had where he stood in a supermarket in the bathroom supplies aisle. As far as he could see up and down the aisle filling the shelves was a countless and endless supply of toothpaste. Every brand imaginable and some brands that he’d never heard of were there, all promising to whiten your teeth and prevent cavities whilst reducing plaque by 99.9 percent. Bright red and blue and yellow boxes stacked to capacity. And Aaron could only stand there amid a thousand choices of dentist-recommended brands and weep. It was just too much.
I asked him what it was about it that upset him so much and I watched as he tried to put his thoughts into words. I knew then that he wouldn’t be able to do it. I wouldn’t be able to understand even if he had been able to express himself. It was at that exact moment that I knew Aaron had undergone a life change and I knew things would be different from that point on.
Aaron Marrs was operating with a new purpose and drive.
Aaron took a trip to California to explore a few job opportunities and through a series of curious events found himself in a cattle call for a new reality program. The basic premise of the show was to take a bunch of regular guys and put them with a ridiculously gorgeous girl. What would happen then? The casting director fell in love with Aaron and she too was taken in by his personality. The smart move would have been to choose Aaron for the show. America would fall in love with this guy and everyone who knew Aaron could attest to that fact. But something about the show and Aaron didn’t fit.
At one point in the interview they revealed to Aaron the premise of the show and asked Aaron his thoughts. Despite his lack of stereotypical Hollywood reality show chiseled features and rock hard abs, Aaron wasn’t comfortable with being referred to as “regular.” Because he wasn’t. He told them that he didn’t see himself as a regular guy, that no one is regular. We all have different aspects that make us incredible and if you wanted to think of him as regular and run-of-the-mill there wasn’t anything he could do to change your perspective but that didn’t mean he agreed with it.
The casting director couldn’t help herself. Although she knew John and Jane Q. Public would eat this guy up she made a confession to Aaron; one she probably shouldn’t be telling him but couldn’t help herself. Aaron just has that effect on people. The show, as you may have guessed, turned out to be “Average Joe”. An interesting premise, I guess, but fairly forgettable as reality shows go. You may recall it being on the air and you may recall the cast of Average Joes as well. Aaron definitely wouldn’t have fit in because people would have liked him. Loved him. And there in her casting office the casting director confessed to Aaron that although he would be great on air, that the camera loved his expressions and personality, she couldn’t do that to Aaron. She couldn’t put him on a throwaway reality show that would present him as just average because Aaron was right. He wasn’t average. She didn’t want a show like this to be Aaron’s introduction to the general public.
Although she promised Aaron she would keep him in mind for other upcoming projects, everyone who’s met with a Hollywood casting director has probably heard the same thing and Aaron left California with another great story to tell. Besides, Aaron’s thirst for life would guarantee to lead him to the next great adventure.
He and some friends journeyed to the Gulf Coast of Florida on a shark fishing expedition and he fell in love with the open water.
In just a matter of weeks Aaron was back in Florida (I was fortunate enough to join him on this venture) with video cameras in tow. He had made a deal with the captain of the Miss Mary, a deep-sea fishing boat for rent. Aaron promised to make the good captain a commercial for the Miss Mary’s fishing excursions. He would bring a crew of friends down to film a day on the open water and hand over a 30-second spot that could be aired on any of the television stations. Aaron would receive a day of deep-sea fishing in exchange (actually two days if you count the day we went out to film) and we also ended up staying at the captain’s beach trailer free of charge as well. Although the captain ended up extremely pleased with the finished commercial product and ended up placing it on TV for a run of a few weeks, I can’t help but think we got the better end of the deal. I still to this day am not one hundred percent sure just how Aaron got that deal finalized, but that was Aaron.
After that second fishing trip, there was little else that Aaron could think about. In his spare time he was online gathering all the information he could about the world of deep-sea fishing. He read books, downloaded countless pictures and video clips, and often had his television tuned to the Discovery Channel and one of its many specials on what was touted as “The Most Dangerous Job in the World.”
Soon the inevitable happened. It gradually went from an interest to a passion to a decision. Aaron was moving to Alaska to enter the harrowing world of deep-sea fishing. He would take a movie camera with him and film a documentary on the people who had chosen to make his newfound interest a way of life. Maybe he was looking for answers. What was it about the water and the ocean that captivated him? Why did he feel drawn to it? Perhaps in asking others what brought them to where they were he would find the answers he sought for himself.
