And...

And, the best (bittersweet?) part, is I get paid in dollars.

C'mon U.S. economy! Don't go into recession now!

It's Official!

I move down to Budapest in two weeks time. I just got confirmation tonight.

Jon says, You better get down here because all you are right now to the brass is 'some kid Jon met in Prague'. My first test: film and edit a company meeting. (Read: Cakewalk)

Prague Test (Below)

The post below is the short (:90) test video that I shot and edited for the bosses at Move One Relocations, to show them I had what it took to be brought on the team. It took less than 24 hours to put it all together. And while I hate using iMovie, I had to use what I had in front of me. As you can see why, I will only have it up for a short time.

Also, the weather was not agreeing with me in the slightest, so much of the video has a gray quality to it. This could not be helped.

Prague Test

I may be moving to Budapest

As you can probably read from the title above, I am moving to Budapest. Or rather, I may be moving to Budapest. At this point it seems like a sure thing. How, and why you may be asking yourselves right now?

Well gather around, I shall tell you a story!

A long time ago, in a galaxy far far away....Oh we're not auditioning for Star Wars? Damnit! No, really, a while back, I posted how I had had an interview with this guy named Jon, who works for a corporation called Move One Relocations. You can find their website at www.moveonerelo.com

At first, I thought nothing of the interview, because it was more funny than serious. I had gone in to interview for an editorial position (something I'm really not qualified for, but why the hell not?), and came out thinking about my film credentials. Let me go back. When I went in, I slid my CV over to Jon, not really thinking much of it, other than this was just another interview that I was getting nothing from. The smiles, the small talk, the questions, the pained expressions at the end. I really was not in the mood for interviews, being my last week of work at Anagram, and I was thinking of what I was going to do after Anagram. Who knew that the interview I was in right at that moment thinking that very thing, would do anything for my life? Who knew?!

Well now I know. He took one look at my CV (oh yeah, that's a resume for all you non European dwellers...actually I'm pretty sure its called a CV in every other country other than USA, Canada, and maybe Mexico), and said, Oh you do film? We're looking for someone to start filming our locations. But it wasnt that easy. This position was not open. There was no position. Jon was creating a position out of thin air. From scratch. And telling me about it. I just went with it. He said, You would go to each of our locations, film it, come back, edit, and then post each video online. Hmm, maybe I should go back, again. Move One Relocations is a rather large corporation based out of Budapest, with offices all over Eastern Europe, extending to Asia, Africa, and the Middle East. Their clients are mostly Americans who move abroad, with families, and need help adjusting to their new lives. In other words, they help with visas, schooling for their children, whatever else.

What I would be doing, is showing these people what their lives will be like when they finally arrive in their final destination.

I shot and edited a 90 second video for Prague, and sent it off today. But we have been talking over the last two weeks, and Jon has been pushing for this position to be worked in house, with one person. Technically, it would be a lot cheaper, rather than hiring out someone who you dont know and dont trust from each location. And then, they have a company flat in each location, so I would go to those places, sleep on the couch, and shoot for however long. Anyway, Jon has been fighting for this position to his superiors, and basically for me to work this position, which has been pretty amazing. Considering he created the position, on his own, and pitched it to upper management, and got it approved. That's big.

Anyway he gave me an offer tonight, but he personally was not happy with it, so he was going to go back and talk to his boss about it to make it higher. Hmm. Sounds fine with me!

But the fact of the matter, is that I will be in Budapest in three weeks time, if not sooner. Jon wants to get Jamie there with me ASAP, but I told him that she has commitments until June, and that is not an option at the moment. But, what is good, is that he is willing to look for something for her, when she gets into Budapest.

Things are looking up, as they say.

Bad News

This is 'Bad News,' one of my projects for school last year. It's old for some of you, but new for others. My assignment was simple: film something for an extended period of time, with no use of editing (post or in production). It's called a Long Shot, for those non film buffs. I finally figured out how to compress it a minute ago. So enjoy.

