Exciting new things are shaking out in the basement of the capitol building. The Montana Public Radio Office is beginning to look a lot TV-ier.

Since College, one of my life goals has been to produce documentaries for a PBS station–ideally Montana PBS.

This Summer and Fall, I’m getting that chance.

My former professors/Montana broadcasting idols/sort-of colleagues are entrusting me with a half-hour documentary on the ballot measures up for this November election (like initiatives and stuff).

It’s a ridiculous honor and an intimidating one. I’ve never shot in High Definition before, nor with such top-shelf professional equipment.

On top of all the camera gear, my editing station is getting a major facelift. A brand new computer that supports not only the audio-editing software I use but also my very own copy of Avid Media Composer (which for those of you in the know–is nothing to shake a stick at.)

Dual 20-inch monitors!

I shot with the camera for the first time last night, grabbing some sunset shots of the capitol.

The heat is on now, my friends.

For those of you who requested, here is the complete audio of my graduation speech to the FHS Class of 2012–given Sunday, May 27th.

I recorded this with my iPhone on the podium, so please forgive the very audible paper-shuffling and finger-pounding.

I’m still glowing over what a privilege this was.

Hope you enjoy listening!

I get a call from my mom earlier this week around 5 PM.

“Daniel! Hey! I know your probably really busy! But I need a favor!”

I actually wasn’t busy, I was just walking out of the capitol after work. Mom was correct, however, that I usually am still very busy at this time of day.

“Could you ask Siri if wild rats come in black and white?” she asked, just a little exasperated.

“Huh?”

“Yeah, just really quick–ask Siri if wild rats come in black and white.”

“I don’t think I follow you.”

“One of the kitties just killed a HUGE black and white rat! I mean, it’s like 18 inches long. It’s tail is as big around as my little finger! IT’S HUGE! Come on, just ask Siri really quick.”

“Mom, I’m not sure Siri will know how to answer that,” I said. “But I’ll give it a try and call you right back.”

“Ok. IT’S HUGE!”

I hang up my iPhone, then hold the home button until the Siri microphone pops up with its characteristic ‘ping!’

“Do wild rats come in black and white?” I ask.

“Which ‘White’?” Siri asks in return, listing those with the last name ‘White’ in my contacts list.

“No. Which RATS come in blackandwhite?” I ask with different emphasis.

“Sorry, I don’t know where that is.”

I call Mom back.

“What did she say? Do wild rats come in black and white?”

“I don’t think Siri could comprehend the question, Mom. I’ll try to Google it for you later when I get home.”

“That would be great. THIS THING IS ENORMOUS! I wonder which kitty had the guts to take it down? Probably not Dolly, it’s almost as big as she is!”

“Yeah, whoever did it, I’m impressed more than anything.”

“Yeah, Ok. Love ya! Bye! IT’S HUGE!”

“Love ya mom.”

__

I forgot to Google the dang thing later. Mom got to it herself, though, and left me a message the next morning.

“Well, we Googled that rat and it was a fancy rat, not a wild rat. It’s very rare they turn color in the wild. It was somebody’s pet rat. How it ended up here all dead like that, I don’t know. But it was a fancy dead rat. Bye.”

So that’s kind of sad. Serves a fancy rat right, I suppose.

Who in their right mind would spend $20 on an iPhone app?

Well, I sort of did…literally did.

But it’s a synthesizer! Isn’t that cool! It very similar to this old synth pad my friend and high school band-mate Michael Richter has. There was an element of nostalgia for sure.

I’m getting pretty good with it, check out this video I made last night on a wim:

I had it, everyone.

The best phone number a guy could ever dream for.  It was given to me by pure happenstance as a senior in High School.

366-1893.

Ah yes, 366-1893. I loved that number so dearly. It was so easy to remember. It’s been more than a year and I still lament its loss.

“Well, of course. Three times two is six, so that’s why there are two sixes.” I would say.

Oh, ha ha ha Dan, you’re so clever and handsome–that’s what I would usually get as a response.

And then 1893?!!! Why, that’s the year the University of Montana was founded! And Montana State University if you care to go there. Also, 1893 is when Pabst won its famous Blue Ribbon.

There was also the panic of 1893 and the establishment of Chief Petty Officer as a rank in the Navy. Ah! What a notable year!

And I squandered it all!

