Shot with a Canon 5DMKII, 35mm f/1.4, & Micro LED Lightpanel.

Hockey is to Canadians as candy is to children. They crave it when they don’t have it, complain loudly when they do have it and it’s not what they want, and sky rocket to the moon when they get their favourite kind of sugar high. That is of course, a Team Canada win at the Olympics on home ice.

Yesterday after the tense victory over the Swiss, crowds leaving GM Place whooped and hollered loud enough to wake granny in North Van. The downtown streets sounded like the Battle at Helm’s Deep with someone making excellent use of their commemorative Lord of The Rings Orc Horn.

Although I’m not usually a hockey fan, don’t judge me, it’s a long story involving heartbreak and toe picks, I have been swept into this Team Canada hockey mania with the rest of Vancouver. Last night, I willingly watched the CAN-SWI game over the Men’s free program, much to my mother’s chagrin, who has remained a die hard figure skating fan years after I packed away my sequined unitards and mini gloves.

I won’t deny it, I got a little crush on King Crosby after witnessing his excellent puck control and fearless focus during the sudden death shoot-out. And although phrases like “icing”, “power play” and “off-side” are still quite new to me, I do understand “he shoots, he scores!” quite well. I think that phrase is hard-wired in Canadian brains from birth. That and overbearing politeness. Because even in the most rowdy of Canada hockey mobs, someone will inevitably say, “oh sorry eh” for stepping on your toe.

Canada loves them some hockey!

There are piles of clothes accumulating in my apartment. Every red t-shirt, sweater, and hat I own is heaped on the floor. There is a row of empty Venti Starbucks cups, chocolate wrappers, and a pile of gadgets cluttering my desk. I’ve been living off caffeine and KD, and I’m out of frozen dinners. I’ve actually resorted to boiling eggs and eating them straight out of the pot because I have no clean dishes, and now, no clean pots.

Outside Vancouver is jumping up and down and screaming, “Go Canada Go!” and I’m here just trying to catch a cat nap before I have to buckle down and get to work again. It’s hard to stay focused in this madness. The irresponsible me wants to join in the party with reckless abandon, while the responsible me knows that it’s two hours before deadline and I’m staring at an empty page.

Since the Olympics started, the city never seems to sleep. This morning I was jarred awake by a noisy Chinese dragon announcing the Year of the Tiger with what felt like the loudest cymbals ever. Once the crashing noise had dissipated, my Swiss neighbour started rockin’ the cowbell. I reckon he thinks he’s a cow bell virtuoso. Clang. Clang. Cu-Clang. There’s almost a beat there. A Bossa Nova perhaps?

Later on Canada wins Gold and everyone erupts in celebration. I hear cheers, w00ts, whistles and air horns well into the early morning. 4am to be exact. Not that I noticed. (I did).

Ah, but who can possibly be an Olympics grinch, when everyone is so uplifted and happy? I even saw someone try to get angry at a volunteer for having to wait so long in a line at LiveCity Vancouver, but the volunteer was so lovely they ended up high-fiving and exchanging email addresses after 5 minutes.

That is my Olympic experience so far. Every time I get worked up over road closures, slow moving pedestrians, or general Olympic headaches, some fantastic, moving moment happens and I’m swelling with Canadian pride. So Vancouver, my advice: stock up on aspirins, ear plugs, and bucket loads of patience because this 17-day party has only just begun.

Ahem, can all those people celebrating the Olympics please turn the volume down a few decibles? Some of us have to get up and go to work tomorrow.

Featured Editorial in Today’s Province.

Maybe I’m biased because I’m a proud Vancouverite and ex-figure skater, but this Winter Olympics feels immense to me. I feel massive amounts of pride and nervous tension, as I hold my breath for the next 17 days. But, while I was throughly weeping watching Clara Hughes’ teary eyes as she lead the Canadian team into the stadium, the internet shrugged, said “meh” and asked, “what’s happening on YouTube?”

The 2010 organizers are vocal about being the first Olympics to have a “Global Social Media” campaign, but they are still miles away from connecting to heartbeat of the internet and engaging with the masses of apathetic, web-addicted cynics like, well, me. 

Comments of Twitter directly following the Opening ceremonies ranged from the inquisitive, “Dude, what happened with the torch?? #torchfail  to the whining, “How hard would it have been for Gretzky to shoot a flaming puck into the cauldron?” to the bitter, “Lol @Canada. Thanks for showing up how to NOT do Olympics & healthcare” to the sarcastic “This just in: Olympic torch pillars being recalled by Toyota”. 

There was a much more positive “Go Canada” vibe on Facebook, but then again people are generally nicer on Facebook. I think it’s the whole “if you happen to find me tagged in a drunken, embarrassing photo, please don’t forward it to my mom” silent agreement that keeps troll comments to a minimum. Most of my Canadian friends on Facebook were w00ting and my American contacts where complaining about the crappy NBC coverage of the Opening Ceremonies and giggling at their own “Blame Canada” jokes. 

While I wasn’t surprised that the internet latched on to the “epic torch fail” moment, I was surprised at how little people were actually talking about the Olympics online. In fact, the Olympics only trended on Twitter for about three hours, then it was booted off in favor of #thuglife. Blame violent video games, Michael Bay movies, or Wikipedia, but the internet audience has about as much attentiveness as a flee circus. Days, weeks, and months seem to mash into one giant lol, fml, pwn or fail. At the end of one day’s “torchfail”, another “OMG rofl” moment is born somewhere else, most likely on a Japanese game show.

Perhaps it is the buzz of just living in Vancouver, footsteps away from the heart of the action, that has sold me on this Olympic Games. I’m loving every minute of 2010 excitement and even my overwhelming desire to make snide comments about the four phallic-shaped totems that slowly rose from the ground as dancers shook and shimmied around them has been squelched. 

Photo by Scott Stulberg.

I was just looking through my portfolio this past week and physically cringing at how bad some of my old shots are. I almost deleted them from my Flickr stream, but then I realized that each photo represents a part of my photographic journey.

