Road to Optimism

Existentialissimo

2012-02-10T20:00:00.000-08:00

Was having a really weird, existential kind of day. Happened across some small white papers and a Sharpie pen, and this is what transpired, warts and all. I wonder if Existentialissimo will find his way?

Ode to Bodily Harm

2011-12-27T21:28:00.000-08:00

This is a shirt mock-up resulting from a shared joke with my Twitter friend @EvilTwinBrian. Mainly it has to do with practicing martial arts with weapons and the inevitable smacking of your own body parts in learning to handle them with any grace. The conversation started when I admitted to clipping my ear with my own nunchaku. This is mostly for his benefit, but here you go!

Like Water Off A Duck's Back

2011-11-29T12:23:00.001-08:00

This is the faucet from which I let frustration drip right out. It hardly ever works, but I have a couple of friends who are good plumbers.

Good God

2011-08-30T11:27:00.000-07:00

Last night, after re-reading part of The God Machine, I found some righteous red paper and got to sketching. The red reminded me of the color of Good God's hair in the book, so I started adding her features to the sketch. This is what resulted. Hope Chandra Free doesn't mind. :)

Sketchbook

2011-07-18T11:12:00.000-07:00

I'm slowly working up the nerve to talk about my pet project(s). In the meantime, working with pencils. :)

Level Up!

2011-06-03T22:01:00.000-07:00

New karate belt earned. Halfway to black. Probably should have tied it better for the photo, but I was excited!

So Which Comes First?

2011-05-09T08:14:00.000-07:00

Owned!

2011-03-25T19:30:00.000-07:00

From C2E2, The Cursening pug by the rad (and awesomely tall) Mike Norton.

Gojira!

2011-03-23T19:04:00.000-07:00

From C2E2, by the beyond cool Zac Atkinson.

Vomit: A Love Story

2011-03-21T09:11:00.000-07:00

It's the end of C2E2. A mad rush to Union Station, several uncertain glances at ticket stubs followed by equally uncertain glances at signs overhead, and finally a generous offer to share a row on what promises to be a completely full train. The first hour goes by uneventfully, kind exchanges and small talk dispensed. Rain streams gently and consistently from a fluffy gray sky, the flat light providing a moody but relaxing backdrop for the ride home.

An hour and a half has passed by at a snail's pace, a noticeable contrast to the blur that is the landscape just outside.

Almost all conversation has stopped for now, announcements from the speakers overhead ceased. Some passengers are sprawled across two seats, dozing in positions that promise a nasty crimp or two upon waking. I listen to some music, eardrums cocooned in tiny black buds, my head pillowed by my wadded jacket against the cold window.

Then, like the business end of a bad dream, the muffled but unmistakable sound of retching.

My stomach lurches automatically, and I dare only to look over with my eyes. My poor neighbor is hunched forward deeply, unnatural and rigid, her body making the sounds of something attempting to reject its own organs. I want to ask if she's OK, but she's clearly not, and it takes all my energy to maintain a hold on my last meal at McCormick. Now fervently fighting illness, I turn up Major Lazer and wait it out.

The above scene repeats for two more hours. I try not to laugh when dinner announcements commence. I distract myself by imagining causes for her condition other than the bobbing motion of the train. She's a god coming to test our humanity. She's patient zero for the zombie apocalypse. She's the human carrier for an experimental degenerative puking virus on its way to a lab in rural Canada. I even started drawing the comic panels in my head, with the working title Death Train.

When my stop finally comes, she's quiet, and I can't believe she's got anything left. Through my own nausea, I ask how she's doing. I collect my things and move out quickly so she can lay down across my seat. I tell her I'm sorry about the illness, and offer to get her water. She declines, and I resist the urge to warn her of dehydration, instead encouraging her to get some sleep.

I turn to get in line with other people waiting to disembark. When I look up from making sure I have everything from my seat, almost everyone is staring in my direction, eyes wider than normal, searching for... what? Assurance? Explanation? Just a natural expression of holy s*** what was that? Probably all of the above. I can see most of them hadn't been blasting music in their ears, and were going to need fresh air sooner rather than later.

Given her destination, the woman was to be on that train for at least another whole day. The thing is, I never saw any evidence of her possessing what I can only imagine as a bigger-on-the-inside miracle receptacle to receive her frequent offerings.

I'm going with the god-in-disguise theory after all.

Lisbeth

2011-02-16T13:38:00.000-08:00

Still hung up on this brown paper.

I was reading about David Fincher and his plans for the remake of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, and started drawing. A lot of Noomi Rapace in this Lisbeth, a little bit not. :) Rooney Mara looks pretty amazing in the W Magazine pics, though. The Swedish movies were really good, and I understand there are departures from the source material in the American version. Should be interesting.

Sketch 2

2011-02-10T15:45:00.000-08:00

More playing with brown paper. The scanner light really brightens everything. The paper is actually very dark.

Sketch

2011-02-07T14:05:00.000-08:00

Messing around with some black & white Verithins on brown paper. Hair is fun.

Anonymous to Anonymous

2011-02-04T11:16:00.001-08:00

Some really amazing news came down the digital grapevine regarding someone I used to know. A really vaguely worded high-five into the aether is the best I can do for congratulations right now, but there it is.

High-five!

Months-Long Moment of Weakness + Past Due #6

2011-01-14T14:08:00.000-08:00

I don't do a lot of year-end reflecting. A new year is just a new year. But the tail end of 2010 soured epically with significant personal losses. Death got involved--in the literal sense as well as the symbolic. Let's just leave it there.

As a result, I let myself indulge in a period of mourning (unfortunately situated right in the middle of working through the 30 Characters exercise). I was alternately paralyzed by uncertainty and pissed at myself for feeling that way. LAME.

For the first time in my life, I assigned real significance to the idea of a New Year. The idea of leaving the crapstorm behind and starting anew. While I still find sadness creeping in from time to time--the events being only a couple of months old--it's with an important sense of distance. Time is doing its job.

This brings me to the drawing I've had ready since November, though it seems oddly more relevant now. The Opportunity Farmer.

30 Characters - Day 10 - #4 & #5

2010-11-10T14:37:00.000-08:00

Duel

Names: Lila & Kyla
Age: 25
Status: Conjoined twins

Lila and Kyla were born choking each other with their umbilical cord. They have decided that after a quarter century, one of them has to go. Since they are connected back to back, the mechanics of dueling are tricky at best. In a rare display of (ahem) unity, and despite opposition by pretty much everyone, they have chosen to duel with icepicks.

30 Characters - Day 9 - #3

2010-11-09T13:51:00.000-08:00

Lemonade

Coming inside from play,
Nate just couldn't help it--
Saw lemonade in the fridge,
And drank it down, every bit.

He heard a gasp, then:
"Not the seeds!"
His sister, appalled,
"Nate stop!" She pleads.

"What?" He replies,
His shrug so sure,
"Don't you know?" She asks.
"There is no cure!"

"For wh..." he began to say,
But before very long,
A lemon tree sprouted,
Nate's sister screeched, "MOM!"

Mom came in a flash,
Mouth agape behind her hand,
"Well, I imagine now's a good time
To start a lemonade stand."

30 Characters - Day 6 - #2

2010-11-05T22:21:00.000-07:00

This is what I was pretty sure was going to greet me if I neglected to do something about the leftovers.

Name: Maleficent Lo Monster
Age: 5-7 days, maybe. I dunno.
Sometimes mistaken for: The Benevolent FSM; his very, very distant cousin.

The only way to defeat Lo Monster is by throwing shredded cheese at his tendrils.

30 Characters - Day 5 - #1

2010-11-05T11:59:00.001-07:00

Check it out here http://www.30characters.com/.

Took me a bit longer to decide to jump on board, but here I go.

Name: Doble
Age: 33
Height: 6'6"
Weight: 188 (although he'd like to shed 11 lbs.)

From Mississippi, Doble is a prolific composer (2/4 time), an accomplished musician (double bass), and a notorious music snob. The only thing more agitating about him is his habit of using words with repeating syllables.

Paint Slinger

2010-10-25T13:42:00.000-07:00

For a 2 year-old Spidey enthusiast. In no way am I drawing comparisons by disclosing that I looked at/borrowed/stole from Todd Nauck's work for body position. Just keepin it real. ;)

Acrylic on 16 x 20 canvas.

Peek-a-Boo with Wolverine

2010-09-23T11:18:00.000-07:00

A painting for my 4-year old nephew, who is a huge Wolverine fan. He sticks bendy straws in his fists and growls, which is pretty awesome. I call them his adamantium straws, but I don't know if he gets it yet. It may just be that it's not funny... hrm. :)

Acrylic on 16 x20 canvas.

God Rays

2010-08-17T11:49:00.000-07:00

Has Anyone Seen My Keys?

2010-07-16T11:53:00.001-07:00

Oh.

