At the tail end of a long and fun party at our house, our friend Lisa showed us this video (I think it's from Ukraine. Can anyone verify?):
To be honest, at first I thought it was going to be a little cheesy/crafty, but as I sat with it, I saw it is a truly beautiful and astounding storytelling medium with an incredibly gifted artist at the helm. To do this requires genuine creativity, an appreciation for the principles of beauty, and a great deal of disciplined practice.
To be a little crass perhaps, this reminds of the first time I had a loroco pupusa. For those of you who aren't familiar with pupusas, they are kind of like a stuffed gordita from Ecuador. They stuffed with beans, cheese, pork, and often loroco flowers and topped with an amazing curtido (or cabbage salad) and mild red sauce. My first thought was sheer delight, but then I felt a little chagrined that my own people (Mexicans) did not come up with pupusas ourselves, since I have always felt that Mexicans had the corner market on great Latin American cuisine.
This video reminded me of those feelings. As our standardized test scores are surpassed by other nations, I think it has been easy to mollify ourselves with our supposed corner market on creativity. We believe this is our strength because of our individualistic spirit, independence, and free-market capitalism. Perhaps. My own experiences in fine art have shown me otherwise, and this video reinforces it: creative solutions of beauty and simplicity are coming out of cultures and circumstances very different from our own.
So where does that leave the legacy of American culture?
Monday, September 28, 2009
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Art & Copy
I have been looking forward to it for weeks. Months, perhaps. The premiere of Art & Copy, a little indie documentary commissioned by The One Club about the creative field of advertising.
Truth be told, out here in L.A., I have found myself chomping at the bit to be reconnected in any way with the world of creatives I found in San Francisco. Ah, that little conclave of bombastic creative opinions and cursing.
So I followed Art & Copy on Twitter, and put the premiere date in my I-Cal, with a two-week advance reminder to get tickets. I imagined that every ad person in Southern California would be flocking to the West Hollywood premiere and I wanted to make sure I would not be left without a ticket. After all, at best, this film promised access to the thoughts and stories of some of the greatest minds in advertising, and at the very least, we advertising folk thoroughly enjoy being reminded of the cultural significance and visionary genius of our industry.
I dragged along my boyfriend, who works in political digital campaigns, and my friend, Jay, who used to be a planner and now works as a qualitative research.
The courtyard outside the Laemmle 5 Theater was swarming with eager attendees...for another film. Our own little screening room was graced by the producers of the film and an almost half-full theater. My hopes to surrounded by anticipatory, creative electricity were immediately dashed.
Still, the opening scene seemed promising. Cave drawings and layered ad jingles started to draw a correlation between prehistoric cave drawings and the creative expressions of advertisers...but the full metaphor was never drawn. And, in fact, that is my major criticism of the film. Potential ideas were intimated, but never fully explored, leaving me to question the actual thesis of the film. Ironically, the film spent considerable time describing how advertising brought humanity and story elements to business sales, and yet the film itself lacked any sort of narrative arch. Instead, it seemed to relay a series of anecdotes and Power-Point-worthy factoids in a loosely chronological order.
It seems to me a film suitable for first semester advertising students, to indoctrinate them into the religion and lore of advertising, but as someone pretty familiar with both, I found myself growing a little bored with the film. As an insider, it seemed to me that likely only someone in the industry would actually be interested in the film, but my boyfriend, Shane, thinks anyone in a creative field or marketing would find the movie interesting, and his own mind was buzzing with how to bring greater creativity and relevancy to his client work (mind you, Shane already does a pretty good job of this).
True to industry form, the movie was peppered with profanity and hubris, most notably from famed art director, George Lois. His presence in the film actually made me squirm a bit, in part because some of his claims seemed so hubristic as to make all us advertisers seem kind of like asses, but also because I had just heard a podcast of This American Life, in which his former ad partner, Julian Koenig, and some of his other colleagues openly accuse George of frequently taking credit for the work and ideas of others. It made me want to question the credibility of the film.
Perhaps the most haunting line of the film was when Mary Well boldly claimed,"You can manufacture any feeling you want to manufacture." That definitely made me sit up in my seat (and perhaps cringe a little). But while Art & Copy had the potential to make this an indictment of the industry, it never carried through. Likely because of The One Club. As I remember one Rotten Tomatoes critic saying--it's an ad for advertising.
The greatest treat for me was seeing some of the great minds of advertising that shaped the industry in the 20th century, speaking, revealing their personality quirks, and sharing their values. In particular, I found myself inspired by Lee Clow (TBWA Chiat Day) who reminded me of a sage surfer uncle. I was wowed by the drive and energy of Mary Wells (Wells Rich Greene. I was charmed by the evocative campaigns of Hal Riney (Publicis Hal Riney). I was amused by the working relationship of Dan Wieden and David Kennedy (W+K) (and enamored with their Northwest offices). I was a little miffed Goodby & Silverstein didn't talk at least a little bit about the account planning that went into Got Milk? (of course). And I was surprised and disappointed not to see anything from advertising celebrity du jour, Alex Bogusky.
