His most notable track, Alice, a composition of sounds from the Disney film Alice In Wonderland, was received with much success gaining over 4 million views on YouTube as of December 2009. Pogo has since produced tracks from films like Mary Poppins, Harry Potter, The Sword In The Stone, Hook, and Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory.

From an interview with Brain Question Mark, “Because I compose my tracks using sounds that I record from various sources, it’s very rare that I have something in mind to begin with. This is why it’s critical to find sounds that I love individually. I don’t think it’s sufficient to just find sounds that I deem usable, like a single note, or a distinct chord. They have to be sounds that I really like and find inspiring. I think that’s what sampling is all about – hearing something you love, no matter how short, and forming it into something bigger, more inspiring and more enjoyable. In the case of sampling from a single film, it’s about capturing what I love about that film as well.

My ultimate rule of thumb in any field of work is this: If you can’t love it, no one else will. From concept to completion, you have to listen very carefully to your own tastes. You are your most important critic, listener and viewer.”

Guess what, they’re wrong!

In tough times, who survives? The survivors are the entrepreneurs who think outside of the box. It’s the people willing to change, grow and evolve with the demand of the market. It’s the people who USED their backgrounds in sculpture, painting, storytelling, theater and dance to think in a non-linear way, to recreate the wheel, to innovate, to take risks. It is the people who jumped ship from their 9-5 job to start their own company in what they love, using their passion, motivation, curiosity and talents to drive their success. These talents are numerous, and diverse, but they come from a expansive background using each of our “multiple intelligences“.

How many people do you know who say, “I don’t know what I love, and I honestly don’t know what I’m good at!” I have fallen prey to the same comments, the same fears, but if we don’t help the next generation by emulating the important of personal growth; of patience to do and practice what you love; of determination to remain focused on your dream; of pride to accomplish the smallest of tasks; we lose our place as role models.

Take a moment to see Sir Kent tackle this very same issue and see if you can say in authenticity and truth, “I am doing what I love”.

Is this not what every parent dreams for their child?

Profession: Expert trampoline jumper

Let me give you an example how this can go down. My furry feline named Maestro came into my life back in 2002 when I moved into a large brownstone in Minneapolis. I lived on the first floor, behind a dive bar named Liquor Lyles, perfectly situated for me to catch my evening soap operas when drunk couples started their daily screaming matches when stumbling out the bar’s heavy wooden back entrance. These were my absolute favorite nights, typically enjoyed with my two cats sitting idly on the windowsill, while I enjoyed a glass of my body relaxed on a chair with my feet out the window. But when the evenings were dull, void of neighborhood debauchery, my two cats and I would succumb to house chores, carrying the laundry to the basement where all three brownstones joined in a gigantic, cavernous spaced filled with a labyrinth of storage units, apartments and laundry services. Albeit rather dark and uninviting, it had its charms, such as the random one armed blue teddy bear that sat precariously on the largest of the washing machines during my entire residency. I say precariously, because it’s last appendage was lodged into the crease of the lid, which at anytime could be opened, setting our friend free. Strangely enough, this never happened.

What did happen, however, is my two cats disappeared one evening into the dark abyss, only to be found 20 minutes later scratching and sniffing a large blue door. Sticking my ear to the uneven wood, I suddenly heard the pathetic scream of a cat. Noticing the door was either locked, or jammed, I used wide shoulders to ram by body against the door, only to find that I had officially broken into the…door storage unit. Evidently, one can never have enough replacement doors, leaning by the dozens against the interior wall. The dark gray and black stripped cat was eventually found slithering between the slabs, thoroughly malnourished, but no worse for wear. With his melancholic and frequent mews, I named him Maestro, and brought him into the fold.

Over the years, he was later renamed “a bag of bones” for his rather astonishing ability to lay on a surface and literally hide his muscular structure with his skin. Maestro and I eventually became close friends, so close, that I would wake up to his body on my chest, his nose to my nose. Fortunately, his kibbles breath was tame, but his cold nose was a startling morning alarm. Sweet, adoring and animated, I love him, but our time together was short. The first scare came when he jumped out of our second story window from our neighbor’s dog running into our apartment and chasing him out of the only open exit. The second time, he took a flying leap out the bathroom window, when we shut it on him unknowingly closed as he was sleeping on the sill. A little freaked out on both occasions, he lived for over a year before his entire body began to shut down.

