Took in the first annual Saskatoon Fireworks Festival Aug.30&31 (here is the website, there's even a section where they explain all about fireworks). Probably the best fireworks I've ever seen in real life (I know I've lived a sheltered life fireworks-wise but still). Way to go Tourism Saskatoon! Much better choice than the stupid lights lining the Victoria bridge or the more stupid "wheat grains" or some such "art" at River Landing. But I digress.Of course I'm ruined now for all other fireworks, Saskatoon's Canada day ones were like dirt in my eyes compared to these! But what are ya gonna do? Anyway, we watched the fireworks from the new River Landing area as they were shot off the Victoria Bridge (aka "the traffic bridge"). I'd say the Sunday fireworks were better because there were several distinct songs with different styles of fireworks for each one, whereas the first night was more of a single entity. But they were both awesome sauce for sure, I was pleased. I likes all the purdy lights 'n all.
Here, courtesy of Karmen are some highlights from the show: On Saturday
On Sunday
p.s. I know this post is dated before the fireworks happened...I went back in time to write it.
Inspired by a recent offering at "Hope Is Was" Music I remembered this episode of Sam&Max: Freelance Police. A 90's cartoon that I thought was awesome, based on the underground comic by Steve Purcell (who also did work on the popular Monkey Island games), about the misadventures of an anthropomorphized Bogart-esque dog and his neurotic rabbit partner. I love weird random cartoons!
Sam & Max: Freelance Police!!! Aaiiieeee! Robot / The Glazed McGuffin Affair:
p.s.Telltale games released an online comic viewable here, as a promo for their Sam & Max episodic game series.
The first We Are Many (WAM!) festival took place in Saskatoon last weekend. The festival was about environmental awareness and about the little things that everyone can do that add up to a huge difference for the community. WAM has a youtube channel with a couple of funny volunteer videos here. Now I'm putting up the "WAM pact", which I signed and promised to attempt to promote. I encourage everyone to click and read and possibly sign too. There! Take that point #21!
Now for the concert series part. On the Friday we went to see the Joel Plaskett Emergency and on the Saturday we saw The Weakerthans. Good Canadian indy-rock fare, a little chilly temperature-wise, but we managed fine. Joel Plaskett was a little all over the place with his ramblings but still good, he kept yelling at his tech guy to turn things up or down. Fun Trivia: Joel has been nominated for several Junos but you may remember him best from his song "Nowhere With You" from the Zellers commercial.
Joel Plaskett Emergency - Light of the Moon Live performance, We Are Many Festival, Saskatoon
The Weakerthans rambled a lot less and were more about playing the music, you may remember this award-winning band from the Wedding Crashers Soundtrack (no? Fine whatever). Anyway, everyone laughed when they played "I Hate Winnipeg". Ha Ha! But it's OK because they're from there. Fun trivia: The Weakerthans was formed by bassist John K. Samson after he left the activist punk band Propagandhi (known for making lengthy political speeches during their live performances) in search of a mellower scene.
The Weakerthans - Plea from a Cat Named Virtute Live performance, We Are Many Festival, Saskatoon
Big thanks to Talina for bringing me to Rigoletto! I'm sorry to say I didn't recognize the what opera it was until the program said "La Donna e Mobile". Possibly one of the most recognizable little ditties of Italian opera. For little cp, here is the score (Hint: play the last note low and repeat song for full effect):
JT was excellent as one of the courtiers, though he was a bit of a man-slut at the beginning. Ha! My favorite was Michael Uloth the bass who played Sparafucile the assassin. Yes, I'm biased towards bass it's true but that long low note at the end of the Rigoletto-Sparafucile duet was pretty impressive. Anywho, the story of Rigoletto is another one of those, over-protective father shelters daughter, daughter falls in love with the first thing she sees (who turns out to be a huge womanizer), father sends assassins to kill wamanizing jerk, assassination is botched and daughter ends up dieing in jerk's place kind of stories. It was Gilda's own stupid fault though. Rather than give her life in place of the Duke couldn't she have, oh I don't know, called the police or yelled out to give him a heads up, or maybe tried reason with her father to call off the kill?! Oh well, what would opera be without melodrama?
"For our 30th Anniversary season and the first in our new permanent home, The Frank and Ellen Remai Arts Centre, Saskatoon Opera presents Giuseppe Verdi’s early masterpiece, Rigoletto, the story of the hunchbacked court jester whose life turns to tragedy when his beloved daughter falls in love with the lecherous Duke of Mantua.
