VHS to DVD

You should have been there.

When my brother blistered me with the vision of film making, summer of 1995, when I was barely ten years of age, and as he was just thirteen, and then, as we labored through our first Power Rangers movie, just months later (February of 1996), and as we filmed shorts from left to right, skits of every kind, of many stuff animals, many neighbors, many impromptu scripts, many off-the-wall ideas, and, moreover, even past the extinction to that first camcorder in 1997, to the birth of new ones (new cams), during the first three years to this decade), which led to the hyper-extended collection of videos (reaching beyond the height of fifty hours), in all of this (I say all of this to say), comes the threat of time.







I am back at the green lawns to memory lane.



I am on a journey for preservation, not simply for transferring VHS (video tapes, from VCRs), but, moreover, on the desire for style in doing so, in restoring the quality in those childhood films before the transfer. I am looking for the best quality in the DVD recorder. I am also looking for a better VCR. I am also without any money. If I had money then I could pay professionals to do it at about twenty dollars per hour. Which goes well beyond fifty hours of footage. So, you do the math. Two times five is ten. Add the two zeros. And is that two thousand dollars? It might be. I am not that bright with math. But I do have a heart for documentaries. I also have a heart for film portfolios.








Yesterday, I was hit by a car.




I should include the details. But for now, I will simply sing my song for expansion. I did not die yesterday for a reason (Jesus).


On behalf of Green Oatmeal, I will continue to reach out to new depths of effectiveness. In other words, on behalf of inspiring others into living better, greener, with oatmeal, I will simply strive for the tools of mass media.




Obviously, to the general public, my plans are quite irrelevant or unpractical at this moment. Instead of whining, instead of fleeing for some defense, I will continue to strive for my calling for oatmeal (in which it stands, or for what it stands for, not to be confused with the pledge of allegiance), and I will do so at any cost. For, I may have been hit by a car, but I was not hit (not yet), by fate itself.





Joey Arnold
Portland, OR