Song of the Day (Calling Me Names) 06.28.13

Friday, Friday, Friday.

Chalk another one up and another one down. We did it people. Cruisin' through like it ain't no thang. Solid week? I'd say so. Glad it's over though. How about you out there? Everyone good?

Music time you say? Ok!

This week I don't really have explanations for the songs unfortunately. I've just kind of had my iPod on shuffle recently and these two came one and seemed fitting for how the week progressed, the weather, how I was feeling, etc.

The first song is by Good Old War, a band I have showcased on my blog before (with the song "Amazing Eyes"). If you remember, they are an indie band from Philadelphia that just pumps out solid, good quality, mellow tunes that have a habit of getting stuck in your head. I like em and I think you should too. This is Good Old War's "Calling Me Names."




Next up we got a real classic band. Wilco. For the last few years they've put on a music festival in my home town of North Adams, Massachusetts and it was actually this past weekend, so it seems fitting that one of my favorite songs by them recently came on the radio. There really isn't much I don't like about this song. I love the melody, the lyrics (I'll admit it's a bit somber), all the anecdotes spread throughout, and the story it tells. Hell, I love the chord breakdown before the chorus, when it sounds like a Beatles song (you'll know what I'm talking about). What else is there...the piano, Jeff Tweedy's voice, mowing the lawn - shit. I could go on forever. Lets just end it here. This is Wilco's "I Hate It Here."

Growing Culturally

We all know I love to travel. Experience new things. Go on adventures with people. Try new foods. Sleep in foreign places. It's thrilling. Invigorating. To me, there is nothing else like it. And at some point tonight, while looking for a video to share, it hit me that it's less about where I go and more about the cultures I encounter.

There is just something magical about diving into a whole new world where everything is different. The language, income, government structure, religious beliefs, taboos, societal roles. By completely taking you out of your comfort zone, it heightens your awareness and allows you to become porous. Able to absorb so much more. I always find myself humbled when tossed into new cultures. I need to relearn everything I thought I knew or assumed. It really strips you down and allows you to embrace everything and rebuild.

I'm going to share with you three different videos that in a way highlight what I'm trying to say. They may appear to only be about language on the surface, but if you look deeper, you'll see it's much more than just the words and pronunciations. Watch how people interact, where they live, what they eat, etc.

God damn. These just want to make me travel more. And lets not ignore how beautifully shot these all are.

Video one is appropriate because I currently live here and it seems fitting to show you America's West Coast culture before we dive into a few others.

EF - Live The Language - Los Angeles from Albin Holmqvist on Vimeo.


Video two should also be pretty easy to figure out. First, I was in this country earlier in the year and have been praising my experience(s) ever since I've come back. Second, a friend near and dear to me lives there so they can relate to the difference in cultures between the three countries showcased.

EF - Live The Language - Barcelona from Albin Holmqvist on Vimeo.


And finally video three was the closest I could find to Ireland. I know, London isn't exactly the same thing, but work with me here. We may speak the same language (aside from spelling) but notice the little nuances that are different between LA and London - then compare everything to España. Crazy right?

EF - Live The Language - London from Albin Holmqvist on Vimeo.


It's not just your country out there. Remember when you travel, you're the foreigner. Don't be ignorant and expect people to adapt to you. Be gracious. Learn their ways.

A Perfect Moment

As he walked down the road before him, he hoped the man in front of him didn't notice. Or didn't think that he was following him. That was not his intent - just coincidence. He took this route everyday back from work. A tad longer than a few others he knew about, but there was something charming about walking through the back streets of the neighborhood, especially today, as the ground was still moist from a late afternoon shower. Freshly fallen leaves plastered to the asphalt like nature's version of cobblestones, the air still smelled of lingering ozone, drops of dew sparkled on the leaves of the trees that lined the street.

But the best part of it all was the man in front of him.

Just shuffling along. Minding his own business, seemingly enjoying his walk just as much. Making his way home from the grocery store - bags hanging on both sides, swaying with each step. Every now and then he'd stop and look up to the sky as if he wished for another brief shower. Almost lowering it disappointingly when no droplets answered his inquiry. Occasionally he'd purposefully shuffle his feet, disrupting the leaves that were below him - stopping to look down at their marvelous patterns and colors. By the way the man walked, he could tell he was older. His back was hunched, his steps were small and calculated. Every couple of minutes he'd switch the bags between his hands - resting one on the ground as he flexed his fingers, hoping to get some feeling back into them before picking the bags up and continuing on.

Eventually the older man ahead stopped and without wanting his walk to end, he did as well. He could tell that the gentleman was looking over a fence into a park at a jungle gym where a bunch of kids were playing. Utilizing the fresh layer of rain on the slide. Laughing and yelling at one another. Running back and forth. As he peered in also, a memory came flying back to him.

Again he was walking. But this time in a completely different city. At a different time of day. With different smells in the air and real cobblestones beneath his feet. All around him people were still out wandering the street - late for where he came from. Engaging one another in conversation, in languages he wasn't familiar with. He couldn't specifically remember why but he could feel a smile on his face. Slowly, as the memory kept flying back, it all become more clear. He had been following another older gentleman, weaving through tight streets until he was standing in a plaza - bundled up against the colder winter air that was swirling down the streets. Within that plaza were a group of children, cheering and shouting at one another, engaged in a bout of soccer. Chasing the ball back and forth, not a care in the world. Amazingly, all around them the plaza was alive. Shops remained open, cafes still served patrons. Everyone was just living, enjoying their evening. There was an energy and vibrance unlike any he had ever felt before, packed into such a small space.