Saskatoon Opera audience favourite, baritone Gregory Dahl, returns to our stage to sing the first Rigoletto of his career. His innocent daughter and her heartless seducer are sung by Vancouver coloratura soprano Lambroula Pappas and tenor Christopher Bengochea in their first appearances with Saskatoon Opera. Featured performers include Henri Loiselle as the heroic Monterone and, in their SO debuts, Katarzyna Sadej and Michael Uloth. Verdi’s magnificent score, including two of opera’s most unforgettable arias, the ethereal ‘Caro nome’ and the brilliant tenor touchstone, ‘La donna e mobile,’ has made Rigoletto a perennial favourite with opera-goers everywhere."
Last week I learned that a mountain of metal is almost too much metal to take all in one day. Good thing it was so awesome to make up for it! After the concert I was tired and had to go sleep for a while (no I am not getting old, 12 hours of metal makes anyone tired dang it!). But, my ears are back to normal now (and I can distinguish basic shapes and patterns again). Besides the heat/rain and the astronomical prices of liquids, I would say an all around kick-ass festival. The line up to get inside was comical it was so long (like in the beginning of "Space Balls" when they do the pan along the big ship). So we missed both ZIMMERS HOLE and THE DILLINGER ESCAPE PLAN as well PRIESTESS. I was pretty choked about missing Priestess (they're my favorite of the line-up except for Ozzy), but we could hear them from outside.
OK so once we got in we had 3 INCHES OF BLOOD who I've seen before. Then TESTAMENT, VOIVOD, and CAVALERA CONSPIRACY (featuring the Cavalera brothers, formerly of the Brazilian heavy metal band Sepultura, a major player in the 80's and 90's thrash metal scene. See? I do so pay attention). They were all good but they kind of bleed together in my memory. I don't remember how I felt about Testament (I think I liked them, they are a little Mettalica-y) and I'm relatively indifferent towards Voivod (we were sitting on the grass at this point, getting sunburned, so I wasn't really listening. But for the record they are cool because the are from Quebec), but I thought Cavalera Conspiracy was the perfect lead into HATEBREED. Hatebreed really stole the show, they were just so high energy (especially singer Jamie Jasta) and having such a great time and they got everyone so pumped up. The mosh pit was definitely something to see too (not necessarily to be in, but to see). Then there was a bit of a lull during the SERJ TANKIAN performance, I don't think it was bad, I liked several of the songs actually, but it was definitely out of place.
JUDAS PRIEST was good for nostalgia value because I knew some of the oldies but goodies that they played. They reminded me of Iron Maiden but with no amazing stage show. I swear I'm not just saying that because they are both British metal bands that got together in the 70's (no, wait, yes I am). Although, their first number, "Nostradamus" (which is off of their newest album), was a good song and Rod Halford came up out of the floor dressed in a big black robe. Also, they played "Breaking the Law", good song.
Finally we had OZZY, who I've also seen before but he was much more intelligible this time (and closer) although the show was much shorter. They started with that same video (with a few changes but I don't remember what they were exactly), he played "War Pigs", and of course Zakk Wilde continues to be mind blowing. Awesome sauce.
There are piles and piles of videos of the festival on the interweb so I was all like "later jerks" to that, but then Madman put some up so everybody wins! Hurray! Warning: Captain McShanty's N'oh!-Fun-4-U Bureau of Censorship and Superfluous Roadsigns has rated rated these as NMF (Not Mom Friendly) for loud music with swearing (but it gets extra points for the sake of Mom-ish curiosity as to what the concert was like).
p.s. Madman also made a prequil post for the concert here (I don't think you can really tell from the post but he was mildly excited).
Update: It has been pointed out that I inexplicably forgot to include Shadows Fall in the lineup. They were on right before Cavalera Conspiracy. Some fun facts: they formed in 1995 in Springfield Massachusetts (the first city in the U.S. to be named Springfield, but they are only the 2nd largest. Also, in 1891, Canadian James Naismith invented basketball there). Lead vocalist Brian Fair wasn't always. He replaced Philip Labonte (now lead singer for All That Remains) after the first album. Which is good because D especially enjoys Fair's nonsensical hair. Good stuff.
Update 2: I remembered that I got hit with a peanut. Also, I saw Sharon Osbourne while I was standing in line for the port-a-potty. She was in the stands behind the stage!
Dr. Oreskes gives a very good account of the history of the science and study of global warming as well as some insights into why people have such short memories.