Internet is Down!

I haven't written in a while, because there has not been much going on (still adrift in these shark-infested jobless waters). But now, I won't be able to write for a while, because our internet in our flat dried up. It doesn't make much sense, because the cable television still works (the internet and tv are hooked up through the same router), but the internet is defunct. I felt like the Hulk last night....except I didn't turn into the green giant...and I didn't smash anything...not that I did not want to.

Anyway, I am currently writing this down at the bottom of our stairs. The Cafe Louvre (three stories below, but only a story above me at the moment) has free wifi, and I am totally jacking that shit. Oh, the wonders of modern technology.

So that's that. When, or if ever we get the internet back up, I will write a story about it.

Snow

The view from our flat a couple days ago. I'm not exactly sure how many inches it was, but you can see the pile up of snow on the building opposite ours. It has since melted away, but the streets are still pretty icy.

An Incredibly True Short Story

I walk down the steep steps into the depths of a club I've never been before. I've walked past the entrance for months now, and this is the first time I've even noticed it's existence. Things here seem to want to hide, to let your gaze wash over it, and yet, there is nothing to pique the mind, draw the person in. Its all word of mouth. How did I get here? I was led here.

The group ahead of me is laughing and screaming, stumbling down the steps and gripping the persons in front of them in vain. Those are my friends. The ones laughing and screaming and falling. The staircase seems to go on forever. How deep does this really go? I wonder. At the moment someone is sure to break their neck, we reach the club. It's a catacomb. Or a wine cellar. It's tough to gouge. Every place here seems to be underground, with a cellar catacomb-ish feel to it. The cobblestones that were just beneath our feet on the streets are now above our heads, arranged in the famously powerful Roman arch. This place looks ancient. The floor below us creaks as we explore the vast cellar club. Every room seemed to have 2 rooms leading off of it. I'm sure to be lost in a matter of minutes. I follow the group ahead of me. Safety in numbers! And then find myself looking down a new staircase. Great. More steps.

Downstairs from the downstairs, we enter the fray. People everywhere are dancing, drinking, moving their bodies to the music that blasts too loud. A DJ is set up in the corner. He's not good, but people don't seem to care. We all peel our outer layers off and throw them on a table. Will that be safe? Who cares! Let's dance!

A disco ball hangs over the dance floor. Red and yellow and orange lights from all across the cavernous room are aimed at the ball, and it refracts along the bodies that thrive for the music and the light. Our group makes our own little circle. Are we any good at this whole dancing thing? It doesn't matter. Camera flashes go off every 4.3 seconds. I'm blinded for a second. How can you dance when you cant see? I wonder in a haze. Someone hands me a beer. Where did this come from? Hmm, I better drink it to find out. To my left is a giant lady. She's taller than me, and is dancing with some guy shorter than my chest. She doesn't seem to notice, but the man keeps knocking his face right smack into her chest. He looks like he's in ecstasy, with the biggest smile pasted across his face. She bobs up and down, and he keeps smacking his face against her tits. I look away, wondering what the hell is wrong with these people.

And in that moment, everything seems to fall away. There's a moment when the music sweeps me up, us up, everyone around me, onto the crest of some metaphorical wave. But the wave. Its real. My mind smiles at the thought. The. Music. Has. An. Effect. Over. Me. The dancing bodies next to me are moving to the beats, the sounds, the wave. They move as one, a thriving mass of living beings, probably drunk. But it doesn't matter because that moment, when everything dropped away, when the world made sense, that's what's important. All that's left is a group united in the music, hearing the same beats, smelling the same smells, experiencing the same...experience. I smile, and take the last drought of my beer. The dancing light plays tricks on my vision. I see a heat wave above the heads of the crowd. Jesus, are we in the desert? My mind wanders, and I watch the surging mass of bodies move around me, against me, inside me.

And I think, wool socks were a bad choice.

