Too Much to Do, Too Little Time

And a check ride report.

I realized this morning that I never did report on my check ride. When I mentioned that I was prepping for it, I promised a report the next day. That was a week ago.

In my defense, I’ve been unreasonably busy. Here’s a rundown of how I spent the past seven days.:

Friday I’ve Got Flying on My Mind

On Friday morning, I took my Part 135 check ride with an FAA examiner. It was a non-event. I didn’t fly as well as I wanted to — I guess having an FAA inspector sitting next to you while you’re flying and wondering what he was going to do to play with your head (think pulling circuit breakers, chopping the throttle, etc.) is enough to make me a nervous wreck. But I flew good enough. And once I realized the test part was over, I actually flew very well. I want to write more about this, but don’t have the time right now.

When it was over and I put the helicopter away, I had to start prepping for another round of house guests. I ran around like a nut, taking care of errands and prepping my office for use as a second guest room. I was still at it when my husband arrived with the house guests: his mother and her friend.

Saturday at Buckeye

Saturday was our big annual Buckeye gig. This was our fifth year at the Buckeye Air Fair and I hope I can do it for 15 years. I enjoy it so much. I do cheap helicopter rides priced low enough that folks can (and do) bring their kids. I think I flew just as many kids under 15 as I did adults. One flight was just three kids aged maybe 4 to 7. It was nonstop flying from 9:30 AM, when the first takers climbed on board to 3:15 PM, a full hour and a quarter after the end of the event. I had to shut down once for fuel and a bathroom break, but I didn’t even get much to eat.

I wanted to write about that, too — especially about the flight down from Wickenburg — but I just haven’t had time. Now the memories aren’t quite as fresh and I don’t think I could write something interesting about it.

Sunday’s Road Trip, with Helicopters and Big Band Music

On Sunday, I was on the road at 7:15 AM, heading west in my little Honda S2000. Road trip. I had to go to Ventura for a week for work, but I wanted to stop at Anaheim on the way to check out Heli Expo.

HeliExpoThe show was at least three times the size of the last one I’d gone to, which was back in 2004 in Las Vegas. It was like a candy store for rotor-heads like me, with millions of dollars in hardware sitting out on plush carpeting for us to caress and drool over. And climb on board to sit in cockpits. I didn’t take many pictures — it was just to damn crowded.

One of the highlights was meeting a Twitter friend, Keith Gill. Keith flies the big iron — including Air Cranes — all over the world. He’d just come in from a firefighting gig in Australia and was prepping for another gig somewhere else. Keith writes a blog called “Helicopter Pilot, Will Travel” with lots of great, real-life stories about his flying and travel experiences. I highly recommend it for anyone interested in what being a helicopter pilot is all about.

Another highlight was meeting Dennis Raubenheimer of HeliNews. I’d written an article for them at it appeared in the current issue. He had two copies for me and I eagerly opened one as soon as I had it in my hot little hands. I was thrilled to see that they’d used all of the photos I sent, many of which featured my helicopter. My only regret is that the magazine is based in Australia and few U.S. pilots (or helicopter operators interested in hiring pilots) would see it. Can’t wait to hand off a copy to Ed, my local mechanic, who is featured in a bunch of the photos.

After leaving the show at 5 PM, I took a roundabout route up to Burbank, successfully avoiding any Oscars traffic in the Hollywood area. I was meeting another Twitter friend, SaxDiva (Leanne), for the first time. She’s a college professor who teaches business by day and plays saxophone and other woodwind instruments in the evening. She was doing a big band gig at a Burbank restaurant called Victorio’s. I’d been wanting to meet her for a while and we finally connected. Another friend of mine, Deb Shadovitz, joined me for dinner. Leanne sat with us between sets and we got to meet a bunch of the other band members, including a singer who sounded an awful lot like Tony Bennett. There’s nothing quite like good food and good music at the end of the day. If you live in the Burbank, CA area, I highly recommend Victorio’s on a Sunday evening for a casual night out with live music and dancing.

From there, it was a nightime drive to Ventura. I only made one wrong turn getting on the freeway. I was in my room, 400+ road miles from home, ready to pass out, by 10:15 PM.

Talk about a long day.

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday: Work, Work, Work

I spent much of the first three days of the week in a soundproofed booth, recording a new video for Lynda.com. The rooms are like isolation chambers that completely shut out the sound from outside them. The work is pretty basic, but often frustrating as I trip over my own tongue to get the words out. I’m not really at liberty to say what the course is about yet — I’d rather keep it a surprise to the folks who don’t already know. (No spoilers in the comments, please!)

We did the live action footage yesterday. That’s when I get dolled up with makeup, etc. and talk to a camera. I was fumbling through the takes and was starting to think I’d never get it right when I absolutely nailed the last one. What a relief!