Remember, if you tell people something enough times, they forget where they got it from. Canadians aren't off the hook, we get the same media they do.
p.s. Frederick Seitz, physicist, born July 4, 1911, died March 2, 2008. Made many advances in the field of science and also made some pretty bonehead moves...haven't we all (except for the science thing, not very many people do that).
A little while back, coinciding with Carrie's bday, there was super-fun Shakespeare on the Saskatchewan time. This year was The Tempest, a delightful play showcasing everything we love about Shakespeare: dry wit, young idiots falling in love with each other on sight, various rustics and comic relief figures, public drunkenness, clearly evil grotesqueries of nature, magic, a lesson on not to be too vengeful (just vengeful enough), gay fairies, paternalistic monarch figures, and all delivered with artistic flair and quotable dialogue- everything you could want in an evening at the theatre.
Fun things to learn and know:
The Tempest was probably written aroung 1610 and is generally touted as the last play written solely by Shakspeare himself.
Caliban is also a 5-piece German metacore band with Slayer/Hatebreed/Poison the Well influences.
The image below is of the painting Miranda the Tempest by John William Waterhouse, an artist that the Moth enjoys.
Quotable Notables:
Your tale, sir, would cure deafness. Miranda, Act 1 Scene 2
You taught me language; and my profit on't Is, I know how to curse: the red plague rid you, For learning me your language. Caliban Act 1 Scene 2
He receives comfort like cold porridge. Sebastian, Act 2 Scene 1
When they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian. Trinculo, Act 2 Scene 2
How many goodly creatures are there here! How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world, That has such people in't! Miranda Act 5 Scene 1
The Bremen Town Musicians is a Grimm fairy tale dating back to 1812. I remember this bedtime story from back in the day! The traditional version of the story was recently performed by the UofS summer drama camp players (featuring my little buddy O.C.). But, failing a video of that, I have the always enjoyable muppets who did a relatively authentic version in 1972 as part of the "Tales from Muppetland" series. I just have part 1 here but all of the parts are up on youtubehere:
This other version is a very loosely adapted animated musical made in the Soviet Union in 1969 by Vasily Livanov at the studio Soyuzmultfilm and was called Bremenskiemuzykanty (Бре́менские музыка́нты). As with most cartoons that came out in the 60's, it is a bit of a trip (cough* yellow submarine*cough). I mean what kind of crazy instruments are they playing? And why does the rooster look like Elton John? I guess he was popular in the S.U. during his early career too.
Of course the original story is somewhat different. It follows the the adventure of a donkey, a dog, a cat, and a rooster who run away from their cruel master and decide to become musicians in the forward thinking town of Bremen. On the way they come upon a cottage belonging to 4 thieves. The animals decide to perform for the thieves in hopes that they will give them food and a place to stay. Of course the terrible noise they make scares the thieves away and the animals settle in the cabin. Later, the thieves return and when one sneaks into the cabin to investigate he is scratched by the cat, bitten by the dog, kicked by the donkey, and screeched at by the rooster. He flees and tells his comrades that the cabin has been taken over by a horrible witch who scratched him, a murderer with a knife who stabbed him, an ogre who clubbed him, an a devil who screamed at him from the rooftop. Then the animals live there happily ever after. The End.
Definitely different than I expected. You had your classic Steve Earle like Copperhead Road (of course), bluesy stuff, some slow stuff, and a bunch of stuff from his new album (pictured to the right). He had a DJ for many of his songs whom he periodically instructed to "kick it", which I enjoyed. The opener, Allison Moorer (Earle's wife as of 2005, turns out) was nice too, kind of mellow, folky, alternative-country stuff. But, right before her last song some jerkstore yells out "We want Steve Earle", and it's dead silent in there when he says it too. Ugh! What is wrong with some people?! Anyway, the whole auditorium groans and Alison says that's probably the rudest thing she's ever heard and everyone cheered. Ha!
Anywho, I'd say the most memorable song for me besides Copperhead Road (that was really the only song I could reliably recognize, which was good for me because his enunciation was Ozzy Osbourne-esque on it) was his cover of the Tom Waits song "Way Down in a Hole", which featured the DJ and some techno-y background sounds. Pretty sweet. Also, he told us stories. I like stories. We are definitely living in a different time than when his musical career began. It is pretty cool to hear him talking about how music can change the world. Annnd I learned a new instrument name: the "bouzouki". Hee hee.
p.s. Check out the video for City of Immigrants. FYI the blond lady is Alison Moorer.