'Varatlan'

As some of you may have noticed, I have added a link to something called 'Varatlan' (translated as 'Unexpected' from the Hungarian) in my Link list. It is Jamie's blog. Though in it's infancy, she has been adding her stories and memories from her time in Budapest. It is a pretty accurate story of the feelings that one encounters when walking down the Budapest lanes. In her own link list, she has links to her photography, where I am prominently displayed (is that a bad thing?). No, of course not. But for those of you who do not have facebook, my pictures are basically cut off from you. So her links are definitely something to look at. And her writing reminds me of Thomas Pynchon, except in a traveling vein. His style is tough to emulate, and I speak pretty highly of his literature.

So, you know, when she gets that publishing deal things will be better.

Updates

So, those of you to read the last post about the origins of the word 'o.k.' were nice enough to forward some links to me concerning the true origin. As it turns out, my Czech counterpart had it wrong. Supposedly OK was in common usage much earlier than the middle of the 20th century. I'm not going to go into all the stories, because it seems there are a bunch of conflicting reports. But I do not blame Pavel. He must have read that in one of his history books and whoever the author was had it wrong.

Oh well.

For those of you who are more interested in the 'real' origins of the word OK, you can look up this link: http://www.askoxford.com/asktheexperts/faq/aboutwordorigins/ok
Thank you for the link Frank.

As for the second post, I finally heard from my former employer Robert, the one I thought was sick or dead. Turns out he was deathly sick, and his laptop crashed when he was at home during the holidays, so it was 'impossible' to get a word out to me. He was nice about it, but said that due to the real lack of work for me, and his diminishing funds, our working relationship would have to be cut short. For a second, when I was first reading his email, I thought we were back on track. And then, oh crap, I'm still back where I started.

Anyway, I had an interview this morning with this firm that helps expat professionals moving abroad. I went in with the notion that I was interviewing for the editor post of the newsletter, but as it turned out, my training and skills in film production became mighty interesting to my interviewer. The company has decided to film videos for each branch of their company (they have posts in Budapest, Prague, Moscow, Bucharest, Warsaw, and Bratislava). Our very very tentative agreement, and by tentative I mean speculative, was that I would shoot, produce, and edit the video for Prague, and then if all went well with the upper management, I would get the green light to travel to the other locations, stay in their company flat in each city, and shoot and edit the other cities.

Sounds exciting.

Unfortunately, this would only happen after it started to warm up, because they want to show blue skies and happy people. Not gray overcast skies and people grinding their teeth against the bitter cold.

And its not supposed to warm up around here until May.

(sigh)

So it sounds pretty cool, and again, is only speculative, but it definitely made me think about what I could do with the video. And, they would actually have a script, so it would be as close enough to a cake walk if I've ever seen one. You can check out their website at: www.moveonerelo.com

For now though, I need to concentrate on what I can do in those months leading up to the thaw of winter.

OK

Pavel, my old boss at Anagram, asked me something that I found interesting the last day of my working for him. He said, "Do you know where the term O.K. comes from?"

To which I said, "Of course, its from...its...ummmm..."

And I realized that I had no idea where the hell it came from.

The answer, that he provided me, which makes a lot of sense, and I would have no reason not to believe him otherwise, was this:

During World War 2, British RAF pilots coming back from strafing and bombing runs would have to radio to their command posts their number of downed planes. When it was a good run, and no planes had been hit, they radioed in 0 killed. Which was soon shortened to O.K. And then somewhere along the line it became a staple of the English language.

I'm not sure why this is so important, but it has stuck in my head for a long time now. Sometimes, the things that seem so meaningless and pass in every day conversation, have an important story behind them.

It reminds me when I was riding on a bus from Prague, on my first trip to Prague, heading back to Budapest, and my future room mate Ryan is staring at the lines of telephone poles whizzing by, and in one of his rare sober moments that semester, wonders out loud, "How do cell phones make calls? How do they really work?"