By this point of the memory it had almost completely returned to the forefront of his mind. And it suddenly hit him. The reason for the smile. He wasn't alone. Although he couldn't see them, he could feel them, their warmth to his left, the pressure of their hand in his. It was just a small memory, but a perfect one.

Snapping back to reality and the damp street, he decided to continue on his way. As he passed by the older gentleman who was still marveling at the youth playing before him he whispered "thank you." Somehow he had shaken free a moment that had been forgotten, lost amongst of sea of others.

He felt indebted to the man.

For he had brought back a happiness he hadn't felt in some time.

On the Horizon

The news had called it the storm of the century. It had been slowly building for the last couple of days out over the Atlantic Ocean. Just churning upon itself. Swirling into something so massive meteorologists had trouble classifying it. As a kid, he just looked forward to the amount of snow it was supposed to bring their way. Not just inches. Feet. Some specialists were predicting up to five, even in the urban areas, possibly more out in the suburbs. He couldn't even fathom how much snow that would be. He was born in the city, raised there. Snow had always been a part of winter, but never near to this extent. He'd go to bed watching snowflakes just beginning to fall only to wake to plowed streets covered in layers of salt, gutters filled with slush, and sidewalks wiped clean.

With how worried all the adults were becoming, he had high hopes that things would change. He'd go to bed, waking in the morning to hear that school was closed due to the weather. That there was just too much snow for the plows or that it was too cold for the buses to start their engines. Maybe even his teacher would be snowed in. Stuck in their building, unable to make it to school. There really were endless possibilities.

But somewhere deep down inside, he was worried. He hadn't seen his parents so concerned with weather before. They had garaged their cars, stockpiled the kitchen with supplies. The cabinets were full of cans - soups and vegetables, packets of dry milk. Anything that was easy to prepare. In the spare room they had stacked packages of water. Candles were spread throughout the house - in every imaginable spot. He was even more confused when he came home from school last week to see his dad adding additional locks to their door. The news had mentioned that after today, the city was being shut down. The storm itself was only supposed to last for a few days but its effects were to linger. All citizens were warned not to go outside at all. While the storm descending upon the city, everyone was on their own. There was no help.

Looking out his window, all he really wanted to do was go outside. Play in the snow that was already on the ground. Feel it crunch beneath his boots. Call his friends out into the drifts and start a massive snowball fight. A free-for-all where no one was safe. They could run through the city. Have full reign. Everyone was already inside. They could hide amongst cars, behind streetlights, in doorways.

He just wanted the city to be his playground.

Off in the distance, he could see it coming. Not a fog or a haze. Unlike anything he had seen before. Just a wall of white, making its way down the street ever so slightly. Taking its time. Crawling. Engulfing everything it touched. He could see the debris churning and swirling inside of it as it approached. Whole buildings seemed to disappear. Pulled into the mass. He could hear car alarms going off in the distance. As he strained himself to listen, the city was absolutely silent. All that he could hear was the howling wind.

Without realizing it, the front of the storm was upon him. Only a block away. For some reason, a moment before it hit his building he held his breath. It felt right. And just like that - his room was thrown into darkness. The outside world blotted out. He could hear the chunks of ice and snow bouncing off his window. He could feel the wind shake the walls, the change in pressure as the storm bore down on the building. As he backed out of his room, hoping to find his parents in the den, he wondered. 

How long it would last?

A Father's Love

He just sat there. Letting the rain fall down onto the car. Pelting the glass and roof. Drumming away. It just sounded like static. And he was lost in it.

She was inside. Grabbing a quick coffee for the road and double checking a couple of rooms to make sure she wasn't leaving anything behind. It had only been a few minutes since she was at the passenger door, reassuring him that she'd be right back, but it had felt like a lifetime. As if time had stopped and he was stuck in limbo. Damned to live in that one particular moment for the rest of his life. Rain pouring down. Drowning out all the other noises in the world. Droning on forever.

Somewhere within that wall of noise, his mind began to wander. Maybe to escape or just because it seemed logical at the time but the past began to surge back. He could see it all so clearly. Each memory. As if they were happening at that exact moment.

Standing at the hospital. Waiting for her to arrive. Coaching his wife through everything just like they had been taught. Peering in through the glass, seeing her tucked into her tiny pink blanket, just her little forehead visible. He saw her first steps. Heard her first words. Re-witnessed her first scar - falling out of a tree in the park. She had always been so adventurous. Scared of nothing. He remembered placing the band-aid on her knee and kissing it to make it feel better. Her first school dance. How embarrassed she was to introduce her date to the family. Convincing her braces were not the end of the world. Before he knew it, he was sitting on her bed, holding her, consoling her, trying to hide his own tears from her - promising that everything was going to be alright. That mom wasn't gone. She'd be with her for the rest of her life. In every memory. In every moment of laughter. Every sunny day. She'd be watching her grow. Protecting her. Then it jumped forward, to getting her license. Letting her take the car for the first time. How scared he was the first accident she got it - even if it was just some chipped paint on the curb. Grilling Sean as she was upstairs getting ready for her first date. Setting the time for curfew. Warning him. Soon after it was prom. Him standing there at the base of the stairs with all the other mothers, snapping photos as she stood with her date, smiling. She was so beautiful. She had her mother's eyes, smile, and cheekbones. Everything about her radiated grace. He was so proud. Before he knew it, orientation had come and gone. A quick four days without her. One of the longest times they had been apart since it was just the two of them.

