...not these videos!
Oh well, it has been a while since I've posted!
A little nostalgic look at my history: Back in the days of 'Saturday Shorts' we would go out every weekend and produce a short film from conception to final cut in 24 hours... Even if it didn't get finished, it had to be posted on the website (which is now owned and operated by some Germans)
Well, needless to say not everything turned out great... but the whole purpose of the exercise was to learn something new about our craft, whether it was to try a new camera trick - ala : Test Story 2 (named such because it wasn't a short film but a test video) where my good friend Warren Miles throws an empty soda can at... himself.
Sometime, we didn't finish... no matter how much we, and our viewers wanted it to be completed - ala: Fight Scene (My attempt to see if I could shoot a Kung Fu fight with people who've never done stage combat or Kung Fu for that matter... I was also playing with shooting static, not hand held, and there is one part where I play with forced perspective)
Anyway, I'd have to Say Saturday Shorts was one of the MAJOR player in the assembling of my skill sets... and it was an obvious inspiration for my 11in9 project.
I miss it, I wish we weren't all too busy to do it anymore...
Thanks for watching!
What's new?
The worst day.
I try to remember when its been worse.
Every morning I wish I didn't have to wake up,
I try to remember when its been worse.
Every song lyric that reminds me of the time I'm having,
I try to remember when its been worse.
All the tension, stress, tears, fears and chewed nails that come with the day,
I try to remember when its been worse.
Today has been one of those days...
But, I just remembered when it was worse.
Descendant of wolves... or... lunatics... whichever...
"Hi, I'm Joel Petrie and I'm a werewolf." some of the class may chuckle, others may roll their eyes, but all are curious as to how I'm going to back-up this most preposterous of claims. "Well, let me explain..." I'd continue, and at this point I'd pretty much have everyone's unaltered attention (except for those of a particular ADHD persuasion.) Pretty good for a one sentence introduction don't you think?
"...as you all probably know, every legend and myth is most likely born from some kind of fact..." They most likely didn't know this, or even had thought of this, but no one is going not going to interject for the fear of coming across uneducated. "...I mean even if that fact is centuries old, right?" at this point one or two would nod in agreement. "Okay, for example, almost every culture in the world has some sort of rudimentary legend of a dragon or dragons, right?" Most everyone nods at this. "Why do you think that is?" I give them maybe half a second to think about it. "Well, most likely it stems from some sort of creature that used to live amongst humans waaaay back in the day." I get a confused look.
P.s. have I mentioned the other side of my family helped originate the term 'blackmail'? That's probably another story for another time...
Change of plans...
Things change so often in my life that I'm not even sure what to expect anymore...
Anyway, after some extensive contemplation and constant debate with myself I've drawn a few conclusions... the first of which is I need to do what I can to finish up school now.
That's been the eternal internal struggle I've been having with myself for the past... well... forever... I've always felt it unnecessary, or cumbersome... and now I realize the opportunity is almost past, so I better act fast.
Now, for the second conclusion... I need to make more films. So... I'm going to. I've come up with an amazingly ambitious project and well... it seems fate is saying it's what I'm supposed to be doing.
Check it out here
Well... that's it for now... talk to ya's later!
Life in the balance...
Okay...
As it turns out, I only have 3 people total signed up for my two classes so far... Which causes problems. (My teaching job was going to be my main source of income...) If I don't have a certain amount of people signed up for the class, they drop the class, which makes me stuck in this shit job I've been in for the past couple months.
Well, if I was anyone else, that's what would happen.
While in Vancouver, my brother and I would be in the throws of planning and putting into works an action trilogy that we'll be shooting in Hong Kong.
If I end up teaching, that's great, that gives me income and tons of time to actually go to school and get my Multimedia degree and I'd end up filming a couple shorts... But, the big thing is I'd also direct another play, and probably end up directing for the Scera and/or Hale too (which is also extra income... Just a little but extra) and getting my foot in the door to move on to professional theatre producing/directing. Plus, I'd be working on writing a major stage play with two of the state's most prolific and professional theatre producers...