My photography evolved a lot from the days when I use to take pictures of Pez, cupcakes, and interesting trash I found in my back alley. It seems so silly now, but had I not spent everyday shooting, learning, and exploring the world with my camera, I wouldn’t be taking the pictures I am taking today.

Super hero Pez, Canon Xti, 50mm f/1.4 lens, 1/60, f/5.0, ISO 100.

I bought my first dSLR, the Canon Rebel Xti (400D), in November 2006. I had one lens other than the crappy kit one, the 50mm f/1.4, and I shot absolutely everything on it. From concerts to portraits to landscapes and nature I took that lens on many adventures. Unlike a zoom lens, a fixed prime lens forces you to physically position yourself to get the shot. That usually means getting up close, lying on the floor, or squeezing your body in crazy spots to get decent angles.

I spent almost a year shooting exclusively with the 50mm f/1.4. I couldn’t afford another lens, so I just had to make do with what I had. I think this forced me to learn the basics of photography (exposure, light & composition) and really know how to use my camera.

Xti, 50mm, f/1.4, 1/320, ISO 200.

I shot almost everyday. I went on photowalks and started shooting things around my neighbourhood, and the beautiful landscapes of Vancouver. Whenever I traveled abroad in the next year, I took thousands of pictures. Some were good, some were meh, but the sheer act of taking pictures everyday made me a better photographer.

Photographing Chichen Itza, Mayan Riviera, Mexico.

Because I only had one lens at the time, and no money to buy another one, I started renting lenses for specific shoots or just for fun. For $35, I could rent a $1500 70-200mm IS f/2.8 for an entire weekend. I rented everything from wide angles to macro lenses to honking zooms, experimenting with different subjects and styles of photography.

Sunset Flare, Xti, 70-200mm IS, 70mm, 1/250, f/7.1, ISO 200.

Polish dancing boots, Xti, 70-200mm IS f/2.8 lens, 153mm, 1/80, f/2.8, ISO 200.

Xti, 100mm f/2.8 lens, 1/80, f.2.8, ISO 100.

Xti, 70-200mm f/2.8, 1/500, f/5.6, ISO 200.

I didn’t read many “how to” photography books (too boring) or take classes (too expensive), I just spent hours on Flickr and other photographer’s blogs. I connected with these photographers, asked them questions, shared my photos, and studied theirs.

I learned what I needed to improve on and what style of photography I liked. I was immediately drawn to colour and magic hour light. The subject matter I found most intriguing was people. But, people were not as easy to come by as trash in my back alley.

Jessie Farrell, Canon Xti, 50mm f/1.4 lens, 1/30, f/1.4, ISO 100.

I begged everyone I knew to let me take pictures of them. And if they said no, I snuck candid shots when they weren’t looking. At the time, I was also spending a lot of time shooting Jessie Farrell (Canadian Singer/Songwriter) and her band on their first year touring Canada.

I followed them around snapping their performances, as well as the behind the scenes moments. I learned a lot about shooting in hectic places with really difficult lighting. This gig also connected me with other musicians who wanted promo photos for their websites and promotion.

Canadian Singer/Songwriter Kylee Epp, Xti, 50mm f/1.4.

Jesse Godin, Xti, 16-35mm f/2.8 lens, 18mm, 1/100, f/2.8, ISO 100.

When I couldn’t find any people to shoot, I photographed animals. When I was traveling in Australia, I took a series of “animal portraits” of the fabulous creatures I found. Again, I only had one lens with me, the 50mm f/1.4, so I really get up close to these animals to fill the frame. This was ok with koalas, kangaroos, and lorikeets, but not so much for man-eating crocodiles and sharks.

Rainbow lorikeet, Xti, 50mm f/1.4mm, 1/100, f/2.0, ISO 100.

Sleepy Kangaroo, 50mm f/1.4 lens, f/5.0, 1/250, ISO 100.

Koala. Xti, 50mm f/1.4 lens.

I also experimented taking artsy shots with the LensBaby Composer. I’m not the ‘artsiest’ photographer. I’m more inclined to make photos as realistic as possible, which is part of my debate with HDR photography (which I did learn how to do by the way :P). Nevertheless, this lens gave me a new perspective on the types of shots I could get with my camera.

XSi & LensBaby Composer.

My first HDR :P

After a while, I got bored of just taking pictures of things that I was just observing and wanted to create shots I could control. I was also modeling at the time, so I took particular interest at my own shoots and started grilling every photographer I worked with about lighting.

This is when I discovered David Hobby’s Strobist blog. The DIY off-camera photography he was doing and talking about was exciting, challenging, and oh so sexy.

Setting up the strobes for a summer shoot.

It took a while to accumulate the gear I needed to take sext shots; 3 strobes (580EX & 2×430EX, two umbrellas, stands, & the Alien Bees Cybersync Remote System), and a long while to actually learn how to use it.

I won’t lie, when I first started using strobes I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. I was even kind of scared of them, so I asked people who knew what they were doing, and watched and learned. I found a few settings that worked and practiced a lot. Once I’d learnt the basics, I started to experiment, sometimes even on the job (shh.. don’t tell), but usually taking pictures of myself.

Then, Alex Lindsay of TWiP (This Week in Photography) asked me to fly down to San Francisco be a guest on his popular photography podcast. I really felt like a n00b photographer then especially compared to one of my heroes, photojournalist, Steve Simon. I felt like I hadn’t done anything of note, just taken some nice photos. In fact, I’m sure that at first I was interviewed more for my modeling talents than my photography. My Flickr stream did contain more pictures of me than by me.

Xti, 50mm f/1.4 lens, 1/100, f/4, ISO 100.

Being on TWiP was a huge wake up call. I realized then, that if I wanted to be a photographer, I had to step up and know my stuff. I couldn’t rely on being a pretty girl with a camera that took pretty pictures. I had to get down and dirty with photographic theory, photoshop, the technical specs of my gear, and build a portfolio with content in a style that I wanted to actually work in.

I was inspired by photographers like Nick Onken, Chase Jarvis, Joe McNally who had unique and strong styles and got hired to to do major commercial work in this style.

Shauna, Canon XSi, 85mm f/1.8 lens, f/3.5, 1/200.