Before leaving Nashville, Aaron gathered his friends at a local pub as a last goodbye hurrah. That was the last time I ever saw Aaron, alive or dead. I asked him to be careful, get some good footage, and come home soon. Of those three requests, only one of them would be heeded.
Aaron and three friends traveled to Alaska to film and they captured just what they had gone looking for. Beautiful scenery, colorful characters, and they were invited aboard the Big Valley crab boat to document the crew along their journey. After spending the summer at sea Aaron’s crew returned to their respective homes and Aaron stayed on a bit longer than originally scheduled. It was too late. The bug had bitten Aaron and there was no going back.
He returned to his hometown of Louisville for a short time and then in January 2004 returned to Alaska. He was returning to the Big Valley but this time there would be no cameras. Aaron would be boarding this time not as a bystander but as one of the crew. I didn’t get a chance to talk to Aaron while he was home but as I understand it he was excited and eager to return to Alaska (even moreso than he was before his first trip out there).
On Saturday night, January 16, I received a call from a mutual friend that Aaron was in trouble. Details were still sketchy and fuzzy but it seemed that the Big Valley, the crab boat that had drawn Aaron back, had gone down during the early hours of the harsh Alaskan winter morning.
What followed was a frenzied relay of e-mails, phone calls, and instant messages between a network of people that Aaron had drawn together. Had anyone heard anything? What was true and what was speculation? They’d already found 2 bodies…was Aaron either of them? Seventy miles away from the closest land mass is no place to be treading water during the month of January in Alaska.
As soon as I got the call, something deep inside of me told me that Aaron was gone. I knew it and I accepted it, even though I didn’t like it.
Others that I spoke to were not so convinced. Perhaps Aaron had on his “survival suit.” Perhaps he’s adrift on a piece of wreckage, cold and wet, but at least out of the water. Or maybe a passing boat had picked him up.
Sure these were all possibilities and it wouldn’t surprise me if any of the above actually came to pass. But I knew it wasn’t so. If Aaron could have chosen the way he had to go, this would have been it. He’d never be able to top this story.
And so it was.
The Big Valley had a crew of six who were on board when the boat capsized, exploded, and sank. Cache Steel, a Big Valley crewman, made it into a lifeboat. Although two other men made it into another life raft Steel was the only survivor. The remaining three fisherman, including Aaron, were never found.
Almost a week later a memorial was held in Louisville for Aaron. It was like nothing I had ever seen before. The service was held in a large church that was Standing Room Only. People couldn’t make enough room to fit everyone in who wanted to pay their respects to a man who had made an impact in their lives similar to what I had experienced. Coming in from as far away as the West Coast, people figured it was the least they could do to honor someone who had so enriched their lives.
And that says a lot about Aaron. A building jammed full of people and Aaron made each of them feel like they were his best friend and vice versa. We all knew Aaron was a great guy that people loved but I don’t know how many of us truly understand the number of lives he touched.
Our love and respect for Aaron wasn’t the only thing we all had in common. To different extents I think we all wanted to be a little bit more like Aaron. He rarely got wrapped up in the toils and troubles of a life of routine and if he did, it didn’t last long. This was a guy who lost his job and still spent the New Year underneath the Eiffel Tower instead of staying home and saving that ticket money like most “sensible” people would suggest you do. This was a guy who tore his ACL during a rock and roll show and just weeks later was clumping around in roller blades in a hockey player’s outfit for Halloween. Aaron didn’t concern himself with social status or fitting in. He loved you regardless. This was a guy deeply in love with God and often times drove himself crazy trying to find God’s will for his life.
I don’t know if Aaron even realized that all the while he was fulfilling that will. He was chasing after God. And sometimes if you work hard all of your life and make an impact on people the way Aaron Marrs did, you get to cut class and come home early. Aaron went home early. Twenty-six years old is pretty early if you ask me. The selfish ones that he left behind (present company included) wanted him to stay. But I’ll be darned if he didn’t inspire me to live life the way he did.
Because let’s face it: We all want to go home early.
4/13/05
Saturday, October 09, 2010
Hair-waii Five-O
I'm a big fan of Arrested Development
. It's one of the best-written comedies I've seen. One of the characters, Lindsay Bluth, was known for her crazy, wacky hair styles.
The new drama Hawaii Five-O
is, as far as I can tell, not a comedy. So then why would they give the exact same hairstyle to one of the main characters? One of the male main characters?