Sometimes it is those questions that seem so easy to answer, that really make you think about the world around you and what everything really means. When those answers allude us, do we stop and take the time to really think? Or does our 10 second attention span doom us to not question the obvious?

the Work situation

While the New Year celebrations were indeed fun, I suddenly found myself in a familiar situation. I was out of a job. Again. And when I look back on how exactly this situation crept up on me, I want to laugh, because it is so ridiculous.

Up until the end of 2007, I had three jobs. The first, with Anagram, the second, with Culinaria, and the third, with T-Mobile in the States. I knew when the New Year was rung in, that the first of these, Anagram and Culinaria, would disappear. I was not so sad about this, though I had developed an attachment to Anagram. The third, and ultimately the cash cow of the three, was the one to keep if all else failed. I seem to have failed somewhere along the way.

The reasons for this are simple. The guy stopped speaking to me. After the last payment he sent to me regarding my work with him (all was done at home, basically creating new customer requests and new drafts and updating excel sheets, etc), silence. Not a word. Which is strange because I talked to this guy, Robert, almost every day on Google Chat, and he was always on when he said he would be and never went back on his word (i.e. paying me). It's a mystery to me because there is nothing to suggest that he was unhappy with my work. The only solution I can really think of is he's dead.

Let me go back. Some time in the middle of December, he started to be on less frequently, until I did not see him on for days. Finally, after biting my nails wondering what the hell had happened to the man, he sends me an email stating he's been really sick and that he was on his way to the bank to honor our agreement.

And then, nothing.

I find it hard to believe that Robert could have met his end. What with all the modern medicine and technology, his being sick should not have been a huge deal. Unless he had bird flu or west nile or something. But even then, you go to a hospital and the doctors should be cognizant of these types of things.

Or, he might have realized that he really didnt want me to work for him anymore, and did the unprofessional (and childish) route and just stopped the conversation. If he thinks I'm going to track him down in Seattle from all the way in Prague, he's right. It would be pretty hard, and I don't have the resources.

As the Emperor in Gladiator said, 'It vexes me. I'm terribly vexed.' Eloquent words. I know how he feels. (Note: I think those are the two most ridiculous lines in the film, and they don't even make sense. But in my context I agree completely.) So, I find myself caught with my pants around my ankles wondering where the hell it all went wrong.

I did manage to find an old email from him that had one of his colleagues in Seattle in the forwarded message, so I sent that guy an email asking about Robert. Who knows if I will ever get a reply, but I am intrigued to find out what really did happen. I wouldnt even care if he wanted to fire me, I just want to know what happened.

So there it is. Again. A mad dash to the finish line, but there's no line. No track. No race. The illusion of stability that I held fleetingly, is just that. Fleeting.

One good thing that is happening these days is I've been working with this guy thats starting up his own website. He travels the world with his buddy (the director and cameraman) and hits the sites, restaurants, night clubs, cultural scenes, films it, and brings it all to the interwebs. The guy's site is: davidsbeenhere.com. Its still under construction, and wont open until April 20 (those familiar with this date should be smirking right about now). When it finally does open up, you can click on Prague, and find me in a couple of the clips. They leave for Dublin in a couple days, and like the last crew to come through Prague, it will be sad to see them go.

So, I'm back to where I started.

The Street on New Year's

New Year's Celebration

It has been a hectic past week and a half so I have not had the chance to really think about what to write. Finally I have a day off and my feet are able to relax after the hours of walking around this beautiful city. But more on that later.

Happy New Year! Yes, that is a week late, but it had to be said. And, Merry Christmas, I suppose. New Year's was pretty fun. My experience with New Year's celebrations have, on average, been less than stellar. My past experiences include puking, getting ditched, and being punched in the face! So when this holiday comes along, I am usually a little apprehensive. But it went off without a hitch. Our flat was the site of a little party, for the four or five people we know here in the city. Jamie and I had bought 4 bottles of Russian champagne, for ourselves (bad idea), and everyone had their own to boot. Byob and all that good stuff. Basically we drank and played cards, drank some more and forgot about the cards. One of the only guys I know here, Eric, we got to talking about where we come from and our past. This is pretty much the conversation we had right after I learned he was from the Boston area:

Boston? Oh my Dad's from Glosten. Glosten? You mean Gloucester? No, I'm pretty positive it's Glosten. But there's no Glosten. There's a Gloucester. That's where I've lived the past four years being a wood worker. Yeah, thats great, but I know its Glosten. I should remember this. No, but there's not a Glosten. It must be Gloucester. Nope, definitely Glosten. I already told you, there is no Glosten. Oh...maybe it is Gloucester.