Looking back I’m fairly confident it was due to both of these events, and to the mere fact that I was too ignorant and naive to even consider bringing him into the vet. In my early 20’s I assumed that if a cat returned home after such a trauma, they were merely cashing in on one of their 9 lives, but never did it dawn on me that I actually needed to do something other than give him ample amount of love.

This same logic haunts me with a family member today, we’ll call Tiffany. Having received news that Tiffany has zero money to get through December, I’m sitting here feeling rather…low, and somehow responsible. Unlike Maestro, however, Tiffany’s situation was brought upon herself from a multitude of poor choices spewed forth from both fear and self-righteousness. The behaviors were self-evident, masked by smiles and self assurances that all would be well. Today, we now know that they are far from well.

Should I have heard her cries sooner, potentially helping her avoid the experience she’s about to endure? I don’t know. I really don’t, because there is nothing more difficult than admitting that someone cannot take care of themselves: that they are emotionally and psychologically incapable of handling life’s roller coaster ride. Maybe if our relationship was different, I could be have been more honest with myself. I could have seen the situation more objectively, clear of rose colored glasses.

Tonight, I wonder if this isn’t a Maestro situation all over again, and I feel horrible knowing that maybe, just maybe, I could have helped her earlier.

A necessary chapter in life’s manual: when to help someone.

My excuses are numerous. Just ask me, and I guarantee I’ll come up with a few dozen for you to choose from:

• My cat ate my computer cord
• I’m too busy drinking
• What haven’t I said here that isn’t plastered on Facebook, Twitter, Catavino, Wineblogger, The European Wine Bloggers Conference, or Flickr?
• Seriously? Another blog post for you to read? How many do you people need?!

But that’s the point of a blog, isn’t it? Self expression. The magical “I” word. The word that either bores people to death or makes them fall in love with you. I can’t promise I’ll post here often (issues with commitment), but I will do my best to check weekly (false promises sprinkled with issues of commitment), and if you’re lucky, I’ll even go so far as to write daily (false promises sprinkled with issues of commitment and layered in a date with therapist).

To be clear, Ryan has challenged me to write about our experiences as expats. The stories, despite not only being numerous, delicately balance between being gut wrenchingly hilarious and heartwrenchingly (staking claim on this new word) sad. Culturally, emotionally and otherwise, they are truly wonderful stories that should be told.

Let’s see what I come up with.

Cameron, her 5 year old brother, is still confused after stating, “Sister, why did you eat butterflies?”

I had first heard of his work a few months ago on a podcast, and for the life of me, I have no idea which podcast, but the main crux if the argument was essentially those who delayed satisfaction are said to be more successful, happier and more fulfilled.

In this particular Ted Talk, he fleshes out his theory by saying there are generally, 3 types of people:

1. Present Oriented: Individuals who are only concerned with the moment and answer the question “what can I experience now?”
2. Past Focused: Decisions are based on what they’ve experience prior to this moment – “based on past experiences, what will I choose now?”
3. Future Focused: Decisions are based on cost benefit analysis of the future – “If I choose X now, what will be the repercussions or consequences of my choice?”

And within these 3 types of people, each tends to focus on either extreme of this time continuum:

1. Past Positive
2. Past Negative
3. Present Hedonism
4. Present Fatalism
5. Future Life-Goal Oriented
6. Future Transcendental (Life After Death)

Optimally, he theorizes that your goal is to remain mentally flexible so that at any one time you can temporarily shift your time perspective to meet the demands of that moment. For example, if you’re about to eat a tuna fish sandwich in Spain, and from past experience living in the Midwest you remember that most tuna fish sandwiches have mayo in it. And because you’re allergic to eggs, you stop, open the sandwich and look. Odd, you don’t see mayo. Staying in the present moment, you ask the woman behind the counter if there are any eggs or mayo in the sandwich. She says no, and now your mind shifts to future thinking. If she’s wrong you could end up in the hospital, but as you remember that most sandwiches in Spain do not have a sauce other than olive oil and tomato, the chances of there being egg in the sandwich is slim. Therefore, your choice, assessing all three time perspectives, is to happily take a risk and eat the sandwich.