Well done, CBS. Your new comedy, Hawaii Five-O is hilarious.
. It's one of the best-written comedies I've seen. One of the characters, Lindsay Bluth, was known for her crazy, wacky hair styles.
The new drama Hawaii Five-O
is, as far as I can tell, not a comedy. So then why would they give the exact same hairstyle to one of the main characters? One of the male main characters?
Well done, CBS. Your new comedy, Hawaii Five-O is hilarious.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
300 Is A Long Time
Last weekend the church we attend celebrated it's 300th anniversary. 300 years. That's a long time. That's older than our country. Heck, it's 22 years older then George Washington, and that dude has been dead forever.
To celebrate, the church held a big shindig and invited the whole community. There was free food all day, free games for the kids, and free entertainment like jugglers, ventriloquists, and rock bands. We even invited other youth leaders from area churches to take part in a bullriding competition.
I was there with my video camera to capture the activities and put together this little re-cap. Happy 300, Willow Street Mennonite!
To celebrate, the church held a big shindig and invited the whole community. There was free food all day, free games for the kids, and free entertainment like jugglers, ventriloquists, and rock bands. We even invited other youth leaders from area churches to take part in a bullriding competition.
I was there with my video camera to capture the activities and put together this little re-cap. Happy 300, Willow Street Mennonite!
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Kids Music and Me
I've been editing and putting together goofy little videos since I was around 15 years old. Unlike today, personal computers weren't something every household had and high schools weren't even close to offering video editing courses. iMovie and Windows Movie Maker weren't even on my radar and I was editing movies by hooking up my video camera to my VCR and pressing "Pause" and "Record" at the right place. It took forever and the video distortion lines that would pop up every time I paused the VCR were annoying to say the least. I wasn't able to stop and check how it was coming along for fear I lose my exact place and end up with a couple of frames of black and white "snow" in between shots, so when I put my early videos together, it was done with a "Wow I hope this is turning out OK" prayer repeatedly running through my head.
In 2003 I bought my first video editing software for my computer and decided to teach myself how to edit digitally. I was living in Nashville and had plenty of time on my hands. The very first thing I edited on the computer was a music video. I wasn't looking to do anything epic, just something really basic and somewhat short to jump in with. The shortest song I could find was on an old Sesame Street CD and the final thing came out looking like this:
In 2003 I bought my first video editing software for my computer and decided to teach myself how to edit digitally. I was living in Nashville and had plenty of time on my hands. The very first thing I edited on the computer was a music video. I wasn't looking to do anything epic, just something really basic and somewhat short to jump in with. The shortest song I could find was on an old Sesame Street CD and the final thing came out looking like this:
For my first stab at it, I still think it turned out OK. It's goofy and dorky and ridiculous so I guess it fits me pretty well.
Since then, between videos I've done for work and stuff I've fiddled around with on my own, I've put together just about 700 videos. Zoinks. I didn't realize that number was so high until just now.Granted, some of them don't really involve a lot of editing but hey, 700 is 700.
The latest video I worked on was one for ukulele singer/songwriter Phredd. The whole text-only video thing is pretty big right now, and we've never shied away from a trend. His song "Text the Cell" was perfect for this style.
It was fun putting it together. A lot more went into it than one might think, but I love the simplicity of it and I'm really happy with how it turned out.
I started my video-editing adventures with a kids song...and 700 videos later it's still something I enjoy going back to.
But that doesn't mean if I saw The Wiggles on the side of the highway I wouldn't swerve to avoid them. I mean, come on.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Swimming to Fly
The other day we were at Universal Studios' City Walk and we came across the iFLY Hollywood Indoor Skydiving/Vertical Wind Tunnel thing. It's basically skydiving without the billion-foot fall.
I'm not usually the kind of person to post Oh-Look-At-This-Kid-Aren't-They-Cute kinda posts, but I filmed this one little girl trying to master the wind and all I can say is, Oh look at this kid. Isn't she cute?
I'm not usually the kind of person to post Oh-Look-At-This-Kid-Aren't-They-Cute kinda posts, but I filmed this one little girl trying to master the wind and all I can say is, Oh look at this kid. Isn't she cute?
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Bad Cop
Today while we were driving on the 405, we were laughing at a cop in the Carpool Lane who didn't have any passengers in his vehicle. Sarah said it best:
"If you hate obeying the law, the best thing for you to do is to just be a cop."