The Week’s Not Over

The week has two more days left in it and I’ll be working in Ventura both days. I think I’ll need both of them to get the material recorded. If I finish before noon on Friday, I’ll drive home. If I finish after 3 on Friday, I’ll spend the night here again. If I finish sometime between noon and 3, I’ll make a decision then.

At home, Mike is entertaining our house guests. They leave on Monday. I have nothing scheduled next week, but I know I’ll be doing at least one flight, probably to Sedona. I already have a flight booked for the week after that, too.

Too much to do. Too little time. It seems to be the story of my life.

I need a vacation!

Chasing Race Cars

2009 Edition.

I did another flying gig out at Parker AZ again this year. It was wicked windy on the ground when we took off — so windy, in fact, that a Bell Jet Ranger pilot refused to fly. (I didn’t think it was that bad, but then again, I’m not flying a Bell.)

About 100-200 feet up, however, it was dead calm and I was able to do just about any maneuver the camera guy needed. I had an excellent observer on board who kept an eye out for wires and other helicopters without freaking out when I intentionally got close to either one.

For the first flight, we chased the truck featured in the video below, as well as a dune buggy like car. I don’t know the technical terms for any of these things — I’m a pilot, not a dirt racer.

For the second flight, it was windy. We were videoing the guys coming into their pits and a lot of hovering was required. I could only hover when pointing into the wind, which was gusting to 28 knots. When we flew around the trucks in the “Python” area of the course, I couldn’t fly slowly enough with a wind up my tail so I did a lot of circling, keeping the target where the camera guy could keep his camera on it.

In case you’re wondering, our usual setup is to have the camera guy behind me with his door off. (If it were warmer, I probably would have had my door off, too.) This makes it easy for me to see what he sees and keep the car in sight. The observer sits up front next to me. Although I keep a good eye on what’s around me, he’s a second pair to make sure I don’t miss something important.

After the second flight, I could see that bad weather was literally minutes away. After putting the doors back on and estimating that I had enough fuel to get home, I took off. I called the airport later to pay my fuel bill and was told that the downpour started 10 minutes after I left.

I flew a total of 3.9 hours, including ferry time. Judging from the video, I think the guys got just what they wanted.

Waiting for the Cable Guy

No, not a movie review.

At this moment, I’m sitting cross-legged on a comfy new red leather sofa, listening to NPR and staring at a blank “parchment” (think pale pink) wall. The wall will soon house our first HDTV. And, with luck, it will also sprout a cable Internet connection.

I’m waiting for the cable guy.

He’s supposed to be here between 8 AM and 10 AM — a nice, narrow range. It’s 8:21 AM as I type this.

We spent a lot of time researching our Internet and television options for the Phoenix apartment. We discovered that we could get cable Internet that was 7 times faster than what we have in Wickenburg for half the price. (Chalk that down to another benefit of life in a city over life on the edge of nowhere.) We also discovered that if we went with DirectTV (rather than Dish Network or the cable company providing the Internet), we could get HD television service set up in up to four rooms, with DVR (think TiVo) for half of what we were paying Dish Network in Wickenburg for two rooms.

I should point out here that we’re not getting anything other than “basic cable” television channels. Why? Well, there are a few reasons. First and foremost, this is a part-time residence. It’s idiotic to buy premium cable channels for a home we’ll be occupying only part of each week. Second, we have a Netflix subscription. Why be at the mercy of television provider schedules — or pay extra for on-demand television programming — when you can get the movies you want to see on Netflix?

Netflix LogoBut that’s not all. Netflix also has the ability to play many movies on demand on your HDTV through your Internet connection if your connection is fast enough and you have a compatible device to handle the incoming Internet content. Our connection here will be fast enough. Devices to handle this start at $99; we just have to decide which one to buy.

Of course, all this television stuff is moot right now, since we don’t have any television down here right now. I don’t miss it too much, but I am looking forward to watching movies in high definition on a big screen.

AirPort ExtremeAirPort ExpressBut I’m hoping the cable guy can put the Internet connection on this big empty wall. I’ll use an AirPort Express that I brought from home to set up a wireless network and attach a printer, which I’ll also bring from home. If we wind up with a Netflix-compatible device that isn’t WiFi compatible, I’ll bring down a spare Airport Extreme base station from home and swap it with the Express, which doesn’t have an Ethernet out port. Otherwise, the AirPort Express should do the job.

So I’m waiting for the cable guy. It’s now 8:46 AM. He should be here any minute now.

Cataloging Video

Didn’t I pay someone to do this?

A few months back, you may have read various blog posts and tweets from me regarding a video project I’m working on. October was the big film shoot and I the guys I hired and an enormous amount of money to do the project shot about 10 hours of raw video footage all over Arizona.