In early 2011, my old job at the wonderful KBZK-TV in Bozeman decided to go for a smart phone to replace my other work phone!

A Blackberry and everything! Cool! I thought to myself, “Well, then I don’t need to be paying this $50 a month or whatever I pay for this silly high school number!”

So I dumped 366-1893 like a bad habit that later turned out to be a great habit–like jogging or calling your mother or something.

Six months later, I left KBZK to head to Germany for the Arthur F. Burns Fellowship. While I was in Germany I took this job with Montana Public Radio.

I had to get a new, personal, phone number.

And 366-1893 was long deceased–never to return.

Now I’m stuck with 438-2820 and I have no idea how to conceptualize this random jumbling of meaningless digits.

The only thing I’ve come up with is this:

“Ughhhhh, well…438 is kind of like 538, which was the prefix of my home phone when I was growing up. Except it’s not 538. It’s 438, and you will just have to remember that–OK!

…

uuuuuuuhhhh I’m sorry, I got a little too flustered there. I’m just giving out a number, right? Right. Ok, you start with the 438, which is kind of like 538. Then we have 2820, which is of course 100 years after we defeat the robots.

So, to remember it, you start with 538 (my home number prefix from growing up, and you know that) then take 100 from that, leaving 438. Then you add that 100 to the year we defeat the robots, 2720–which gives you 2820.

Simple as that, 438-2820.”

We’ll see how that strategy goes. But, can you think of anything else?

R.I.P 366-1893

I’ve rock climbing a little bit the last couple of weeks. My old friend John and I are setting out to try and get a little better this Summer.

So, to celebrate, here’s a photo-essay of sorts–John lead climbing a set of stairs we conquered out at Sheep Mountain.

This is what I come home to last night.

In my dallying about what to do about the cone (see previous post) somebody has destroyed it.

I don’t know what part of the human psyche leads to this type of senseless violence. I would say I want answers, but I’m afraid I would only be kicking a hornets’ nest.

That’s the last thing I want to do–kick a hornets’ nest.

Yes, we can all see the cone is beyond saving. That still doesn’t mean I can’t find something to do with its maimed carcass.

Please, friends. Help me decide!

I’ve heard donate it–to Northwestern Energy or my local bike polo club. I’ve read use it as a decorative piece.

These ideas seem a little idyllic, don’t ya think?

Or am I being too closed-minded?

Am I kicking a hornets’ nest?

“No, is he? Is he really going to leave it?”

I’m thinking this to myself as the half-ton pickup hastily vacates the scene.

I had just walked up to my backdoor following a downtown jaunt last week. As my keys jingled in the lock I heard another sound–a dragging, scraping sound.

I turn and see this pickup driving the narrow side street by my house, dragging a tall traffic cone between his front axle. Who knows how long he had been pushing this poor thing around (I can’t think of any construction sites in the immediate vicinity) but he realized he had it right as he reached my puzzled expression.

He stopped the pickup and threw ‘er in reverse. As he pulled back the cone sprang up to its intended position, wobbled a little, then stood stalwart like any well-disciplined street soldier. The guy looked at it, seemed a little impressed, then sped off–leaving the cone in his settling dust.

It’s still sitting there several days later.

So now I ask you, all of my many MANY loyal blog followers (Mom…?), what should I do with the cone?

Do I leave it to see how long it will just stay there? Perhaps I should hunt this guy down? Do I return it to the fine folks at MDT or the City of Helena or whatever?

There is no easy answer.

 

Hey there gang,

For those that don’t know I’ve put up a few albums from my recent Pakistan trip to my Facebook page.

Just follow the links!:

 

Islamabad

 

 

 

 

 

 

Saidpur Village

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Karachi

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Schools

As I’m finishing up my taxes here in my comfortable Montana home, it’s easy to complain about how much Uncle Sam wrests from me each year. It’s easy to look at my Adjusted Gross Income and wish the number was a little bigger or that I had spent less of it in the previous year.

But I’m quickly reminded of the sugar cane merchant I met in Karachi nearly two weeks ago.

He was calmly slicing chunks of cane, two or three inches long, over and over again. He would pile them into open plastic bags on the table in front of him.

I asked how long he’s been doing this work–about a decade.

I asked how much money he makes. He said on a good month he’ll make 5,000 Rupees.

That’s about $55.