Canon XSi, 24-105mm f/4.0 lens, 45mm, 1/100, f/4.0, ISO 100.

Zara set-up shot.

I decided I wanted to shoot portraits, beauty, and fashion. I really needed models to shoot portraits, beauty, and fashion photography. I bought a second awesome prime, the 85mm f/1.8 and put up a profile on the social networking site “where professional models meet photographers, ModelMayhem. I’d found some great models to work with and I booked four for the next week. A Canon Canada Rep was nice enough to send a XSi (450D) loaner to me, so I had an extra body on these shoots.

Bella, Canon XSi, 85mm f/1.8 lens, 1/125, f/2.8, ISO 100.

I really wanted to push myself to see if I could actually create the images I wanted. After the first shoot, I realized I needed a professional makeup artist and a stylist because I am absolutely rubbish at these things. So I brought Mika (MUA) and Tami (Stylist) on board.

They helped me develop the concepts I wanted to shoot, and make sure all the details (hair, makeup, clothes) were there.

Sexy Stephanie, Xti, 85mm f/4.5, 1/125, ISO 100.

Canon Xti, 85 f/1.8 lens, 1/200. f/4.5, ISO 100.

I also knew I had to become fluent in Photoshop (CS4), so I buckled down and learnt how to use it. I spent days perfecting images, learning techniques, watching every retouching tutorial on Lynda.com and finding out the best and most efficient ways to retouch and process my images. Once I’d mastered the basics, I started to explore different processing styles.

I spend hours scouring photographer’s portfolios and flickr to find inspiring shots and trying to emulate them. Through this process I learnt all kinds of PS ninja tricks and started to develop my own style.

Xti, 50mm f/1.4 lens, f/2.5, 1/100, ISO 100.

I could shoot, light, and make sweet pictures. All I needed was a kick ass camera. I’d spent 2 great years with the Xti, but I’d grown out of it. I needed something full-framed and powerful, so I bought the Canon 5DMKII. I’ve never looked back.

Canon 5DMKII, 50mm f/1.4 lens, 1/125, f/5.0, ISO 100.

After 2 1/2 years, I feel like I’ve perfected amateur photography. Now, I’m ready to work as a professional. And so my next photographic journey begins! Wish me luck!

Canon 5DMkII, 85mm f/1.8 lens, 1/80, f/2.2, ISO 100.

5DMKII, 85mm f/1.8, 1/500 at f/5.0, ISO 100. Natural light & white reflector.

Visit my portfolio for more photos.

Questions? Comments! You know where to leave ‘em.

Disclaimer: This photo has been photoshopped to make me flawless. I was in fact tired, irritated & slightly ill when this photo was taken.

In an effort to combat body image disorders in adolescents, French MP Valerie Boyer has just proposed a law requiring disclaimers on Photoshopped or “enhanced” photos of people in newspaper and magazine advertising, press photos, product packaging, political campaigns and art photography. As someone who has been on both sides of the lens, as a model and a photographer, I find this proposal overkill.

Isn’t it a given that all photos of females appearing in glossy magazines have been retouched?

Don’t we all subconsciously know that the latest Maxim cover girl actually has skin pores, arm pits, knee caps and a waist line bigger than 20″ in real life? If you really want to know, you can just flick through one of the millions of celeb-bashing websites and see said Maxim cover girl’s “appalling cellulite” or “disgusting tummy roles”.

As a model and someone who is in front of the camera, I have to ask myself if these picture perfect images contribute to my body image insecurities? Probably. Is this a rational behavior? Not really. I think as a culture we are educated enough to know fact from fiction.

I find the pictures of girls in Men’s magazines almost laughable. They look like more like CGIed sex bots, than real, sexy girls. The sad thing is that if they replaced these images with more realistic images of women, I would probably spend 5 minutes pointing out all their flaws and chastise them for not airbrushing a wrinkly elbow.

As a photographer, I try to make my subjects look their best. And by best, I mean as close to perfection as I can make them. Obviously, all blemishes, wrinkles, & stray hairs will be cloned out immediately, but that’s not all that gets brushed to perfection. I’ll admit to restructuring noses, lips, eyebrows, slimming 20lbs off people, making eyes bigger, adding makeup, painting in eyelashes, the list goes on and on.

Maybe the continual exposure to this airbrushed standard of perfection in images of models and celebrities has made me as sick as the Maxim editors, but I don’t see retouching images as negative, it’s merely a part of my artistic process as a photographer.

This photo of me has not been retouched. Areas marked in red will be retouched to make me look perfect in the final picture.

Beauty and fashion photography isn’t meant to be a realistic portrayal of everyday life. It’s a fantasy. And in this fantasy everyone is skinnier, prettier, richer and more well-endowed than you. Once you know what the images selling, you can take the blow to your ego with a grain of salt.

The other day I was looking back at old Sport’s Illustrated Swimsuit covers from the mid-nineties, pre-airbrushing and required breast implants for models. It was interesting to see supermodels like Cindy Crawford, Elle MacPherson, Christie Brinkley with minor bags under their eyes, little bulges under their bikini bottoms, and actual texture on their skin. In some ways, they looked sexier and simply more real, than the pushed up, squeezed in bikini models of today.

I response to my question: Is Photoshopping images lying? I say a resounding YES. But it’s a lie I’m willing to live with. The more important question is: Will the media ever go back to a publishing photos sans Photoshop? I honestly don’t know. Brad Pitt seems to think it’s possible, but then he’s Brad Pitt. No one cares if he has bags under his eyes. But if I was Britney Spears, I would want a whole team of Photoshop monkeys working on my photos 24/7.

What do you think of this proposed law?

Should Photoshopped images come with a disclaimer?

All summer long I’ve been conquering my biggest fears and crossing off items on my “bucket list”. Apart from sky diving, nothing scares me more than bungy jumping. Let’s be honest, the concept of bungy jumping is freaking nuts. And freaking nuts I was to even consider jumping head first off of a 150ft bridge into a canyon with a rubber band tied around my ankles.