At the conclusion of each day of the shoot, I was assured that they shot “awesome” footage and that the final product would be “mind boggling.” I assumed (silly me — when will I learn?) that these guys knew what they were doing, so I didn’t micromanage, as I sometimes do. I then sat back and waited for the promised hard disk full of footage (my copy) and the shot log.

When You Want Something Done Right…

I waited a long time. Weeks. What I finally got was three sheets of paper with print so tiny I couldn’t read it — even with my cheaters on. There was virtually no usable information and the list of scenes didn’t cross reference to any video clips by name or any other identifying information. In other words, the catalog was useless.

So it looked as if I’d have to do it myself.

After all, I needed a catalog so I knew what video I had to work with. I needed to know what video was good and whether anything needed to be reshot. I needed a reference I could consult to write my script and make sure I had footage to illustrate everything I wanted to talk about.

I also got the raw video on a 500GB Seagate drive. I assumed (dumb, dumb, dumb) that it was neatly organized and that all the clips would be in some kind of order. But when I plugged it in, I discovered that there was no rhyme or reason to the organization on the disk. Files and folders were randomly named and there were backups of some files on the same hard disk — resulting in duplicates. Video was in multiple formats, some of which simply could not be read on my Mac with the tools I had. I spent two days hunting down conversion software that would enable me to open video files in formats that included MTS, M2T, M2TS, DV, WMV, AVI, and MXF.

This is what I had to catalog.

And that’s what I’ve spent a total of 3 work days doing so far. I’m about 1/4 done.

The Nitty Gritty

Sample MOV FileTo give you an idea of what I’m working with and how I’m dealing with it, consider the screen shots here. The first shot shows a frame of a movie I’m reviewing. I converted its original high definition format to QuickTime for easy viewing. The movie was shot from my helicopter while flying over Lake Powell. It shows a particular stretch of shoreline. I need to know — at least approximately — where on the 135-mile long lake this shoreline is.

Enter Google Maps. I displayed Lake Powell in a big browser window and, based on my knowledge of the lake, zoom in to an area I think the footage might correspond to. This is made slightly easier by the fact that most clips are in named with numbers corresponding to the order in which they were shot. So if a specific piece of shoreline falls between two easily identified canyons, I can usually find the shoreline on Google Maps.

Sample on Google MapsHere’s the same place on Google Maps. And yes, I’m sure it’s the same place.

Then I whip out my handy Stan Jones map of Lake Powell, find Google Maps location on the map, and use a FileMaker Pro database to enter the corresponding lake mile marker as part of the clip’s description. I add some other info about the clip, including its time, a rating on a scale of 1 to 5, and a screenshot of a representative scene.

I only have to do this about 1,000 times.

There are several problems with this technique:

  • The water level determines the appearance of the shoreline. Google Maps has the highest water level and Stan Jones has the lowest. Our video is right in between.
  • Google Maps uses satelite images. Those images point straight down. In most cases, our video is shot at an angle to the scene, at various altitudes.
  • On Gootle Maps, north is always up. On our video clips, north can be any direction.
  • The direction we’re flying and the videographer who took the shot determines which shore I’m looking at. I have to think back to those October days to remember what we did and when, including what time of day.

So matching things up isn’t as easy as you might think. And if you think it’s easy, come on over and give it a try. You can buy the drinks when you give up.

And no, I really didn’t expect the videographers to catalog clip locations right down to the mile marker. What I expected was something like “Bullfrog Area” or “Near Escalante” or “Downlake from Rainbow Bridge.” That would have been a starting point, something for me to work with.

Anyway, I spent all day today doing this and will likely spend all day tomorrow and most of Wednesday. I need to get through all the Lake Powell aerial clips by then. I make good use of my two 24 monitors for this job, putting the QuickTime, FileMaker Pro, and Finder windows on one display and Google Maps in a big browser window on the other display. The thought of doing this on a 15 inch laptop pumps up my blood pressure. The sooner I get it done, the sooner I can move onto other things.

On Illiteracy and the CelebCult

Thoughts about the demise of intelligence and critical thinking.

Today, two thought-provoking articles that I read online came together in my brain. Here’s the meat of the matter.

Can You Read Me Now?

About three weeks ago, one of my Twitter friends, @BlankBaby, tweeted a link to an article on truthdig by Chris Hedges titled “America the Illiterate.” The article begins with a few statements I can’t help but agree with:

We live in two Americas. One America, now the minority, functions in a print-based, literate world. It can cope with complexity and has the intellectual tools to separate illusion from truth. The other America, which constitutes the majority, exists in a non-reality-based belief system. This America, dependent on skillfully manipulated images for information, has severed itself from the literate, print-based culture. It cannot differentiate between lies and truth. It is informed by simplistic, childish narratives and clichés. It is thrown into confusion by ambiguity, nuance and self-reflection. This divide, more than race, class or gender, more than rural or urban, believer or nonbeliever, red state or blue state, has split the country into radically distinct, unbridgeable and antagonistic entities.