A recent visit to the La Bamba restaurant provided absolutely excellent authentic Mexican food and an interesting new beverage. After several guesses by the group (everything from guarana to ma-na-ma-na) we were never quite sure what the fruit in everyone's margarita was. Well once again google to the rescue! It was guanábana (aka soursop), a fruit native to mexico, central america, a northern portions of South America. It is prized for having a complex flavour ranging from banana, coconut, or vanilla to citrus (difficult to classify because we don't have anything like it here). At the time of harvest the outer skin is green in color with small, soft spines covering the surface (it is related to the prickly pear apparently), but when ripe, the fruit turns greenish yellow and becomes much softer. It is considered difficult to eat due to it's many seeds and membranous insides so it is predominantly consumed as a juice which is milky coloured and quite good. So there you have it, try the guanábana margaritas next time you get a chance!
Thanks to HF for finding this. She pointed it out to me a million years ago in the comments of this post and I'm only now getting around to making a post about it. I like the pirate chicken.
I found out my facial scrub kills small animals! Check the ingredients, if it says "polyethylene" then the exfoliants in it are plastics (if it has some variation of "microbeads" it probably means plastic too), the same plastics used for most consumer products from plastic bags to toys. Little wee plastic beads that are intended to be washed down the drain. They don't get destroyed by disinfecting chemicals and many are too small to be filtered out before they hit ocean. Guess what eats them then? Well, eventually everything, but starting with organisms as small as zooplankton and filterfeeders like krill. Not only do they kill small animals by clogging their digestive systems but plastics like this act as sponges for harmful chemicals like DDT, concentrating these poisons to many many times the levels in the ambient salt water! Woah! But, there are alternatives, many scrubs use natural exfoliants like ground up seeds or shells, coarse sugar or salt. Or you could use a facecloth or a loofah. I hear they make those now. The reason plastic is desirable for companies is because they can easily shape and colour it however they want (like plastic jewelry), they are cheaper to produce, and the gimmick that rounded beads are "gentler" exfoliants than the more angular natural substances is a selling point (like "mild enough to use every day" or whatever). Unfortunately, since they don't directly harm people or large furry animals (just the keystone species' for basically all life on Earth) because they pass throungh larger digestive systems, they aren't seen as a threat. Also, there has been no long term research into their effects (because they haven't been around long enough), and even short term research into these issues is scarce and primarily academic.
Check out this article from Orion magazine, describing some of the research surrounding the alarming amounts of plastics in the ocean. It is an abridged excerpt from the book The World Without Us by Alan Weisman, a thought experiment about what would happen if people were suddenly gone. It is an excellent book and relevant for the archaeologists among us too, it discusses what human edifices are likely to break down first (and later) and how. It also is a good page turner, it balances nerdy info with interesting description and prose. Thumbs up.
The single issue I had with the book was the very brief mention of domesticated and cultivated species "regressing", which is a half truth and excessive simplification of what could potentially happen (at best). Some species may undergo natural selection for hardier characteristics, but evolution does not go "backwards". These new species may resemble ancestor species in many respects if the environmental influences are similar (like finding a new road to a nearby town) , but corn would not somehow magically become teosinte again. In fact, corn as we know it would go extinct very quickly because it has become so specialized to luring its chosen symbiont species (us) that it cannot breed without our interference (a little "we don't domesticate things, things domesticate us" conspiracy theory). But, anyway, current species will stay the same, become new ones, or go extinct (out competed by other wild species or maybe extant ancestor species if they are still around). Sorry, little rant there.
p.s. If you are interested, this website has ideas for natural and homemade exfoliants and lotions (you have to scroll down a bit). p.p.s. This article from New Scientist magazine describes a little bit what might happen to plants, animals, and the environment if humans suddenly disappeared.
Another in the accidental series on webcomics that I appear to be doing. These are snippets from a comic called The Abominable Charles Christopher. It's about a sasquatch and some talking animals. Here is a sample (click to embiggen):
(animals have no natural defenses against advertising)
And here's one with the Sasquatch and a bunny in it that I thought was really cute:
By Los Lobos as sung by Dániel Torres who came in 4th place in 2005 on the "Hungarian Idol" program Megasztár. I'm putting this up because it's been in my head and little cp likes the song. I was going to put up the opening scene from Desperado, but it was too sexy.