"If you hate obeying the law, the best thing for you to do is to just be a cop."
Wednesday, September 08, 2010
I'm MAD Sick, Yo
Very funny, Sarah. I just found this picture on our camera, which I had no idea was taken. The timestamp tells me it was taken last Friday night, one day into my battle against being sick. This photo is proof that no amount of MAD Magazine cartoon history can stand up to the power of NyQuil.
Friday, September 03, 2010
No Parking
They have a bunch of parking spaces at the Lancaster YMCA reserved for "Senior Members and Expecting Mothers" but I think that's a pile of crap.
A MAD Surprise
I said it yesterday:
"I think I'm getting a sore throat."
And it turns out, I was. And did.
After a night tossing and turning, my throat exploding into a fireburst every time I tried to swallow, I wasn't looking forward to crawling out of bed and trying to function like a human being today.
When I got to the station, Fred was waiting for me in the studio, a suspicious smile on his face. "Hey Eddie, I think someone left a present for you in your offiiiiice!"
I walked back and found this sitting on my desk:
That's right. It's the massive two-volume set MAD's Greatest Artists: The Completely Mad Don Martin!!
My stupid throat decided it was going to make me have a bad day, but Fred stepped up and said, "Oh no you're not!"
Thanks, Fred! I may not be feeling 100%, but at least now I can distract myself with an almost-endless series of THWOPs, GLONGs, SKROINCHes, and STOOPFTs!
"I think I'm getting a sore throat."
And it turns out, I was. And did.
After a night tossing and turning, my throat exploding into a fireburst every time I tried to swallow, I wasn't looking forward to crawling out of bed and trying to function like a human being today.
When I got to the station, Fred was waiting for me in the studio, a suspicious smile on his face. "Hey Eddie, I think someone left a present for you in your offiiiiice!"
I walked back and found this sitting on my desk:
That's right. It's the massive two-volume set MAD's Greatest Artists: The Completely Mad Don Martin!!
My stupid throat decided it was going to make me have a bad day, but Fred stepped up and said, "Oh no you're not!"
Thanks, Fred! I may not be feeling 100%, but at least now I can distract myself with an almost-endless series of THWOPs, GLONGs, SKROINCHes, and STOOPFTs!
Friday, August 27, 2010
The Bird of Happiness
As much as I enjoy living in the city, I've noticed that Friday is a horrible day for driving downtown. It's like everyone says, "Screw it, it's the end of the week, I'm tired of driving sensibly." And it's the same thing every Friday: I get cut off by more people, almost rammed from behind or sideswiped by someone who decides to merge from the lane beside me while I'm right next to them. Some Fridays people will just stop in the middle of the road for no reason or perform elaborate U-turns on one-way streets.
Today proved to be no different from every other Friday. I was waiting at a stoplight and the light turned green. We all began to move and a car on the cross street, who had stopped at the red light, decided pull out in front of me when I was 3/4 of the way through the intersection.
I honked my horn to give him a heads up. It wasn't a HOOOOOONK or even a HONK, just a quick tap on the horn to let him know I was there.
The speed that his hand was out the window, straight up in the air, and middle finger extended was impressive. It was almost like we was waiting for me to honk, that's how fast it was. He either assumed pulling in front of me would elicit a honk and was ready to go, or he had been driving so badly all afternoon that he was getting honked at over and over again and just decided to have his hand waiting by the window.
It was so fast, I could do nothing but start laughing hysterically at the man. It was just incredibly crazy how fast this guy flipped me off for honking at him when he almost clipped my car. And I laughed and laughed and laughed.
This made him angry, but I didn't care. He was too funny to not laugh at. And when I saw how mad he got when I laughed at him, he threw a fit in his car. If that's not a great way to start off the weekend, I don't know what is.
Today proved to be no different from every other Friday. I was waiting at a stoplight and the light turned green. We all began to move and a car on the cross street, who had stopped at the red light, decided pull out in front of me when I was 3/4 of the way through the intersection.
I honked my horn to give him a heads up. It wasn't a HOOOOOONK or even a HONK, just a quick tap on the horn to let him know I was there.
The speed that his hand was out the window, straight up in the air, and middle finger extended was impressive. It was almost like we was waiting for me to honk, that's how fast it was. He either assumed pulling in front of me would elicit a honk and was ready to go, or he had been driving so badly all afternoon that he was getting honked at over and over again and just decided to have his hand waiting by the window.
