A gold medal kind of night

Sometimes, Fortune (yes, capital F fortune) smiles upon you.

It was about 30 minutes prior to the men's moguls final that my friend Brad called me up with an extra ticket to the next night's medal ceremony. Why not? I figure. It's Quebec night, and I can always handle some wholesome Gregory Charles post-awards. Count me in!

Of course, less than an hour later, I was in possession of a ticket to see the first Canadian gold medal presentation of the Games-- and the first one on home soil.

What is there to say? Our seats were so high up, I finally understood the expression "nosebleed". But to be there, to see and feel the frenzy that started before Alexandre Bilodeau even stepped onto the podium-- it was a pretty fantastic moment.

As Gregory Charles, the entertainment for the night, came on, BC showed its impressive apathy towards anything French by leaving in mass numbers... which allowed us to sneak in to ground level, where we managed to make it in to frolick in the fake snow under the "ice stage" (that y'all probably remember from the opening ceremonies) and dance party with the brave souls who stuck it out. Dance train with a bunch of middle aged folk in various countries' jerseys? I can check that off of my Olympic "to do" list...

Next up on said list: sneak into Sochi House and drink with the Russians... and acquire a pair of those Norwegian ski pants.

Let the Games begin...

I hopped off the Canada Line at W. Georgia this morning and nearly collided with a parade-- a typical Friday morning in Vancouver.

It's the last day of the torch relay and the town's starting to get a bit crazy... I deked through the Art Gallery's square to Hornby in an attempt to make it past the crowds. I had five minutes to grab a coffee before I was to be at the office-- crunch time.

But it was as I carried my cup of bold roast around to Robson that things got interesting.

CTV torch party! At least, that's what I'm calling it. In celebration of the torch passing by that morning, it seemed like everyone and their dog-- and their torch-- came out for the festivities. In a two-block radius, I saw at least twenty people in their hip white track suits, clutching their torches proudly.

It's a bit funny to see so many in one place-- the Olympic torch is marketed to seem special and one-of-a-kind. But in reality, there are over 12,000 torches. And everyone who ran with it was able to purchase the torch for a cool 400 bucks (before you get all excited, I'm pretty sure it can't be lit again. Sigh).

As I walked into the lobby, the room was chock-full of at least 50 or 60 revellers. A photographer from above called out-- as the crowd yelled "cheese!", about half of the audience raised their own torch.

Today, the torch will continue to zigzag across the city. It will go on a bike, a canoe, a dragonboat, and a bunch of other forms of transportation in a decidedly Seuss-esque manner.

Oh, Vancouver.

Let's go back to the coast, baby, westward to the ocean...

In true BC spirit, I had Said the Whale on my iPod as I ventured to the Ottawa airport yesterday morning. My destination: Vancouver, with a stopover at Olympic Glory (yes, capitalized).

The last few weeks have been busy but a lot of fun-- my feature article on MPs and social media was published (front page!) in the Ottawa Citizen's Saturday Observer (you can find the piece online here) and I've just finished a promotional video for the Youth Services Bureau of Ottawa that was part of their 50th anniversary launch on Thursday. But now I'm back home-- well, a few hours from home-- in Vancouver to intern with a what-will-for-now-remain-unnamed Big Media Group. They're covering some sort of big sporting event going on in town, I think?

While I know I'll probably be out East for awhile (yes, Ontario counts as "out East", though to be fair Alberta is also East by BC standards), parts of my heart still belong to the coast. Vancouver is warm (9 degrees today! 9! While Ottawa was -11, warm by Ottawa standards...) and it's even cleaner and prettier than usual thanks to the Big Olympic Machine that has taken over the city. At the airport, there were more volunteers than travellers-- there were even two volunteers at the luggage carousel who organized the bags as they came off the conveyor belt-- not one, but two!

Today was a lazy settle-in day, and it's never too hard to get back into the BC pace: sleep in, read all of the Olympic news clippings and updates, all-you-can-eat sushi date with friend and roomie Scott (and the ensuing stomachache...) and wandering Granville Island with one of my Vancouver friends. Then a long walk home in the balmy air, enjoying the mountains and my favourite familiar spots in the city. And, of course, grabbing a copy of the Georgia Straight, which I will devour as soon as I've finished this entry.

