Bachelor Fishing Derby Fun

I was just going through some hard-drives archiving older files when I stumbled upon this video from 2005 that I put together for my good friend, Rem (http://www.remgeo.com). Rem got married in November 2005 in St. Lucia, but a few months prior, twenty or so friends from different walks of life and different cities converged on Lake Baskatong (check the spelling on that one) in Quebec for a weekend of drinking, fishing, and celebrating our buddy.

It's been a few years now since I shot this, put it together, and gave Rem the DVD of this. I look back at it now and can't help but laugh. There were only a few DVDs given to Rem, so if you've never seen it (and you were there), be forewarned. The f-bombs are plentiful and the guy talk over the top.

It's quite long (this is the 1st 20 minutes), so sit down, kick back with a coffee (or a beer) and enjoy.

Why Idiots Succeed The Second Time Around.

Note: The names of idiots have been removed and scenarios generalized.

I'm taking time out from a ridiculously crazy schedule of due dates and deadlines to to self-vent. My main issue right now is with the rising legions of incredible stupid people that I seem to be continuously forced to deal with on a daily basis.

Now of course not everyone I deal with is moronic. I have the great pleasure of being in the presence of some of the most intriguing and intelligent individuals and my interactions with them are quite rewarding. And it's those people who know me well enough that when I lose it - I lose it big.

Here is an example in point form:

1. I provide a concept proof
2. The proof gets approved as-is
3. I'm instructed to proceed based on the approved proof
4. I spend hours developing the project and provide finals
5. Oops. There are design elements that were out of the scope-of-work.
6. WTF? Why wasn't this pointed out before ALL THIS WORK?
7. Total and utter derailment...

Somewhere between point 2 and 6 someone thought I had ESP and that I should have known about these changes after the fact. To be sure I am not having a lapse in memory I check all my email communications and discover that I am actually sane, and that my mental 'mission control' has just given me the go-ahead for blast off.

That's just one example. Maybe it comes down to seeing things like this play out day-after-day, year-after-year, that I have lost patience. What gets me even more irate is that the person(s), the moronic idiot(s), turn around and paint me as being difficult to deal with because I point out their mistakes and try and show how it can be easily remedied in future instances. Why don't they feel that wasting my time should irritate me, yet their time is too valuable to address the situation they have created? 

In the end, I will be expected fix the mistakes and eat the extra time... like we always end up doing. Why? Because it's been proven time-after-time that idiots who rush to please a client will get it wrong the first time, then expect me to spend countless amounts of non-billable time to get it right, for the idiot, the second time. 

Holy shit... maybe I'm the idiot.

 

I remember you, Valda Champagne-Marks

Warning: Heavy Alert 
I'm not really sure what spurred on this particular thought today, but every once in a while I find myself remembering Valda. To explain why, I need to jump back a few years.

In 1986-1987 I was in grade 12 at St. Pius X high school in Ottawa, Ontario. At the beginning of the school year a completely new idea had been introduced called Cooperative Education (Co-op Ed). This program sent students to work onsite at jobs that interested them, and gave a head start by teaching valuable knowledge while on-the-job. It's now quite common.

I opted to try out the new course and spent the first half of the school year at the National Museum of Natural Science (NMNS). I illustrated the little wall plaques that detailed the display. It was as boring as it sounds, but I did learn some valuable illustration pointers that eventually led me to my first career and which I still use today.

It was my second term placement that really defined that year for me. I had always planned to take animation at Sheridan College in Oakville, Ontario. I had already been accepted to attend when my teacher, Mr. Macdonnell, informed me that he was able to secure a place for me with Hinton Animation Studios. Hinton was the animation studio behind the CBC television series 'The Raccoons'. As you can imagine, I was floored that I would be working there and drinking in everything I could about the profession.

When day-1 rolled around and I found myself in the basement of Hinton assembling a seemingly never-ending supply of custom built IKEA animation desks, needless to say I was very disappointed. I knew I was just a free student peon. When I complained to my teacher, the next week changed for the better.

That's when I met Valda.

Valda was the supervisor in the Xerox/Cel room where the illustrations were copied onto clear cells before going into the Opaquing Department where each one would be hand painted. It wasn't glamourous work, far from it, but it wasn't the basement and I wasn't wielding an IKEA allan key.

