Friday, April 30, 2010
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Friday, April 23, 2010
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Monday, April 19, 2010
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Friday, April 16, 2010
Thursday, April 15, 2010
OMG
Will Campbell got a VIMEO!!!!! Not only did he get a Vimeo account he also got in on Plus! say good bye to poorer quality edits!!!!!!!
http://www.vimeo.com/user3576423
Ragged Fun Time from Will Campbell on Vimeo.
Made by Ryan Finder
http://www.vimeo.com/user3576423
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
JOVON VEST
Jovon Vest. this kid is seriously awesome to watch skate and really funny. straight from CAMP WOODWARD on fuel tv. ENJOY.
Evans thingy
it's upsetting that snowboarding has been pushed to the point where you are defined as a rider by what companies you own, who you're giving your money to. Yes, it matters from an economic standpoint, which companies you support, because then the business of snowboarding is fed.
it is upsetting because snowboarding is not a business. it isn't a marketplace, or a fashion show, or a lottery. It isn't a place where you can push your way to the top and snatch the best deal to make big bucks off of some popular gear or magazine ad.
it's an activity. It is the act of getting from the top of something, to the bottom of something, with the help of gravity, your snowboard, and your body. You land at the top of a mountain. Before you lie bumps, turns, trees, rocks, rails, drops, snow guns, skiers, banks, walls, stairs, ledges, buildings, rivers, bushes, stumps, barrels, fences, poles sticking out of the ground, dirt patches, puddles, slush, piles of fluffy snow, packed corduroy, bulletproof ice, chunky cookies, drop in ramps, jumps, landings, and a chairlift waiting at the bottom to take you back up so you can find another way through the mess.
what defines you, and what you do, is how you navigate the path in front of you; how you ride up that bank towards the tree and what you do to jump up and tap the tree or spin around on your tail, or whatever.
What type of personality do you have? do you pay attention to the details, assessing each obstacle in front of you closely and ripping through tentatively, putting perfect pressure on your heel and toe edges to make sure you get down just as you planned? Or do you say "that line looks sick with that big slash there" and just send it, putting your faith in your own skill with your body and your board in order to find your way through whatever ends up in front of you beyond that fucken' sweet pow slash.
your board has some cool designs on it, too bad your buds can't see them when you're spinning around on that handrail. They'll give you props on the 270 switch-up that you did, not on the way your pants fit perfectly snug on your legs, or how big your tall tee is.
what company do you support? the one that allows you to look a certain way? the one that takes your money and gives your something other than what you need to go snowboarding, such as a style, a logo, or a public statement on what kind of person you are when you're not snowboarding. and what do they do with your money? they make more product, which is good, but what has more influence than that product in the business of snowboarding are the images that it is associated with, not the things that some kid is gonna do with it. The gimmicks that made the company's advertisements and the company's mission statement are the things that you're paying for, and the very things that are diluting snowboarding.
snowboarding has been diluted all the way to the core of its recently coined mission statement: to have fun. fun is not the mission of snowboarding, it is the byproduct, or it is one byproduct along with style, reputation, friends, achievement, fitness, and injuries. Come to think of it, the only one of those byproducts that hasn't been used in a marketing campaign is fitness. It makes perfect sense, doesn't it? Everyone knows snowboarders don't care about how strong they are, otherwise people might think they're like wrestlers, or football players...right?
the merriam-webster dictionary (yeah...i pulled the book out) defines "sport" as "a source of diversion: recreation". often times snowboarders will say that it is not a sport in an attempt to separate themselves from the competitive and arrogant jocks who they experienced in high school. How hypocritical they may feel, when they hike a rail to land new tricks, or spend hours getting frustrated over a maneuver that, in the end, will gain them nothing more than what a trophy gains for a champion wrestler: bragging rights. Now some of you may be saying, "what about a sense of personal accomplishment?" and with good cause, because the feeling that one experiences after landing a new trick or a clean run is uplifting, like getting your first blow-job. But what happens next, for far too many, is what ruins the whole thing: the next day, talking to their buds, or some kids they don't even know, "hey dude, yesterday, was doin' back tail sameway on that huge rail over there, its such an easy trick once you get it. I'm trying it switch, next."
it's called claiming, and it's the root of all corruption in snowboarding. There are few snowboarders today who have never done it, myself included. Its hard not to, really. because the style you fit into, the companies you support, the tricks you've done, they all add up to who you want people to think you are on your snowboard, whatever you're claiming to be.
what matters is who you are when you step off your board and step into the world. if you aren't claiming anything there, then what's to claim? Thats the real world. thats the place where you have to feed yourself, where youll eventually have to feed babies, pay mortgages, buy gas, get a fucking job.