Tasmanian Devil? Nope. Gremlins? Not quite. Two year old human descendant of a computer engineer? You got it. In related news, I painstakingly put the hinges back together and reattached the keys. Most of them, anyway. Three hinges are broken beyond help. At least I know it can be done! :)

The Getty Center, Los Angeles

2009-12-29T11:19:00.001-08:00

I love going to The Getty Center. Especially on a beautiful day. $15 for parking, then a hillside tram ride up to the Arrival Plaza:

Through the entrance hall, then into a pristine courtyard:

The Fran and Ray Stark Sculpture Terrace, and a sprawling view of Los Angeles beyond the hill:

The Research Institute building and Central Garden below:

More of the chiseled, blindingly white architecture:

Tucked in between some buildings, an urn-shaped fountain carved out of a wall:

Santa Barbara, California

2009-11-24T12:12:00.000-08:00

In L.A., with an afternoon to spare, I jumped on the 101 freeway North to have lunch in Santa Barbara. It was a Sunday, so there's a beach-side art show that is excellent for browsing (and gift shopping).

A casual lunch at Longboard's on the pier (Stearns Wharf) is always good. Outdoor seating available, kid- and pigeon-friendly atmosphere.

But please don't fish near the Sea Center. (When I was a kid, I held a sea cucumber at the Sea Center. As I recall, a slimy and squishy experience. Fun!)

Off-pier pan-handling is cool, though. This sign says "Why Lie? Need beer":

Frolic on the beach, then a lovely sunset on the way back to base. A great way to spend a day.

Art Institute of Chicago

2009-09-24T13:01:00.000-07:00

Here are a few pictures of the grounds of the wonderful Art Institute of Chicago. The Art Institute was founded in 1879; this location was established in 1893.

The overcast day gave me some unfortunately flat lighting, but I still think this is a lovely building. One of my favorite Chicago stops.

A garden area just South of the entrance. Good spot for reading, studying, philosophizing.

Lake Express

2009-08-30T10:24:00.000-07:00

While on my family-visiting tour of the midwest, I decided to take the Lake Express ferry between Milwaukee, Wisconsin, and Muskegon, Michigan. A two and a half hour boat trip across the rather impressive-looking Lake Michigan in a car-carrying catamaran powered by four 3000hp engines.

Hey, look. It's Wisconsin:

And Michigan:

The first trip on the ferry was a little rough. The lake was very choppy, which made for more than a few very sick passengers. I had taken a precautionary Dramamine, so it was a little uncomfortable once or twice, but I got to keep my lunch. (P.S. The staff seemed unfazed and--from what I saw--very helpful to those who needed it.)

And in case of other kinds of emergencies:

I leaned over the side for this shot and got a face full of spray and chilly wind. :)

Speaking of chilly wind, here's the top of the boat while going full speed (about 34 knots or just shy of 40 mph):

I have to say that it beats sitting in Chicago traffic. Although, that's probably debatable for some.

Good Reads

2009-07-23T12:41:00.000-07:00

My Twitter friend @invisiblecircus recently introduced me to a website called GoodReads, and I am all but addicted!

You can post status updates, what you're currently reading and what page you're on, and you can "add" friends, but my favorite part is browsing the books and rating them. I think of it as an amalgam of Facebook and Netflix for bookworms. (FaceWorms.net? Probably not as viable a name.)

I'm not as much about collecting friends on GoodReads as I'm using it as a catalogue for my extensive reading list, past and future. But I love seeing what other people are reading and rating, so I'm sure that will change. I'm "following" Neil Gaiman's posts on there as well, which is pretty cool. And there are other features I've not yet tried, such as a place to post your musings/poetry/stories/whatever, but since I already do that here, who knows. (OK, I don't post poetry.) You can also join groups, take quizzes, answer trivia, add events, vote on themes like "Best Books Ever." A big bonus for me was that GoodReads includes graphic novels in its database.

I'm really starting to sound like an ad now, so I'll enter one minor complaint. I had to sign up to really get a good look around. Also bear in mind that I've only been on for a few days--pretty far from qualifying as a power user. But if you consider yourself a power reader, I think it's worth checking out.

Ugh. I concluded with an entirely unintentional library pun. [::facepalm::] I'm leaving it there anyway. :)

Milwaukee Art Museum

2009-07-20T11:10:00.000-07:00

Some photos from the beautiful Milwaukee Art Museum.

You are here:

A view of the unusual architecture--the Quadracci Pavilion--designed by Spanish architect Santiago Calatrava. The sail-like extension is known as the Burke Brise Soleil and is opened and closed on a regular (though subject to change) schedule.

Inside the foyer, Windhover Hall, a 90-foot-high glass ceiling directly under the Burke Brise Soleil:

A very cool glass sculpture in Windhover Hall.

A hallway connecting Windhover Hall to the permanent collection exhibits. The left side is a wall of windows facing east, looking out onto Lake Michigan. Special exhibits are housed to the right.

So... Hypnotic

2009-06-30T14:22:00.000-07:00

OK, who let me play with the vial of colored liquid?

Appetite for Creation

2009-06-12T10:16:00.000-07:00

I saw this strip from Jeph Jacques' web comic Questionable Content just after I finished a novel that caused my IQ to recede ever so slightly.

Normally web comics don't appear at such apt times (although xkcd occasionally reads my mind--creeeeeepy). I'm not going to say which book I was reading, but the prose was often pretty close to that which Sven wrote in the QC strip. And my reaction was similar to that of Sven's assistant.

I am no stranger to the difficulty of creating something. Especially creating something that will be generally regarded as good (which is such a maddeningly arbitrary term anyway). I am impressed that somebody--anybody--has the cojones to put out anything they wrote, drew, painted, sculpted, filmed, specifically for the purpose of public scrutiny. It's an amazing leap of faith, so I am disinclined to negatively criticize a person's work openly.

[Aside: Maybe I should start a blog dubbed "The Reluctant Critic." Has that been done?]

The internet, specifically blogs, Twitter, and the like--clearly I am a user--give everyone a podium at which to stand and voice their opinions as anonymously as you like. So, often, I see people just let it out--say some really awful things to each other. And it's disheartening to witness. I can only imagine what the creators are feeling.

Not to say it's always like that, but the positive and/or constructively critical stuff can get utterly overwhelmed by the cruelty. My point is not to stop criticizing honestly, but there has to be better ways of expressing distaste than saying "You suck." (P.S. That's not a criticism, that's an attack.)

It's a cliche to talk about how destroying is infinitely easier than creating, but it's simply true. A second well-known expression apparently needs to be rewritten: If you can't say something nice, post it online.

At the Movies

2009-06-02T09:59:00.000-07:00

It's a rare occasion that I go to the movies.

I like my home set-up, can talk at the screen, hit pause, not listen to strangers munch their popcorn, whatever. I pretty much save a theater trip for something that I really want to see big and loud. Star Trek, for example, is a perfect theater choice for me. But there are enough Star Trek reviews for all, and I'm only going to add to its praise, so what I'll write about instead was my theater experience.

The theater itself was pretty normal: ticket takers, popcorn makers, lines at the (women's) restroom. Early to the theater, we had the row to ourselves for a few minutes. Then our neighbors sat down. All was fine, until his first raucous, no holds barred, I just downed a Diet Coke with a beer chaser, BELCH. I wish I was exaggerating.

It wasn't the last of its kind, either. And the sarcastic comments flowed just as freely throughout the evening. I couldn't resist--I had to look over once. You understand, right? My eyes beheld not an unruly teenager (as, I admit, I was expecting) but a grown man on either side of 40. Kind of blew my mind.

In case you're wondering, he did bring a date. And she seemed to find him charming. See? There is someone out there for us all.

Joss-tile Takeover: A Story

2009-05-09T14:21:00.001-07:00

On Twitter, when asked what else Dollhouse fans could do to support the show (a question posited by @WhedonTrivia) I suggested that fans of Dollhouse get imprinted with the minds of TV executives and infiltrate FOX in order to give the show a second season. And this is how something like that would most likely go down:

Imagine a network executive team full of rabid Joss Whedon fans. First, Dollhouse would be saved. The fans would cheer. Then, within a season or two, would come a sudden yet inevitable change: the station would be re-branded The JW, and all scripted shows would be written, directed, and/or produced by Joss Whedon. All other time slots would be reruns of Firefly, Buffy, and Angel, and any current (and canceled?) shows starring Whedonverse actors. Movies of the week would all, naturally, be from Joss' resume.

Would his fans then be satisfied? Never! Soon, a faction of extremists would locate dissenters and imprint them with an insatiable need for complex storytelling and character development, ideally in an ensemble cast format with at least one strong female lead. Statues would be erected in Joss' Robot Chicken likeness. The Whedon Dollar would go into circulation: In Joss We Trust. Many would do the Dance of Joy. Daily speech would get all... evolvey.

Joss help us all.

Judging by Covers

2009-04-17T11:28:00.000-07:00

I love Susan Boyle in this video on Britain's Got Talent. At the same time, I find it rather disturbing.

I'll just go right to the million dollar question: Why are we not universally bothered by good-looking people who have no discernible talents, yet so shocked when someone who's not a typical beauty demonstrates a great gift?