My future for the next few years is all sorts of dependent on whether or not people take an Intro to Film or Intro to Theatre class. Kind of scary, quite exhilarating...
But I won't know for sure about all this for at least 2 weeks... Maybe a couple weeks after that... Still, this is all happening rather fast.
This of course is all developments that have happened in the past day and a half... Love how life works, don't you?
Anyway... I don't know why you should know all this, but now you do!
Memoirs of a Canadian DJ - By Jaelan Petrie
Ten years ago a group of Scouts were camped at the top of a mountain in the Rockies. As they were eating around the fire a raging thunder and wind-storm hit. Everyone scurried to their tents for cover… ALL - except for one of the older ones. He stood there looking at the sky - and as the rain poured, as the wind blew, as the thunder cracked – he shook his fist at the sky and yelled.
"IS THAT ALL YOU GOT! (PAUSE) IS THAT ALL YOU GOT! (PAUSE) GIVE US WHAT YOU GOT!"
KABOOM! - Immediately a stroke of lighting flashed and struck the nearby hill-brow and lit some trees on fire. The crack was deafening and the lone scout stood there.
"SORRY" he apologized, ran to tent for cover and then proceeded to instruct the other scouts to 'NEVER TRY THAT AT HOME'.
That scout was my brother… Jordan.
JORDAN CAMERON PETRIE was born into a loving family on September 3rd, 1979 in the foothills of the Canadian Rockies in Cardston, Alberta, Canada. He was a shocking 9pds 12oz. My mother describes his birth as 'the easiest one she ever had – he came straight out'. At 10 months, he would wake up - climb into the fridge and eat cottage cheese, at 1 & 1/2 he walked the 2.5 miles to Bryce Canyon on his own, and at 2 he successfully disappeared, crossed an extremely busy road, and returned with his 2 front teeth missing… which didn't grow back for nearly 10 years – he spoke for years with a whistle. As he got older he would get mad and run away nearly every week – and one of us would always find him hiding in the grass usually only 50 feet from the house. 'Leave me alone – I runned away. This time for good'.
I remember growing up on one occasion - that he, I and Jaeris, his other older brother, were doing forced labour in the yard for our father. Jordan had a habit of doing everything he could to get out of work, or to stand and pretend he was working, and this time he told us he had to use the bathroom. We naturally called him a liar and held him down - until he peed his pants. An hour later, after my mother finished yelling at us, she informed us that we would have to work with out Jordan for the remainder of the day. He smirked and went inside. From that point on, anytime we would find ourselves doing forced labour for our father… we would look up and see Jordan standing there with that same smirk – he would then pee his pants on purpose, walk towards the house and inform us 'I'm t-e-ll-ing Mom".
There was another time that my father had directed a local play and came home dressed as a Spanish Conquistador – with the clothes, a sword and helmet, and complete with make-up. Jordan didn't recognize him at all and was stunned there was someone entering his house with a sword. He ran to the closet and pulled out his own little plastic sword and let out a yell and attacked to protect his family. They fought and fought and fought, and even after my dad peeled away the costume - Jordan kept trying to kill him.
Jordan seemed invincible growing up – he brushed with death on numerous occasions and would always come out unscratched. He was hit by a car, drove a dirt bike off a large cliff, was once found in the sewer systems when he was three, had a stomach parasite, and the list is much, much longer - but he would always somehow make it through. A very normal weekend scenario would be his brothers standing watching him in pain on the ground and his father instructing the rest of us… "WE CAN'T TELL MOM." The most memorable brush was when Jordan and I were racing on our dirt bikes in Canada. We were going approximately - AD LIB.