Philip believes that the ideal time perspective is:

• High Past Positive - provides you the roots to not only remain grounded, but to connect with your identity and family
• Moderately High Future – allows you to dream, imagine and aim for new challenges
• Moderate Present Hedonism - gives you the raw energy to explore what’s around you now

Where he emphasizes that you not go is into High Fatalism (believing that you have no control over your actions), Negative Past (where everything behind you is frightening and scary) or Transcendental Future (where you’re waiting for some reward at the end of your existence, making this life “less than” your next one). Personally, I think his framework for tackling the psychological issues as to how we relate to ourselves and others is not only fascinating but very poignant, but I’m curious what you think.

Other sites to check out include: the social implications of understanding time perspective (www.mappingthinking.com) and the other deals with the commercial implications (www.gpsforthemind.com)

Check out his video here:

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• Philip Zimbardo on Time and Temptation (brainandlearning.blogspot.com)

These statements were taken from a book called “Disorder in the Court“, and are things people actually said in court, word for word, taken down and now published by court reporters that had the torment of staying calm while these exchanges were actually taking place. Sent to me by a friend, which I’m sure had gone through a long line of email forwards, I couldn’t resist!

ATTORNEY: What was the first thing your husband said to you that morning?
WITNESS: He said, ‘Where am I, Cathy?’
ATTORNEY: And why did that upset you?
WITNESS: My name is Susan!
___________________________________________

ATTORNEY: What gear were you in at the moment of the impact?
WITNESS: Gucci sweats and Reeboks.
_____________________

ATTORNEY: Are you sexually active?
WITNESS: No, I just lie there.
___________________________________________

ATTORNEY: This myasthenia gravis, does it affect your memory at all?
WITNESS: Yes.
ATTORNEY: And in what ways does it affect your memory?
WITNESS: I forget.
ATTORNEY: You forget? Can you give us an example of something you forgot?
__________________________________________

ATTORNEY: Do you know if your daughter has ever been involved in voodoo?
WITNESS: We both do.
ATTORNEY: Voodoo?
WITNESS: We do.
ATTORNEY: You do?
WITNESS: Yes, voodoo.
__________________________________________

ATTORNEY: Now doctor, isn’t it true that when a person dies in his sleep, he doesn’t know about it until the next morning?
WITNESS: Did you actually pass the bar exam?
____________________________________

ATTORNEY: The youngest son, the twenty-year-old, how old is he?
WITNESS: He’s twenty, much like your IQ.
_________________________________________

ATTORNEY: Were you present when your picture was taken?
WITNESS: Are you shitting me?
_________________________________________

ATTORNEY: So the date of conception (of the baby) was August 8th?
WITNESS: Yes.
ATTORNEY: And what were you doing at that time?
WITNESS: getting laid
___________________________________________

ATTORNEY: She had three children, right?
WITNESS: Yes.
ATTORNEY: How many were boys?
WITNESS: None.
ATTORNEY: Were there any girls?
WITNESS: Your Honor, I think I need a different attorney. Can I get a new attorney?
___________________________________________

ATTORNEY: How was your first marriage terminated?
WITNESS: By death.
ATTORNEY: And by whose death was it terminated?
WITNESS: Take a guess.
____________________________________________

ATTORNEY: Can you describe the individual?
WITNESS: He was about medium height and had a beard.
ATTORNEY: Was this a male or a female?
WITNESS: Unless the Circus was in town, I’m going with male.
____________________________________

ATTORNEY: Is your appearance here this morning pursuant to a deposition notice which I sent to your attorney?
WITNESS: No, this is how I dress when I go to work.
______________________________________

ATTORNEY: Doctor, how many of your autopsies have you performed on dead people?
WITNESS : All of them.. The live ones put up too much of a fight.
________________________________________

ATTORNEY: ALL your responses MUST be oral, OK? What school did you go to?
WITNESS: Oral.
_________________________________________