As if her outer appearance has anything to do with her vocal chords. Or her mind. Or her as a person.

This, of course, is something we all know--or it's at least a concept we've heard of somewhere in our childhoods--but the first few minutes of that video is a shameful display of judging someone by personal appearance where appearance is not supposed to be the point. (The teenager rolling her eyes? I've seen Simon Cowell do that before, too.) I mean, it is a talent show, not a beauty contest, right? So while I found it infinitely satisfying when Susan kicked ass on-stage, received a standing ovation, and three "yes" votes from the judges, I was also saddened by the lack of real remorse for our openly biased attitude when it comes to outer beauty. Or perceived lack of it.

I get the cynicism that must come with being a talent judge. But that cynicism is infectious, and it's an attitude that requires little effort, so is easy to adopt. At the same time, once adopted, it's difficult to shake.

The judges showed some humility by (sort of) admitting they were wrong to form their opinions before she sang. The woman judge said it was a "wake-up call," and seemed genuinely ashamed of herself, but I doubt that their collective attitude has really changed beyond Susan Boyle. And until theirs does, I'm afraid we will not do much to change ours either.

Writer's Building Blocks

2009-03-24T09:01:00.000-07:00

I used to be so good about updating this blog, but in the last couple of months I've been uncharacteristically quiet. Part of the reason is that I'm on Twitter more and more--see left--and the rest of the reason toggles between life in the Land of the Unplugged and the fact that I have actual writing projects offline.

This last bit is a big deal for me, as it was the entire impetus for starting this blog in the first place. I wanted to be in the habit of writing, and of thinking about everyday things in a storytelling light. I had hoped that this exercise would inspire me to create fictional narratives, and it did.

I have hopes that at least one of my ideas will culminate in something tangible, like a webcomic or (dare I dream?) something printed on paper and displayed on retail bookshelves. For now, I am very excited to have these things as they are--story fragments scribbled in a nearly full notebook, random sketches, and a mind ready to create.

Name Your Band, Part 2

2009-01-20T14:40:00.001-08:00

I finally have a second list of imaginary band names. An ongoing project, I collect phrases I see in magazines or on TV or in movies, or hear in otherwise ordinary conversations. Additions are always welcome, and if your band is already named one of these, post your site in the comments.

1. The Op-Amps
2. Wiki the Weta
3. Tijuana Cats
4. The Eco Yuppies
5. Rainbow Bunting
6. Babies in the Closet
7. Flinging Grapes
8. The Dental Plan
9. Nonconformist Absurdity
10. C-Drive & the Partitions

Technobabble

2009-01-06T12:20:00.000-08:00

The primary function of new technology is to make something (presumably) easier, better, faster, or some combination of these.

For example, not everyone has to be physically in the office to have a productive workday. You can make a phone call or send an email from anywhere on the planet that is within range of a cellular tower (if you have the right equipment). With a computer and an internet connection, maybe even a VPN, many could do their entire job in their pjs.

There is a downside to amazing technology. You grow dependent upon it. Spell check has made me a little dumber when left on my own with nothing but a pen and paper. Sometimes I prefer sending an email to calling someone, but that mostly comes down to time. Which, point of fact, is another thing that technology is supposed to do: save us time.

With all the communication technology available, why are so many people still packed in rush hour, hurrying to get to an office we supposedly don't need to occupy? That's probably another post, but the point I'm trying to get to has to do with this social experiment.

So how do we use all the time we're supposedly saving? Well, apparently we're not using it to unplug, relax, feed our souls, smell roses, or listen to beautiful music in a subway.

There are a thousand ways to analyze the results of this experiment. The one I'm going to mention here is that it appears to me that most people are ingrained with the motto "there is a time and a place." A premier musician playing cherished pieces is for Carnegie Hall and the like, not a busy metro. It's likely that many of those who passed him by would have been seated, appropriately full of awe and admiration, at one of his concerts.

I don't think it's necessarily that our society has ceased to love music or enjoy beautiful things, but we are addicted to our plans. If it's not on the itinerary, it's in the way of something that is. So I guess it's that unplanned, spontaneous beauty is second to a scheduled appointment.

It's also likely that if our premier musician had revealed himself, he would have had a bigger audience since most mere mortals can't resist a celebrity sighting. Incognito, he's a bum with a violin.

Incognito

2008-12-30T14:04:00.000-08:00

Armchair TV Exec

2008-12-29T14:20:00.000-08:00

According to tradition, most magazines put out some kind of "year in review" issue right about December. This time around, I have noticed that in the pop culture-driven mags, whenever they talk about tv, Heroes is a popular punchline. As in "how far a tv golden child can fall," etc. There is also something known as a "sophomore slump," (which happens to sports rookies as much as tv writers), and I have an idea as to why this happens to tv writers. It's the networks' fault.

Maybe it has always been this way, I don't know, but lately networks have been very quick to drop the axe on shows that aren't instant ratings performers, no matter how high the quality of the show. Maybe it's the reality tv invasion that has caused execs to get trigger happy, as reality tv doesn't have as much overhead as scripted, but I digress.

With this ever-looming threat of axe wielding, show creators, producers, and writers are under tremendous pressure to grab and retain audiences early (much like the opening-weekend nonsense movies have to contend with), so they present all the really good stuff right out of the gate, not always planning to have a second season. They do well, and then, what next? They leave themselves with a very tough act to follow. So they often go back to the basics of character development, which they would have done first, but networks often do not trust the audience to stick around for that in the beginning, (though chances are it would be better for the story in the long run). And of course by this time, the audience is used to a hard-hitting format, and NOW doesn't have the patience to sit through a ramping-up period waiting for payoff (miraculously around sweeps time), no matter how big. So you end up with poor reviews, reduced viewership numbers, and a spot as the year-end punchline.

Heroes is past it's sophomore slump, but it's still reeling from the effects. Season 2 turned the show in a direction that is proving difficult to reverse smoothly. I imagine the options were to cut it off at the hilt and start over, losing continuity between seasons, or transition gradually back to the formula and core characters that granted them success in Season 1. I believe they chose the latter, and it's definitely the hard road. Though some lost their jobs over it, the show is still around to make good on its promise to return to being the show its fans love. Tim Kring issued a verbal mea culpa, and found that most fans are very forgiving, even if the critics hold an impenetrable grudge.

Of course, I'm not in the entertainment business, so I'm just speculating here, but I've seen the sophomore slump occur in enough shows--some got the guillotine, some pushed through it--to take a guess as to the cause.

Blue Eyed Horse

2008-12-17T14:30:00.000-08:00

I have never seen one before, but he's so beautiful!

Family Circle, 1974

2008-12-16T19:32:00.001-08:00

Came across this in a family member's basement. It's a UK Family Circle magazine from the 1970s, and it's got some brilliant ad content. Really.

Wanking Season

2008-12-11T16:48:00.000-08:00

Awards season is upon us: The Golden Globes, the Oscars, the Emmys at some point, People's Choice, Teen Choice, Kids' Choice, Taster's Choice--there is no way I can name them all without Google. For the world of Twitter, there is the Shorty Awards, and I recently nominated someone.

There's a template, that says "I nominate_____ for a Shorty Award in [the category of] ________ because_____," and we just fill in the blanks. I tweeted the nomination, and it sounded fine, but when it popped up as an update, and I re-read it, it sounded kind of kiss-ass-y, though it was completely sincere. So then I got to thinking... are we SO cynical that honest praise sounds exactly like wanking? Or maybe I'm just that cynical.

An accessible example of praise that we have no way of knowing is honest--but sounds exactly like wanking either way--is the celebrity press tour. Interviews. Every movie's actors describes whatever they're promoting to be the best experience of all time, each director the most inspired, each crew the most dedicated, each script a masterpiece of which that they just had to be a part.

And there are movies which are truly that awesome... but so many people profess the same boilerplate praise every time, that statistically speaking, somebody has to be full of it. Therefore no one comes out sounding sincere (to me).

Maybe I should lay off the DVD extras for awhile.

Facebook Schmacebook

2008-12-10T15:14:00.000-08:00

I admit it. I couldn't hang with Facebook.

It started out OK; I found some people I hadn't spoken to in years, and saw photos of weddings and babies and read posts, and it was cool. But then came the Friend Adds from people I didn't necessarily want to talk to again. It's not that I don't like them or anything silly like that, it's just that these are people from my past who I prefer to stay there. And I didn't figure out all the privacy settings before it was too late.

I'm being totally neurotic about this, I know. But I'm pretty different from who I was when I knew many of these people, and I think I can safely assume the same is true for them. They are strangers to me now, but worse. They have an impression of me from many years ago, and I of them. So both parties will be trying to reconcile the old memories with the more recent versions in the posted photos and bios, and, at times, old impressions are difficult for some to break. If you do talk to each other, most of the time you end up rehashing the old crap after you get through a few rounds of "What are you up to these days?" and other awkward variations on smalltalk. And if they so choose, all your Facebook Friends (and their Friends) can see it! (Direct messages aside.) Ugh.