The internship starts tomorrow, so I'm sure to have more interesting stories then... and, if not, my roomie is volunteering at the Athletes' Village, so I'll just steal all of his ridiculous stories and post them on the interwebs for your entertainment. Deal?

Lesson of the week:

Don't drink two mugs of coffee while hurriedly writing an assignment for school before going to see Avatar. Was it good? Hell yes. But it may also have been the longest 2 1/2 hours of my life.

In other news, j-school is still a fickle, fickle mistress. But the deadlines and sleep deprivation seem worthwhile when I remember I'll be at the Olympics in two weeks! Woo!

A week and a half...

... looks like the PVR wins again.

Added the link to the third Bandwidth episode from my internship over the break to the post below.

Off to eat more cookies, M.

The break begins!

As usual, December comes and we all get the school crazies. End of semester papers, documentary edits, internships, beer. Lots of beer.

But somehow we all make it through (mostly thanks to the beer) and now I'm pleasantly back at home in Kamloops, sipping a gingerbread latte that my Starbucks-trained sister lovingly prepared for me and enjoying two weeks sans classes and deadlines. Work? Sure... I've got a website to update/redesign, two proposals to write, and a tidy stack of books to devour... but no deadlines. Woo!

For the past two weeks, I interned at CBC Radio Music and was lucky enough to work with Amanda Putz on Bandwidth. Two weeks of interning bliss: researching and learning about Ontario indie bands, interviewing and producing segments, audio editing to my heart's desire-- I even got to produce this coming week's episode! And Amanda is fantastic, so much fun and a great person to learn from. If only I could sneak to the second floor of CBC Ottawa and live there forever... sigh.

And, of course, I wouldn't be a shameless self-promoting j-student if I didn't provide links...

This past week's episode of Bandwidth- the Chanukah/Holiday episode- can be found on the NXEW blog. Amanda mostly worked on this show, but I came in to help in announcing Christmas shows around Ontario and also made Amanda a special Chanukah gift, which I give to her on-air near the end of the show.

The week before was All Things Hamilton- at the NXEW blog by clicking here. On this show, I interviewed TO band Hamilton Trading Co-- my first radio feature on air, which is pretty exciting.

The episode I (mostly) produced-- The Not-Quite-Christmas Show-- will be on this Saturday on CBC Radio 1 across Ontario and Nunavut (not in the GTA though) at 5:05pm. And, of course, I'll link it when I can ;)

*edit: you can find the show here!*

The holidays may mean I blog more. Or they might mean I just eat more Christmas baking and shun my laptop in favour of the family's new big-screen TV and PVR. I guess we'll find out which one wins out in the next week or so...

I should probably learn to squeal less

This week, I've been hunting down MPs for a story I'm writing on politicians and social networking tools.

Clearly, I'm a bit of a political geek so I've gotten my fair share of kicks this week. There's something so magical about hearing Bob Rae's dulcet tones as he calls you on his lunch hour... or finding a voicemail from Preston Manning when you check your phone after class (I'm still debating whether to put the audio online. Yes, it was that good).

I was also reminded of how rude and self-important some MPs' staffers are. Isn't it funny that, the less important the MP, the more of a dick their Communications officer is?

On the upside, everyone else has been very lovely and helpful. In fact, one MP suggested I add her on Facebook so we could meet up at some point to talk about new media and youth engagement... It was when I added her on FB the next day that I realized my interview got a bit meta.

Now, to weave the insightful interviews into a tapestry of journalistic gold...

Journalism on my own terms

School and life and assignments continue to pretty much run my life. But last month I decided to strike a deal with j-school: I'll write its often-useless assignments and meet all of its mostly-arbitrary deadlines if I get do at least some of it on my own terms...

What are my terms, you ask?

1. Docs that are not umentary: if you're going to cause me so much stress and grief, I get a beautiful shiny new pair of red Docs. Because, even though my feet are in pain from breaking my Docs in, its going to be worth it in a couple of months (I tell myself this about the course, too, though I sometimes have my doubts).

2. Internships: if you're going to make me write multi-page analyses of your new programming, essentially using me for free consulting, then I'm going to submit it as a liveblog. And compare Evan Solomon to John Cusak.

3. Internships, part 2: if you're going to make me fulfill work requirements, then I'm going to do them at the Olympics. I've booked my flight for Vancouver and can't wait for February!

