The Underground Space Station

On The Brink

Sean — Tue, 03 Jan 2012 19:59:51 +0000

Talked to a hoagie place about shooting a commercial with my spanking used camera. Well, it’s new to me. Started looking at what other people charge for commercials around here.
The lowest was $1500.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH. I think getting this camera was a good thing. I need to work now. I need to cut, print, and get out the word that USS is in business.
I need cards.
I’m so close to getting started that I can feel it in my hands even though I put the camera back in the case. I did some checking. The camera that I bought goes for $1500 used. The CASE goes for $300. I feel bad that David only wanted $600 for everything, but not TOO bad.
My lens cap is going to cost $12. MUST BUY.
I have to get some prices from the old job. Find out what it would cost to get spots on air.
I’m on the brink of having everything I’ve wanted career-wise. Like Willy Wonka says, “Just remember what happened to the guy who got everything he ever wanted. He lived happily ever after.”

This is going to work.

I’m stirring, and I’m a mouse!

Sean — Thu, 29 Dec 2011 19:52:39 +0000

Heere I sit on the morning of Christmas eve, ST:TMP playing on Cinemax. Stace and Brian are still asleep.

I just figured out what my special present for Brian should’ve been, the ear guards for wrestling. I might run over to Dick’s in an hour. Seriously, have the owners of that place NEVER heard of double entendre? I also managed to get Stace some presents. Unfortunately, Brian got me Hans Holzer’s Ghost book, which I’ve had for a few years. I’m an actor amongst other things, so he’ll never know.

Shawn Rody got me connected to some people who are starting a video company. Don’t know if I’ll get to use my new camera, a Panasonic DVX100B, gives me chills just to hold it. If not, I can still shoot my own stuff.

I really thought I’d be more depressed about the whole situation. Yeah, I don’t have a job, but people are looking at me. We have a new bathroom where nothing leaks, but the new tiles are FREAKIN’ COLD!! Turns out a whole lot of my stress was tied into that bathroom.

I’ve been talking to the guys over at Slack’s about shooting a commercial for them. Well, now I have my pro camera, so I think my freelance career is going to begin. Very shortly, The Underground Space Station will be an actual company. That’s slightly nerve wracking and slightly exciting.

Facebook is odd. Somehow I ended up friends with a woman that I loved for years in school but didn’t get the courage to ask out until college after Tanya dumped me. She shot me down. I have NO IDEA how she ended up on my friends list. Glad she’s there, but it was a little weird.

An awful lot of people I went to school with own their own companies. A buddy of mine just bought a farm in Virginia to go along with his company. A woman I used to play D&D with has a video game company in California. She used to work for Disney, and she worked on Brian’s Stitch game. THAT is disconcerting. And what about me? Well, my company’s just getting started. Can I really call it a company if it’s just me?

I should talk about my camera. My 401k got transferred to an IRA. We decided to cash it out since there was only about 2100 bucks in it. We took a thousand for Boo’s presents since he still believes and then I was going to use the rest to get a camera. Watched ebay for a few days, saw all kinds of cameras but they were always getting bid up too high. Then, in the midst of checking Craigslist, found a guy selling a Panasonic DVX100B, a straight pro camera, not a prosumer, for 600 bucks along with a hard case(which in itself could go for $150, and thirty or so miniDV tapes and two five hour batteries. So, I met up with the guy, turns out he used the camera for a Russian TV station in Philadelphia but he needed the money. He makes puppets, so I’m going to check out his site. I need to get a lens cap, though.

Rules and Order

Sean — Wed, 02 Nov 2011 08:25:17 +0000

Jerry Chandler just posted a great piece on zombies, and how various “experts”–or is that zexperts?–on zombies have declared that there are “rules.”
That gave me a new line of thought. Horror movies work because they change the rules. People die, they stay dead. If Micheal Myers was an actual real guy, as soon as Loomis shoots him the third time, he should at LEAST be incapacitated. Instead, all there is is a shape on the grass where the Shape was.

There’s a popular theme in police movies. The “Loose Cannon Cop” who always knows what the real situation is. Martin Riggs, Harry Callahan, others. Makes for great storytelling. Problem is, does that work in reality? I was loose cannonesque at my last job. I knew how to fix things. Spots that the Average Operator would have flagged, I fixed. Got a reputation amongst the crew in there for being able to fix things, so much so that once one of the managers asked me to check over all the spots that certain other operators flagged to see if they “missed” something. That didn’t sit well with me. I have more experience with editing than the other guys. Was it the smartest thing I ever did? Well, that’s not what got me out of a job, so it was probably a pretty good thing. It wasn’t the right thing, though, according to procedure. Sure, I saved having to get another producer mad or the AE not getting paid a couple times. My partner and I talked once with a producer who was making spots in Windows Movie Maker. Now, we thought that was both sad and hysterical. Also made me a little angry at myself. I’d spent all kinds of money on my Adobe software and worked to master that, meanwhile this guy is producing spots, getting paid sweetly, and using software that doesn’t have a quarter of the capability that Premiere has. But, since I paid for the software, since it has a “Pro” label on it, the rule in my head said I should be more able than this guy. That’s why I was working overnights and just dealing with other people’s work rather than getting paid for my own.
People get too caught up in rules. Not just the ones that are on the books, but the ones that either the person or Society gives. Another example–next time you go into a supermarket or convenience store to buy one or two things, are you going to put it in a bag? Paper, plastic, I don’t care. Do you NEED to put that jar of tomato sauce in a bag to carry it out of the store? But the Rule is, you buy something, hey, you get a free bag!