At least I'm consistent. I don't do reunions either. Aren't those just big parties that devolve into mini reunions of the same old cliques? Yeah... no thanks.

Bottom line: I know who I know, and I tend to prefer the here and now to the past, even if it was fun. I'm cool with running into someone on the street. In fact, I find that infinitely more gratifying than clicking Add As A Friend, but my preference is that the past stays right where I left it.

This is Not a Blog

2008-12-09T11:30:00.000-08:00

This "intentionally left blank" card came with my insurance cards, and I thought my head would explode. Then I thought, maybe this is a zen lesson meant to increase health through meditation on the contradictory nature of life. Ultimately, I've decided it's pop art commentary à la Warhol, and as such, I've framed it and put it on my wall.

Wait... What?

2008-12-08T13:50:00.000-08:00

I don't know what this means, but do I want to know?

Miam-Miam

2008-12-04T19:40:00.000-08:00

I love this lamp. It's in this great Algerian restaurant in Montréal called Kamela. If you go there, eat a "Brick." It comes with a really delicious salad. And get the crème de légumes (cream of vegetable) soup--amazing.

Eyes on the Road

2008-12-02T18:55:00.001-08:00

Figuratively, I am on a road to optimism, so I try to keep my ranting here to a minimum. Tonight, however, I am angry. I am angry because while on an actual road, someone failed to pay attention while driving his vehicle, and nearly killed my entire family.

I was driving, sitting in the intersection waiting to make my left turn. As I made the turn, a Jeep Cherokee came along from the right, ignored or missed the fact that his light was red, and very nearly t-boned the passenger side of our car at full speed (which, around this intersection varies from 40-50 MPH or more). It was so much closer than I dare to recall, so I will try not to picture it, but--by the grace of whatever is out there--we were not hit.

I am not a person who believes that driving is a right. I believe it is a privilege that carries a serious responsibility which most clearly take for granted. Probably because we, in the U.S., have come to view driving as something everyone should do. It's a charming little rite of passage for our 16 year old kids. There's at least one car per person in any given household. Yet if any terrorist group or murderer or obscure disease killed or maimed as many people as car accidents do every day, there would be outrage and telethons and run-walks and weepy celebrities calling for action. But apparently the convenience is worth the casualties.

Even the best drivers make stupid mistakes, and all you can do is hope that your inevitable slips of judgment mean no more than a fender-bender or someone giving you the finger instead of a trip to the hospital or the morgue. Many believe that the general public cannot be trusted with a gun, but a two-ton projectile moving at high speeds is somehow acceptable for anyone who's had a sweet sixteen. Hm.

Dr. Horrible Nano

2008-11-29T18:23:00.000-08:00

I realize this post is past-due to the point of irrelevance, but I'm still a little proud of this Halloween costume and the treat bag, so here it is.

Fun with Charcoal

2008-11-24T19:31:00.000-08:00

I don't know if this is "done" or not, but it turned out OK.... worked from a cool photo in a magazine (can't remember which, and I'm sorry not to be able to credit the photographer).

Footlong?

2008-11-20T11:16:00.000-08:00

I really hope you can make it out... this is an erotic bar (see the girls in the second-floor windows?) next to a Subway. Well, I thought it was funny.

Montréal Graffiti/Mural Art

2008-11-19T19:32:00.001-08:00

Of Human Bondage

2008-11-18T09:05:00.000-08:00

Went to see Quantum of Solace this past weekend. There has been a lot of ink devoted to this movie, and it did not disappoint me. The theater experience itself sucked pretty thoroughly, but I always feel that way. O Netflix, I love you so.

I relish Bond films, but I am far from a Bond expert or purist. I just think it's a great character, and I've seen all the actors that have brought 007 to life with varying degrees of success: Sean Connery (the whole package), George Lazenby (great fight scenes, not so much the charmer), Roger Moore (suave), Timothy Dalton (needs further review), Pierce Brosnan (more of a dandy), and Daniel Craig (more of a badass). Each actor, of course, brings his own interpretation to the world's greatest lover and spy, but lately the moviemakers have strayed from the formula.

Casino Royale--Daniel Craig's first foray into the world of Bond--left me somewhat at odds. I say now as I said then: I loved it for what it was, but it wasn't a Bond film. This, naturally, begs the question "So what is a Bond film?"

Most would probably argue that Connery is still the best Bond. He was tough in his fight scenes, walking away with nary a scratch, and still had enough energy for a romp with one or two lovelies before the end credits rolled. He was the ultimate male fantasy combination of man's man and ladies' man, and both parts of him transitioned back and forth smoothly. Fast-forward to Craig's Bond: smooth and cold as a marble countertop, his charming lothario more of a grafted appendage than a natural part of him; a more human Bond, complete with travel-size emotional baggage.

Of course, one could point out that after this many decades of beating down bad guys and getting women killed, such a life takes its toll. So a more human Bond is not an unreasonable leap. But that was the point of Bond, wasn't it? The superspy/love machine whose emotional arc lasted one film, and moved on; no regrets.

Quantum was a great action film, but again, not Bond as I know him--this was more Bond Supremacy than Dr. No. Foremost, it was a sequel to Casino Royale. (Again, I'm no expert, but is that a first for the franchise?) It's neither good nor bad, necessarily, just a new direction. Some will like it, some will long for the old Bond who spends as much time in bed as he does trading smirks with his enemies over cocktails and gambling. And I miss Q and Moneypenny... but as far as I'm concerned, keep bringing the Bond films--shaken or stirred.

Unhappy Camper

2008-10-25T11:59:00.001-07:00

Hi Ho, Hi Ho

2008-10-23T12:07:00.000-07:00

Blog Note: The following would not necessarily work for every commercial enterprise--at least, not without a lot of reconfiguration. And I am not referring to those whose work involves saving lives or building infrastructure. I'm thinking more along the lines of those who found Office Space a little too familiar.

The 8-hour workday was fought for through the latter part of the 1700s, and through most of the 1800s, in various parts of the developed world. The slogan for the cause: "Eight hours labour, eight hours recreation, eight hours rest." (Of course, this is down from 10-16 hours of work per day of often very physical labor in the poor working conditions imposed by industry.) Nowadays, not everything is done painstakingly by hand; we have automation and office-specific software to streamline workflow; and (possibly because of all of that) we seem to consider it some kind of badge of honor to put in more than the standard 8 hours a day--wow, you must be very important--though what it really means is that you have little or no life beyond work. And some people thrive that way, and that's great.

For the non-workaholic set (life-aholics?), every once in awhile MSN or somebody will release a poll that asks how much people screw around at work. The results often come back averaging about two hours per day spent on non-work related activities in the office.

From a friend's personal experience, a request for reduction of hours met with resistance from a manager who likes to have his underlings in the office just in case he needs them, and who, though making quite a bit more money in his 8 hours (for no billable work), believes truly that if he can't reduce his hours, no one should. Precedence aside, if that's what he wants, maybe he should reduce his hours.

Some people are naturally very fast learners and workers, and are therefore most productive on a shorter day. Why? Because if they know that time at work is limited, they are more apt to plow right through it and not watch the clock, no longer needing to fill the extra time surfing online, or talking on the phone or in the hall with a co-worker. In order to fill an entire day without the extracurriculars, they would have to slow their work pace considerably or twiddle their thumbs, which would be mind-numbing beyond measure. It's like being punished for your efficiency.

A shorter workday is not for everyone, and not everyone would want it anyway. In regards to fairness, fine. Make 6 hours standard full-time, and you can work more if you need to. (To avoid killing the budget, keep overtime pay, if applicable, at beyond 8 hours.) Another idea: For those who have been at your company for 7 years or more, offer them either an extra week off or a reduced workweek.

If someone can deliver the same quality work in fewer hours, why wouldn't a company want to save a little cash by letting them work a shorter day or fewer days per week? No, really, I'm asking.

Words of a Wiser Man

2008-10-23T11:03:00.000-07:00

From The Meditations of Marcus Aurelius Antoninus:

"From my governor [I learned] to be neither of the green nor of the blue party at the games in the Circus, nor a partizan either of the Parmularius or the Scutarius at the gladiators' fights; from him too I learned endurance of labour, and to want little, and to work with my own hands, and not to meddle with other people's affairs, and not to be ready to listen to slander."

"From Sextus [I learned] a benevolent disposition, and the example of a family governed in a fatherly manner, and the idea of living conformably to nature; and gravity without affectation, and to look carefully after the interests of friends, and to tolerate ignorant persons, and those who form opinions without consideration; he had the power of readily accommodating himself to all, so that intercourse with him was more agreeable than any flattery; and at the same time he was most highly venerated by those who associated with him; and he had the faculty both of discovering and ordering, in an intelligent and methodical way, the principles necessary for life; and he never showed anger or any other passion, but was entirely free from passion, and also most affectionate; and he could express approbation without noisy display, and he possessed much knowledge without ostentation."