I would’ve never even dreamt of conquering this huge fear on a random whim, but my Dad dared me. He not only dared me, but taunted me for days shouting, “bun-gy, bun-gy, bun-gy!” He wouldn’t let up, and eventually my stubborn pride made me do it.
You must understand that my dad and I have a long and sorted history of one-upmanship.

This father vs daughter competition started early in life. When I was 5, he flagrantly beat me at board games. Monopoly was the worst, especially when he would buy all the lots and send me to jail just for fun. This unsportsmanlike game continued through out the “Tetris years.” I would spend every evening after school trying to beat my dad’s last score. When I finally did, I would go to bed. That’s when my Dad would sneak in and stay up until 3am beating my score.

On and on this stubborn competition went, until one day on a mini golf course I got so fuming mad at my Dad’s teasing, I threw my putter at a windmill. Not only did I lose, but I was banned from Putt ‘n Bounce for life.

So now you understand why I couldn’t back down from bungy jumping, especially when my Dad surprised me one afternoon, by taking me straight to the bungy jump at Nanaimo’s WildPlay.

Now, I figured that since my summer of extreme activities white water rafting with Hyak and zip lining in Whistler with Wildplay, I’ve bascially got my fears in check. How scary could a little bungy jump be?

I was peppy and filled with confidence as I strutted up the bungy bridge that stretched across a river canyon.

“This is easy peasy,” I thought to myself. “No sweat”. Then, I caught a glance of the girl who was in front of me, pale as a sheet, and uncontrollably weeping to be taken off the platform after standing up there for 45 mins.

“Ok, maybe a little scarier than I thought”.

My hands started to shake and clam up and I caught a severe case of Jello legs. The terror hit me when they bound my legs in cuffs and attached me to the elastic cord. There was no turning back. I hopped out onto the edge of the platform and experienced a sweeping rush of vertigo.

People were yelling, the guides were wishing me luck, and my Dad couldn’t stop laughing. I took a deep breath, but the feeling of self preservation was so great I could not budge an inch. My feet felt like they were cemented onto the platform and my stomach was up in my throat. I was going to have to overwrite my with my with my .

I took one deep breath and jumped off. I was angled more chest first than head first. My arms were flailing and I screamed like a possessed demon. The free-falling was insane, like nothing I’ve ever felt. As soon as I hit the water and whipped back up, I really felt like I was going to die, which oddly enough made me giggle and scream at the same time. I continued to bounce, spin and swing under the bridge until I literally ran out of screams.

I honestly can’t believe I did it. Neither can my Dad. For the first time in a long time, he has no comeback. I think I finally one-upped him.

Would you ever Bungy Jump?

Everyone has a “things to do before I die” list. From skydiving to bungee jumping to watching the sunset over the Great Pyramids, thrill-seeking and adventure travel are usually top on many Bucket Lists. In the top third of my “must-do” list is white-water rafting. I have always wanted to take the plunge, but have always been a bit chicken to try it.

Recently, I had the opportunity to conquer my fears and finally tear up some rapids on the Thompson River in Lytton with Hyak Wilderness Adventures.

Photo by Eric Siwik.

I started my river-rafting extravaganza at 7 a.m., making the three-hour drive to Lytton (billed as the rafting capital of B.C.) from Vancouver.

The drive was quite beautiful through Chilliwack, then past Hope, and winding through Hell’s Gate and the steep, jagged cliffsides of the Black Canyon. I arrived just in time to catch a quick catnap in my car before I attacked those rapids. Read More in The Province.

Shot with the Sony DSC-T500.

The last time I was in San Francisco, I was determined to go to the zoo to catch some wildlife shots to add to my growing collection of animal portraits. I had such an amazing time at the Currumbin Wildlife Sanctuary in the Gold Coast of Australia with the roos, koalas, and attack emus and I was excited to get up and close with some other cute, but ferocious beasties.

But as usual, there were several things that prevented me from acquiring some awesome animal portraits.

1. I arrived at the zoo, one hour before closing. Nice one, sleepy pants.
2. It was literally so foggy that I nearly walked into a giraffe.
3. My camera battery was 1/4 from deadzo. Sweet.
4. I forgot my memory cards. Not a single one. Uh. How does that even happen when you have like 10.
5. All the lemurs, gorillas, and cool animals were hiding, asleep, or had made an escape earlier that day.

I may have cried a little, but then I realized I had the lovely little Sony DSC-T500 with me, so I decided to capture some “moving pictures” instead. I shot this at 720p and it looks fantastic.

Also, after visiting this park, I really felt morally torn about zoos and animals raised in captivity. The animals just seemed so cramped and sad and annoyed at the screaming bratty kids. I certainly love seeing these animals up close, but seeing their faces behind bars made me so very sad. Maybe I just don’t know enough about how zoos are run, and maybe I am just naive about what life is like in the wild for these creatures. Basically, I just want to hug each and every one of these animals, even the prickly ones.

What do you think? Zoos: Good fun or just plain mean?

I’m glad I brought ear plugs to the Katy Perry concert at the Commodore, as the singing was not so stellar. I don’t want to be a Debbie Downer about her whole performance, but when performers rise to a certain level of fame you just expect more than glorified karaoke. (more…)

Published in The Vancouver Province.

I really wished I hadn’t sat in the front row at David Copperfield’s “An Intimate Evening of Grand Illusion” at the Vancouver Centre of Performing Arts. If I’d just been sitting a few rows back I wouldn’t have seen the wires that controlled the singing and dancing tie, or the slightly concave bottom of the magical “shrinking table”, or the girl that appeared & disappeared in the “reserved” seat next to me wearing three different outfits, or Mr. Copperfield’s caked on make-up and spray-on hair. Ouch. That was a low-blow.

Maybe I’m just too cynical or I’ve seen “The Prestige” one too many times to be impressed with a duck being tossed on stage from behind the curtain. In Copperfield’s defense, his show was very entertaining, and face-paced enough to keep me off my iPhone for an hour and a half. There were great moments too. He is an incredibly skillful showman, and irritatingly charismatic, even when he made a sexy Eastern European girl shove her hand down his pants to make sure there was nothing in his pocket; not once, but twice. Charming.