I want a house. Why? Because my Rule is that a man gets a house for his family. Sure, this neighborhood that we live in is in the third best school district in the country. Is that good enough for me? No. Because by my Rule there needs to be a private yard. our own space.
People need rules. People need the important ones and the not so important ones. Americans drive on the right side of the road. That’s kind of an important rule. I need to work, to feel like I’m doing my best for my family. Does the rest of the world care if I break that rule? No. My bank account does, but it’s not going to be Earth-shattering if I don’t.

Night Mission Report LD1988202SR OR Freaky Stuff I Used To Do

Sean — Sat, 29 Oct 2011 13:03:19 +0000

Everybody knows about my GI Joe obsession. Right? Right. Take it as said.
Well, we used to live next to a farm. Big field and woods next to the house, creek and woods behind the house, all good stuff. Well, being the spoiled obsessive over-fantasized lad that I was, I had a uniform. Black pants, camo jacket, backpack, boonie hat, Uzi squirt gun. Well, I had a habit of getting into gear at night, when everybody, IE, my parents, were asleep. I’d sneak down to the basement, get into uniform, and run around the forest. It was great to do on full moon nights. Great shadowplay.
.
Well, one time, I came back to the house, and the lights were on in the kitchen.
Crap.
Saw Dad walking around. Hopped the fence, tried the door. It was locked.
Crap.
Okay. Crap. Shit. Okay.
Tried two of the basement windows. Firmly closed. The third had a little give. I kept playing with it, but it wouldn’t budge. I took off my jacket, balled it up around my hand, and pushed against the frame. Eventually, and to my great relief, it sprang open. I crawled in headfirst, lowering myself to the floor by my hands. I pull in all my stuff, and close the door. Get back into my jammies, then wait to make sure there’s no one moving around upstairs.
Minutes went by. Heard nothing.
Fine. I creep up the basement stairs, then gently turn the doorknob. As I expected/dreaded, it was locked. The basement and garage doors had locks that just swung around, then lowered into a notch. Not terribly complex, unless you’re on the other side and it’s locked and you don’t want to get caught.
Crap.
After much pacing, and considering options–climb the porch and go through the windows? Nope. They’re locked, too. Go to sleep on the couch in the basement and get caught in the morning? Yeah, that’d fly.
.
Then I looked at the desk. It had been Dad’s at one of his jobs, but now for all intents and purposes it was mine. On top were some wires from an electronics project I’d done a while back. Wires that could be stiff. I had an idea germinating. I uncoiled a couple inches, then tried to slip the wire between the door and the jamb, to push the lock up. Too damn thick.
Crap.
I went back, mind throwing thirty seven implausible ideas at me every microsecond. I looked through the drawers for something else to use. Then I saw the folders.
The manila folders.
The sturdy manila folders.
The really skinny sturdy manila folders.
I had made up files for each of our homemade GI Joe characters, and these were stored in the folders. I emptied one, then slipped the folder through the door. It took some wiggling to maneuver around the jamb, but I got it. I eased it up, felt the folder come into contact with my brass nemesis, then began the real chore. I kept wiggling until I heard the scrape of brass. The lock opened, the door opened, and contrary to my fears, Dad wasn’t waiting in the kitchen wondering just what the frig I was doing. I go back down the steps, put the file back, go up, close the door, relock it, and go to bed. I lay there for about an hour and a half until my breathing, heart rate, and paranoia levels all return to normal.

Let’s hear it for ingenuity!

Ask me a question. Any question.

Sean — Mon, 10 Oct 2011 02:07:28 +0000

No squirrels.

Doctor Who/Hitchhiker’s Guide Mashup Shirt Thing

Sean — Tue, 04 Oct 2011 18:20:06 +0000

Save the image, then import into Word, then hit Print in the menu, change the paper in the layout to T-Shirt Transfer, iron it on, and there you have it.

Not Dead Yet

Sean — Sat, 01 Oct 2011 23:48:34 +0000

First, look at this—

I first heard this song on that very tour, although I heard it at the Mann in Philadelphia, not St. Louis. Now, given what had happened to me the year before, you know, windshields, out of body experiences, rehab, getting dumped, and other stuff, this became one of my theme songs. Well, guess what, people? I’ve been out of work since May and IT’S STILL TRUE. I’m not dead. I still have the fire in me. Sure, I have my down moments, but a good friend of mine has been out of work since ’09, and SHE’s still fighting it. How can I do less? So I’m not. I’m still in the fight. I’m a little bruised, a little bloody, but I’m still in it. I’m not going out until they ship portions of my body to every corner of the British empire.

Sorry, Braveheart moment.

You hear that, world? You better get a bigger knife, cause I’m…well, you know.

Second Zombie Flick Idea

Sean — Tue, 20 Sep 2011 13:24:28 +0000

Thinking about zombie movies, it crossed my mind, “Why do they eat the living?” What if, and this is one of the parts that hasn’t really developed yet, the bug–and I’m talking an actual bug, not bacteria–goes into the body, and sends out young into the muscles and it needs iron or plasma or whatever to fuel itself, so it kills the host. Once the host is dead, the bugs have control and they’re still feeding on the host, but they need to get fresh meat(sorry) to fuel their new “vehicle.”

Something You Shouldn’t Forget About The Miraculous

Sean — Sat, 13 Aug 2011 06:18:09 +0000

Just because science may be able to explain the miracle doesn’t make it suddenly commonplace or less wondrous.

What I Want To See–The Spanish Inquisiton Edition

Sean — Sat, 30 Jul 2011 15:35:51 +0000

Mel Brooks interviewing Michael Palin, Terry Jones and Terry Gilliam all in full Spanish Inquisition guard. Brooks would start the interview abruptly by saying, “Let’s begin,” to which Palin would reply, “That was unexpected,” followed by, “Oh, bugger.”