For a Limited Time Only

2008-10-20T16:14:00.000-07:00

I have already talked about change in the political arena (as neutrally as I can), but I want to talk a little more about personal change. I suppose this post is inspired by the changing weather--warm to cold--and the changing trees--green to red, yellow, and brown--and the fact that my thoughts have turned to how I have changed over the last several years.

How do we know when we've changed? It seems to me that when I think back to college, for example, I feel as though I am talking about another person entirely. It no longer feels like my life, but more like a story I read or a movie I watched. In most cases, the things I might have done with my time then are not at all what I like to do now.

Besides that, where I am in life is nothing like the plans I made for myself when I was starting out in the world. I wasn't sure I'd get married (did that several years ago), didn't think I'd have kids (I have a couple), and I was all about having a career (I barely believe in the concept at all anymore). My time on this earth is shorter, and getting shorter every minute, therefore my time is extremely valuable. I don't want to spend it in an office. I want to use that time to see the people I love. Maybe see something of the world while I'm still here to see it. Time is money only if all your time is spent trying to make money. For the rest of us post-college wage-slave types (products of parents who told us "go to college, get a job with a 401k, work until you're 65"), time and money are mutually exclusive; you either have lots of time or lots of money. If you find yourself with both, consider yourself extremely lucky.

Keep the Change

2008-10-14T19:30:00.000-07:00

Nuts. I was hoping to avoid politics altogether, but it's hard to keep it from one's mind completely when in an election year. I don't want no trouble, I just want to think aloud.

Here's the thing: the world is clearly hurting. Yet, at any given time, there is always somebody whose world will be hurting; something will need fixing; someone somewhere will be doing something very bad, sometimes to a lot of people at once. Maybe someday none of this will be the case anymore, but history shows that the human condition has not changed much over the years. I have fear for the present. I have fear for the future. I also have hope, but above all, I have realistic expectations. While I am in no mood to continue down the path on which we find ourselves as a nation and as a planet, I do not necessarily think we have a messiah in our midst. I do not think our messes will be cleaned up easily or quickly. I say this because the changes we need in order to truly make this world a better place will not come about by simply electing someone new into office.

But that's the message we're receiving from both presidential candidates, isn't it? The promise of change. It's a beautiful concept; succinct, universally understood, widely desired. But so vague. A change in leadership is inevitable, so, really, that promise is easy to deliver. Let's try this: you're in the Oval Office, you're now President... you've inherited a national debt so astronomical they had to re-wire the debt counter to accommodate all the zeros; you're Commander-in-Chief during an unpopular war with no easy exit; you're facing an economic downturn; there is a barely functional national healthcare system; diplomacy issues; a laundry list of ongoing international needs, and an entire country (if not the entire world) looking to you for guidance, leadership, hope, money, answers, action. Where in the hell do you start?

It's true that our leaders represent us as a nation. They bring changes to policy, to international relations, and to perception, but they do not bring about real change. Politicians can talk about it, promote it, promise it to secure an election, but real, tangible, actual change has to be brought by everyone who truly wants it. Voting is first and foremost, but not the end-all. Change the way we think and act, our priorities, our habits, our attitudes. We seem to be looking to a single man to bring about our salvation--and while electing leaders is a very important first step--ultimate success depends on us all.

Sweeeeeet

2008-10-10T13:58:00.000-07:00

Was watching this very game with friends. Never thought I'd see this again. FTW!

see more pwn and owned pictures

Time in a Bottle of Ink

2008-10-08T12:36:00.000-07:00

In fiction, one of the hardest devices to use well is time travel.

Most who make the attempt at coherent time travel stories use a parallel time model. As in, time operates on different threads alongside each other, and you can jump from thread to thread, each having a different future depending on which thread you travel (the time traveler's presence splits the thread into yet another outcome, etc.). Which automatically means there are duplicates of all of us, living our alternate universe lives simultaneously, and this is how it is often depicted, as in you can't show your time-traveling self to your other self or you'll freak out and the universe will explode. (An exception being the movie The Butterfly Effect, where there were duplicates of everyone except the time traveler.) Examples of using duplicate selves in time travel: Harry Potter & The Prisoner of Azkaban (did OK), an episode of Doctor Who (1st season--fun, but not exactly sound), and most recently, the TV show Heroes (here, the time traveler met his duplicate self, and started traveling time with him, resulting in one of his selves being killed... it's fun, but not sure it's consistent). The hard part is resolving what happens to the duplicates when the time traveling is done (or if one of you dies)? Is it still you or is it someone else? (Heroes obviously decided it's someone else.)

In time travel stories, you often hear about the Butterfly Effect. The quickest references are the adage that talks about a butterfly flapping its wings, causing a tornado somewhere else; or the Ray Bradbury story about time travel, called A Sound of Thunder, where the guy steps off the designated path in the time of dinosaurs, and crunches a butterfly under his boot, which results in a dramatic change in the future he once knew. In fact, this story appears in a pretty good anthology of time travel-themed fiction called The Best Time Travel Stories of the 20th Century (Harry Turtledove, ed.).

Some, like HG Wells in his novel The Time Machine, opt to view time travel more like a destination. The character saw what things were like, had an effect on the present time he was in, but didn't seem to have an effect on future events directly, since when he returned to tell the story to his friends, nothing had changed as a result of his travels.

Many, many writers have used time travel to tell a story, and several have done a passable job (especially if the rest of the story and characters are awesome, like in Doctor Who), while some fail utterly. Time travel, because there are only theories about it, is a nasty temptation for use as a literary device. I say nasty, because it's deceptively tricky--the whole concept is dependent on certain assumptions of the properties of time and space, and those are very easy to contradict, especially when you're trying to push a story forward while moving backward.

Name Your Band, Part 1

2008-10-04T19:46:00.000-07:00

I have a glitch in my brain that manifests as a constant, subconscious search for names of imaginary bands. Or, if I were to start a band, I would likely use one of these names. It often happens out of nowhere. Someone says something--or I'll say something--in regular conversation, or I'll hear a phrase in a movie or on TV, or I'll read a phrase somewhere, and it sounds like a good (or bad) band name. I've taken to writing down these names, and the resulting lists will likely come up from time to time as a blog post. If you'd like to use any of them for your band, cool, tell me about it! (And when Rolling Stone asks you how you named your band, be honest.) If one of these is already your band's name, sweet. Post your myspace page in the comments.

Today's List of Imaginary Band Names

Kids With Rakes
Coast Kill
Toxic Baby Bottles
Bitchy Trampoline
TARDIS Key
Sally Mander & The Reptiles
Wounded Ego
Tiny Red Trees
Congregating Pawns
Dreaded Wedge

Human Chemistry 101

2008-10-03T09:22:00.000-07:00

I bet a lot of the time we really don't know what it is about someone that makes us either adore or repel them. Some people just rub us the right or wrong way, whatever that means.

Just as people will have varying effects on me, I will have varying effects on others. I find I can be friends with most types of people, but every once in awhile I come across someone that, for whatever reason, can't stand me. Several years ago I went to an old college friend's wedding. When we were in college, he was in a frat, and I was friends with more than a few of his frat brothers, who were also at the wedding. I went to their table to say hello, and got to meet all their significant others. It was cordial, though superficial and slightly awkward (they were all still close; I lost contact almost right after graduation), but nice to see that they were healthy and generally happy. I kept it short with everyone but one, who, in college, was a best friend. After mere seconds, we were excitedly catching up, rehashing old jokes, and having a good time. The conversation was abundant and refreshingly effortless. We'll call him "Kevin."

All of a sudden, the wife of someone who had been a friend to me in college came over, stepped in the middle of the conversation, and, completely disregarding my presence, said to Kevin, "Come dance." He looked at me with an expression of WTF, but I told him to go ahead.

Back Story: This wife, we'll say "Sheri," was the college girlfriend of her now husband, "Jerry." I mean, they didn't date anyone else as long as I knew them. Jerry and I were friends in that we had the same major, so were often classmates, and due to similar interests, also had some college activities in common. There was never romantic interest on either side, to be clear. As much as I saw Jerry, Sheri and I never talked to each other more than saying "hi." We simply did not run in the same circles, with the exception of the frat, and we made no effort to know each other. Well, apparently she really didn't like me, because there were several years between graduation and this wedding, and now she was incapable of even basic politeness. I couldn't begin to invent a reason for her behavior, and while her opinion is of no consequence to me, I must admit it's a curiosity.

I do live life trying not to be a jerk to anyone, yet occasionally my best efforts are thwarted by simple chemistry, the alignment of the planets, time of year, something in a past life, who knows. Just accept that sometimes it's them, and sometimes it's you.

Blog of Confusion

2008-10-01T10:59:00.000-07:00

I have written this post twice already, and deleted it twice. I started writing about blogging (meta!), then started over writing about what it would mean to have real freedom of choice ('tis the season, after all). Now I'm thinking about how I'd like to get out of my house and get on a plane and go somewhere.

Since I am all over the place, maybe I should simply post a photo I took that illustrates my state of mind: concentric circles of my brain into which ideas fly, get trapped, then are devoured by a subconscious brain spider as the ideas try desperately to release themselves into this blog.