It was so fast, I could do nothing but start laughing hysterically at the man. It was just incredibly crazy how fast this guy flipped me off for honking at him when he almost clipped my car. And I laughed and laughed and laughed.
This made him angry, but I didn't care. He was too funny to not laugh at. And when I saw how mad he got when I laughed at him, he threw a fit in his car. If that's not a great way to start off the weekend, I don't know what is.
Clues Without A Mystery
I was the first one at the office this morning which always makes me a little nervous. The first one in has to deactivate the alarm system and it's notorious for not being very generous and letting you "CLEAR" and "RESET" if you accidentally hit the wrong number.
Upon opening the door, though, I found the alarm wasn't on.
Upon opening the door, though, I found the alarm wasn't on.
As I entered the building, I kept an eye out to make sure no one was inside to startle me. I went into the kitchen to put my soda and yogurt in the fridge and was a little taken back by the coffee pot.
OK, I can understand someone forgetting to turn on the alarm when they leave, but what was going on with this? Did someone make coffee and then forget to put the pot back on the burner? Is that even possible? Or...well...to be honest, I can't think of another reason to explain this weird phenomenon.
I did a quick walkthrough of the studio and my office and couldn't find anything else out of place. Freaky Friday, indeed.
Monday, August 23, 2010
A Request For Fat People
Today I was walking downtown and was approached by two fat girls coming in the opposite direction. They were walking side-by-side and as someone who has a pretty well-developed sense of size, I knew there was no way all three of us were going to fit on the sidewalk at the same time.
And this brings me to my request: If you're not going to go single-file for three or four steps while I try to squeeze past, can you at least not give me a dirty look like I'm the one in the way?
Thanks, fat people. Thanks.
[caption id="attachment_2096" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="This is pretty much what I saw coming at me today on the sidewalk"]
[/caption]
And this brings me to my request: If you're not going to go single-file for three or four steps while I try to squeeze past, can you at least not give me a dirty look like I'm the one in the way?
Thanks, fat people. Thanks.
[caption id="attachment_2096" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="This is pretty much what I saw coming at me today on the sidewalk"]
[/caption]An Extra Distraction
How do you know you're a real fan of Judge Judy? How do you know when perhaps you've seen one too many episodes?
When you start to recognize the fact they're using the same people in the audience over and over again, that's when. Don't be too impressed. I'm not actually that good with picking up small details like noticing the extras in a daily courtroom TV show.
But when one of the extras stands out like this one, you can't help.
There she is in the upper left-hand corner. She just has a look that stands out. The harsh make-up. The angry eyebrows. That distinct Is-That-A-Dude-In-Drag uncertainty. That's not an easy look to forget.
Especially when he/she pops up again....
...and again...
...and again...
...and again.
Hey, Judge Judy producers: I think it might be time to do another casting call for extras. When it becomes more fun playing Where's The Angry Guy In A Wig than watching Judge Judy yell at people, that's sort of a sign.
When you start to recognize the fact they're using the same people in the audience over and over again, that's when. Don't be too impressed. I'm not actually that good with picking up small details like noticing the extras in a daily courtroom TV show.
But when one of the extras stands out like this one, you can't help.
There she is in the upper left-hand corner. She just has a look that stands out. The harsh make-up. The angry eyebrows. That distinct Is-That-A-Dude-In-Drag uncertainty. That's not an easy look to forget.Especially when he/she pops up again....
...and again...
...and again...
...and again.
Hey, Judge Judy producers: I think it might be time to do another casting call for extras. When it becomes more fun playing Where's The Angry Guy In A Wig than watching Judge Judy yell at people, that's sort of a sign.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
No Ghosts of Gettysburg
A few weeks ago Sarah and I took a trip to Gettysburg and did a little amateur ghost hunting. When we left town, we were very excited with what we thought was proof of...something. You can see the evidence we collected here.
This past Saturday Sarah and I trekked back to Gettysburg and the first thing we did was return to the general store where we thought we may have spotted the ghost of Mrs Pickering (the original owner of the general store). Sarah took a photo from the same place she stood the last time around and, lo and behold, the anomaly was back. And as soon as it showed up, we knew we didn't hadn't captured a ghost. That would have been too easy.