Something like that. He didnt remember the conversation the next day. So it goes.

Around 11:40, we went out onto the street and ran to the river. Our flat is in the center of the city, and about a block or two from the river. Prime real estate. The streets were packed with people. Some interesting facts, real quick: Prague is the Number 2 place in the world to be on New Year's, according to a trusted poll (I have no idea from where). All locals leave the city during the holiday. The flood of foreigners (mostly those Brits) take their place, and batter the bulkheads. The view from the river is pretty amazing, with the castle dominating the skyline, while fireworks burst in the air above it.

At this point of course, everyone was drunk and yelling and singing and doing whatever else they were doing. An old man gave out sparklers to us, and looked like the happiest man in the world. Eric and I contemplated jumping over the fireworks set up in the street, and decided wholeheartedly, that yes, that would be the smart thing to do. Luckily for us, that subject was quickly forgotten. I should mention here that everyone was shooting off fireworks. At one point we were walking up a narrow street, and someone at the head of it aimed his rocket up the lane, and fired it off. Instead of going straight up, which is the common practice (and safest way) for a firework, this guy's efficient aiming managed to let the rocket fly just feet over the surging crowds' head and explode somewhere behind us. Jesus, I thought later on. What if that had been aimed a little to the left, or right, and hit the building? Or flown into an open window?

After midnight, we just started walking. And got swept up in the crowd of thousands, walking like the rest of us, but stumbling mostly. Jamie hugged and embraced and shouted 'Happy New Year!' to everyone and his brother. It was ridiculous. I had to keep an eye on that girl for much of the night. At one point, we ran into some Italians who I swore were Spanish. I told them I hated Spain and that they should never have come here. Probably a good thing their English was sub par. Nevertheless, they still looked at me like I was crazy. No, No, they would say, Italiano! To which I conveniently replied, I hate the Spanish!

Yes it was quite a night. Oh, I almost forgot. One thing that all the Czechs here have always told me, was to never go to the Old Town Square. According to them (and I still believe them), people get so rowdy that they start throwing bottles into the huge crowds. Some even throw bottles with fire. I'm not saying Molotov Cocktail fire, but enough to seriously injure people. As our crew walked with the surging crowd, I was looking around and thinking, Huh, this really looks like the way to the Old Town Square. And there we were, at the mouth of the dragon. Shit! How the hell did we get to the place that everyone said not to go to?!? Thankfully, at that moment, around 2 AM, there was no bottle throwing. I could definitely see it happening later on in the morning, but not at that point.

It was pretty uneventful in the Square, to be honest, besides the masses of people. Jamie ran up to a group of Scottish men and tried to look up their kilts. When she found that they all wore underwear, she was mighty displeased. Ten minutes later, one of them came up to our group and showed her his underwear in hand and a smile on his face. Great. The whole time in that square was pretty blurry though. There are conversations that I had with people that I now have no memory of.

Finally we got out of there, and everyone used the bathroom at a strip club. One of the girls, Caeli, who is soon to be in Vietnam teaching English, stole a large bottle of Jagermeister. Smooth. Stealing from pimps and the Czech mob (who run those joints) is the first thing not to do.

It was a fun time. No fights, no puking, and especially no arms or limbs being blown off. When that is accomplished, you know you had a great celebration.

(Editor's note: Dad did actually come from Gloucester. The coy in the last post were actually carp. They are from the same line of...fish. But not the same.)