The sound of the door opening snapped him back to reality. She was standing there, peering in at him, a little confused by his blank stare. For a moment he swore he saw her as she once was - young, dressed in her favorite pink pants and velcro shoes - hair bulled back in a loose ponytail, one front tooth missing. All he could do was smile back, convincing her things were alright. After a moment she climbed in.

Ready to go.

It was what he had been dreading for his entire life, especially since her mother had passed. He had tried to give her some of the best years of her life and he knew at times it was a struggle being a single Dad, but he hoped she knew she meant the world to him. And even though he knew this moment was coming, it still hurt deeper than he could of ever imagined. It was time to let his little girl spread her wings and become who she was destined to be.

Without another thought, he put the car into drive and pulled away from the curb. Luckily for him, the university wasn't too close to home.

He had a few more hours with his baby.

Song of the Day (How's It Going To Be) 06.21.13

Here we are. Friday, June 21, 2013.

Another week behind us. And we're just going to keep diving deeper into summer.

But at least we have music to help us pass the time right? So let's get to it.

I've been on an oldies kick recently. My friends can attest to it, as can all my roommates. I'm sure in some sense it's a bit nostalgic for them, but I'm sure it's also a bit annoying. And by oldies, I mean oldies for me. Not in the whole scope of music. Just in terms of my 25 years here on the planet. So song one is another Third Eye Blind song. I swear I've had their greatest hits album on repeat for the last month, but can you fault me? It's ephin' amazing. There is just something between the lyrics of their songs, the chords, and singing that combine into something that'll just lodge itself into your brain and refuse to leave. Like last week - I hope this song stirs up some memories. It sure does for me. This is Third Eye Blind's "How's It Going To Be."




You know how songs have that magical way of bringing you back to a specific time - pinpointing a certain memory? Well this next one takes me back to Ithaca every time I listen to it. I'll forever transport me to senior year, hanging out, playing cards with one of my friends Kevin. He loved this band so much and always had them on in the background. I'll admit that the song above is a bit of a downer, so hopefully this will cheer you up a bit. It's goofy, a bit quirky, and pretty lively, if not completely unique. This is The Felice Brother's "Run Chicken Run."

Motorcycle Diaries

I thought the following video would be fitting considering one of the songs I presented to you last week was Third Eye Blind's "Motorcycle Drive By."

I'm not going to dive into a lot of details on this posting. It's one of those videos that just have to be seen. The level of respect I have for this man and the jealousy I feel towards him for going on such an amazing trip cannot be explained.

503 Days
82,459 miles
22 countries
By himself.

I can't discuss how it was shot since it's pretty straight forward...GoPros! But I will say that I would love to do a trip of this magnitude with someone. Any takers?

Just look at all that scenery. God damn everything is so beautiful.

Make sure you do yourself a favor and watch this in HD (the little gear icon on the bottom of the player). It's an absolute must.

Breakfast in Maghreb

All around him the city was buzzing with energy. The streets were alive with pedestrians, walking about, beginning their days - opening their shops, making their way to work. He could already hear the parade of cars and taxis flowing down below, their mufflers coughing, horns beeping, the occasional yell from a passing driver. Somewhere from deep within the market he could smell the restaurants beginning to prepare their meals. The numerous spice nodes riding by his nostrils on the breeze. Turmeric, saffron, paprika, cumin, and cinnamon. All tickling the back of his throat.

He was surprised by all the activity. Before him sat his freshly delivered breakfast. It couldn't have been in front of him for any longer than ten minutes. He felt late to the party. His eyes were still dry, trying to get used to the contacts he had put in shortly before leaving the room. His skin was still moist from the shower, only managing to get colder with each gust of wind - sending shivers down his spine. When he tried to speak, he didn't recognize his own voice. It was horse. Still not fully awake. It wasn't just his mind that felt groggy - but his whole body. He had never been a quick riser, but the pulse of this city made him hyper aware of it.

With each sip of his coffee, he willed his mind to come out of the fog. The sun was shining. The day had begun. It was time to go out and adventure. And slowly but surely, he could feel the caffeine working its way into his system. Finding where it needed to go and grabbing hold. Shaking him back to conciseness.

When he first had stepped out onto the patio, he was unsure what to expect for breakfast. Surprised by the bounty of bread and spreads that were presented to him. Jams and marmalades of all kinds. Spiced apple, pear, orange, rasberry. Accompanied by fresh churned butter and the sweetest honey he had ever tasted. Each bite he took juxtaposed the coffee in his mug. The sweetness of the fruits and honey battling the darkly roasted beans over control of his taste buds.

The more he ate, the more alive he felt. The sugar mixed with the caffeine already in his veins, lifting his spirits. His stomach greatly appreciated the bread - having been empty since lunch the prior day. By the end of it all, there was just one slice left, perfectly smeared with the last bit of butter and topped with the remaining honey. Just sitting there, looking up at him. Tempting him. Taunting him.