ATTORNEY: Do you recall the time that you examined the body?
WITNESS: The autopsy started around 8:30 p.m.
ATTORNEY: And Mr. Denton was dead at the time?
WITNESS: If not, he was by the time I finished.
___________________________________________

ATTORNEY: Are you qualified to give a urine sample?
WITNESS: Are you qualified to ask that question?
_____________________________________

And the best for last:

ATTORNEY: Doctor, before you performed the autopsy, did you check for a pulse?
WITNESS: No.
ATTORNEY: Did you check for blood pressure?
WITNESS: No.
ATTORNEY: Did you check for breathing?
WITNESS: No.
ATTORNEY: So, then it is possible that the patient was alive when you began the autopsy?
WITNESS: No.
ATTORNEY: How can you be so sure, Doctor?
WITNESS: Because his brain was sitting on my desk in a jar.
ATTORNEY: I see, but could the patient have still been alive, nevertheless?
WITNESS: Yes, it is possible that he could have been alive and practicing law..

When I lived in New Mexico in 1995, I remember taking a long drive through the desert from Albuquerque to Santa Fe, listening to my warn out Cranberries tape on full blast. Coming upon the southern tip of the city, red dirt blanketing the freeway, I saw an art gallery just off to my right with a big wooden door sheltering it from the afternoon light. Curiosity piqued, I quickly exited, dust covering the entire back end of my black Subaru, and pulled into the makeshift driveway.

Inside, the gallery was pristine with gleaming white plaster walls and rustic wooden beams running across the ceiling, giving it both a professional yet cozy feeling. And as I walked across the creaky wooden floor, unnoticed by an attendant, I spotted a flaming red corner of a canvas propped against the back wall. The painting, upon closer inspection, was not only gigantic, but absolutely breathtaking. 3 emaciated looking American Indians sat exhausted, head held low, on equally pathetic looking horses. Their legs and arms were twice the size of their bony bodies, painted in a thick black oil texture. But the painting itself conveyed more than an overwhelming heaviness or exhaustion, because the colors behind the men on horse were so vibrant and alive with various shades of red, orange, yellow and purple that you felt an urge to block the sun from your eyes. The colors conveyed hope, maybe a voyage that would end in something so powerful and peaceful that the current state of pain would completely cease to exist.

I stood in front of that painting for what felt like hours, though most likely, only moments had passed. To date, I have no idea who the artist was, as my 19 year old self was too timid to ask the very professional looking attendant, but the painting has been forever etched in my mind.

The painting you see above was taken along the coast in Collioure in Southern France. There was large sign that stated with perfect clarity, “No Photos”, but I couldn’t help myself. Walking innocently infront of the canves, with my tiny little Cannon hid under jacked, drapped over my crossed arms, I snapped in rapid speed sans flash just when the perfect moment arose.  It’s not the perfect picture, but I think it captures exactly how color alone can instantanously effect the world around it.

• During my Sophomore year of high school, out of teenage distress I planned a move to Ireland. And though my plan was never fully carried out, you still supported me
• When I moved to Colorado on the day of my high school graduation with no money, job or plan, you supported me
• When I swore that I would be an internationally famed painter, with only a half dozen canvases half completed in my apartment, you supported me
• When I decided to major in paranormal psychology, determined to prove the existence of the sixth sense, you supported me
• When completing my Masters, I declared my passion to become an educational speaker on Multi-Intelligence Learning, and despite my total and complete fear of public speaking, you supported me
• When I chose to celebrate my marriage by traveling across Portugal for three weeks visiting wineries, instead of having a traditional ceremony, you supported me
• When I changed my last name, our family name, to Opaz – a name only Ryan and I related to – you supported me
• When I packed up and moved to Spain without a job, knowledge of the language, money or contacts, you supported me
• When I shared my new vocation as a wine blogger, without any solid understanding as to where my financial resources would come from, you supported me

We all have our faults, our major shortcomings, and despite the moments when we’ve seen life from two different lenses, you’ve always supported me. Thank you for believing in me and for continually sharing your pride in who I am as a person.

Happy Father’s Day Dad!