are the "real" snowboarders just the ones who don't leave the claims on the mountains? the ones who walk down the street and are seen as "a snowboarder" because they have that companies sweatshirt on or tell all their friends about the cool tricks they did that weekend? What are you claiming? What are your claims making you?
if you're gonna devote your life to snowboarding, then you're not claiming anything, because it takes more than an image or bragging rights to create love, which is what devotion requires. But if you're not, and you'll give up when you graduate or realize that you'll never go pro, then you know what...you can do whatever you want. 'cause you'll probably end up giving your money to the guys who are just smarter than the rest of us, creating the gimmicks that they know we'll all buy into, allowing them to keep snowboarding, and keep living.
moral of the story? Stop reading my bullshit philosophy and go snowboarding.
it is upsetting because snowboarding is not a business. it isn't a marketplace, or a fashion show, or a lottery. It isn't a place where you can push your way to the top and snatch the best deal to make big bucks off of some popular gear or magazine ad.
it's an activity. It is the act of getting from the top of something, to the bottom of something, with the help of gravity, your snowboard, and your body. You land at the top of a mountain. Before you lie bumps, turns, trees, rocks, rails, drops, snow guns, skiers, banks, walls, stairs, ledges, buildings, rivers, bushes, stumps, barrels, fences, poles sticking out of the ground, dirt patches, puddles, slush, piles of fluffy snow, packed corduroy, bulletproof ice, chunky cookies, drop in ramps, jumps, landings, and a chairlift waiting at the bottom to take you back up so you can find another way through the mess.
what defines you, and what you do, is how you navigate the path in front of you; how you ride up that bank towards the tree and what you do to jump up and tap the tree or spin around on your tail, or whatever.
What type of personality do you have? do you pay attention to the details, assessing each obstacle in front of you closely and ripping through tentatively, putting perfect pressure on your heel and toe edges to make sure you get down just as you planned? Or do you say "that line looks sick with that big slash there" and just send it, putting your faith in your own skill with your body and your board in order to find your way through whatever ends up in front of you beyond that fucken' sweet pow slash.
your board has some cool designs on it, too bad your buds can't see them when you're spinning around on that handrail. They'll give you props on the 270 switch-up that you did, not on the way your pants fit perfectly snug on your legs, or how big your tall tee is.
what company do you support? the one that allows you to look a certain way? the one that takes your money and gives your something other than what you need to go snowboarding, such as a style, a logo, or a public statement on what kind of person you are when you're not snowboarding. and what do they do with your money? they make more product, which is good, but what has more influence than that product in the business of snowboarding are the images that it is associated with, not the things that some kid is gonna do with it. The gimmicks that made the company's advertisements and the company's mission statement are the things that you're paying for, and the very things that are diluting snowboarding.
snowboarding has been diluted all the way to the core of its recently coined mission statement: to have fun. fun is not the mission of snowboarding, it is the byproduct, or it is one byproduct along with style, reputation, friends, achievement, fitness, and injuries. Come to think of it, the only one of those byproducts that hasn't been used in a marketing campaign is fitness. It makes perfect sense, doesn't it? Everyone knows snowboarders don't care about how strong they are, otherwise people might think they're like wrestlers, or football players...right?
the merriam-webster dictionary (yeah...i pulled the book out) defines "sport" as "a source of diversion: recreation". often times snowboarders will say that it is not a sport in an attempt to separate themselves from the competitive and arrogant jocks who they experienced in high school. How hypocritical they may feel, when they hike a rail to land new tricks, or spend hours getting frustrated over a maneuver that, in the end, will gain them nothing more than what a trophy gains for a champion wrestler: bragging rights. Now some of you may be saying, "what about a sense of personal accomplishment?" and with good cause, because the feeling that one experiences after landing a new trick or a clean run is uplifting, like getting your first blow-job. But what happens next, for far too many, is what ruins the whole thing: the next day, talking to their buds, or some kids they don't even know, "hey dude, yesterday, was doin' back tail sameway on that huge rail over there, its such an easy trick once you get it. I'm trying it switch, next."
it's called claiming, and it's the root of all corruption in snowboarding. There are few snowboarders today who have never done it, myself included. Its hard not to, really. because the style you fit into, the companies you support, the tricks you've done, they all add up to who you want people to think you are on your snowboard, whatever you're claiming to be.
what matters is who you are when you step off your board and step into the world. if you aren't claiming anything there, then what's to claim? Thats the real world. thats the place where you have to feed yourself, where youll eventually have to feed babies, pay mortgages, buy gas, get a fucking job.