Critical Thinking

2008-09-29T12:03:00.000-07:00

Feedback and justification are cornerstones of the human condition (psych students and therapists argue amongst yourselves). Though we like to pretend we don't need the approval of others, the opinions of others about our selves or our work often proves or disproves/justifies or negates our individual worth. Celebrities are a good, though extreme, example. They live life--for better and worse--at the judgmental whim of the entire planet. Anything they do gets photographed, reviewed, scrutinized, criticized, and made fun of, down to what they ordered at Starbucks. More than a few lucrative businesses and careers are completely, parasitically dependent on the lives and work of celebrities.

It's an infectious and soul-crushing habit. To believe it is our right to judge one another openly is just bad for the soul, but what do you expect when it's what we find to be entertaining? I thought reality TV was going to be a one-season phase--Survivor is going on a dozen seasons or more, there's a Reality Show category at the Emmys now, so it's clearly no phase--and the basis of the whole genre is judgment. American Idol, Dancing with the Stars, America's Got Talent, So You Think You Can Dance (what an extraordinarily arrogant title for a show), The Apprentice, America's Next Top Model, and the like all revolve around this formula: perform, judge, eliminate, and embarrass as many people as possible along the way. And what of those that put their entire families up for public consumption: Anna Nicole did it, the Osbournes, the Hogans, the Kardashians, the kids on Laguna Beach, The Hills, Real Housewives, whatever. And don't try to tell me you don't judge those on Wife Swap, Trading Spouses, Supernanny, and The Moment of Truth. Hey, I'm not innocent there, I think they're nuts for doing it.

This habit of passing judgment is so widespread, it is becoming too automatic, too broadly accepted as civilized behavior. With reality TV (a misnomer of the highest order) comes the misconception that we actually know these people; and we judge our own selves far too harshly by drawing comparisons to the flatteringly lit, carefully-conceived, (though not always as carefully controlled) images of the rich and famous.

It all goes with the voyeuristic tabloid culture in which we've found and lost ourselves. We are a small part of the masses, comfortable in our armchair ability to give fame and adoration and taketh away. To reference a rather profound speech in Ratatouille, delivered by Peter O'Toole as the supreme food critic Anton Ego: "In many ways, the work of a critic is easy. We risk very little, yet enjoy a position over those who offer up their work and their selves to our judgment. We thrive on negative criticism, which is fun to write and to read. But the bitter truth we critics must face, is that in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is probably more meaningful than our criticism designating it so." I'm not sure that The Hills is all that meaningful in itself, but we tend to lose sight that even the densest, silliest, most obnoxious person in the world is still a person.

Holy Moly

2008-09-26T20:40:00.001-07:00

This has made the email rounds at some point, I believe, and You Tubers have made quite a go at it... but this makes me laugh so hard I cry:

Leap of Faith

2008-09-26T14:13:00.000-07:00

Not the greatest action shot ever taken, but it was scary and cool to see.

In the Dreamer's Seat

2008-09-25T11:08:00.000-07:00

I had a freaky Resident Evil kind of dream this morning. It's been several hours since I got up, so the details aren't as vivid anymore, but I think I can still put it together.

I was in a city, and society had collapsed due to a zombie takeover (I'm prone to zombie dreams, this isn't the first). I'm still human, and in a resistance-type group with other humans. The city around the walls of our compound is all ashes, rubble, and fire. The sky overhead is a blanket of apocalyptic smoke. Our stronghold falls under attack, and I get separated from everyone else. No idea if anyone but me is alive, I start running from the zombies coming after me. And they don't lumber along like the walking dead really should, but they are hauling ass like 28 Days Later. They catch up to me, have me on the ground, and I'm fighting to keep from getting eaten. The one whose got her fingers around my throat says to the others (in a perfectly normal voice), "You know what's wrong here? She still has her head on." And she proceeds to try and tear my head off with her bare, dead hands. (I totally blame this scenario on watching the Heroes season opener yesterday.) Now this is the point where I go lucid. I realize I'm dreaming. I wriggle away, and think that all I have to do is get out of the city. I decided that the zombies couldn't be outside of the gated-off portion of the street that--lo, and behold!--is about 20 yards in front of me. I make the dash to the gates, and get through to the other side, where it's nice and sunny and clean.

I didn't know your dreams were allowed to contradict you, but apparently mine do. The zombies disregard my new rule about the urban border, and come through the gates after me, into the sunny side of the street. I back away, onto a sidewalk. They look to their right, towards the source of a noise, and SPLAT. The whole lot are squished by a bus the size of a freight train. I wake up.

Storytime Tale of Woe

2008-09-24T10:43:00.000-07:00

Took the kids to storytime today at a major bookstore chain. The guy who used to run it (we'll call him Bill) recently left his position at the store, and someone else is now doing it. Bill was very good at storytime, and he was quite popular. He was animated and creative, and often had props to help make the stories more fun. He also played banjo pretty well, and would get the kids up and moving to music in between his two books. There was even, most times, a theme each week and he made coloring pages the kids could have afterwards. It was like the Cadillac of story hours.

So we were pretty spoiled. And I am not trying to talk down to the girl kind enough to step in and read to our kids, but her attempt this morning was not a great success. She's young--early 20s at the most--and I'm guessing doesn't have kids. Which isn't really a prerequisite for reading to them, but it helps to know how to engage them. I think, therefore, that storytime is harder to do well than any of us really imagined. And, poor girl, Bill is an impossible act to follow. Plus he'd likely been at this for several years.

As an audience, we tried to be gracious and helpful by doing a songtime largely on our own, but the idea of storytime, for us, is that we don't have to work as hard as we do when we're home. We'll keep the kids behavior in check, sure, but not do as much of the entertaining. It was a little like watching a comedian die onstage.

Kids can be tough critics, and they can smell fear. They may not know what to call it, but they know when an adult who's supposed to be in charge really isn't, and they'll go for the jugular. So I feel for the girl, and she may know now that unless you can improvise like Robin Williams or play the banjo, you need to come in with a plan. I simply don't know if I'm going to wait around for the learning curve to kick in.

Tabloid Culture

2008-09-23T13:28:00.001-07:00

I'm not even really sure where to start. Celebrities want publicity. Tabloids need pictures of celebrities to move product. Paparazzi get paid a lot to get the shots that they sell to the tabs, and the more candid, apparently, the better. People might see the photos printed by the tabs while they wait in line at the store and buy them.

It's the nature of the fame beast to lose your anonymity (which is the point), but along with that comes a disproportionate public interest in silly things like what you ate for breakfast. And what photogs do to get a photo of you eating your breakfast is appalling, and sometimes dangerous.

There are places in the U.S. that are universally known to be staked out by paparazzi. In Los Angeles alone, it's The Ivy, Robertson Blvd., and Kitson most notoriously, though there are others. (Sidenote: Do photogs get a special permit to clog up LAX or something? How is that not a "security" risk? I got harrassed there once for having an unopened bottle of root beer.) My point on this front is that this is one solution: Have places where those who want to be photographed can go, and if a photog takes a picture of a celeb anywhere else, keep it, but it's illegal to sell it. No more street chases or kids getting knocked over in the park, the photogs get some money (though likely not as much--boo hoo), and the fame-seekers get their faces in print. Still OK would be public appearances and outside studios and theaters where fans usually are anyway, premieres, you know, things related to their work.

The media tells us so much about famous people we should utterly disregard. I admit I do sometimes read entertainment mags, but I'm usually more into the interviews, where both parties have agreed on the information released. This trash-digging, rumor mill, judgmental, cliched high school nonsense that we were all supposed to have outgrown is really no good for anyone.

What is it about us that is so stunted we cannot be happy for others' success? Americans love an underdog, but once the underdog is top-dog, we kick him and take away his kibble. We exalt others because we want to believe any of us can be "great" (insert your own definition here), but once someone is exalted, we don't like to feel that this someone is actually better than the rest of us, so we send out the wrecking ball to crush the pedestal we built to make sure they don't think they are, too. It's bizarre.

So which came first in this tabloid culture? Supply or demand? Either way, demand will be the one to decide how long and how far this goes.

FTW!

2008-09-22T18:38:00.000-07:00

We had a good game.

This Might Sound Pompous

2008-09-22T12:17:00.000-07:00

I was thinking about a soliloquy from Hamlet, the omnipresent "To Be Or Not To Be" speech.

When bits of literature become "common knowledge" they are often so distorted, or so abbreviated, the original is forgotten, or becomes more of an aside to the broad perception, if the original considered at all. (My screen name here is from that speech, by the way--you'll see.)

I haven't read the play in years, though it has been on my to do list for a couple of months now. I still plan to get to it, but time is short at the moment, and it's not exactly light reading. Hamlet is not a happy story. It is about a prince of Denmark. The prince's uncle killed his dad, the king of Denmark, and married his mother, the queen. Homicidal uncle becomes king. Not to ruin it for anyone, but it doesn't end well. Anyway, the speech. It's famous because it's an unbelievably brilliant, profound musing on death--as the devil we don't know--versus the trials of living that can become nearly unbearable.