But before he could commit to it, she walked out. Hair falling over her shoulders, still slightly damp from the shower, sunglasses holding it back from her face. Her smile was radiant. Only adding to the already bright morning. He was always taken by how wonderful she looked at any hour of the day. Peering down at himself, he couldn't help but laugh. Disheveled as ever. Yet it didn't matter. Neither did the bread sitting before him, waiting to be eaten.

As she walked towards him all he wanted to do was get up, grab her hand and find their way out onto the street. Waste no time. They had to begin the day's adventures.

Seasonal Routines

Off in the corner of the room, his clothing sat crumpled in a pile. Somewhere beneath all the folds and zippers, lay his boots, hidden from sight. It had all been there for the last couple minutes, dripping onto the floor. The snow that had clung to the cotton desperately trying to remain solid, fighting against the heat of the house, only to fail and become absorbed by the carpet. Bleeding out further and further into the room. Leaving a dark patch around his snowsuit.

Behind him the radiator was hissing and popping. Water had finally begun to circulate through the curved metal. He knew not to get too close. He had done it before. Been a bit too bold, a bit to brave. Touching the metal and burning himself. Now he knew to at least give it a few inches. When he first came into the room after stripping away his many layers, it was the first thing he did - approach it, hands held out, waiting to feel it's warmth. It never took too long though before the blood was circulating again and he felt thawed. And today was no different. In almost no time his hands were tingling, his cheeks were rosy, and his hair was dry.

He had been so focused on the heater that he had completely missed his mother coming into his room. Another routine he had grown accustomed too. After they had ventured out into the snow, romping through the drifts, lobbing snowballs at one another, and giggling amongst the falling flakes, her first stop once back inside the house was the kitchen to pour themselves two steaming cups of cocoa. With the obligatory handful of miniature marshmallows. She had noticed him, standing against the radiator, looking so content, so she chose not to disturb him, leaving the mug of liquid chocolate on his nightstand. It wasn't until the aroma had wafted across the room that he realized she had come and gone.

But by that time, he was focused on something else.

Kneeling on his bed, forehead pressed against the window, he gazed out into the street. Watching as the snowflakes fell all the way from the grey clouds to the ground, as cars passed, creeping cautiously down the road, weary of black ice. Across the street some children were throwing snowballs at a squirrel that was walking the wire between two telephone poles, laughing each time they were close. He was looking for one specific thing and he knew it'd be arriving soon. And within a few minutes, it did. Down at the end of the street, he saw a specific car turn, headed up towards the house, eventually making its way into the driveway. The moment it crossed the plain of the mailbox, he jumped from his bed and began throwing on his snowsuit, tying his boots, and putting on his gloves.

By the time his dad had come through the front door, he was standing there at the base of the stairs smiling. Geared up and ready to go back out for round two.

The Wolf of Wall Street

Again - Monday nights are going to be a little lazy and sloppy until frisbee league is over. So bear with me, I promise depending on the day, I'll write a story.

But today, I thought I'd do something that I haven't done in a while - share a trailer with you. How fitting, since that is the side of the industry I'm currently in anyway. Even as a kid I loved movie trailers - at times they were the best part about going to the movies. To some degree, working in the trailer world, some of their magic is lost since we work on a lot of them and they no longer are a surprise. But there are those times when a trailer comes out, cut by another company that just completely floors me. What you'l find below is one of those trailers. It's for Martin Scorsese's next movie, "The Wolf of Wall Street" which (as you guessed it) stars Leonardo DiCaprio. Some other interesting actors are mixed into the fray as well, but I won't spoil it for you.

So what makes this such a great trailer? Possibly even trailer of the year thus far? Well, first and foremost the cutting is amazing. It's quick at times, but at other moments, when necessary, shots and moments are allowed to breath. The scenes chosen for the trailer fit so well together, perfectly laying out the story without giving too much away - just enough to hook you until the next trailer is released. And let's not forget about the music. It's a Kanye West song off his new album, but it just fits so well, regardless of the fact that the movie takes place in the 90's. In a way, the cutting is almost dictated by the music, but it's impressive that it never actually takes control. It's clear that the editor is using the music to enhance their work, rather than piggybacking the beats in the song. The last aspect is how fun and lighthearted it is. I'm sure, like all Scorsese films, this will be pretty serious and dark in tone at moments, but the quirkiness is just overflowing. Just look to the scene before the main title. I could easily get into the performances of the actors too, but then again, that has nothing to do with editing. Bottom line, this is a tight trailer, dialed into exactly where it should be. I honestly see no faults in it.

Needless to say, I'm excited for November 15th. And you should be too.

I have been homesick for you since we met.

Song of the Day (Hanginaround) 06.14.13

Well, we're halfway through June. Remember that time I was surprised it was May? Well that felt like last week. Shit. This whole time thing is getting out of hand.

It's been a crazy week. Hectic days. Long hours at the office. The added stress of trying to find another house to move into (although the open houses and visits have been fun). I'm tired and couldn't be more thankful that it is Friday. I'm really looking forward to just sitting back and kicking my feet up.

But first, before we can get there, we have to listen some music right?