I feel a bit naive for expecting to be completely wowed. But I just couldn’t get past the worn, cheap-looking props, the massive amounts of noxious smoke blown into my face, the planted audience members who could hardly manage a smirk at his rehearsed one-liners, and the cheesy-kitchyness of it all. I was far from amazed and bedazzled by the appearance of an old car on tall pillars in the middle of the stage. Because from my angle, I could see that it was a shell of fake car and that DC was fake driving it and the illusion was marred.

How he does a lot of his illusions still remains a mystery to me… mostly. Ok fine. The duck told me. And all it took was an Oh Henry’s bar.

But don’t take my word for it, check out the hair for yourself. The World’s Greatest Illusionist is conjuring up 5 more shows at the Centre for Performing Arts in Vancouver Oct. 25 & 26th.

Dead twitter bird by Pasquale.

Remember when Twitter was elitist and cool and way geeky? When tweets actually contained thoughts or links to sweet content? When the twitter was, like, our geeky secret club of social 2.0 misfits?

Twitter is about connecting, about sharing, about helping each other through our daily geeky struggles with toasted HDs, exploding MBPs, 404s and other jedi mind tricks.

That’s all gone now because therealbritney is on Twitter. Yeah, even Britney Spears can’t get her own name on twitter. Anyway, I won’t start that rant about how some jerk took @mostlylisa on Twitter!

Stop the madness and just say NO! No Britney we will not follow you, or @ you, or retweet any of your lame blogs or blog entries. I’m glad your management team has finally discovered the power of social media, but Twitter is our world and you and your nekkid videos can take a hike off my feed.

Now say after me:

I promise to not follow Britney Spears on Twitter

Good! Now I wanna see your solemn vow in my comments!

NB. I will, however, continue to listen to your music while cleaning and doing laundry and perhaps dancing in front of a mirror with a Swiffer Sweeper.

Published in The Province.

At some point during the last 10 years of this computer age, spelling and grammatical accuracy got tossed, phrases got shortened to two-finger tappables like “CU l8r”, and a whole new lexicon of ever-expanding nerd words like “w00t”, “l337″, “n00b” moved from underground Internet forums to mainstream media and your e-mail inbox.

More and more we see the Internet shaping the way we communicate with each other. The language of the Internet is fast-paced, constantly changing, and rich with cynicism and rebellion. After all, the age group developing and propagating this new iSpeak is Internet savvy teenagers belonging to Gen Z or the “Google Generation.” These kids grew up on the web, texting their friends in kindergarten, pirating mp3s for their iPods before puberty and coding complex websites during high-school geography class.

Gen Z is not afraid of breaking rules or experimenting with language. Just look at the plethora of fabulous spellings for the frequently used teen phrase “this sucks” in Internet slang, or LeetSpeak. There is “teh suxs” for everyday usage, “suxx0rz” for really bad suckage, or “suxxaga” when things just can’t suck any worse.

At first it may seem like there is no rhyme nor reason to these derivations, but like any linguistic code, it has a pattern. Once you know the pattern, it oesn’t-day, uck-say. What? No one remembers Pig Latin? Even if you are a complete n00b (“newbie”) on the Internet you will have run into your fair share of LOLs and emoticons, like this smiley, winking guy, ; ).

Whether you know the exact translation as “laugh out loud” or not, the meaning of LOL is universal. No matter where you are in the world, LOL means “I’m laughing”, while :( means “I’m sad.” This guy “:P” will get you out of a lot of trouble if you have the tendency to make snarky remarks that easily offend people — but I wouldn’t know anything about that.

The days of ruthlessly guarded spelling and grammar rules of our parents’ generation are slowly slipping away. With that being said, I am a bit of a stickler for grammar, and I’ll admit to a 50-per-cent increase in pulse rate when I see a beautifully crafted sentence like this one written on my Facebook wall: “i love your photo’s, their really good.” That was actually written by a high-school English teacher, so go figure. I’ve just had to let my Nancy Know-It-All tendencies slide a little and embrace the positives in this linguistic evolution.

So, for better or worse, the Internet is dramatically changing the landscape of human communication.

I see the evolution of language on the web as progress, rather than a slap in the face of steadfast English grammar rules. After all, we are a global community now. It’s time we start to think laterally in terms of language and communication. Plus, I never wuz a gr8 spellr anyway.

What do you think? Is our growing Internet language helping or hindering global communication?

Article written & published special to the Province.

The fact that mainstream media have made celebrity gossip blogger, Perez Hilton, synonymous with blogging, is one of the greatest tragedies of the web. If you haven’t been introduced to Perez’s particular brand of snarky, childish, eye-gauging celebutrashing, then you are in the minority. According to Nielsen/NetRatings, 1.7 million viewers are happily clicking on PerezHilton.com everyday to get their daily dose of “he got fat, she got fake boobs, they’re engaged, now married, now divorced, and both in rehab” news.

And guess what?

Your shallow addiction to Britney Spear’s cellulite is making Perez rich — and the most famous blogger on the Internet.

In the last few months I’ve seen Perez spring up on the cover and the glossy pages of Rolling Stone, Wired, Time, and People. With the support of mainstream media, Perez’s Internet fame is mutating into TV shows, appearances on popular talk shows like The View, and spawning a whole Internet cesspool of copycat bloggers hoping to cash in on Perez’s success.

The latest celeb blog making a splash on the web is Ashton Kutcher’s South Park-esque, BlahGirls.com. From the man who brought us such quality programming as Punk’d and Beauty and the Geek, we have yet another Perez-cloned site aimed at teenage girls. This is what really gets my knickers in a twist: I understand the potential monetary gain and amusement derived from celeb gossip blogging, but seriously — do teenage girls need to hear any more about Britney flashing her cooch?

The mainstream popularization of trashy, trite, and slovenly written blogs like PerezHilton.com is giving bloggers a bad name.

For many people who aren’t exploring the intense array of intelligent and thought-provoking blogs on the web, Perez might be the only blog they read. And that is one of the great tragedies of the web.
Maybe I am biased. I’m a blogger. Most of my friends are bloggers. I’ve even got my Internet n00b (unskilled user) mother turned on to the idea of keeping an online journal of her recent foray into digital photography. I think that sharing experience, knowledge, and information through first-hand journaling through blogs is an enriching experience for both the author and reader.