After having grown up next to the Canadian Rockies, Jordan moved to Orem, Utah, USA with his family. He braved the new surroundings at Orem High School by throwing himself into athletic endeavours. Coach Steele said he was the fire and passion of the team – never afraid to take the hit - and quick to make everyone laugh. His classmates called him CANADA or EH. He was naturally gifted at sports and excelled quite quickly. He was a linebacker and on special teams, he was a wrestler, and a gifted runner. His natural track and running ability led him to become the Junior Olympic Champion in the 200 and 400m and he went on to run the 200m, the 400m, and the 4X400m relay for Utah Valley State College. He successfully graduated from Orem High School and from the seminary program of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints in 1997.
On November 15th, 1998 Jordan entered the Mission Training Centre to serve a mission in Durban, South Africa. In doing so he touched the hearts of many of the people in the poor townships who heard his message. He would share with us conversion stories, stories of change, stories of love, stories of acceptance and multiple baptisms, and stories of monkeys breaking in and stealing his food. He spoke often and lovingly of the people he cared for and served. His heart broke when he saw the poverty. His heart broke when he saw the violence. And he also decided to serve in typical Jordan style – which means he was known for both good and for – well - not so good. Meaning, he served in his own way. For example, he played soccer for the local professional team as a starting goalkeeper. When they televised the matches he was introduced or shown as 'Elder Petrie'. Professional sports are generally frowned upon as a missionary. He volunteered daily with the local handicap association and they loved him. He was also featured in a beer commercial. Again, as a missionary this is something that is frowned upon. He had attended a national soccer game and was a lone white man waving the South African flag in a sea of black people. A cameraman captured the image and turned it into a national ad campaign. The mission president found out about it from a member who saw it on the Sports Network. Jordan told me the president went bonkers. The greatest example he gave - has remained with me for a long time – one evening he and a group of missionaries were at home when a fire broke out at a nearby night -club where the stairs, and a wall, had collapsed. People were trapped inside. Without hesitation Jordan climbed inside and pulled over 35 people out and handed them down to the others who were waiting below. The following week he received a phone call from a Mr. Nelson Mandella – a former political prisoner who stood against apartheid. Mr. Mandella was interested in knowing who the young white man was who would care so much for his people. Jordan was thanked personally under 3 conditions – no sudden movements, no personal belongings, and no stupid questions.
When Jordan returned home, he ran into a series of frustrations that led him to a different path then he perhaps anticipated. He worked as a ranch hand, he turned manure, he moved to the far, far north, and somewhat drifted for a time. He even worked as a janitor – in fact he and I did that together. I remember clearly once that he was operating a big hall vacuum and was cleaning a large carpet – going back and forth like a combine in a field. I was buffing a nearby floor with a different machine and heard him turn off his vacuum. I sensed him walking towards me and turned off the machine I was operating to converse with him. He stopped, looked at me and said 'THIS IS THE EPITOME OF LOWNESS' – turned around, walked back and began vacuuming again. This frustration combined, with a long string of injuries, led him to give up running, to start a different lifestyle, to fall into new surroundings, and start to a journey that has led us here today – Yet, this is also when he began to turn his focus towards a new-found talent and love… his MUSIC. Jordan began to dabble frequently as a DJ and was hooked firmly for the remainder of his life – he went through various names such as Master P, Canuck–n-fold, and a string of others but finally settled on his new identity which would lead him to become DJ NC-17… a local favourite and a mainstay in the Intermountain-West music scene. Anyone who met him, saw him spin, or listened to him LOVED him. I remember on one occasion when he invited me to one of his gigs. It was when he was just starting out and was still practicing daily in our basement for hours on end at a deafening volume level… it usually started with an air raid siren that would wake us up or just drive us mad. When I arrived to his show - there were only six people in the room. Jordan didn't care or notice… he mixed as if there was 100, 000 people raving, he danced as if no one was watching, and he smiled as if he was already in the big time… it wasn't about him, or about who was there – it was about the music. He passionately followed his dream for the remainder of his years and was well known for his creativity – such as spinning in his underwear, or as a tele-tubbie, for throwing records into the crowd, or for his tag-team shenanigans. Jordan doesn't know this – but I followed his career with great care. I asked him once how it was going and he replied "GREAT! I WAS JUST AWARDED BEST NEW DJ BY A MAGAZINE! THEY HAD A WRITE UP AND AN ARTICLE IN IT ABOUT ME AND EVERYTHING!" I replied that was fantastic… congratulations – He retorted "NOO - NOT REALLY – IT WAS A GAY MAGAZINE AND THEY SAID (and I'm copying Jordan) 'THE BEST THING ABOUT MY PLAYING WAS MY CUTE BUTT.'