So this week, the first song I'm presenting you is a throwback. A pure, clean track from the late 90's. I'm sure you all remember The Counting Crows. Well, I happened to be picking up a new toothbrush in Rite Aid this week and the following song was pumping through the stereo system. It was late, almost 10:30 and I was just captured by it. It had been years since the last time I heard it and I just stood in the aisle bobbing my head and tapping my foot throughout the entire thing. Only when it was over did I snap out of it and continue to the register. True story. It made me smile though, reminding me of what I was doing back in 1999. Hopefully it'll stir up some memories for you as well. This is The Counting Crows' "Hanginaround."




Song number two is just as much of a throwback. Hailing from 1997. But this time I don't have a story about it or some anicdote. I just honestly think it is one of the most beautiful songs out there. Why? I'm not too sure. The beginning guitar gets me. The lyrics hit home. How it manages to start so delicately but then kick into a solid rock song. It just resonates. Hopefully you enjoy it as much as I always have. This is Third Eye Blind's "Motorcycle Drive By."

La Luna

It's been a while since I've seen a video that really floored me. Not just in the beauty sense. But in the creativity aspect. Recently when I've showcased videos, that'v been time lapses, travel pieces, or short documentaries. If you remember, I used to share music videos that left you wondering how they were possible, paint exploding through a quaint English apartment block, or 250,000 bouncy balls raining chaos down the streets of San Francisco (and I have no problem posting those again) but to be honest, I might have tapped the well for those types of videos.

That is, until I found this one.

Before you all jump give me a hard time about going back to another time lapse, bear with me a little bit on this one. Once you watch it you'll see it's unlike any other I've posted. This is a video that oozes creativity. More than I know I have in my body. I can't even fathom how the kid behind this video thought of this idea, let alone executed it. The planning, time commitment, and precision needed to capture this as well as he did is staggering. It's a wonderful example of forced perspective. And I promise you, this was all done in camera. No post work. No special effects.

Plus - this piece just feels right with the time of year that it is. When nights seem to stretch on and the moon is in no rush to make it into the sky, until it finally does and just hangs there lazily, not wanting to go anywhere.

It feels like summer.

School Chaperone

Ever since he was a little boy he had always followed the same routine. Wake up early in the morning, before his mother had a chance to sneak into his room to rouse him, take a nice long, hot shower - letting the water wash away his grogginess, before finishing it up with a bowl of oatmeal. The scent of the cinnamon and apples tickling his nose. Every day this would happen. Like clockwork. Then he'd make his way outside. Wandering along the sidewalk. Down to where the bus would pick him up. Along the way, about halfway to the bus stop he'd pass a large fenced in yard. And every day he would let his hands play along the cast iron bars. Just trailing behind him at first. Bouncing off the metal. Playing a little melody - ringing through the air. Sometimes he would pick up speed, listening to the change in tempo and pitch. Other times he'd slow down and put some force behind his hand, increasing the volume. But regardless of the day, he'd always let his fingers wander to the top of the ironwork. Using them like little legs, he'd run them along the repeating curves and points. Jumping amongst them. Sometimes far enough to skip a set of two. It was simple pleasure. Fun all the way down the fence.

When he got old enough to drive, he stopped walking along the fence every morning and he forgot about his routine. Adopting rather to sleep in and absorb as much rest as he could. When it came time to graduate, he didn't give the iron fence a second thought. He simply packed his things into a few boxes and bags and headed off to college. Ready to start a new chapter in his life. Occasionally, without thinking, he'd find his fingers dancing, running, and jumping across different objects as he walked by. Stairway handrails, windowsills, tables. Apparently old habits were hard to break.

Now he was much older. School had been behind him for some time. He had moved on. Started a new life in a far away city. Let his roots begin to take hold. A career was blossoming. He had met someone. Settled down. Even recently asked the major question. But before that could happen, he had felt the need to bring her to his hometown. Show her where he grew up. Who he had been friends with. See the area that helped shape him as the man she knew today - just as he expected to experience her home sometime in the near future.

By the time they arrived back in his town, it was the evening and she was pretty tired, opting to curl up in bed to rest, catching up with his mother. At first he was disappointed but that quickly passed as he walked out of the front of the house and down the sidewalk. As he continued forward he soaked it all in - allowing the memories to pour back into his mind. The trees he used to climb, where his friends used to live, the fresh crisp air of the mountains. It all came rushing back. And then there it was. Stretching out before him just like it always had. Standing tall and proud. He could tell it had aged. He could see the paint chipping away in spots, the rust shining through, even some of the humps and points were bent ever so slightly. But the moment his figures connected with the metal, all felt right.  He could feel the years against his fingers, but it didn't matter. There was still the 'ping' that resonated from the bars as he let his fingers slap across the bars. As he continued forward, he let his hand slowly wander higher, until his fingers were prancing across the top of the ironwork. It felt right - no longer a memory.

He was glad he old friend was still around.

Ireland: A Recap

Fun facts about the trip: Photos Taken (by me): 3,601

                                      Miles Driven (by me): 1,104

                                      Castles Seen: 17

                                      Guinness's: 13

                                      Distilleries Visited: 3 

First and foremost this was a trip for my mother. Someone who has been through more than anyone else I know in the last couple of years. Witnessing a family dissolve, a financial crisis, having one of her sons move across the country, trying to find a new job in an ever shrinking market - all while trying to finish her doctorate. The latter alone is enough to deserve praise, but she managed to complete it under all the circumstances mentioned above, with poise, grace, and dignity. She's a fighter who refused to give up and made it to her final goal. There is no one else that I know who would be able to pull off what she has done and I will be forever proud of her for doing so.