Blogs provide a platform for the writer and the reader to strike up an instantaneous discourse through comments which happen in real time.

It’s personal, immediate, and socks you right in the gut if you aren’t careful. It’s freedom of expression at it’s finest. And true, there is a lot of blogging debris on the web, but if more reputable journalists like Matt Taibbi and Anderson Cooper toss their credibility and craft onto the web, hopefully the mainstream will take note and push the crap aside, even if it is crap made from the finest champagne and fair-trade, organic celery sticks.

Opinions & comments? You know where to put ‘em.

Since this was published in the Province this morning, I’ve already received a stack of unimpressed and angry Perez fans. Bring it I say! Plus, in a few hours I’ll be on a plane to Vegas. Should take the sting off.

Oh and if you live in Vancouver, pick up a copy of The Province, my first article may be worth something some day :p

I’m passionate about film. There are few things I love more than watching a great film. Even if a movie has a crap storyline or the acting is atrocious or the music is mainly comprised of midi horns, I’ll still learn something from it. Maybe it’s what not to do or maybe it’s just stunning visually.

I get a lot of my photo lighting and composition ideas from film. I’m actually just watching “The Assassination of Jesse James” and I have an uncontrollable hankering for tall wheat grass and dark and moody skies. … I’d take Roger Deakins over Mr Pitt any day. Well, maybe every other day :p

I also love learning all about the people who make films and their process. And yes, I watch all the special features. Yup, even the lame ones with just written credits or extended scenes. I do, however, hate watching deleted scenes. The scene was cut for a reason. Just leave it be. If you disagree, let’s argue! Ha! Cuz for me, you can’t beat hot n’ heavy, super geeky discussion about film.

When I was in Vegas for the NME, I ended up at a very swanky party with some of New Media’s top dogs talking/arguing about great directors. It was super fabulous. It went something like this.

What are your top 3 favourite directors?

The 19 year-old shaggy blond intern & film school n00b said, “Michael Bay. Dude. Transformers was seriously awesome!”

The 30 year old film school veteran & top dog retorted, “Michael Bay??? Scorsese. Hands down.”

The intern then shot back, “but dude… that car chase scene in Bad Boys 2 is like the best EVER!”

There was much back and forth discourse, until the fast-talking, smooth, good-looking agent, also a film school grad, gave a detailed and analytical description of his favourite directors, David Fincher, Tony Scott, Ridley Scott & James Cameron. I totally gave him a high five and we talked about how wikkid awesome James Cameron’s 3-D movie “Avatar” will be.

Then I threw in an awkward “they mostly come out at night, mostly” and waited for someone to get the film reference, but no one did, and it hung in the air like a hovering fly or perhaps something larger and more uncomfortable like a pelican.

Thankfully, the quiet intern with the dark framed designer specs broke the silence with, “I know that everyone is gonna say this lately because of Batman, but… Christopher Nolan.” I totally gave him an air high-five, because I wasn’t close enough to high five and I felt like we hadn’t reached that level of comfort yet. Eye-contact had been made, but no “safe zone” had been established.

And then the power mane loving intern pointed at me and said, “Now you! Go!”

1. Tony Scott

   Period. Some people say Tony is hit or miss. I say, he’s a visonary. He takes risks and takes jump cuts to the next level of awesome. Top Gun!? Classic. It was my absolute favourite movie when I was a kid. I even plastered my room walls with F-14 Tomcats. No Goose!!!!! Also, Spy Game (2001) is one of my top 10 movies. You know that one sequence with Brad and Robert Redford on the roof and the helicopter circling around? Yeah! That’s the stuff. The Last Boy Scout (1991), True Romance (1993), Crimson Tide (1995), Enemy of the State (1998), Man on Fire (2004)? Awesome. I love his visual style and how he always highlights sweet tech stuff and loads of gadgets. I know a lot of people didn’t like Deja Vu (2006), but seriously, it was a high tech visual orgasm of awesomeness.

2. Christopher Nolan

   knocks my socks off. His movies are so darn good. Every scene is meticulous and melts into each other. No one else could have captured Memento like Nolan. His awareness of time, structure, and lighting is insane. The Dark Knight (which I haven’t seen yet… forgive me) The Prestige (2006), Batman Begins (2005), Insomnia (2002), Memento (2000) & Following (1998).

Gosh only one more… But there’s Terry Gilliam, Paul Greengrass, Alfonso Cuarón, Sam Mendes, Francis Ford Coppola, Scorsese, Sofia Coppola, Mike Nichols, Oliver Stone, Ron Howard, Michael Mann, Steven Soderbergh, Wes Anderson, Jean-Pierre Jeunet, Pedro Almodovar, David Fincher, Christopher Guest, Gorge Clooney (who is so ridiculously talented)… Ack…

Ok. I need 3 more. I know it’s cheating, but…

3. Ridley Scott

   is Epic. Everything he does is big, bold, and beautiful. Give this man an Oscar, seriously. That fact that he didn’t win best director for Gladiator (2000) was so totally lame. Uh! I don’t think I even have to tell you why I love Ridley. I’ll let the plethora of awesome Ridley Scott films speak for themselves. My personal favs are American Gangster (2007), Black Hawk Down (2001), Blade Runner (1982), Alien (1979) (my favourite of the Alien Quadrilogy) . I can’t watch Hannibal (2001) as it scares my pants off. Also, if you haven’t seen Ridley’s first movie, The Duellists (1977), go rent it and watch the last scene. One shot. It’s intense.

4. Paul Greengrass
   is gritty and real. His four films have all been incredible. Two of them even make it into my top 10: The Bourne Ultimatum (2007) & The Bourne Supremacy (2004). And that’s something. United 93 (2006) & Bloody Sunday (2002) are also stunning. I can’t wait to see what he does next.
5. Steven Spielberg:

   is like a perfect hug. Smothers you in visual perfection and endings that make you just love the world. How could you not say Spielberg.

