Thursday, January 17, 2013

Waters of March

This is the English translation of the title of one of my favourite Brazilian compositions, "Águas de Março", by the one and only Antonio Carlos Jobim. The Brazilian (Portuguese) version was sung so beautifully by Elis Regina, who featured prominently on several other samba masterpieces of the time. The English version is lesser-known, but was sung by a famous performer from the sixties: Art Garfunkle. This version was included on his greatest solo effort, "Breakaway". 
Why I just went into all this background, I am not sure. However, it only seemed appropriate considering I was using the title of the song as my header for this piece. The song, much like how I hope to approach this post, is a meandering contemplation of life and nature. As I grow older, I am more drawn to these types of themes in writing, music, films, what have you. Perhaps this why I would consider myself a fan of Terrence Malik's films, though I have only seen one ("The Thin Red Line"). I have read so much about "Tree of Life", but due to my current set of circumstances I have not had the opportunity to see it. Actually, I have not seen a film in a very long time, and admittedly I do go through withdrawal occasionally. 
The reason I haven't seen any movies as of late is because I am father to an infant boy. What free time I do have once I get home from work and on weekends is devoted to my boy. He is our only son, and will probably be our only child. We are both growing older, and we are racing against biological clocks. Actually, my wife is. I am racing against becoming a middle-aged man, and thus having enough energy and patience to deal with two young ones as opposed to the one we already have. By the time I do get through my day and evenings with my son, and tending to whatever chores I am able to, I feel too tired to watch a movie. I might watch an hour of t.v., but it has to be really light fare.  

January 17, 2013


I don't recall when I actually wrote the above entry, but it seems like a long time ago. It seemed to have started off so well, with meandering thoughts of nature and the link to the beautiful melody of "Águas de Março". Then I proceeded to draw a film comparison of that stirring, meandering song about the wonders of nature to the works of Terrence Malik (I have still only seen one of his films). From there I digressed into complaining about not having the luxury of being able to see any movies since I have an infant boy. That part is still for the most part true (my boy is actually a toddler now), so it couldn't have been that long ago I started this blog. 

My boy is growing up so fast, and while he is only 20 months old, I find my memory is slipping about details of his infancy. It seems like a lifetime ago that we were rocking him to sleep in our arms, or pushing him around in a stroller. He is walking and gradually picking up his pace to a trot on occasion. He has a real spirit to him, great sense of humour and at times a streak of defiance and stubbornness about him. He gets his sense of humour and good-nature from his dad, while the defiance and stubbornness runs in his mother's genes.
Like all parents, we tend to think our son is pretty handsome and highly intelligent. Unlike all parents, we can actually back up our claims (had to throw that in!)! No, honestly, we are incredibly proud of our son, and he does certainly amaze us on almost a daily basis. I do think he has a pretty good grasp on vocabulary for a child his age, and that he speaks very clearly. Since he started talking, probably around the age of 8-9 months or so, most of his first big words were animals that he had learned from various videos and books we showed him. It has always made me feel good knowing that my child is developing a sense of appreciation and interest for the animal kingdom. I am looking forward to sharing my interest in photography of birds and animals with him in the years to come. At least until he decides that it isn't that cool to hang around taking pictures in parks with his old man.   
Recently we had our second Christmas with him in our lives. He was only about 6 months old during the first one, so he really doesn't remember any of his first one. This year he became familiar with his new idol, Santa Claus. It is now almost a month after the fact, and we are still hearing his name and repeated requests to hear "Santa Claus is Coming to Town". Santa, Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, and Frosty the Snowman and Cookie Monster are the most influential characters in his life these days. It is incredible that he knows the first line to many of the songs, and manages to throw in a couple more words as the song continues. It is so fun and heart-warming to hear my boy singing, even when I take him to lie down for bed at night. He sings the lines out loud, and realizes that it is bed time, so he then goes on to whisper the songs until he goes to sleep. 
He is also very enthusiastic about a couple of other characters and songs. Biggest non-Christmas character has to be Cookie Monster. "C is for Cookie" is on constant rotation with You Tube, as is anything Elmo. I do think Sesame Street videos have really helped him expand his vocabulary, and of course reading and story time at daycare. I think my boy also finds it amusing that his dad can actually sound like some of the Sesame Street characters. He likes me reading his books in their voices, as well as singing their songs in the car on the way to daycare in the mornings. I know I have met his approval if he tells me "Again!" from his seat in the back.
At any rate, here I am talking about my boy again, without really having intended to at such great length. This was supposed to be about me, dammit! What about me and my needs? Why don't I ever get to watch movies or listen to music anymore on a Sunday afternoon? Of course I am being facetious, and the reason is because of the very things I was just talking about. As much as I would like to maybe steel away one afternoon and delve into my extensive Steely Dan music library, or plop down in my easy chair and while away the hours over a Kubrick marathon in the basement, I am okay with waiting for it. Right now I don't want to miss anything in my boy's young life, holding him and hugging him while he slips his arms up my sleeves and digs and scratches my boo boos (He has been doing this since he as about 6 months old, and I am not sure why - except to say that it somehow makes him feel secure and connected to his daddy). I wouldn't want to be selfish with my time, and look back and think that I missed out on so much. I want my boy to know that his dad will always have time for him. 
So anyway, I guess that is where I am at today. Best to leave on that note until I think of something more profound to say (probably in another year or so)! 
    