Soy un hombre muy honrado, Que me gusta lo mejor Las mujeres no me faltan, Ni el dinero, ni el amor
Jineteando en mi caballo Por la sierra yo me voy Las estrellas y la luna Ellas me dicen donde voy
[Chorus] Ay, ay, ay, ay Ay, ay mi amor Ay mi morena, De mi corazón
Me gusta tocar guitarra Me gusta cantar el sol Mariachi me acompaña Cuando canto mi canción
Me gustan tomar mis copas Aguardiente es lo mejor Tambien el tequila blanco Con su sal le da sabor
[Chorus]
Me gusta tocar guitarra Me gusta cantar el sol Mariachi me acompaña Cuando canto mi canción
Me gustan tomar mis copas Aguardiente es lo mejor Tambien el tequila blanco Con su sal le da sabor
The state of regulations today. Hmmm...I wonder what the Godzilla monster represents? And what happens after Godzilla fills out the paperwork? I bet he'll get clearance. Also, I bet he forgot to do an HRIA and they'll have to do a post-impact.
p.s. This and the previous comic (and this one) are from a comic called Rubes by this guy.
That's funny for so many reasons! Not only does it highlight spurious criticisms of the fossil record and makes a commentary on social values but it juxtaposes paleontology with historic archaeology (historic paleontology?). Heehee! p.s. the hats are a dead giveaway for academics
You are wonderful! In honour of this occasion, I reproduce here the 2008 Harvard commencement speech given by J.K. Rowling. What a moving and inspiring piece of oratory, those dissenting few who felt they could have done "better" obviously weren't listening (they wouldn't have gotten anything from the speech anyway). To you cp I say: be good, grow and learn, be adventurous, be happy. All you have to be is you.
The Fringe Benefits of Failure, and the Importance of Imagination by J.K. Rowling 2008 Harvard University Commencement, June 5, 2008. Copyright of J.K. Rowling, June 2008.
President Faust, members of the Harvard Corporation and the Board of Overseers, members of the faculty, proud parents, and, above all, graduates,
The first thing I would like to say is 'thank you.' Not only has Harvard given me an extraordinary honor, but the weeks of fear and nausea I've experienced at the thought of giving this commencement address have made me lose weight. A win-win situation! Now all I have to do is take deep breaths, squint at the red banners and fool myself into believing I am at the world's best-educated Harry Potter convention.
Delivering a commencement address is a great responsibility; or so I thought until I cast my mind back to my own graduation. The commencement speaker that day was the distinguished British philosopher Baroness Mary Warnock. Reflecting on her speech has helped me enormously in writing this one, because it turns out that I can't remember a single word she said. This liberating discovery enables me to proceed without any fear that I might inadvertently influence you to abandon promising careers in business, law or politics for the giddy delights of becoming a gay wizard.
You see? If all you remember in years to come is the 'gay wizard' joke, I've still come out ahead of Baroness Mary Warnock. Achievable goals: the first step towards personal improvement.
Actually, I have wracked my mind and heart for what I ought to say to you today. I have asked myself what I wish I had known at my own graduation, and what important lessons I have learned in the 21 years that has expired between that day and this.
I have come up with two answers. On this wonderful day when we are gathered together to celebrate your academic success, I have decided to talk to you about the benefits of failure. And as you stand on the threshold of what is sometimes called 'real life', I want to extol the crucial importance of imagination.
These might seem quixotic or paradoxical choices, but please bear with me.
Looking back at the 21-year-old that I was at graduation, is a slightly uncomfortable experience for the 42-year-old that she has become. Half my lifetime ago, I was striking an uneasy balance between the ambition I had for myself, and what those closest to me expected of me.
I was convinced that the only thing I wanted to do, ever, was to write novels. However, my parents, both of whom came from impoverished backgrounds and neither of whom had been to college, took the view that my overactive imagination was an amusing personal quirk that could never pay a mortgage, or secure a pension.
They had hoped that I would take a vocational degree; I wanted to study English Literature. A compromise was reached that in retrospect satisfied nobody, and I went up to study Modern Languages. Hardly had my parents' car rounded the corner at the end of the road than I ditched German and scuttled off down the Classics corridor.
I cannot remember telling my parents that I was studying Classics; they might well have found out for the first time on graduation day. Of all subjects on this planet, I think they would have been hard put to name one less useful than Greek mythology when it came to securing the keys to an executive bathroom.