What are your Top 5 Favourite Directors?

I spent a lot of time in university. A good 6 years to be exact. I took classes in almost every subject, partly because I was interested in so many things, but mostly because I was distracted by figure skating and continually moving all over Canada in search of a ice dance partner who didn’t require serious emotional counseling.

In those 6 years I took 52 classes. 52 classes in linguistics, journalism, writing, philosophy, psychology, neuropsych, physiology, anatomy, acoustics, English lit & grammar, Spanish, Russian, history, art history, music, film studies, and drama. I know! That’s a whole lotta knowledge I’ve crammed into my short term memory. How much actually made it into my long term memory remains to be seen.

Now, obviously I think learning stuff is cool and fun or I wouldn’t have spent so many years doing just that… or maybe I just stayed so long because of the free medical/dental plans, scholarship money, and lack of adult responsibilities…

Every now and again when I hear students whine about super hard final exams, endless assignments, and less than adequate beer at Pub night, I think to myself, “What did I actually learn in university?” Here, I explore this topic in moderate detail.

Things I learnt in university:

1. The formant values of the Swedish vowel “ö”, the Russian vowel “ы”, and the Canadian vowel “aboot”;
2. The inner turmoil of Ivan the terrible
3. 20th Century European History (in general) AKA war sucks;
4. How to review a really long & boring English Lit book by skimming, plagiarizing & half watching the movie whilst watching a super cool action flick in your peripheral vision;
5. Philosophy & the Matrix (in general);
6. The twisted and shady side of chiaroscuro;
7. Modern poetry doesn’t NEED to rhyme;
8. MS Word & Excel is the devil’s handywork;
9. Psychology (in general);
10. Why Tolstoy was such a giant stick in the mud;
11. Nazis and Soviets were all over that propaganda shizz;
12. It’s best to stay far away from the snacks on the Battleship Potemkin;
13. The anatomy and physiology of the ear & mouth/throat area (in ridiculous detail);
14. Infant screams/cries are less than soothing to acoustically analyze than say, Enya;
15. Don’t sit next to the guy that sucks on pens causing them to explode over everything within a 5m radius;
16. You really have to commit yourself to produce a good Patronus charm;
17. It’s inevitable that you will get your worst mark in the class you took because you thought it would be super easy;
18. Tutoring ESL is a great way to meet cute foreign exchange students;
19. There are better ways to spend your time than failing to teach a monkey/chimp/gorilla language
20. Pavlov was a jerk to his dog

Things I didn’t learn in University:

1. How long it takes to boil an egg;
2. How to earn money (in general);
3. Anything about taxes;
4. Tener una conversación inteligente en español es más complicado que ordenar tacos en un restaurante mexicano;
5. How to fix a broken toilet or plumbing (in general);
6. How to navigate around Home Depot;
7. “Food-in-cupboard” maintenance;
8. How to negotiate with cell phone carriers;
9. Stuff about fixing cars or fallen off mufflers;
10. The complexity of screwdriver heads;
11. Where the missing socks go and who steals them;
12. Cooking food that tastes good (in general);
13. How to deal with over demanding, ambiguous, & clueless clients
14. Exactly where the maple syrup comes from. Trees? The ocean? Bee hives? Mounties? Beavers?
15. Anything about grout;
16. How to fix broken electronics;
17. Getting out stains produced by dark beverages, spaghetti sauce, and ink/jiffies/markers, on more often than not, white clothing;
18. Where all the money goes and who steals it;
19. Credit card debt. I swear, no one told me!!
20. Computers, using software, coding, photography, video production, editing, design… basically everything I need to know. Oops.

What did you learn or not learn in university? Also, if you know the practical solution to any of the above please leave a comment. Teach me and I’ll listen… mostly.

PS. Why am I sat in front of an uber kit? Kind of random isn’t it? More sweet photos and a special DIY photo blog from my latest shoot with uber Vancouver drummer, Jesse Godin this week!

Buying electronics should be a pleasurable experience, but somehow it never is. The stores are built like labrynths with things in the most unlikely, illogical places ever. You’re always searching and waiting and listening to somebody crank annoying music to test out a hot sub or a super crappy iPod speaker set. There’s always someone who spoils the fun of your first moments with your new gear.

Now granted, I’m not your average electronics purchaser. I know my shizz. I go into a store knowing exactly what I want. And I want to get it in less than 30 seconds. I don’t want to discuss the features, or talk about extra warrantees, or hang out in the Mac section opening and closing iLife apps waiting for somebody to notice how cool I am. I just wanna get my gear and get it home and turn it on and realize I’ve bought the wrong batteries.

I get so frustrated in electronic stores that I have to actively fantasize about an alternate reality where annoying people are suddenly taken out by mythical demons and large beasts of the underworld…

Help Department:

Me: Do you know where I can find external HDs?
Dude: Uh… that’s not my department. [turns to guy next to him] uhhh, Dan do you know where the HDs are?
Dan: Uhhh… [looks at me] You should really get blue ray.

Suddenly, a crazy-eyed Spartan with a glistening sword leaps out from behind the USB cables. FOR SPARTA!!!!!!!!

Camera Department:

Me: I’d like to get the Canon G9.
Pale, skinny dude with spiky peroxide hair and slight lisp: Oh yeah. Super great deal. Great choice. Yeah, I’ll just go get one from the back for you.
[16.5 minutes pass. I see skinny dude yakking to his buddies in the Xbox section. Steam literally starts to come out of my ears. Camera dude finally notices me standing in front of me.]
Dude: Can I help you?

Just then a gigantic tarantula burrows out of the earth. ATTACK!!!

Mac Department:
mid-20s over primped girl with Gucci purse & high heels looking at MB Air: Do these Macs come with Facebook?

Just then a snaggle-toothed T-Rex leaps out from behind the Mac Pro… CHOMP!!!

I can’t say I’ve always relished in people saying, “Wow Lisa, you are suuuuch a geek.” Which has happened quite a lot in my life. Especially in high school when being smart was stupid and the term “geek” sounded a lot like “you’re super lame but i’ll cheat off in science class”. Back then, even an allegiance to apple computers lead to harrassment and even disiplinary action, like when I was 8 years-old and I got kicked out of computer camp for slagging off PCs and refusing to use one.