It only seemed fitting to bring her to the place she always wanted to go, back to her homeland, where her roots were. And to be honest, I don't think there is anyone else that I would have wanted to travel there with. This entire trip was such a decompresser for her. She was able to let it all out. Laugh as often and as loud and she wanted. Experience things she had never done. See places unlike anywhere else. Taste the food her ancestors ate. Smell the crisp Irish air. This was her reward to continuing onward, never giving up.

I'll be blunt. It's been hard living across the country. I miss my friends. My home. My family. I've always had a strong bond with my mother. One that I haven't seen between other parents and their kids. I can't exactly explain it, but it just works. We understand each other and respect each other. We know how we're feeling without saying a word - how to make each other smile and laugh. And the last few years have been hard on both of us, admittedly more so for her, but I felt somewhat useless. A phone call or a random Skype session could only do so much. It had almost been a year since last time I had seen her in person and this trip just rekindled what we had been missing.  Like I said, there really isn't anyone else that I'd want to have traveled the country with. She's like me. Hit the ground running. See a sign for something that looks fun and interesting? Ok cool - lets head there. We'll figure out food and lodging on the way. And for the most part, we were able to do that. Just pack our things into the car and drive out, exploring and learning as we went.

I went into this trip expecting to see someplace I had never been. But the experience was so much richer than that. I'll forever love Ireland and want to go back. It felt like home to me. I was enriched by the entire trip. I experienced a whole new culture, tried new foods, learned to drink Guinness like it was water, laughed until my stomach hurt, fell asleep without a care in the world, awoke each day as eager to explore as the last. And aside from the drinking Guinness part, I know my mom felt the same way. I haven't seen her so happy in such a long time. A smile from ear to ear was constantly on her face. Eyes wide every time we passed a castle, pleading to stop for pictures every time we saw sheep grazing on a hillside (which was about every two minutes). I know this trip was balm for her soul. It was much needed and as I said before, much deserved. But most of all, it was perfect because she got to be with her two sons again, on vacation, in Ireland. I'm just glad my brother and I were able to take her on it.

Congratulations Mom. You deserve it and I'll be forever proud of you for your achievements.

   

My Favorite Place

So tonight was frisbee night. Intense. High octane frisbee. It's official. I joined the LA league and man does it wear me down (in a good way of course). So I'm not going with an elaborate post this evening and probably won't for a few future Mondays until the game schedule changes.

I'll be brief but with heart.

Almost a year ago (actually in July) as you all know, I went on one of my favorite trips ever with a friend of mine and made a stop in Yosemite for a few days. I absolutely fell in love. Everything there is perfect. Prestine. Untouched. You really can't ask for a better wilderness landscape. And on top of that, I hadn't been camping in so long. So it was the perfect scenario.

What am I getting at? Well it's the summer and I want to go back. No. Need to go back. Just look at how beautiful it is.

Yosemite HD from Project Yosemite on Vimeo.


The first video is clearly professionally made. But check out this next one. I'm totally making something like this next time I go.

Yosemite 2013 from Nate Weiner on Vimeo.


I know you're out there, hopefully reading this and smiling watching the videos. What do you say?

Want to go back with me?

Song of the Day (Valley Winter Song) 06.07.13

Well, tuck the first week of June under your belt.

Wooh.

I probably sound like a broken record, but hot damn, time is flying fast. June already? Seriously, when did that happen?

One of the aspects about LA that I hate is June. Literally the whole month. For some reason, the entire month is gloomy - hence titled June Gloom. You wake up and it's dark and cloudy. By the time you get home, it's dark and cloudy. Maybe, just maybe during the day the sun will burn it off for a little bit, but it always comes back. When I first moved out here, I thought I'd like it because it'd remind me of the East Coast and home. But I was nieve. I thought the clouds would bring rain with them - but no. Nothing. Just grey, overcast skies. For a couple days I'm fine with it. Come day fifteen, I'm annoyed with it. By the end of the month, I'm dying for sunshine. Especially since everyone else in LA doesn't know how to deal with it and goes into a month long fit of depression. No lie. People mope about, shoulders slumped, grumpy. It's really weird.

Luckily it's early in the month so I'm appreciating the change in weather. Cruising along in the morning under a blanket of clouds is still nice. But like all weather, a certain type of music is required. So thats why I'm choosing the next song for you. It's mellow. Has a melody that is pure, sweet, and simple. It just flows easily, as if it would be a perfect companion on a rainy or snowy day (I don't mean for that to sound so poetic, but really, the song is perfect for a that kind of weather). Most of you probably have forgotten about this band and only know them for their one hit, "Stacey's Mom," but I assure you, Fountains of Wayne has some real gems in their discography. I'd say they're grossly underrated as a band and I hope that this will invoke you to go out and listen to more of their stuff. Do yourself a favor and kick back and relax a bit to Fountain of Wayne's "Valley Winter Song."

Have a great weekend!

Cinematography Stumped

So you all know my love of time lapse projects. Not only do they look cool, I appreciate the amount of work that is poured into each and every piece. The delicate camera setups, well thought out plans, the time commitment. It really isn't a simple style to shoot, even though it may seem like you can simply set up the camera, turn it on, and walk away. Returning later to have all your footage ready to edit.