At no time did this become more evident than during our recent presidential campaign. Consider these points:

Existing in a non-reality-based belief system? Unable to distinguish between lies and truth? Informed by simplistic, childish narratives and clichés? Yeah. I think so.

Mr. Hedges’ article goes into some detail about the problem of illiteracy in America. He has statistics — although I’m not sure where they’re from — that claim 42 million American adults, including 20% with high school diplomas, cannot read and 50 million read at an elementary school level. He claims — and, as a writer, I find this hard to believe — that “…42 percent of college graduates never read a book after they finish school. Eighty percent of the families in the United States last year did not buy a book.”

There’s a lot more and it makes for fascinating reading. I agree with much of the opinion content, which is unfortunate because it paints such a bleak picture of Americans. But the following quote stuck with me when I read the piece and I actually clipped it out to write about it later:

In an age of images and entertainment, in an age of instant emotional gratification, we do not seek or want honesty. We ask to be indulged and entertained by clichés, stereotypes and mythic narratives that tell us we can be whomever we want to be, that we live in the greatest country on Earth, that we are endowed with superior moral and physical qualities and that our glorious future is preordained, either because of our attributes as Americans or because we are blessed by God or both.

I’m reminded of thought-free flag-wavers who cry treason whenever someone uses their Constitutional right of free speech to question American policies at home and overseas. I’m reminded of Sarah Palin, claiming that these flag-wavers are the “real Americans” while the rest of us, in that other America — the people who know how to think critically — are unpatriotic.

A Canary Speaks Out

This morning, I followed up on another link sent out into the ether by a Twitter friend that turned out to be related — at least in my mind. @BWJones linked to an article by noted film critic Roger Ebert in the Chicago Sun-Times blog called “Death to Film Critics! Hail to the CelebCult!” In it, Mr. Ebert claims that “a newspaper film critic is like a canary in a coal mine.” His piece was prompted by a 500-word limit imposed by the Associated Press (AP) for all articles by entertainment writers.

Worse, the AP wants its writers on the entertainment beat to focus more on the kind of brief celebrity items its clients apparently hunger for. The AP, long considered obligatory to the task of running a North American newspaper, has been hit with some cancellations lately, and no doubt has been informed what its customers want: Affairs, divorces, addiction, disease, success, failure, death watches, tirades, arrests, hissy fits, scandals, who has been “seen with” somebody, who has been “spotted with” somebody, and “top ten” lists of the above. (Celebs “seen with” desire to be seen, celebs “spotted with” do not desire to be seen.)

He goes on to say:

The CelebCult virus is eating our culture alive, and newspapers voluntarily expose themselves to it. It teaches shabby values to young people, festers unwholesome curiosity, violates privacy, and is indifferent to meaningful achievement.

That’s the root of the matter right there. People are more interested in celebrity lives than just about anything else. They’d rather read about what a “hot” celebrity ate for lunch yesterday than the failing economy, war in Iraq or Afghanistan, energy problems and solutions, or the struggles of third-world nations against poverty, disease, and genocide.

Of course, they’d rather see video or pictures of what the celebrity ate for lunch. No reading required.

It’s a failure of critical thinking. Too many people living in a non-reality-based world. And the media is feeding it. Newspapers and television channels are selling out, providing this low-level content just to survive.

Mr. Ebert points out, “As the CelebCult triumphs, major newspapers have been firing experienced film critics. They want to devote less of their space to considered prose, and more to ignorant gawking.” He goes on to say:

Why do we need critics? A good friend of mine in a very big city was once told by his editor that the critic should “reflect the taste of the readers.” My friend said, “Does that mean the food critic should love McDonald’s?” The editor: “Absolutely.” I don’t believe readers buy a newspaper to read variations on the Ed McMahon line, “You are correct, sir!” A newspaper film critic should encourage critical thinking, introduce new developments, consider the local scene, look beyond the weekend fanboy specials, be a weatherman on social trends, bring in a larger context, teach, inform, amuse, inspire, be heartened, be outraged.

But his conclusion is what ties his piece in with the truthdig article I started this post with — at least for me:

The celebrity culture is infantilizing us. We are being trained not to think. It is not about the disappearance of film critics. We are the canaries. It is about the death of an intelligent and curious, readership, interested in significant things and able to think critically. It is about the failure of our educational system. It is not about dumbing-down. It is about snuffing out.

Think about it…if you can.