In the speech, Hamlet compares death to sleep--far less frightening than the idea that we cease to exist--which makes him somewhat hopeful in the prospect that death might actually be preferable to life. But the fact that we simply don't know, once we have given ourselves over to death's sleep, "what dreams may come/When we have shuffled off this mortal coil" is enough to "give us pause." He goes on to muse that sometimes the only thing keeping us from taking our own lives to end the suffering is the fear of what comes after the deed is done; a deed that cannot be undone.

Religions have lots of answers for this, but the truth is that none of us knows what is on the other side--yet, someday, we all will. Sometimes this knowledge is comforting, and sometimes it's utterly terrifying. And how each of us gets there is answered only by time.

Fool's Gold

2008-09-20T19:41:00.000-07:00

I was just trying to remember at what point a movie's success or failure was judged on box office take, with such specific focus on its opening weekend. I don't remember this ever mattering when I was growing up, when I still really cared about going to a theater and being one of the first in line to see something.

Could have been somewhere after the ridiculous amount of money made by Titanic that many started taking notice of opening weekends. Although Jaws (released in 1975!) is credited with being the first movie to hit blockbuster status--first to bust the $100 million cherry--when did it really start to matter what each and every movie makes? And I don't mean to the studios themselves. I'm sure it always mattered to them. I mean, for the rest of us that stand to collect no profits or shoulder no losses, why do we need to know? Box office status has its own idiot-point-heavy segment on every entertainment news reel. What does that have to do with quality of the product? The media reports these figures after every weekend like the dollar is the only unit of measurement for quality.

Seeing those extraordinary numbers, though... most individuals, and even some countries, will never see that much money in the whole of their history, and any one movie studio can make it in a single weekend. Most people can't even truly comprehend millions of anything, let alone dollars. But millions and millions are spent in the production and marketing of movies, betting careers and reputations and future opportunities on nailing the #1 spot every week. It's a bizarre ritual, and I imagine very stressful for those with their heads on the block.

But for those movies that do okay to poorly at the box office, there is the silver lining of DVD sales, which can bring a weaker performing movie back from the brink, and sometimes right into the black. It probably wouldn't be enough to get a sequel greenlit, no matter the quality of the work, but you can often obtain a notoriety that makes a little-seen theatrical release into a "cult classic" and potentially a "classic." Or at the very least a collector's edition DVD and a lot of con appearances.

Rejected

2008-09-19T11:58:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite things, ever:

Older Kids on the Block

2008-09-18T12:16:00.001-07:00

I just read an article about New Kids on the Block playing to a sold-out crowd in Canada. I'm afraid that, although I was the right age to be an NKOTB fan the first time, I never was one. I was more into L.A.'s Pirate Radio and KROQ, and not so much into the pop thing at the time. I wasn't gothed out, but I wore a lot of black.

I'm happy that they are able to get back on the stage, selling out tours in Canada and the U.S.--I would have felt really bad for them if the whole thing flopped--but it gets me to thinking. With all the nostalgia remakes in movies over the last decade or so (The Stepford Wives, The Mod Squad, The Avengers, Transformers, Speed Racer, and coming soon: The Day the Earth Stood Still, among many others) and in TV (Knight Rider, 90210, The Office--I've even heard Fringe is like another X-Files) and music acts coming back (NKOTB, Spice Girls, and of course the many musicians/bands that never stop touring, like The Stones), I have to wonder if we're just dried up for ideas. We all know the adage that says there are no new ideas, though bringing back things that were cool ten years ago gets parents to thinking they can connect to their kids by sharing something old brought back anew. Maybe it works, I don't know, but it certainly sells tickets.

The world is owned and operated by corporations. Corporations are like toddlers: they like things that are tried-and-true and bring instant gratification. They don't like to test new ideas (though they're the ones with the money and exposure to actually make new stuff happen). So maybe it's not that we're out of ideas, it's just that we're a little short on the cojones to constantly try out new ones. I just worry that this attitude is (to bring back an old soundbite phrase) trickling down to the rest of us. Prices of goods go up at a rate much faster than that of wages. So our evenings out become real luxuries. You don't want to drop $40 on a night out at the movies, for example, if you're not pretty sure you're going to love it. I totally get that. A few years ago I went to see an older musician's concert, and admit I was most excited for the songs I already knew and loved than for his new stuff. That has to be frustrating for him.

I always wondered what it was like for someone who's famous to try and go back to civilian life after their run in the spotlight is up. Apparently it's not just fashion that goes in cycles; you just wait ten years, and do it all again.

Television Sucks

2008-09-18T12:16:00.000-07:00

OK, that's not exactly true. I love a lot of shows that are on right now (and more that will be on in February--the return of Joss!), which inherently creates the potential for a lot of wasted time. It's like having a friend who talks you into eating your weight in chocolate cake. The common response would be "you suck for bringing me that cake," but what you're really saying is "I suck for being too weak-willed to resist your caloric influence." Let's face it, TV is empty calories for the brain; it's passive entertainment that requires little from me but gathering cellulite. But there is a decadent buffet of quality (quality=scripted, sorry) programming that I will find difficult to resist entirely.

I have a family, and I live in a place that values an earlier prime time than other parts of the world. The offspring are in bed after prime time has begun, so it's a challenge to see everything I want to see on TV as it shows. (And this whole government-mandated-load-the-landfills-buy-HD b.s. is something else entirely.) Which is why I love love love that you can find most good shows online now. And there's usually one or two major sponsors, so no more of this 20 minutes of commercials nonsense. Wait, I have something in my eye...

I'll admit it. If not for the impending doom of the analog signal, I'd still be using rabbit ears and my VCR. As a matter of fact, I'd be doing that now, right up until Dark February, if my decade-old TV hadn't finally decided to meet its manufacturer. But I don't like to think of it as losing a TV, so much as gaining a butt-groove in my office chair.

Domo Arigato, Mr. Roboto

2008-09-16T10:50:00.000-07:00

Dean Kamen (inventor of the Segway) at the All Things Digital conference talking about the Luke Arm--seriously incredible work--as well as education and the cricket crisis in America. A little long, but it's in three parts, and worth the time.

http://www.medgadget.com/archives/2008/09/the_luke_arm_at_all_things_d.html

Stand Aside, Fanboy

2008-09-12T13:06:00.000-07:00

I'm a Whedon fan, but this beats all... http://crochetme.com/forum/joss-whedons-firefly-serenity
:)

I Pity the Fool

2008-09-12T08:05:00.000-07:00

At the risk of dating myself, I loved The A-Team as a kid. For several years after the show was gone, visits to Universal Studios guaranteed a look at The Van, which was a must for the trip to feel complete. The idea of watching the show on DVD as an adult was pretty exciting, which is part of the reason Transformers did so well at the box office.

I watched two episodes of season 2 last night. (Is it me, or was the show only half hour episodes in season 1, and are suddenly hour-long eps?) This is clearly a show made for 8-10 year old boys and their tomboy counterparts. Lots of implied violence--everyone shoots at each other, but no one gets shot, even at close-range--things blow-up randomly, lots of vehicular stunts (my personal favorite), Hannibal's mastery of disguise, and elaborate plans that always come together. And of course, Mr. T (though Murdoch is the one that really cracks me up). So there's still a lot of great stuff, but my gift-with-purchase comes in the form of noticing things like the seriously poor production quality. Is that because I'm now used to sophisticated CG and the benefits of astronomical budgets or because I'm an adult and have seen a lot since I was 8? Probably both.

Episode 2 of season 2 has all the good, the bad, and the ugly to which I refer. The guest stars are typically, consistently, terrible actors (which I love), all scenes are shot somewhere in LA (dig that crazy smogline; and to borrow from Austin Powers, South Africa "looks nothing at all like Southern California"), and wow, what is Amy wearing??? But specific to this episode, some highlights: Murdoch invoking Peter O'Toole; BA taking apart a luxury apartment's elevator to armor a bakery van; and the invention of bread guns. The beauty of a low budget is that you have nothing to lose, so you get creative. (See Evil Dead and Evil Dead 2 for Sam Raimi's effing awesome homemade camera rigs in action.) I heard some talk of re-making The A-Team. Why, why, why? The budget would be huge, and I seriously doubt there would be anything as cool as a bread gun.

Coolest Moth Ever

2008-09-10T12:31:00.000-07:00

In Communicado

2008-09-04T10:55:00.000-07:00

Email is awesome. Except for spam. But the concept of it is pretty amazing for anyone who bothers to think about it. The downsides? My penmanship is getting pretty bad, and the only things to look forward to (holidays and birthdays notwithstanding) when getting my mail are magazines and Netflix. These things are great, but the only person who writes me letters is grandma.

I don't know many teenagers really, since I am not one any longer and I am not a parent to one yet, but I am fairly certain that they don't do handwritten letters. Maybe the occasional mandatory thank you card or, like me, a letter to grandparents. Do they even pass notes in class anymore now that there's texting? Circle one: Yes/No.

A lot of people don't even send party invitations in the mail.