are the "real" snowboarders just the ones who don't leave the claims on the mountains? the ones who walk down the street and are seen as "a snowboarder" because they have that companies sweatshirt on or tell all their friends about the cool tricks they did that weekend? What are you claiming? What are your claims making you?
if you're gonna devote your life to snowboarding, then you're not claiming anything, because it takes more than an image or bragging rights to create love, which is what devotion requires. But if you're not, and you'll give up when you graduate or realize that you'll never go pro, then you know what...you can do whatever you want. 'cause you'll probably end up giving your money to the guys who are just smarter than the rest of us, creating the gimmicks that they know we'll all buy into, allowing them to keep snowboarding, and keep living.
moral of the story? Stop reading my bullshit philosophy and go snowboarding.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Mr. McKinnon
Last Thursday, (April Fools Day), I went riding with Aaron Engelhardt for the first time ever just freeriding and not coaching. We met up with some of Aaron's friends and were having a sick day at Loon. It was 65 degrees, sunny and we were wearing t-shirts and shades, just rippin and riding park. Those guys were pushing me pretty hard and you know me, I like to represent, so I was throwing down some. I was getting boardslide, 270-out off this flat-up rail to front lip to fakie on the down rail that followed. Then there was this quarter pipe that shot you up onto a bigger quarter pipe after that. (this was part of the "Last Call" set up). The quarters were sick because it was like a quarter to wall ride and you could really boost. So I landed the flat-up to down bar combo solid and was headed for the quarter going switch at speed. I didn't want to hit the quarter switch (weak, I know), so I just tried to butter around to forward. The snow was heavy, mashed potatoes and grabbed my toe edge as I spun around. I hit the ground so fast I had no idea wtf happened. I got up and knew I got slammed. The wind was knocked out of me and I'd hit my head too, so I'm checking myself out on my way down to the gondola.
My guts hurt like I got punched real hard, but my head felt OK and I just wanted to keep riding. No one saw my fall. Aaron and his bro's were just giving me props for the boarslide 270. I was like yeah thanks and kept riding for the rest of the day.
My slam didn't bother me until we were on the way home. I couldn't get comfortable no matter how I sat in the car. I knew I was hurt. Aaron dropped me off at Ski Fanatics where my truck was and I went in for a sandwich because I hadn't eaten since toast and was starving. I could barely get the sandwich down regardless of my hunger. I was naucious and belching and felt worse than I ever had in my life. Kids were walking by my table looking at me and I could tell I looked like shit. At this point all I wanted to do was get home and asess the damage. The drive was agonizing at this point and getting my boots off made me scream. I went upstairs to my room to lay down, but before I did I went to the bathroom to pee: pure blood. Holy shit is what I was thinking and I called my wife to come check me out. She said I looked bad and called the ambulance. Whoooo-hooooo!!!!
They took me to Speare in Plymouth and gave me a cat scan. Nobody had to tell me I was in trouble after the scan...it was written all over their faces. Speare told me I lacerated my kidney and would def need surgery. Luckily they passed me on to Dartmouth Hitchcock to put me in more qualified hands. So I got another ride in the "weee-ooo-weee-ooo bus" and was hooked up to an IV and monitors. This time I got some pain meds and got to chill a little bit. (This whole time I'm thinking they're gonna cut me open and take out my kidney so the drugs were good at this point).
Dartmouth-Hitchcock is a teaching hospital and one of the best in the country, so I hear, (I've never been hospitalized before this). The ambulance had alerted Dartmouth of my condition and my arrival so when
I got throught the emergency doors there were at least a dozen nurses, doctors and students taking over and checking me out. It was just like Grey's Anatomy or maybe that was the drugs, but it felt like it. I knew I was in good hands and the doctors were all young and confident and making me feel better. They see this stuff all the time and I was happy to be there.
Dartmouth was not as concerned with me because my urine had become clear again, so they decided to give it some time. I spent two days in the trauma unit with an IV in each arm, oxygen tubes up my nose and a catheter up my schlong. I was still in pain but the doc's gave me a magic button to push that gave me morphine when I wanted it. So I'm sure I was a sight to be seen.
Nurses drew my blood four times a day to monitor my hemagloben count. My arm was so peppered with injection marks that I looked like a junkie. I wondered if they had started using the old holes to take the blood because after a while I couldn't feel the needle.
I eventually got moved from the trauma unit to a real room and had some visitors. Things were'nt getting any worse but not getting any better either. Finally on Saturday night the doc's came in and told me that my blood count was dropping and they wanted to operate. This was the last thing I wanted, but at this point I was ready to move in the direction of progress and welcomed the proceedure.