4. Editorializing: if you're going to require that I make non-reporting videos, then the reporter will need a helmet

5. Social life: if you're going to take over my life, I get to use you as inspiration for a brilliant April O'Neil Halloween costume (literally- check out the jumpsuit...)

We've all heard it before...

"The thing is, it's not even the right question."

My friend Amy looked thoughtfully at her peppermint tea as she used her stir stick to pull out the tea bag, wrapping it tightly around itself like a slug enveloping a tree branch.

I took a sip of my pumpkin spice latte. "What's the question then?"

Amy strained the last of the water from the bag and rested it on a plastic cup lid.

"People ask why youth aren't engaged in politics, but instead they should be asking politicians why they're failing at engaging the youth. It's their job to sell themselves to us, not vice versa."

"Exactly!" exclaimed Sasha as he took a break from his cinnamon bun to join in on the conversation.

I have to say, there's something satisfying about discussing political engagement in the warmth of a downtown Starbucks on a rainy Sunday. But today's ponderings and debatenstances (yes, that's a mix of debate and happenstance) were for more than our own geeky amusement- we were getting Amy's head in the game for her appearance on Goldhawk Live on CPAC. She was going to be on a panel for the topic Our democracy is broken - how do we fix it?... because that's what happens when you're Canada's Next Great Prime Minister- you're kind of a big deal and become parts of panels that say lots of smart things and stuff. Or so I'm told. I live vicariously through Amy's brilliance.

In that cozy hour or so at the back of the cafe, we had probably one of the best conversations on the topic of youth engagement/ general voter engagement that I've ever had. Which is saying something considering I spent a year working on exactly that topic while at Historica and ran my own Next Great PM campaign on youth engagement.

With Amy and Sasha's brilliance and general political know-how, we came to a few conclusions...

1. It's not just about youth not participating in the party system.

It's also about the parties purposefully reaching out to youth to include them in more than simple token gestures and offers. But this will only if they see it as worth their while, so...

2. Make the system benefit parties that reach out to all voters.

"Why not cut out the funding machine and make all party funding tied to the votes you receive?" Sasha pointed out. "Suddenly that 18-30 becomes a lot more relevant..."

3. "Youth" is not a defined demographic. Not even close.

"In every other case, parties are considering different races, genders, incomes, employments... but 18-30 are somehow considered some homogeneous group when the parties and media are discussing politics," said Amy.

And it's true- 18 to 30 ranges from high school students to university or college students or even people well established in their careers-- and are just as diverse in terms of race, income, employment, region... why are they suddenly the same when it comes to the polling booth?


... I returned home full pumpkin spice and political reform vigour. Maybe I've found my topic for my Political Affairs research article?

And, of course, Amy was fabulously well-spoken and knowledgeable on the panel as the only female... and the only person under 40. Oh the irony of old white men debating youth engagement in politics.

Priorities

It's Monday night and I'm pantsless on my couch with a glass of white wine obsessively refreshing sites, waiting for the Gossip Girl season premiere...

... but I'm watching the National until I get my sweet hour of rich upper East side kids. Because I'm that dedicated to my studies.

Can I also add that I adore the concept for this new "Make the Politician Work" series? It's a beautiful mix of CTV and Global's human interest kicker pieces with the CBC's geeky didacticity (didactic-ness?). I mean, yes, it's propagandist and too superficial to take seriously, and it kind of offends me that it gets more run time than the actual news, but the CBC is trying. Sort of. I will give them points for that. And Mackay looks cute in uniform.

The real question is: how will they be able to top this first episode? Get Harper to do a topless carwash for the Calgary SPCA? Oh, the horror.

Settling back into the student lifestyle...

It was tonight as I was making dinner that I realized washing lettuce then shaking it like a madwoman over the sink (and, consequently, pretty much the entirety of my closet-sized kitchen) is a pretty poor replacement for a salad spinner.

I'm also kind of impressed at how long I've lived without a bread knife. Carbs are key.

But then again, today I slept in, met with a prof, hung out at the bar while editing my pitch, and running errands in the Market in the sweet Ottawa sunshine. And tonight I'm off for pints and great company at my favourite pub in Little Italy. A totally fair trade-off for slightly damp salad and a moderately mangled baguette, I think...

My last weekend in BC...

... and it makes me sad. But what better way to spend it than in Salmon Arm at the time-honoured family bonding/beer gardening/enjoying awesome musicing Roots & Blues fest?

Catch y'all on the flipside...