Valda took me under her wing and quickly became an advocate to get me further up the animation ladder. She was like an agent, getting me to where I wanted to go. She got me into Opaquing. She got me into Sound Editing and Film Editing. Then she got me into In-Between Animation. She gave me advice. She told me to ask that girl to prom I talked about. She hugged me like a mom, but treated me like a little brother. She even wanted to be sure we kept in touch after my placement so she could buy me drinks on my 19th birthday (even though she knew I'd been getting into bars underage in Ottawa and Hull for 3 years).

On my last day at Hinton, Valda walked me to the door at the end of the day, wished me luck and asked to keep in touch. I thanked her for all her help even though I had changed my mind about pursuing animation as a career. She gave me a big hug, and a kiss on the cheek, and that was that.

I never saw Valda again after that day.

I remember the morning as if it was yesterday. I got off the bus and went to my job as an illustrator at a t-shirt company. I grabbed a coffee and a bagel and set up at my desk in my corner of the art department while a coworker tuned in the local radio station just as the news was coming on. "The victims body was found partially clothed in a parking lot and identified of that of Valda Champagne-Marks of Ottawa..." was what I heard. It hit me like a punch in the stomach. Everything in my peripheral vision closed in and went black. It was hazy. I'd just heard the murder report of someone I knew and admired. Somewhere, sometime in the hours before, Valda had been attacked and murdered, and left with very little dignity.

I never attended her funeral. I only saw front page photos of her family grieving at her grave side. I've never visited her grave nor seen the memorial plaque with her name on in a park in Ottawa. I've rarely talked about it. But for some reason, I felt today I needed to. If there is any doubt in my mind that someone could have a huge influence on someone and the rest of their life, Valda eliminated it for me.

Thanks Valda. I still remember you.


BLOG UPDATE:
On Friday March 11th, I was surprised by and email I received from Melanie Champagne who is Valda's daughter. She was only 13 years old at the time of her mom's death, and I was grateful for her note. It read:

---
Jeff your story was wonderful to read, for I am Melanie Champagne her daughter. I was 13 at the time of her death and so her life experiences cannot be shared with me. Things happen for a reason and maybe your reason for remembering is to help me with knowing my mother. I want to thank you for sharing your memory and now I will be cherishing it forever.

I tried to post this onto the blog but I could not do it but I really wanted you know this and somehow I will post it so it is known. You really did blog at a good time it really means a lot to me.

Thank you,
Melanie Champagne
---

Thank God for radio.

A while back, in the fall I think, Halifax got a new radio station that focused on untapped modern rock genre. I say "untapped" because Halifax never had a "modern rock alternative" station. I found that odd because when I lived in Ottawa and then Toronto, and before moving back to Nova Scotia, I can remember hearing such great new music coming from here. Modern rock stations in my old home towns were all over bands like Joel Plaskett and The Trews, to name only a few. So when we moved back I was only listening to classic rock stations. Now don't get me wrong, I'm still am a big fan of the classics, but recently I've been exposed to some of the best new music I've heard in years.

When Live 105 launched, I discovered them by accident. I stumbled upon an article in the paper featuring Cub Carson and the new station, and his new morning show. I remembered listening to Cub in Ottawa, and I actually did work "way back in the day" with The Bear and their first website. So, I scanned up the dial and it's been set their ever since.

I joined their Facebook fan page as well. It adds an entirely new element to radio as a whole. Now with Facebook and Twitter, the experience is so much better than just a radio pumping out music in the background. On-air personalities are interacting with listeners and visa-versa, listeners comment on music which sometimes spawns great discussions, and requesting music has never been easier - just tweet it!

This whole social thing is also a fantastic value-add for advertisers as well. Those smart enough to understand what can be done to simply expand upon a radio spot will benefit.

I've gotten an even better benefit out of it as well. Because of the whole social experience, I've gotten the go ahead to produce cartoons for their on-air peeps. It started with Cub and Floyd's Morning Mob design which, because of Facebook, has gotten great feedback.

It got such great feedback that a second design for the Midday Meltdown was created and now a third for the afternoon drive show is in the works.

I love the smell of new music, and new illustrations. Thank God for radio.