So here I am fixin to go into surgery and who should walk in my door but my Assitant Coach, Justin Anderson! I was so happy to see him! We couldn't talk long because they were taking me right away. He walked along side my wheelchair as the orderly pushed me down the hallway to the OR. He was the man to come unannounced like that. It took my mind of the surgery and I was as relaxed as I could be after seeing him. We said goodbye right at the operating room doors.
Inside the OR was actually pretty cool. The docs were my age and hip like you might imagine. I felt totally comfortable with them and they were all smiles and cool and asked me what kind of music I liked. I forget what I told them but I think they plugged in some altenative. The proceedure they did involved only one incision into my femoral arterey in my groin. They filled me with dye and used a special camera to see inside my body as they lead a tube up the arterey into my kidney. The tube's end held a coil that mechanically seamed the laceration in my kidney back together. I didn't feel a thing. The last thing I remember was the chick-doc saying "this is going to feel a little warm when it goes in". I woke up to these huge HD screens to my left showing in detail my insides and the coil and plug they used in the repair. I was like "wow-cool man" (still out of it from the drugs). I asked them if we done or just beginning, and they said they'd been working for 2 1/2 hours and were all done and it was a success. They were all smiling and I felt really happy.
I stayed at Dartmouth for two more days and was released this past Monday. Although I was still real messed up I wanted out of there bad. Some of the nurses were cute and cool and some were ogars and could give a crap about their job. Either way I was done peeing in a bag and tubes trailing off every part of my body. My Dad had come up the night before and stayed with me in my room. He was a huge help and took me home to Thornton.
That first night was rough without the morphine and I subsiquently went though some major withdrawl, sweating out my bed and wanting to die. I managed to get some rest in the wee hours of the morning having terrible, profound nightmares about life and the choices we make. It was "fight or flight" and I think my body went into shock and shut down so I could finally rest. I woke up soaking in my own sweat with the visions of my nightmares still resonating in my head. It was like I made it through to the other side. I was OK.
I stayed that one night at my house in Thornton, but have since traveled up to New Brunswick, Canada to stay with my Dad to recover. The nights have been rough, but get better each day. Today I feel like a million bucks because I can sit without pain and move around pretty well. Despite my ravanous appetite I have to eat small portions because my belly is all bloated with fulid and I have a lot of pressure on my gut.
All this being said, I have quite a fresh perspective on life now. I could have bought the farm and just feeling comfortable sitting feels like a gift from god. I realize all the choices that I've declined to make to be a better person have been squandered until now. Although I may deviate slighly from my divine plan that I have in my head today about being the best Jamie McKinnon I can be, I now am ready to face the world head-on with eyes wide open and putting my best foot forward every day. It's amazing what we take for granted. We all base our lives on what we're conditioned to in our day-to-day, wanting more and denying ourselves the core beauty in life for a life we can hide behind. At least this has been my experience. I wish you all the best in YOUR lives and I really appreciate you taking the time to read this testamony of mine, I believe it's helping me process the whole experience.
Blessed be my wife, Laura, my two sons, Emmett and Rhys and my family. Thanks to all that called and visited and cared...without people loving you there is no reason to go on so please keep on loving.
Peace and take care,
-jamie
My guts hurt like I got punched real hard, but my head felt OK and I just wanted to keep riding. No one saw my fall. Aaron and his bro's were just giving me props for the boarslide 270. I was like yeah thanks and kept riding for the rest of the day.
My slam didn't bother me until we were on the way home. I couldn't get comfortable no matter how I sat in the car. I knew I was hurt. Aaron dropped me off at Ski Fanatics where my truck was and I went in for a sandwich because I hadn't eaten since toast and was starving. I could barely get the sandwich down regardless of my hunger. I was naucious and belching and felt worse than I ever had in my life. Kids were walking by my table looking at me and I could tell I looked like shit. At this point all I wanted to do was get home and asess the damage. The drive was agonizing at this point and getting my boots off made me scream. I went upstairs to my room to lay down, but before I did I went to the bathroom to pee: pure blood. Holy shit is what I was thinking and I called my wife to come check me out. She said I looked bad and called the ambulance. Whoooo-hooooo!!!!
They took me to Speare in Plymouth and gave me a cat scan. Nobody had to tell me I was in trouble after the scan...it was written all over their faces. Speare told me I lacerated my kidney and would def need surgery. Luckily they passed me on to Dartmouth Hitchcock to put me in more qualified hands. So I got another ride in the "weee-ooo-weee-ooo bus" and was hooked up to an IV and monitors. This time I got some pain meds and got to chill a little bit. (This whole time I'm thinking they're gonna cut me open and take out my kidney so the drugs were good at this point).