But now the world is starting to recognize the power of the geek and the sex appeal of a smart geeky female with a Boba Fett Fetish, a quirky, yet informative twitter feed, and a vast knowledge of transformers, php, 20 sided dice, SLR cameras, BSG, Assassin’s Creed, CS3, FCP, gadgets, Top Gear, xkcd.com, Leo Laporte… aaand if she happens to look like a model with a perky set of… MBPs… that wouldn’t be the worse thing ever. We wouldn’t want to throw the balance of the world completely off kilter. Let’s face it, the majority of power geeks are still men.

And it was one of these geeks, an uber coding geek, that told me that I could not rightly call myself a geek. Seriously? After all the years I spent pining away in the Ivory Tower waiting for geeks to be cool…and the day finally comes and apparently I’m not “geeky” enough to be part of the club.

But… but… i own like 4 Mac computers and the entire series of Buffy aaaand Angel… i watched the entire Aliens Quadrilogy with special features in one go and I have a Harry Potter poster stuck to my bedroom door…i know a plethora of geeky film trivia and I’m an all-star on mininova and i’m connected to every 2.0 social hot spot and I scrobble the latest indie anthems to lastfm like a hot damn aaand I have more drawers and cupboards dedicated to SLR, video, lighting, music gear and bags and cables and plugs and snoots and gobos than clothes aaaaand I know how to use them. Especially the bags. Put stuff in and go. It’s as easy as pie.

The point is I think I’m pretty geeky. And my hypothesis is that everyone is kinda geeky as well. And so I ask you, my lovely blogging audience:

What kind of geek are you?

Define “geek” for us Wikiworld!

The definition of geek has changed considerably over time, and there is no longer a definitive modern meaning. Here are some of the many definitions:

1. A person who is interested in technology, especially computing and new media. Most geeks are adept with computers.

So computering — check, new media — check, tech/gadgets — check, 2.0 shizz — check

2. A person who relates academic subjects to the real world outside of academic studies; for example, using multivariate calculus to determine how they should correctly optimize the dimensions of a pan to bake a cake.

Well as not every geeky girl is good at maths and cooking, i’m gonna have to pass on the supreme geekiness that is combining multivariate calculus and baking. I will however provide something equally geeky in my mastered academic subject of linguistics where I hilariously intertwine syntactic trees with sustainability, Denis Quaid, Nim Chimpsky, and Gervais’ monkey news. Now that’s geeky.

I also developed an equally quirky system for organizing clothing using RGB and HSV which I call: Lisa’s Optimum Visual Outcome Method (LOVOM). Now that’s even geekier!

3. A person with a devotion to something in a way that places him or her outside the mainstream. This could be due to the intensity, depth, or subject of their interest i.e film geek, iPhone geek, web design geek or like MAx Fischer, a multi-genre geek.

4. A performer at a carnival who swallows various live animals and bugs.

Oh wikipedia you are full of so many delicious things… But that would be a definite no to swallowing live bugs.

So with so much sweet sweet geekiness to choose from: What kind of Geek are you?

Written by Label Expert, Lisa D. Bettany, MA, BS, Hi, LOL, LLBeCoolY.

Author of: “Labels Make the Person, Not the Other Way ‘Round”; ”How Am I Not Myself? Today, Tomorrow, and the Following Sunday”;”Define Yourself from the Outside In”.

Part 1: Personal Labels.

Personal labels are important. They tell people who you are, what you do, your passions, and your internal dialogue. Labels allow people sum up your entire personality and worth in a few simple words. Labels aid in the categorization of individuals into basic social groups. And social groups connect you to the world, like internet sharing.

Take this for an example: One day you’re a disconnected nobody weighed down by all your freakish individualisms and the next day you’re piggy-backing off of your neighbour’s really fast internet connection uploading the last six seasons of “24” like a hot damn. Now you’ve got it. Yes, sharing and labels go hand in hand. Like uploading movies and criminals.

Labels are belonging. And who doesn’t want to belong?
I know I do.

Concluding thoughts: Labels save people the valuable time and effort in getting to know you. And time is money. And money is important. And so I circumvent back to the beginning “labels are important”.

Part 2: Self-discovery through personal labels

Coming up with a label is an important step in your personal self-discovery.

Throughout my young life, I have struggled with personal labels. In high school I was smart and I played the flute in band. People liked the labels “nerd” or “geek”, I liked the label “gifted”. In my university years, family members and government organizations used the “student” label a lot. And I liked that since I got free money, medical coverage, and loving support. The “student” label did all the things a good label should do. It was very general and made people think that I was doing something meaningful with my life. And what is more meaningful than Russian cinema? Absolutely nothing.

The downside to the “student” label is that it has an approximate shelf-life of about 4 years or about $20,000. After that, no one will be impressed with that label. At this point, you may want to slap on another descriptor label like “grad” to your “student” label. “Grad student”. Has a nice ring to it doesn’t it? It certainly does. “Grad student” will extend your “student” shelf-life another two years, but be careful where you use it. In the company of grown-up working folks with “real” jobs, “real world” experience, and “real” problems, the “grad student” label may incur a whole lot of nasty questions. If you’re like me, you probably want to avoid those zingers. Ouch. The best way to deal with the working proletariat is to put them in their place. Try the superior labels such as, “scholar” or “academic” in the same sentence as “saving the world” or “bettering our society” and watch the zing deflect. How do like that? That’s what I thought.

After you are finished “saving the world” for a few more years you may feel a great loss as you say good-bye to the “student” label. If you are like me, you may have totally burnt out from writing your thesis in a month and come to the painful realization that your contribution in the betterment of the world will probably end up in the recycling bin (which is better than the garbage because at least you are saving trees and trees help us breathe = saving the world. So it all works out. Right?)

Concluding thoughts: Before you embark on a new chapter in your life it is important to redefine yourself.

You are your label and when you lose your label you are nothing but an individual. And that idea sickens me.

Coming soon: Part 3: How to redefine your personal identity through Facebook.