If only it were that easy...

As I watched the piece below, I kept finding myself scratching my head. I'll be the first to admit I'm a beginner in the whole process. I've only shot three different pieces (one of which I haven't even published yet) and I'm still experimenting - trying to figure out what is the best strategy for certain types of movements, angles, and subjects. It won't be years until I can even act like I know what I'm doing. What unfolds below if truly breathtaking. And I have the utmost respect for the man who shot it. I'll break it down for you a few ways.

1.) The overall picture quality is stunning. Everything is exposed correctly, nothing is over saturated. And think about it - for the hours that it is captured, as the sun rises, clouds pass by, and it becomes night, the exposure/f-stop and aperture have to all be adjusted to maintain that picture quality. How this is done without changing the framing of the shot is ridiculous.

2.) The time commitment. This piece obviously wasn't shot in one day. Probably not even in one week. I'd still be astonished if it was shot in under a month. Look at all the locations featured. Atop buildings, on boats, inside taxi cabs. No portion of Shanghai was spaired. You're getting a full, in depth tour of the city.

3.) Reasons one and two alone are noteworthy, but the part that truly amazes me is the camera movement. I can work out how he jumps between angles and shots (thats just creative editing), but how he manages to track cars, passing boats, and pedestrians with such precision is beyond me. It's not like there is some program that will automatically track each subject for him. He has to manually follow, for instance, the cab on the freeway, snapping enough photos. This alone seems like a lot of work, but then keep in mind, since these are all still photos, he has to keep the cab in focus the whole time, adjusting for each individual shot. I've never seen so much camera movement in a time lapse before and as a result, my mind is blown.

I have a grasp on everything else, since I've done it myself (walking down streets, riding in a car, focusing on people doing everyday tasks, etc), but as a whole, this is an amazing piece.

I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do. Oh - and consider Shanghai on my list of cities to visit.

Day Six: Giants Causeway, Bushmills. and the North and East Coast(s)

To quickly fill you in, the prior night we drove from the west coast all the way across the country towards Dublin, eventually turning north, to drive along the east coast to reach Belfast and our hotel which was in a smaller town right outside the city limits. By the time we had gotten to the hotel, I was pretty spent from the day of driving (even got pulled over/escorted by a police office at one point because our GPS stopped working) so I wandered down to the bar with madre and had a pint before crawling into bed and falling right asleep.

Waking up, we packed our things into the car (yet again) and off we went. Farther north, toward the coast, passing through the town of Bushmills (which we'll get back to), eventually reaching the water and our first destination, Giants Causeway. Even before we reached Ireland, both my mother and I decided this was one of the "must see" spots for the trip. We had both heard from our own sources that it was something that couldn't be missed. And boy - were they right. Giants Causeway has to be one of the most beautiful places I have ever been in my life. It's this strip of coastline that has amazing vistas, cliffs, and unique geographic formations, which you'll see below. For any of you who aren't familiar with the story, this is where Finn MacCool resided (and old Irish loire about a giant - totally worth looking up). We had the option to take a bus tour, but we decided to walk it. Down through the hills, past these beautiful flowers that had thousands of black flies buzzing about them - massive swarms that just hung lazily n the air, never bothering us. Looping around the path, we eventually made it to the main spot, where over millions of years, rocks had formed into columns. About 40,000 in all - resulting from a volcanic eruption. It was absolutely amazing how unique each was, but still managed to fit together, like a massive puzzle that formed thousands of stairs. It was unlike something I've ever seen. The air was fresh and pure. The ocean was crashing at our feet. The sun was sneaking through the clouds. It was a perfect as one could ask for.

When we felt like we had soaked in as much as we could, we walked back up to the car and made our way back into town to tour the Bushmill's Whiskey Factory. I'll preface this with that they did not allow electronics to be on during the tour, so I couldn't take any pictures. Why you ask? Because they are still brewing and distilling on location unlike Jameson or Guinness so there is a fire hazard with all the alcohol in the air.

By far this was my favorite tour. Not only because Bushmill's is my favorite whiskey, but because we got to see everything as it happened. We got to smell and feel the barley, watch it churn in the mash tun, mix with yeast, breath in the alcohol vapors in the distilling room, see the thousands of oak barrels in the storeroom, and of course, sample the whiskey. I could fill you in on all the fund facts (founded officially in 1608, world's oldest distillery, etc) but I'll let you do the research on your own. Overall, it all just felt alive. Workers were doing their thing, the grounds were bustling. It didn't feel like it was a show. It honestly felt like we just happened to be walking through as a normal day happened. Which, compared to the other tours, was special.

Climbing back into the car, we headed out for our trip and final night back in Dublin. I made a executive decision because I was driving and chose to drive along the coast, stopping wherever I saw fit. One of which being the Carrick-a-Rede rope bridge (which is easily missable if you don't look out for the signs). It's a rope bridge that spans 66ft between the mainland and an island, hanging 98ft above the water. To be honest, there isn't mush else to do in the area besides walk along a small set of cliffs and eventually cross the bridge onto the island, but again, like anywhere else we went in Ireland, it was just stunningly beautiful. Mom was a little freaked out crossing it both times, but managed fine and loved the experience (hell, she even got to see some puffins along the way).