A letter to my previous internship that I seriously considered sending

Dear CFJC newsroom,

I have noticed your new "Firewatch 2009" advertisement that has been playing consistently on channel 7.

I approve of the jump cuts of shots of forest fires and men battling the elements. Big helicopters dumping water! Drama! Excitement! Exclamation mark!

But may I offer one small tidbit of a suggestion?

I humbly request that the epic circa-1995 newsroom music be replaced with Sarah McLachlan's "World on Fire"...

Don't pretend you don't want to.

Indubitably yours,

Meg.

There's just one catch...

Walking along one of the (many) strip malls in town today, I passed a women's clothing store and felt compelled to look in the window.

The models looked comfortable and well put-together, albeit a bit preppy. I yearned for their crisp and functional look that refused to sacrifice comfort for the sake of style.

It was then that I noticed that all of the models were sporting baby bumps.

This isn't the first time as of late that I've caught myself accidentally eyeing maternity clothes... While walking 4th through Kitsilano the other week, Gloria and I determined that maternity clothes are starting to get too cool for their own good, especially the brightly-coloured jersey wrap tops and dresses they're charging an arm and a leg for in the Kits shops.

So comfy! And so stretchy! So convenient to cover my inevitable "back to school" beer belly! ... I digress.

But seriously, why is it that pregnant women are getting the good stuff? I want in on the colourful and stretchy goodness that will hide my belly, too.

Maternity clothes in non-maternity sizes: it should be the Next Big Thing. Because, while I really want stretchy waisted pants, I refuse to procreate to get them.

To the Island and back again

It was a typical evening drive in Saanich when the old mix CD turned to its next track: Shakira's "Underneath Your Clothes".

"Yes!" I exclaimed, thrusting my fist in the air and getting ready to ballad about endless stories and territories.

It was then that I realized that not everyone shares my love of old Shakira. I looked sheepishly to my friend Dee, who thankfully looked as enthusiastic as me.

"Wait!" she exclaims. "Before we go all out..." she closes the car windows.

"You mean we can sing out loud to circa 2000 Britney Spears without shame, but not Shakira?" I asked incredulously.

"Don't look at me like that," sighed Dee. "Shakira is amazing. But a window-closer."

As usual, Dee was right. I quickly remembered the time last week when I pulled up to a stoplight belting Alanis Morrisette at full tilt only to discover that the car next to me also had its window open. Dammit, why weren't they like the 99% of cars in town smart enough to roll up their windows and let the AC work its magic in this dry and dusty desert?

The problem with not posting as regularly as I'd like means that there are too many things to write about. It seems too long past to write in detail about my last few days at the TV internship (I think blog years is like dog years... so even a week suddenly becomes almost 2 months. Right?).

I celebrated the end of internship #3-- and the August long weekend-- by visiting Dee, one of my very best friends from high school, out on Vancouver Island. Gloria and Friso came along for the adventures as well, and we had a brilliant weekend of wandering the downtown, enjoying the patio weather, riverfloating and hiking and trail running and movie nighting and eating and visiting and all sorts of other good things. And I think we ended up stopping in every small town between Victoria and Nanaimo in the process. I even managed to interview an artist for my MRP at a farmhouse out in Duncan and was able to justify a bit of art gallery-ing in the name of "schoolwork". Happy sigh.

As I sat on the ferry deck on the way back to the mainland, I had no doubt in my mind that this time back home was exactly what I needed this summer. In the last four months I have moved thrice and tried my hand at three very different types of jobs in my field-- which has been both exciting and at times overwhelming-- but the chance to hang out with old friends and live in, rather than just visit, the place I call home has made all of the difference.

I'll end this before it gets any sappier.

Yes, another list. Deal.

Signs you're back in your small hometown... all which have happened to me in the past week:

1. Every third interview you do with the TV station knows your mom. (I'll leave the reason why to your imagination...)

2. You go to cover a 6 car accident and find yourself chatting with one of the drivers-- you played softball with her daughter.

3. You hop into the bank ATM line-up and see your mom at the machine in front of you. When you say hi, you realize your sister's in line at the teller.

4. You go see the annual Shakespeare play in the park and recognize both Hamlet and Ophelia from your grad class.

5. While sitting on the patio at BP downtown, one of your old high school teachers walks by... with one of your classmates on his arm. And her belly is starting to show.

A few of my favourite things

In honour of tomorrow marking one month back in town, I offer my dear readers the following...