I might choose to buy a film like this, if I intended to teach. Otherwise, for inspiration and enrichment, I would be more likely to thumb through an issue of Ad Age or CMYK. Or re-watch Frida.
My next cinematic craving, which may also leave me a bit disappointed, but still happy:
The September Issue!
Truth be told, out here in L.A., I have found myself chomping at the bit to be reconnected in any way with the world of creatives I found in San Francisco. Ah, that little conclave of bombastic creative opinions and cursing.
So I followed Art & Copy on Twitter, and put the premiere date in my I-Cal, with a two-week advance reminder to get tickets. I imagined that every ad person in Southern California would be flocking to the West Hollywood premiere and I wanted to make sure I would not be left without a ticket. After all, at best, this film promised access to the thoughts and stories of some of the greatest minds in advertising, and at the very least, we advertising folk thoroughly enjoy being reminded of the cultural significance and visionary genius of our industry.
I dragged along my boyfriend, who works in political digital campaigns, and my friend, Jay, who used to be a planner and now works as a qualitative research.
The courtyard outside the Laemmle 5 Theater was swarming with eager attendees...for another film. Our own little screening room was graced by the producers of the film and an almost half-full theater. My hopes to surrounded by anticipatory, creative electricity were immediately dashed.
Still, the opening scene seemed promising. Cave drawings and layered ad jingles started to draw a correlation between prehistoric cave drawings and the creative expressions of advertisers...but the full metaphor was never drawn. And, in fact, that is my major criticism of the film. Potential ideas were intimated, but never fully explored, leaving me to question the actual thesis of the film. Ironically, the film spent considerable time describing how advertising brought humanity and story elements to business sales, and yet the film itself lacked any sort of narrative arch. Instead, it seemed to relay a series of anecdotes and Power-Point-worthy factoids in a loosely chronological order.
It seems to me a film suitable for first semester advertising students, to indoctrinate them into the religion and lore of advertising, but as someone pretty familiar with both, I found myself growing a little bored with the film. As an insider, it seemed to me that likely only someone in the industry would actually be interested in the film, but my boyfriend, Shane, thinks anyone in a creative field or marketing would find the movie interesting, and his own mind was buzzing with how to bring greater creativity and relevancy to his client work (mind you, Shane already does a pretty good job of this).
True to industry form, the movie was peppered with profanity and hubris, most notably from famed art director, George Lois. His presence in the film actually made me squirm a bit, in part because some of his claims seemed so hubristic as to make all us advertisers seem kind of like asses, but also because I had just heard a podcast of This American Life, in which his former ad partner, Julian Koenig, and some of his other colleagues openly accuse George of frequently taking credit for the work and ideas of others. It made me want to question the credibility of the film.
Perhaps the most haunting line of the film was when Mary Well boldly claimed,"You can manufacture any feeling you want to manufacture." That definitely made me sit up in my seat (and perhaps cringe a little). But while Art & Copy had the potential to make this an indictment of the industry, it never carried through. Likely because of The One Club. As I remember one Rotten Tomatoes critic saying--it's an ad for advertising.
The greatest treat for me was seeing some of the great minds of advertising that shaped the industry in the 20th century, speaking, revealing their personality quirks, and sharing their values. In particular, I found myself inspired by Lee Clow (TBWA Chiat Day) who reminded me of a sage surfer uncle. I was wowed by the drive and energy of Mary Wells (Wells Rich Greene. I was charmed by the evocative campaigns of Hal Riney (Publicis Hal Riney). I was amused by the working relationship of Dan Wieden and David Kennedy (W+K) (and enamored with their Northwest offices). I was a little miffed Goodby & Silverstein didn't talk at least a little bit about the account planning that went into Got Milk? (of course). And I was surprised and disappointed not to see anything from advertising celebrity du jour, Alex Bogusky.
I might choose to buy a film like this, if I intended to teach. Otherwise, for inspiration and enrichment, I would be more likely to thumb through an issue of Ad Age or CMYK. Or re-watch Frida.
My next cinematic craving, which may also leave me a bit disappointed, but still happy:
The September Issue!
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Labor Day Souvenir
After a wonderfully restful Labor Day weekend in San Francisco (pics on Flickr to come), Shane and I stopped to visit my sister, Lindsey and her family. The kids were super excited to drag us to check out their new favorite local hangout: Big Bubba's BBQ!
The ribs were meaty and good, the staff was super entertaining (crew line dancing and jaw-dropping balloon artist), but the memory that is staying with me to this day is the mechanical bull. Apparently my niece and nephews have become quite adept at riding this sucker to the blaring beats of Black Eyed Peas and T.I. Of course, they talked their uncle into giving it a go.
I now understand why cowboys walk so bow-legged. My thighs are still sore.
Behold, my jerky,awkward shame:
(thank you Shane and Apple's I Phone for documenting this. I is ignominy?)