I am an occasional graphic designer, specializing in print, not web, which was a conscious choice. I can design websites--that's not much different than print design in that your job is to aesthetically arrange text and images in a space--and can do some web coding. At the same time, I'm against paper itself as a rule in that it's wasteful and takes up real estate, though recycling helps, yet I am also deeply into painting and drawing, and using the Wacom just doesn't feel as cool as doing it for real. But I greatly favor digital photography. Go figure.

My point is that so much personality--and sometimes meaning--is lost in email and texting. (Ahem. Especially if you accidentally send it to the wrong person.) It's like the computer is middle management for our relationships. And while I'm grateful for the ability to shoot off a quick note on gmail, and post my thoughts online instead of writing in a journal, I miss the look and feel of a letter from my best friend who lives in another state, or a really cute or creative invitation to a party, or the nice way my favorite pen brings out my best cursive lettering, shopping for stationery, even the act of putting a letter in the mailbox and anticipating the response.

Type can be produced by anyone with a keyboard, and written material forged much more easily and anonymously. Handwriting is so much more powerful than type in that you can really imagine the writer, sitting at a desk, thinking about the words you're just now reading, then committing them to paper. Think of the weight such a thing has when you say "in their own writing" or "in their own words," especially when the author is no longer among us. Handwriting is proof of an individual's existence. What really separates letters from email is that they can be kept for awhile as mementos. A lot of history has been pieced together by such heirlooms.

I Am a Rooster Illusion

2008-08-31T11:37:00.000-07:00

WARNING: Parts of Tropic Thunder movie revealed.

Went to a theater to see a movie, which, by itself is some kind of miracle as I am a devoted user of Netflix. (This has been true for awhile now, which brings me to Problem #1 with waiting too long between theater jaunts: I really have to watch myself so I don't just start in like MST3K.) I wanted to see The Dark Knight, but my other half was in the mood for Tropic Thunder. OK--when I do venture out to the theater, it's to a movie that has effects. I mean, like the kind where the movie was in editing before somebody realized there should probably be a storyline. Or if Joss Whedon makes a film (see previous post). I usually wait for movies like this to come out on DVD, but I agreed to see Tropic because it has a lot of people I like, funny is good, I don't get out much, whatever. The next show time was open caption, but OK, we got tickets and $20 "worth" of nachos and Pepsi, which, incidentally, is Problem #2 with waiting too long between theater jaunts: sticker shock.

It did not take long to encounter Problem #3: there were so many ads and previews before the movie I actually forgot what we went there to see. Funniest pre-movie moment (you recall the open caption status of our screen?): the word "p*ssy" flashed onscreen during the theater's own ad. We thought someone had been effing around with the captioning software, until we saw the first segment of the movie. Booty Sweat. That's all I'm going say about that.

The movie was quite entertaining. It was a little strange (I could just leave it there, but I choose to elaborate) in that it was at times really gross, really hilarious, then managed to touch on something actually profound. (The "full retard" speech was price of admission right there.) And it was meta, too: a movie within a movie where Robert Downey, Jr., plays an Australian actor playing a black man playing soldier. What I noticed: Ben Stiller is totally ripped. Robert Downey, Jr. is so very talented. And there are some things only Jack Black can (and should) pull off. And I love Jay Baruchel from Knocked Up.

The biggest surprise: Tom Cruise. I spent the last few years avoiding him pretty actively, but what he did was so funny and against type that I am endeared. A bit. Baby steps. Bald, fat, hairy and cursing like a longshoreman on a bender (see Hollywoodland for that last gem). And there's Bill Hader (one of the cops from Superbad) as his yes-man. Sweet.

OK, Dark Knight, I'll add you to my Netflix list.

In the Garden of Whedon

2008-08-21T10:49:00.000-07:00

I love Dr. Horrible. I didn't love it the first time I saw it, though. It was the ending, no surprise.

After trying periodically (and unsuccessfully) throughout day one to access it for free--it was crowded in there--I caved and bought the season pass on iTunes. It was cheap, though not as cheap as free, but can you really put a price on a love for Joss Whedon and Nathan Fillion? Apparently it's $3.99 plus an upgrade to iTunes that I didn't really want.

So it became mine, and I saw Act 1. Awesome. Waiting two days for Act 2 was rough. Saw Act 2. Still awesome. Love the songs, catchy little bastards. Waited two days, downloaded and saw Act 3. Um, huh? Still had love, but it was temporarily dulled by a case of WTF I came down with suddenly. It wasn't as bad as the case I got after watching Episode 3 of some other saga, but I digress.

I'm a loyal Whedon fan. Geeky on the inside, only slightly on the outside; it's most noticeable when I wear my Dr. Horrible t-shirt. I watched Buffy and Angel every week; I mourned (and still lament) the untimely end of Firefly; I paid the ransom to see Serenity released in the theater; at Christmas, I bought a copy of Serenity for anyone who had it on their wishlist. I own and from time to time re-read the comics Joss Whedon has written: Serenity, Fray, Astonishing X-Men, Buffy Season 8. So it's not like I'm new here.

I mulled my disappointment, then decided to watch acts 1-3 in succession. I started to feel better, and remembered who I was dealing with. Joss Whedon is really good at what he does. His work is the most creative stuff out there, and it is always smart and hilarious. He never talks down to his viewers, trusting us to rise to the story. It's a relief to be entertained by him.

No doubt, the ending to Dr. Horrible surprised me. But it really shouldn't have. My 3-year old has seen Act 1 (that's all I'll let him see right now), and he loves it--nothing beats a toddler walking around singing "a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do" or "laundry day"--but here's where it got interesting. He asks me one day, "Is Dr. Horrible a good guy?"

Um... yes, actually. But he's the villain. Captain Hammer is technically the hero, but he's a knob. (Note: I had to go on a Firefly watching spree so I could stop seeing NF as cheesy-on-the-outside. It helps.) I do not speak enough 3-year old to explain why we're cheering for the guy called Dr. Horrible whose main career goals are to destroy the status quo, get into the Evil League of Evil, and rule the world. And how do you say "Captain Hammer is a narcissist" in toddlerspeak? So we just go with, "Yes, sweetie, Dr. Horrible is a good guy. No, it's not really about taking money. Here, have some goldfish crackers."

But, seriously, I can't wait to blow his mind someday when I take him to Joss Whedon's house. It's on the block just south of Good and north of Evil, where good guys make bad decisions, villains are not always the bad guys, a hero is "someone who gets other people killed," and so many simple but powerfully unorthodox notions that are woven delicately into beautiful dialogue and intricate, believable universes. What's not to love?

Educate Me

2008-08-20T13:15:00.000-07:00

My first attempt at blogging, and I'm in a hell of a mood. Which is probably what got me here, typing to no one in particular. I suppose I should say that I am new to cynicism as well as blogging, and I do not think cynicism is particularly good for my digestion (we'll see about blogging), so I'm here to see if I expel my thoughts into the world (sort of) I can clear my head. So far I like this because I can say what I feel and not end up in a row with someone. At least, not right away.

What started this blog, really, was my new feeling of standing alone on something. What started the cynicism, unbelievably, was having two young kids. Which, of course, is completely contrary to what most people say after having kids, but let me explain. Or try anyway.

Before kids, I was a believer in the system. You are born, often you are cared for by someone who is not your parent because they are working, you get to be about four, and you go to school. You go to school for all your formative years, you get good grades, you graduate, you go to college. You graduate college, you get a job, you have kids, you go back to your job, your kids go to daycare, then on to school, etc.

There is nothing inherently wrong with this.

But to think that this is the only option seems... well, narrow-minded at best. This is where I clash with most people. Well, pretty much everyone. So I list education among other taboo topics like religion and politics. I avoid talking about it as much as possible, but every once in awhile I allow myself to get sucked in. Never advisable, since I'm hard pressed to find a receptive audience. Most of my family inexorably, passionately disagrees with an alternative to standardized schooling. Namely homeschooling.

The arguments are nothing new from when I was in school. Those kids are maladjusted. They don't fit in. They aren't socialized. Only religion nuts do that. All things that may be true from time to time, but it's funny how when I make my broad assertions about the downsides of "regular" schooling, all I get in return is about how we all turned out fine.

Are we fine? I know too many who hate their jobs, are on 15 different medications to subvert high blood pressure, anxiety, or any other ailments that come with modern life (or those caused by the medications), but that's beside the point. Speaking especially for myself, there are many who are not going to be happy sitting in a cubicle or an office for 8 or more hours a day. And some will say that work isn't supposed to make you happy, but it's two-thirds of our lives we're talking about here.

I mean, most people will get by or better with the hand they've been dealt. If you're like me, you would have maybe liked someone to show you there was an option other than the seeming inevitability of 9-5, rush hour, and casual Friday, which is what my education and my upbringing taught me to shoot for. I figure that if I hang out with my kids a little longer, teaching them myself, I will know better than anyone what they are capable of, what they are interested in, and if or when it comes to it, find the teachers and the schools that will really help them reach the potential we all hear so much about.