10 Best Things About Being Back in Kamloops
(in no particular order)

1. Time Warp

... the radio stations are pretty much exactly the same as when I was in high school. People who live here regularly find this frustrating. I, however, love the short-term opportunity to nostalgically rock out. Case in point: belting out Amanda Marshall's "Let It Rain" as I passed by Riverside Coliseum, where I saw my first "real" concert-- Amanda, playing, nonetheless-- back in grade 7.

2. Francie

There's already a post on her and how awesome she is, but it's worth repeating. Francie rocks my socks. Even when high school boys laugh at my car at the park. Or I walk into the lunchroom to hear my coworkers trying to deduce "WHO is driving that 90s hatchback?". Or she takes a good 30 seconds to hit 60 going up the hill. Heart.

Kamloops is a great city to drive in-- the weather is perfect for rolling down your windows, there's a beautiful view of the valley down from my place... and it's really big and hilly, and I'm pretty lazy, so it's far superior to... shudder... walking.

3. Canada Day

Ottawa notwithstanding, Kamloops has one of the best Canada Days I've been to- it's a huge community event with tons of live performances and art displays and kids' games and amazing food put on by tons of the local cultural associations. And the fireworks over the river are pretty fantastic. Plus I got to do a story on it for the news-- woo!

4. Perfect way to end the day

I won't pretend I'm up for many of the sunrises... but the sunsets in the valley are gorgeous.

5. Sun, sun, sun...

At least 4 days of brilliant dry heat and sun for any crappy rain day... the perks of being in a desert.

6. Riverside Park

I can't tell if Riverside has gotten nicer and less sketch since I lived here, or if my standards have substantially lowered after being in Toronto... but the park is lovely, even if the beach is a bit lacklustre.

7. The old haunts

Denny's, the piercing shop, Scoops (or better yet, when it was Summer Dreams), the tea house, Zak's...

... I just realized that all of my favourite places in town either feed me or poke holes in me. Hmm.

8. West is Best

This can be proven through equations:

Safeway > Hartman's; Save-On > Loeb; Superstore > Loblaw's

Okanagan Springs, Big Rock, Growers = amazingly delicious

And the fresh fruit from the Okanagan pretty much schools the ByWard any day of the week.

9. Deck privileges

What can I say? Like most folk, I enjoy being able to barbecue and nap and drink beers. All three are exponentially better when a deck is involved. The only downside is that nosy strata types are often watching deck goings-on... which means I've had to keep my pants on. Thus far.

10. The... pace...

Things are slower out in BC... and even more so in Kamloops. Outside of the newsroom, there's rarely a reason to rush. It's probably one of the things I've missed most.

Those summer ni-iiights...

There's nothing quite like a summer fling. The excitement, the romance, and, most importantly, the rumble between your legs on the way home from work.

Meet Francie, my 1990 Ford Festiva and sweet summer ride.



In a sprawling, hilly city with pretty lame public transit (and I think even the Mayor would agree to that one), having a car is almost a necessity. But one that is sadly out of reach for a girl working for free for the summer. Until Francie came along and saved me from a summer of showing off ankle at the truck stop in hopes of catching a ride home.

Maybe it's the epic 1990s blue wave detailing. Maybe it's the dent on her right side that could house an obese chihuahua. Maybe it's the sigh and lunge she makes as she heaves her tiny frame up the hills. But I'll admit it, I'm totally in love.

As with any new relationship, it's full of surprises-- like when I picked up a latte the other day and realized that Francie doesn't have cup holders. But then imagine the exhilaration of discovering that the space between the emergency break fits a coffee cup perfectly!

It was as I grabbed my precious coffee cup and headed into the station that I saw the pressure from wedging the cup left a dent... a dent the perfect size for my thumb to support my sweet sweet morning addiction in one hand as I contemplated the morning's story meeting.

Sometimes, things just... work. Clearly, Francie and I were meant to be.

And yes, Francie got her name from the inimitable 1950s movie classic Gidget. Her full name, however, is Fancy Francie, in honour of the most epic of Reba McEntire videos.

What does the summer have in store for us? Only time will tell...

Signs my sister has been on my computer...

... I start to type a search and the first option after typing "s" is "stuffy mustache on a pig".

iwillnotblogaboutMJiwillnotblogaboutMJiwillnotblogaboutMJ.