I would like to make it clear, in parenthesis, that I do not blame my parents for their point of view. There is an expiry date on blaming your parents for steering you in the wrong direction; the moment you are old enough to take the wheel, responsibility lies with you. What is more, I cannot criticize my parents for hoping that I would never experience poverty. They had been poor themselves, and I have since been poor, and I quite agree with them that it is not an ennobling experience. Poverty entails fear, and stress, and sometimes depression; it means a thousand petty humiliations and hardships. Climbing out of poverty by your own efforts, that is indeed something on which to pride yourself, but poverty itself is romanticized only by fools.
What I feared most for myself at your age was not poverty, but failure.
At your age, in spite of a distinct lack of motivation at university, where I had spent far too long in the coffee bar writing stories, and far too little time at lectures, I had a knack for passing examinations, and that, for years, had been the measure of success in my life and that of my peers.
I am not dull enough to suppose that because you are young, gifted and well-educated, you have never known hardship or heartbreak. Talent and intelligence never yet inoculated anyone against the caprice of the Fates, and I do not for a moment suppose that everyone here has enjoyed an existence of unruffled privilege and contentment.
However, the fact that you are graduating from Harvard suggests that you are not very well-acquainted with failure. You might be driven by a fear of failure quite as much as a desire for success. Indeed, your conception of failure might not be too far from the average person's idea of success, so high have you already flown academically.
Ultimately, we all have to decide for ourselves what constitutes failure, but the world is quite eager to give you a set of criteria if you let it. So I think it fair to say that by any conventional measure, a mere seven years after my graduation day, I had failed on an epic scale. An exceptionally short-lived marriage had imploded, and I was jobless, a lone parent, and as poor as it is possible to be in modern Britain, without being homeless. The fears my parents had had for me, and that I had had for myself, had both come to pass, and by every usual standard, I was the biggest failure I knew.
Now, I am not going to stand here and tell you that failure is fun. That period of my life was a dark one, and I had no idea that there was going to be what the press has since represented as a kind of fairy tale resolution. I had no idea how far the tunnel extended, and for a long time, any light at the end of it was a hope rather than a reality.
So why do I talk about the benefits of failure? Simply because failure meant a stripping away of the inessential. I stopped pretending to myself that I was anything other than what I was, and began to direct all my energy into finishing the only work that mattered to me. Had I really succeeded at anything else, I might never have found the determination to succeed in the one arena I believed I truly belonged. I was set free, because my greatest fear had already been realized, and I was still alive, and I still had a daughter whom I adored, and I had an old typewriter and a big idea. And so rock bottom became the solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life.
You might never fail on the scale I did, but some failure in life is inevitable. It is impossible to live without failing at something, unless you live so cautiously that you might as well not have lived at all – in which case, you fail by default.
Failure gave me an inner security that I had never attained by passing examinations. Failure taught me things about myself that I could have learned no other way. I discovered that I had a strong will, and more discipline than I had suspected; I also found out that I had friends whose value was truly above rubies.
The knowledge that you have emerged wiser and stronger from setbacks means that you are, ever after, secure in your ability to survive. You will never truly know yourself, or the strength of your relationships, until both have been tested by adversity. Such knowledge is a true gift, for all that it is painfully won, and it has been worth more to me than any qualification I ever earned.
Given a time machine or a Time Turner, I would tell my 21-year-old self that personal happiness lies in knowing that life is not a check-list of acquisition or achievement. Your qualifications, your CV, are not your life, though you will meet many people of my age and older who confuse the two. Life is difficult, and complicated, and beyond anyone's total control, and the humility to know that will enable you to survive its vicissitudes.
You might think that I chose my second theme, the importance of imagination, because of the part it played in rebuilding my life, but that is not wholly so. Though I will defend the value of bedtime stories to my last gasp, I have learned to value imagination in a much broader sense. Imagination is not only the uniquely human capacity to envision that which is not, and therefore the fount of all invention and innovation. In its arguably most transformative and revelatory capacity, it is the power that enables us to empathize with humans whose experiences we have never shared.
One of the greatest formative experiences of my life preceded Harry Potter, though it informed much of what I subsequently wrote in those books. This revelation came in the form of one of my earliest day jobs. Though I was sloping off to write stories during my lunch hours, I paid the rent in my early 20s by working in the research department at Amnesty International's headquarters in London.