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

A Pigment of My Hallucination - Part I

Another lifetime ago, when I was a young(er) man, I had the good fortune to hitch my wagon with VSO (Voluntary Services Overseas). At the age of 26, I was starting to realize that if I was going to fulfill my dream of travelling and possibly working abroad, then it was time to actually do something about it. While I didn't exactly fit the criteria of desirable volunteers, I did work hard to get a certificate for teaching overseas (TEFL). I had attended some of VSO's local presentations for volunteer recruitment, and basically pestered the organizers in order to get my foot in the door. At that stage of my life, it was imperative that I got as far away as possible. I needed desperately to go out into the world and forge a new life for myself. I needed to prove to myself and also to everyone around me that I was up to the challenge.





After several months of participating in workshops and interviews, I was in fact deemed a suitable candidate for becoming an overseas volunteer English teacher. I had to anxiously await news from VSO as to where I was to be deployed. A few months had passed and I finally received word that I was selected for a position in Mongolia! While most soon-to-be volunteers were given 2 or 3 options, I was given a take it or leave it choice. Naturally, after consulting an atlas, I took the "take it" route. Soon afterwards, a package arrived in the mail with literature about my future posting. I was to be employed through TACIS, which was a consulting group formed through the European Union, dealing with establishing small and medium business ventures throughout the country. Specifically, I was to be assigned to a pilot project based in Suhbaatar, a northern Mongolian town at the very northern part of the country. Suhbaatar was the first stop along the famed Trans Siberian Railway, entering Mongolia from Siberia!

Friday, March 26, 2010

First Blog - Maybe Last?

This is it...my first foray into the world of blogging, my first attempt at putting myself out there. At this point, I really don't know what the purpose of this exercise is. I guess it's mainly self-serving, but hopefully an enjoyable read. I am not sure what the format or context will be of this blog. Perhaps it will be a rambling piece consisting of meandering thoughts, observations, pissed-off rants, social commentary, and humorous anecdotes. Maybe it will be pure fiction, written in a narrative form, voiced by my alter ego. Whatever it turns out to be, I am certain it will be somewhat self-indulgent. I just hope it also turns out to be entertaining.

I started off in the porn biz about fifteen years ago....ok, that was purely meant to grab the readers' attention. I am not, nor have I ever been involved in the porn industry (unless you count having watched one or two videos here and there). I wonder if these are the type of people who take their work home with them. "Not tonight, I have a headache. I had a very stressful day. My (insert body parts here) are too sore." Anyhow, that is one job I don't think I am equipped to do. I am man enough to admit it. I'm no Dirk Diggler. I would also fear getting bored by it all. I mean, if you can potentially be bored with that career path, where else could you possibly find job satisfaction?

At any rate, this isn't exactly where I had planned to start off, but that's what happens when you let the fingers type where they may. Speaking of typing, I have actually reached a point in my life where I can type with a fair amount of accuracy without looking down at the keyboard. It only took me twenty years to reach this milestone, but I am proud nonetheless. The little things in life are worth a pause to reflect upon sometimes. It is often too easy to overlook certain accomplishments, and not give yourself a pat on the back. The typing thing is probably not the most shining example of this, but such things as completing a certain task or getting through school or feeling good in one's job are very important things to take pride in. I don't actually believe in being defined by my career, though it often has a defining role in how my life proceeds. I have been very fortunate in that I have a good job and get compensated pretty well for it. There is a great deal of security behind it, in that it would take some sort of cosmic shift in the universe for me to lose it (or I just simply fuck it all up).

Again, not too sure I want to delve into my whole life history here. I fear coming across too self-indulgent, and boring my audience to tears. I gave the title "Pro-Lost or Pro-Found" to this blog as a sort of tongue-in-cheek starting point. I am always looking for ways to be profound, but half (ok - more than half) of what I spew forth hardly ever resonates. I usually end up sounding more like a smart-ass, than anything else. I guess my humour has developed a bit of an acerbic tinge over the years, and I am pretty quick at twisting others' words (mainly my wife's). I have to use my uncanny and incredibly clever (I think) gift of the gab a bit more sparingly, in order for her to appreciate it much more. Yeah - that's the ticket!

The other part of the blog title, "Pro-Lost", is an homage to my favourite show, "Lost". For those who have been living on an island for the past 6 years, this show has become a cultural phenomenon. It has divided viewers into two camps: those who really don't like it, get it, or want to get into it at this point, and those who are absolutely sucked into its vortex. I sit firmly and proudly in the fan camp. Rarely has a show enticed me the way this one has, and from the armchair recliner I sit in every Tuesday night, it is an incredibly well-written show and extremely well-acted. I can see how it is not every one's cup of tea, as it is not exactly a thing of pride to be addicted to a television show. However, I will give the writers a great deal of credit, in the sense that while the show on the surface is a thriller/action/drama, it encompasses so many references to ideologies, theologies, and mythologies. The references, veiled or obvious, often go beyond my level of comprehension, and it makes me want to investigate the topics further. Great works of literature influence the plot lines, as do physical and metaphysical theories postulated by the great minds of civilizations, past and present. Anyhow, there is a sense of finality, as the final season of the series enters its halfway point. Each episode has been brilliant thus far. I will leave it at that for now, but reserve the right to post my own theories about the show in future blogs.

Well, that is all for now. Feel free to point out any flaws, or to heap praise on my brilliant and witty dia(b)logue. Any feedback would be much appreciated. Thank you for reading...

Geoff