On October 10th , 2006 my life changed forever. I received a phone call – a phone call at 06.00am from my father telling me that Jordan had passed away from a drug overdose.
This isn't what I want to remember him for. I want to remember him for his big heart, his generosity, his sense of humour, and his compassion. I want to remember him for his yellow pants (which by the way were his little sisters – in fact most of his pants he wore were his little sisters) I want to remember him for his laugh, for his jokes, for his earrings and piercings, for that dumb smirk, for his love, and most of all I want to remember him and miss him for his friendship. Jordan you are the true definition of a friend. Never judging, never dismissing, always giving, always caring, always accepting and always taking you with him and creating a memory with you that you would never forget. Jordan - You were the craziest, funniest, yet most loving person we will ever meet.
So, I stand before you today as the representative of a family in grief, of friends and associates in mourning, of a group that is heartbroken, and before a community in shock. This afternoon we are united in not only our desire to pay our respects, but also in our love, our pain, and our loss. Jordan we will deeply, deeply miss you.
And now I offer our condolences. First, to Sarah – Jordan never brought anyone home – so you must have been everything to him. We all care desperately for you today. We are torn with sadness at the loss of a man with whom you shared your love and your life.
Secondly, to my parents. Please do not think in any way that you have failed. You stand as a bright and shining example of exactly what parental love is and should be. You intervened, you loved, you cared, you opened your arms, you cried, you worried, and you did it all with love. To both Sarah and my parents - How great your suffering and anguish we cannot even imagine.
We are extremely grateful and indebted to anyone who has supported us through this difficult time. We would like to thank anyone who has offered or expressed love, opened your arms, offered aid, and to anyone who has mourned with us. Also, to anyone who has posted memories of Jordan on legacy.com or utrave.org. – or any other site – thank you we will cherish these. We also would like to thank anyone who attempted to help Jordan through his hard times, to any who opened their arms to him during his addiction, and to anyone who is and was his friend. Dimitri… our especial thanks to you – you cared and helped when many didn't - or didn't know – and we are eternally indebted to you.
I would like to end by thanking God, our Father in Heaven, for the small mercies he has extended to us at this time and for giving us the precious, precious gift of Jordan – even if it was for such a short time.
Above all I give thanks for the man I am proud to call my brother. Jordan, today we say thank-you for your life... Everyone here – without fail – remembers the moment we met you. Whether it was across the room, seeing you spin, or on a roof – we know you loved the roof and would yell greetings and then jump, ride a skateboard, a bike, or I'm told - even a trampoline with wheels off of it – whether it was at church, at school, at a party… where-ever it was – that moment was unmistakeable. The dignity, the strength, the acceptance, the struggle and the torment, and that 'something different about you' that none of us can explain but we all recognized immediately... We love you, we miss you and we will never forget the love and joy you brought to everyone that knew you. And we unanimously agree – that you had better be in heaven waiting for us – because if you aren't there – it will not be heaven and I'd rather not go.
The Midnight Society
Oh how I longed to be just a part,
of that band of pre-teens who weren't so afraid of the dark.
To tell tales of the night, death and things near as grim;
to spin and weave a yarn in great length, and still be home before ten.
I would have sat in that great stone chair, tossing that magical dust to the flame;
Spurting forth verbal terror and reaching great heights of horror fame.
All this I would have done with immense joy,
To scare thousands of children, both girls and boys.
But, to do so would have drove my mother into a fit,
not to mention the fact, that as a kid, I was a chicken.