There in my little office I read hastily scribbled letters smuggled out of totalitarian regimes by men and women who were risking imprisonment to inform the outside world of what was happening to them. I saw photographs of those who had disappeared without trace, sent to Amnesty by their desperate families and friends. I read the testimony of torture victims and saw pictures of their injuries. I opened handwritten, eye-witness accounts of summary trials and executions, of kidnappings and rapes.
Many of my co-workers were ex-political prisoners, people who had been displaced from their homes, or fled into exile, because they had the temerity to think independently of their government. Visitors to our office included those who had come to give information, or to try and find out what had happened to those they had been forced to leave behind.
I shall never forget the African torture victim, a young man no older than I was at the time, who had become mentally ill after all he had endured in his homeland. He trembled uncontrollably as he spoke into a video camera about the brutality inflicted upon him. He was a foot taller than I was, and seemed as fragile as a child. I was given the job of escorting him to the Underground Station afterwards, and this man whose life had been shattered by cruelty took my hand with exquisite courtesy, and wished me future happiness.
And as long as I live I shall remember walking along an empty corridor and suddenly hearing, from behind a closed door, a scream of pain and horror such as I have never heard since. The door opened, and the researcher poked out her head and told me to run and make a hot drink for the young man sitting with her. She had just given him the news that in retaliation for his own outspokenness against his country's regime, his mother had been seized and executed.
Every day of my working week in my early 20s I was reminded how incredibly fortunate I was, to live in a country with a democratically elected government, where legal representation and a public trial were the rights of everyone.
Every day, I saw more evidence about the evils humankind will inflict on their fellow humans, to gain or maintain power. I began to have nightmares, literal nightmares, about some of the things I saw, heard and read.
And yet I also learned more about human goodness at Amnesty International than I had ever known before.
Amnesty mobilizes thousands of people who have never been tortured or imprisoned for their beliefs to act on behalf of those who have. The power of human empathy, leading to collective action, saves lives, and frees prisoners. Ordinary people, whose personal well-being and security are assured, join together in huge numbers to save people they do not know, and will never meet. My small participation in that process was one of the most humbling and inspiring experiences of my life.
Unlike any other creature on this planet, humans can learn and understand, without having experienced. They can think themselves into other people's minds, imagine themselves into other people's places.
Of course, this is a power, like my brand of fictional magic, that is morally neutral. One might use such an ability to manipulate, or control, just as much as to understand or sympathize.
And many prefer not to exercise their imaginations at all. They choose to remain comfortably within the bounds of their own experience, never troubling to wonder how it would feel to have been born other than they are. They can refuse to hear screams or to peer inside cages; they can close their minds and hearts to any suffering that does not touch them personally; they can refuse to know.
I might be tempted to envy people who can live that way, except that I do not think they have any fewer nightmares than I do. Choosing to live in narrow spaces can lead to a form of mental agoraphobia, and that brings its own terrors. I think the willfully unimaginative see more monsters. They are often more afraid.
What is more, those who choose not to empathize may enable real monsters. For without ever committing an act of outright evil ourselves, we collude with it, through our own apathy.
One of the many things I learned at the end of that Classics corridor down which I ventured at the age of 18, in search of something I could not then define, was this, written by the Greek author Plutarch: What we achieve inwardly will change outer reality.
That is an astonishing statement and yet proven a thousand times every day of our lives. It expresses, in part, our inescapable connection with the outside world, the fact that we touch other people's lives simply by existing.
But how much more are you, Harvard graduates of 2008, likely to touch other people's lives? Your intelligence, your capacity for hard work, the education you have earned and received, give you unique status, and unique responsibilities. Even your nationality sets you apart. The great majority of you belong to the world's only remaining superpower. The way you vote, the way you live, the way you protest, the pressure you bring to bear on your government, has an impact way beyond your borders. That is your privilege, and your burden.
If you choose to use your status and influence to raise your voice on behalf of those who have no voice; if you choose to identify not only with the powerful, but with the powerless; if you retain the ability to imagine yourself into the lives of those who do not have your advantages, then it will not only be your proud families who celebrate your existence, but thousands and millions of people whose reality you have helped transform for the better. We do not need magic to change the world, we carry all the power we need inside ourselves already: we have the power to imagine better.
I am nearly finished. I have one last hope for you, which is something that I already had at 21. The friends with whom I sat on graduation day have been my friends for life. They are my children's godparents, the people to whom I've been able to turn in times of trouble, friends who have been kind enough not to sue me when I've used their names for Death Eaters. At our graduation we were bound by enormous affection, by our shared experience of a time that could never come again, and, of course, by the knowledge that we held certain photographic evidence that would be exceptionally valuable if any of us ran for Prime Minister.