The street lights must have been brighter because, although the video looks just as dark as last time around, we could see inside the store easier and I was able to quickly identify the items that were making it look as if there was a form..or something...standing browsing the aisles.
We were a little disappointed that we were able to de-bunk Mrs. Pickering so quickly, but at the same time, I think we were a little proud of our de-bunking skills.
This past Saturday Sarah and I trekked back to Gettysburg and the first thing we did was return to the general store where we thought we may have spotted the ghost of Mrs Pickering (the original owner of the general store). Sarah took a photo from the same place she stood the last time around and, lo and behold, the anomaly was back. And as soon as it showed up, we knew we didn't hadn't captured a ghost. That would have been too easy.
The street lights must have been brighter because, although the video looks just as dark as last time around, we could see inside the store easier and I was able to quickly identify the items that were making it look as if there was a form..or something...standing browsing the aisles.
We were a little disappointed that we were able to de-bunk Mrs. Pickering so quickly, but at the same time, I think we were a little proud of our de-bunking skills.
That night we returned to the Ghosts of Gettysburg, the place where we went on a ghost tour the last time we were in town. Only this time it wasn't a standard tour with ghost stories, it was an actual ghost investigation. We were excited to learn that only two other people showed up, as we hoped that meant more time to interact with author and ghost hunter Mark Nesbitt and co- investigator Larry Phelps.
When we arrived, we found out we would be investigating the Ghosts of Gettysburg building, which is purported to be haunted with a few ghosts of its own. We were told we would carry on EVP sessions in a few different rooms, get to learn about the equipment they use, like EMF (electromagnetic field) detectors, and so on.
Unfortunately, that didn't happen. The other couple who showed up were from Pittsburgh and the guy decided that we had paid money to learn not from the Ghosts of Gettysburg people, but from him.
From the onset he bragged about how good he was, he must have mentioned the fact he was a DJ at least six or seven times, and when our tour guides would mention their methods or talk about their equipment, this guy (his name was Gary but also made it a point to mention the fact that his DJ name is DJ EVP) would interrupt and explain what the actual proper method was, what he does, why this is wrong, why we was right, and on and on and on and on.
He would then go into stories that pertained to nothing, brag about other things he did, he bragged about the fact that he has $1000-headphones, and pretty much railroaded the conversation that only he was engaging in to revolve around him.
And it was because of this dill weed that our night was ruined. We didn't get to try out any of the cool gadgets, we only got to investigate one of the six areas in the house we were told we would get to investigate, we didn't see any dark shapes or hear any voices, and we walked away with nothing.
Like a drunk heckler at a comedy club who thinks he's being part of the show but is actually just ruining the night for everyone, this douche named Gary made me want to elbow him in his show-off face.
But I didn't. And Sarah and I just walked back to our hotel and made fun of him behind his stupid back.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Ghosts of Gettysburg
Today Sarah and I took a quick jaunt out to Gettysburg. It's just over an hour away and seeing as how we're huge fans of Ghost Hunters, we couldn't resist checking out a couple of ghost tours. I did a Google search for "ghost tours gettysburg" and Ghosts of Gettysburg was the first place to pop up. Their website stated they were voted the #1 Ghost Tour last year, so I thought what the heck. We weren't disappointed. The staff was very friendly and their tour guides were top-notch. They have five different tours to choose from; This blog is based on the Carlisle Street Tour. Afterward, our tour guide told us she'd never seen a ghost while working that specific tour, but said she'd seen one four times while giving the Baltimore Street Tour. So guess what Sarah and I are trying to squeeze into our calendar.
As we walked the historic streets of Gettysburg, Sarah was particularly attracted to the alleys, and every time we would walk by one, this is basically what would happen:
As we walked the historic streets of Gettysburg, Sarah was particularly attracted to the alleys, and every time we would walk by one, this is basically what would happen:
As the day turned into evening and it got darker outside and the ghost tours continued, Sarah kept on snapping shots. A lot of the pictures she took contained what a lot of ghost fans call "orbs," small circles of light they believe are actual ghosts (or their energy) trying to manifest itself. Sarah and I tend to think it's just the reflection of the camera flash hitting dust, bugs, or something similar. Here are a couple of the most orb-filled photos, taken on the Gettysburg University campus:
Again, "orbs" don't really do anything for me, but there you are.