Dartmouth-Hitchcock is a teaching hospital and one of the best in the country, so I hear, (I've never been hospitalized before this). The ambulance had alerted Dartmouth of my condition and my arrival so when
I got throught the emergency doors there were at least a dozen nurses, doctors and students taking over and checking me out. It was just like Grey's Anatomy or maybe that was the drugs, but it felt like it. I knew I was in good hands and the doctors were all young and confident and making me feel better. They see this stuff all the time and I was happy to be there.
Dartmouth was not as concerned with me because my urine had become clear again, so they decided to give it some time. I spent two days in the trauma unit with an IV in each arm, oxygen tubes up my nose and a catheter up my schlong. I was still in pain but the doc's gave me a magic button to push that gave me morphine when I wanted it. So I'm sure I was a sight to be seen.
Nurses drew my blood four times a day to monitor my hemagloben count. My arm was so peppered with injection marks that I looked like a junkie. I wondered if they had started using the old holes to take the blood because after a while I couldn't feel the needle.
I eventually got moved from the trauma unit to a real room and had some visitors. Things were'nt getting any worse but not getting any better either. Finally on Saturday night the doc's came in and told me that my blood count was dropping and they wanted to operate. This was the last thing I wanted, but at this point I was ready to move in the direction of progress and welcomed the proceedure.
So here I am fixin to go into surgery and who should walk in my door but my Assitant Coach, Justin Anderson! I was so happy to see him! We couldn't talk long because they were taking me right away. He walked along side my wheelchair as the orderly pushed me down the hallway to the OR. He was the man to come unannounced like that. It took my mind of the surgery and I was as relaxed as I could be after seeing him. We said goodbye right at the operating room doors.
Inside the OR was actually pretty cool. The docs were my age and hip like you might imagine. I felt totally comfortable with them and they were all smiles and cool and asked me what kind of music I liked. I forget what I told them but I think they plugged in some altenative. The proceedure they did involved only one incision into my femoral arterey in my groin. They filled me with dye and used a special camera to see inside my body as they lead a tube up the arterey into my kidney. The tube's end held a coil that mechanically seamed the laceration in my kidney back together. I didn't feel a thing. The last thing I remember was the chick-doc saying "this is going to feel a little warm when it goes in". I woke up to these huge HD screens to my left showing in detail my insides and the coil and plug they used in the repair. I was like "wow-cool man" (still out of it from the drugs). I asked them if we done or just beginning, and they said they'd been working for 2 1/2 hours and were all done and it was a success. They were all smiling and I felt really happy.
I stayed at Dartmouth for two more days and was released this past Monday. Although I was still real messed up I wanted out of there bad. Some of the nurses were cute and cool and some were ogars and could give a crap about their job. Either way I was done peeing in a bag and tubes trailing off every part of my body. My Dad had come up the night before and stayed with me in my room. He was a huge help and took me home to Thornton.
That first night was rough without the morphine and I subsiquently went though some major withdrawl, sweating out my bed and wanting to die. I managed to get some rest in the wee hours of the morning having terrible, profound nightmares about life and the choices we make. It was "fight or flight" and I think my body went into shock and shut down so I could finally rest. I woke up soaking in my own sweat with the visions of my nightmares still resonating in my head. It was like I made it through to the other side. I was OK.
I stayed that one night at my house in Thornton, but have since traveled up to New Brunswick, Canada to stay with my Dad to recover. The nights have been rough, but get better each day. Today I feel like a million bucks because I can sit without pain and move around pretty well. Despite my ravanous appetite I have to eat small portions because my belly is all bloated with fulid and I have a lot of pressure on my gut.
All this being said, I have quite a fresh perspective on life now. I could have bought the farm and just feeling comfortable sitting feels like a gift from god. I realize all the choices that I've declined to make to be a better person have been squandered until now. Although I may deviate slighly from my divine plan that I have in my head today about being the best Jamie McKinnon I can be, I now am ready to face the world head-on with eyes wide open and putting my best foot forward every day. It's amazing what we take for granted. We all base our lives on what we're conditioned to in our day-to-day, wanting more and denying ourselves the core beauty in life for a life we can hide behind. At least this has been my experience. I wish you all the best in YOUR lives and I really appreciate you taking the time to read this testamony of mine, I believe it's helping me process the whole experience.
Blessed be my wife, Laura, my two sons, Emmett and Rhys and my family. Thanks to all that called and visited and cared...without people loving you there is no reason to go on so please keep on loving.
Peace and take care,
-jamie
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
TOTINOS!!!
Would snowboarding even be possible without staying full off totino's pizza rolls? I think NOT.
Monday, April 5, 2010
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