So today, I can wish you nothing better than similar friendships. And tomorrow, I hope that even if you remember not a single word of mine, you remember those of Seneca, another of those old Romans I met when I fled down the Classics corridor, in retreat from career ladders, in search of ancient wisdom:
As is a tale, so is life: not how long it is, but how good it is, is what matters.
Iron Maiden graced Canada with its presence for the first time since 1984 this year. They flew into Regina on Ed Force One (piloted by Bruce Dickinson himself apparently) on the second leg of their Somewhere Back In Time World Tour (the only city in Canada that they hit on the first leg was Toronto). What a kick ass spectacle! We definitely had a more intimate venue than some of the other shows, they didn't need the giant screens that they set up for some of bigger locations. And by a twist of luck (that probably means the luck bubble seriously dropped the ball on something that I don't remember and is now making up for it), we got floor tickets from some of Tam's buddies who couldn't go (I guess that's luck for us, not them, oh well). The stage was Egyptian themed but the backdrop changed for almost every song (mostly Eddie themed, FYI Eddie is IMs zombie-ish mascot guy). There were fireworks, and two kinds of shooting flames, and then more fireworks that looked like shooting flames. Also, during Number of the Beast there was a big goaty looking bobble head beast on the side of the stage. During "Trooper" Bruce dressed up in a red British soldier uniform and ran around with a half burnt Union Jack. "Rime of the Ancient Mariner" (a monster of a song, almost 15 minutes long) featured a backdrop that looked like the deck of a ship and Bruce dressed in a tattered black coat. Then the overhead lights rocked back and forth and multicoloured fireworks exploded from on and above the stage. And when they played "Iron Maiden" a giant mummy came out of a huge Egyptian-style Eddie bust that opened up! Also, during the encore when they played "Clairvoyant" a 15 foot tall Cyborg Eddie came out and wandered around the stage. Then he left, I'm pretty sure he was defeated with metal or possibly awesomeness.
Set list (courtesy of Blabbermouth.net because like I'll be able to remember that): Set List: 1. Churchill's Speech / Aces High (from 'Powerslave' – 1984) 2. 2 Minutes to Midnight (from 'Powerslave' – 1984) 3. Revelations (from 'Piece Of Mind' – 1983) 4. The Trooper (from 'Piece Of Mind' – 1983) 5. Wasted Years (from 'Somewhere In Time' – 1986) 6. The Number of the Beast (from 'Number Of The Beast' – 1982) 7. Run to the Hills (from 'Number Of The Beast' – 1982) 8. Rime of the Ancient Mariner (from 'Powerslave' – 1984) 9. Powerslave (from 'Powerslave' – 1984) 10. Heaven Can Wait (from 'Somewhere In Time' – 1986) 11. Can I Play With Madness? (from 'Seventh Son Of A Seventh Son' – 1988) 12. Fear of the Dark (from 'Fear Of The Dark' – 1992) 13. Iron Maiden (from 'Iron Maiden' – 1980) Encore: 14. Moonchild (from 'Seventh Son Of A Seventh Son' – 1988) 15. The Clairvoyant (from 'Seventh Son Of A Seventh Son' – 1988) 16. Hallowed Be Thy Name (from 'Number Of The Beast' – 1982)
The best videos I could find while still keeping the search to 10 minutes or less were by this guy who went to the concert in California in May. But it's about the same. Here's the end of "Iron Maiden" when the mummy comes out:
Here's the song Clairvoyant when Cyborg Eddie comes out:
Took in the first annual Saskatoon Fireworks Festival Aug.30&31 (here is the website, there's even a section where they explain all about fireworks). Probably the best fireworks I've ever seen in real life (I know I've lived a sheltered life fireworks-wise but still). Way to go Tourism Saskatoon! Much better choice than the stupid lights lining the Victoria bridge or the more stupid "wheat grains" or some such "art" at River Landing. But I digress.Of course I'm ruined now for all other fireworks, Saskatoon's Canada day ones were like dirt in my eyes compared to these! But what are ya gonna do? Anyway, we watched the fireworks from the new River Landing area as they were shot off the Victoria Bridge (aka "the traffic bridge"). I'd say the Sunday fireworks were better because there were several distinct songs with different styles of fireworks for each one, whereas the first night was more of a single entity. But they were both awesome sauce for sure, I was pleased. I likes all the purdy lights 'n all.