After we were done at the bridge, we kept driving along the coast for some time, through hills, farms, a pine forest (all of which you'll see in the video), until we finally met back up with the highway and continued down to Dublin.

Once there, we checked into our hotel for the last night.

So so sad.

Day Five: The Cliffs of Moher

When the three of us awoke Friday morning, we had a slight dilemma on our hands. Originally, we had booked through the website Airbnb to stay in an "Irish Cabin" but upon arrive late the night before, found it to really be much more of a converted garage. There was nothing special about it. Nothing unique. No charm. Realistically, there was nothing notable about it at all. So we decided to pack up our things and continue on our way, choosing to not stay the second night and figure out a place to sleep as we were driving.

We waisted absolutely no time, hightailing it out of Gort and heading towards the western coast to see the world famous Cliffs of Moher. The drive out was spectacular enough. Following the winding road along the coast (of course making stops along the way). Amongst large dunes, passing through little seaside villages, along wind-swept gold courses, until finally pulling into the complex for the cliffs.

After a short walk we were on the edge and my breath was stolen from my body. People had told me they were spectacular. Huge. Vertigo inducing. I had never experienced something quite like this other than the Grande Canyon, yet this was different because out in front of me was just the abyss of the ocean. I saw no other land. Nothing to give me a perception of how high the cliffs really are (the highest point is actually 702 ft). It was humbling seeing anit-suicide signs lining the edges of the cliffs and the walls built to keep people away. But it was also surprising to see that after a certain distance in either direction, the walls just ended, allowing you to wander out as close to the cliff as one dared. Needless to say, I got pretty close for some photos, but never close enough that I felt in danger. We walked around for a bit, doing the touristy things. Posing. Soaking in the sights. Hiking up to O'Brien Tower (where my mom was just smitten). Overall, we were probably there for a couple hours before walking back to our little Nissan to continue the day.

From the cliffs, we decided to make a quick trip through Galway which is as cute as can be. It had the same feeling as Dingle in the sense that it was on the water, but it was much bigger, with more energy, and a more modern vibe. People were out and about drinking, eating, laughing. Unfortunately we were only able to walk around for a while before climbing back into the car and making our way back across the country towards Dublin, before turning north, to make out way to Belfast.

Our goal for the next day was to see Giants Causeway and Bushmills, so in order to save some time we decided spending most of Friday driving instead of Saturday made sense.

And yes - in retrospect, I know this post is pretty short. Mainly because we spent so much time in the car rather than out of it.

Next stop: Northern Ireland and the UK.

Day Four: Ring of Kerry, Dingle, and Gort

Day four was upon us. We awoke in our lovely little Bed and Breakfast, to a wonderful meal provided by our host Kathy (Bangers, Fried Eggs, Pudding, Beans, Toast, Coffee, Tea, and assorted cereals...yum). We ate up, cleaned up, packed up, and headed out the door to begin the day's adventure.  And it was to be the first real day of driving (7+ hours in the car).

Our first stop...well, multiple stops, was the Ring of Kerry. For those of you not familiar, it is a loop in Southern Ireland that showcases all the natural beauty that one would expect to see in Ireland. Lush, green forests, flowing waterfalls, lakes set against towering mountains, old castles and churches, sheer cliffs, farms with hundreds of sheep. The whole shebang. The best part about it though was being able to drive it at our own pace, without any worry about a tour group rushing us past certain stops or directing us somewhere we didn't have much interest. And to say it was beautiful would be the understatement of the year. It was beyond gorgeous. Vistas and views unlike anything I had ever seen. Truly awe inspiring. Dublin had impressed me and won me over. But this was what I had come to Ireland to see.

After putzing around on the Ring of Kerry for a bit, we finally decided to leave the route and head out onto one of Ireland's Western Peninsula's, towards the little sea town of Dingle. After talking to Paige at the start of the trip, we decided it seemed like a nice place to stop on our way to Galway/Gort. But before we got there, we needed to adventure out onto some very "local" roads. Here we met some tiny streets, very large mountains, cliffs, and high winds. I can't remember the name of it off the top of my head, but one of the passes we drove through was absolutely one of my favorite parts of the trip. I can't even really describe it, so I'll let the following pictures speak for themselves. But it was just unbelievable and I couldn't believe that I was actually driving through it. Sheer rock walls on my left and hundred foot cliffs to my right.

Once me made it to the other side of the mountains, the world just opened up to the beautiful Atlantic Ocean. We stopped a few times to soak in the views. Walking down to the beaches. Breathing in the salty air, feeling the sand whip against our skin from the gusting wind. Certainly nothing like here in America (and yes - I creeped on an old lady a little bit. But she was damn cute).

We eventually made it to Dingle and while we couldn't stay for too long, we had a blast. I loved everything about that little town. For anyone who has been to a little, quaint, New England fishing town like Portsmouth, imagine that times 1000x. Dingle felt so close to home for me. Yes - I understand that New England took almost all of its heritage from the UK (hence the name) but I didn't feel like a tourist there. I had always been raised near the water, so seeing the wharfs, hearing the seagulls, smelling the fish and salt in the air, it all felt natural and comforting. The town itself was picturesque. Nestled into a bay, surrounded by water and fishing vessels. To be honest it was perfect and I wish we had more time there to experience it to the fullest. But on to Gort we went, to check into our abode for the night and rest ourselves for the following day of Cliffs, Galway, and eventually Belfast.