Our ghost tour ended around 10:30pm in the Gettysburg square in front of what we were told was the oldest building in the square. Our tour guide thanked us for coming and our small group dispersed. Sarah immediately went to the front door of the building where we stood (a store that, naturally, was closed at the time) and took a photo through the window in the front door.
As we walked away, she showed me the photo and I froze. I've seen a bunch of photos that include "ghost faces" and I hardly ever see what I'm supposed to be looking at. But this jumped out at me. Upon first glance, it looked like there was the figure of a woman dressed all in black with the collar of a white shirt poking up out above her long black coat, her black hair pulled back in a tight bun browsing the shelves in the store. It was really weird.
Can you see it? Maybe? Here. Maybe this will help.
I'll be honest. The picture looks a lot different on the computer screen than it did on the tiny camera display, but still....
Sarah ran back to the storefront and took another picture. Like the first one, she took this one with the flash turned off.
It looked like she was still there browsing, this time in a slightly different pose.
The inside of the store was dark and it was hard to see what might be in there, so I asked Sarah to take a picture with the flash on so we could see what might possibly be in there that would appear to make the shape of a person.
As you can see, there's nothing there.
On a whim, I pulled out my Flip camera, placed it against the window, and filmed for a few seconds. In one of her trademark goofy whispers, Sarah asked the mystery lady to show up again ("Lady....come baaack"), and then tried to remember what the tour guide had told us the original owner's name was.
Elated that we thought we might have photographed a ghost, we made our way back to the car and headed home. A few minutes out of town, I told Sarah she should watch the Flip video to see if we caught anything and, as she played it, we freaked out. I say "we" freaked out, because although I wasn't watching the video (see what a safe driver I am?), I could hear it.
I assure you, Sarah and I did not hear that sound when we filmed it. Our lack of response bears witness to the fact that we didn't hear anything out of the ordinary. Yet it appears Sarah got a response to her plea for the lady to return. We listened to it over and over again, and it sounds as if something inside the store is moving. I ran the video twice in the above clip, the first time as I filmed it and in the second pass I lightened the picture a bit in an attempt to see if I could find what is moving or making the sound.
I didn't see anything.
So, did Sarah and I catch something? We don't know. But for a few minutes our hearts raced at the thought that we may have. Either way, it was a lot of fun.
August 22, 2010 - Sarah and I returned to de-bunk Mrs. Pickering...and we were successful! Read about it HERE.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Bears With Sticks: Just As Impressive as Avatar
This video is a lot like Avatar. At first I was like "Wow this is amazing!" And then I was like "Is this all that happens?" And then I gave up and quit watching before it was over.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Chelsea Clinton's "Wedding of the Century"
Apparently Chelsea Clinton is getting married and it's a big deal. To be honest, that's about all I know because I only read the headline. Chelsea Clinton is so low on my radar - just a bit lower than Erin Moran and Mr. Belding - I couldn't be bothered to read the article.
Yahoo News is calling her nuptials the "wedding of the century."
Seriously. Please media, I beg of you, do not try to make Chelsea Clinton into our version of Princess Diana. Just don't. Please.
And how cocky are we to call this event the wedding of the century? We're only 10 years into it. How belittling is that to everyone else who comes along in the next 90 years? Our apologies, future people of note who get married. Sorry, Celebrities-of-2088. I'm sorry, Dude Who Invents Monkey-To-English Tranlsator Voice Boxes. I understand you're all pretty important and prominent, but you seem to have forgotten that back around 2010, 2011, Chelsea Clinton got married.
Who?
She's the daughter of one of our presidents.
Huh? You mean other presidents' kids have gotten married, too?
Yea, but...well...this is happening now.
Yahoo News is calling her nuptials the "wedding of the century."
Seriously. Please media, I beg of you, do not try to make Chelsea Clinton into our version of Princess Diana. Just don't. Please.
And how cocky are we to call this event the wedding of the century? We're only 10 years into it. How belittling is that to everyone else who comes along in the next 90 years? Our apologies, future people of note who get married. Sorry, Celebrities-of-2088. I'm sorry, Dude Who Invents Monkey-To-English Tranlsator Voice Boxes. I understand you're all pretty important and prominent, but you seem to have forgotten that back around 2010, 2011, Chelsea Clinton got married.
Who?
She's the daughter of one of our presidents.
Huh? You mean other presidents' kids have gotten married, too?
Yea, but...well...this is happening now.
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