The ribs were meaty and good, the staff was super entertaining (crew line dancing and jaw-dropping balloon artist), but the memory that is staying with me to this day is the mechanical bull. Apparently my niece and nephews have become quite adept at riding this sucker to the blaring beats of Black Eyed Peas and T.I. Of course, they talked their uncle into giving it a go.
I now understand why cowboys walk so bow-legged. My thighs are still sore.
Behold, my jerky,awkward shame:
(thank you Shane and Apple's I Phone for documenting this. I is ignominy?)
Friday, August 28, 2009
R-E-S- . . . P-S-S?**
Research. Who does it? Who cares?
Lately that topic has come up quite a bit in conversation as I have talked to various people in the industry (of advertising).
Sometimes it seems that clients want to use research as a crutch, to validate the proposed campaign, to make decisions for them on what path to take, to help them sleep at night resting comfortably that they will get great ROI (Return-On-Investment. Perhaps one of the most hateful terms to have gotten stuck in my head since entering this dizzy little industry).
I think, for this reason, many creatives and planners have developed something of a resentful relationship towards research. It becomes hampering towards great ideas, diluting creativity, and stymie-ing potential growth. Some planners and creatives I have talked to value infinitely more the power of brilliant intuition.
This intuition comes in particularly valuable when you are called upon to offer keen insights on the spot, without the chance to research a question and assess trends and history. I would, however, counter that great intuition is built upon good research.
Once, long ago, I was fervently dedicated to the idea of becoming a clinical psychologist. People already came to me for advice, and I thought I was pretty darned good at it. I shudder now to think at some of the bad advice I gave. But at the time I thought my intuition was so damned good. It took years of listening to people's problems, studying human behavior in an academic way, going through some of my own life experiences, and taking a step back, pondering, and looking for larger patterns.
Now, when people come to me for advice on relationships, I think I can reliably say my intuition is pretty good. I can quickly look at a situation/dynamic and assess the key issues. Often, I can even offer a really good solution. But this quick intuition has been fed by years of research and analysis.
Ultimately what is intuition, but what is latently within us. And you can only get out of something what you put into it.
Some planners reading this will be quick to observe this is why we often want planners with a wide breadth of experiences, because they can draw upon those experiences to feed their intuitive problem-solving. Life experiences, reading, and deep pondering are definitely forms of research.
But I think we should not be quick to negate other structured forms of qualitative and quantitative research as incredibly valuable to the creative process. Research results from these endeavors can significantly expand our thinking beyond our limited experiences. Sometimes it is just about the right question. We see surprising data that maybe did not fit with our preconceived thinking, but suddenly that puzzle piece makes sense in the whole scheme.
I think therein lies the key to good empirical research feeding the creative process of advertising: asking the right question. Asking the question that probably no one else has thought to ask. It is asking these kinds of questions that has led to some of our great breakthroughs in thinking: air-borne germ theory, a helio-centric planetary system, pizza-on-a-bagel means you can have pizza anytime!
In all seriousness, as a former academic, I value good research and the insights it can bring, but, as a creative person, I know that the best solutions often involve an element of risk, of trying out something that cannot be proven to be fail-safe. And that is bad news to the business suits who want security blanket solutions.
**SPSS . . . the statistics analytics tool. R-E-S-P-E-C-T . . . the Aretha Franklin song . . . never mind.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Overdue Indulgence
Once again too long since blogging. I have had lots of thoughts to share on branding, which I will hopefully get to this weekend, but sometimes, you just have to get away from the noise of Twitter and blogs and recycled news chatter. I am SO sick of reading things from a screen. For awhile now I have been yearning to return to my favorite activity as a child--curling up with a good book. Which is why, after meeting up with some local creative/marketing peeps at Likeminds, I headed over to the the public library on Venice Blvd. to get a library card, once the ultimate symbol of power and knowledge.
I was actually pretty disappointed by this branch. It has only three bookcases of fiction! With one shelf dedicated completely to Michael Crichton. It made me miss the vast and glorious library of downtown SLC.
Nonetheless I made off with some wonderful, purely indulgent selections:
Eat, Pray, Love I have been meaning to read for a while now, I bought my mother the Spanish translation so we could read it together. I hope she is still game.
The Little Prince is another book I have been meaning to read for a while. They didn't have a copy of it in French, so I will just breeze through it in English. I am expecting to be delighted.
Flesh and Blood is a novel by Michael Cunningham. I really enjoy his quiet, introspective prose. It's about this family of characters that seem to touch on all aspects of Michael Cunningham's personality, so, like much of Michael's stuff, it seems to be a work of literary/intellectual masturbation.
My final book choice is Beezus and Ramona by Beverly Cleary. This is perhaps my favorite book from childhood. It still makes me laugh out loud, and even as a grown-up, I relate to the characters. I just wish they had better cover art.
Notice none of these books are nonfiction books designed to educate on a topic, in particular marketing, culture, symbology, religion, or art (the only books I have read for the past five years). The choices were pure, unadulterated literary indulgence. I wasn't even going to reach for books I "should" read, like a Tolstoy tome. Just escapist fun. And no screens!
After reading just a few pages of Beezus and Ramona in the check-out line, I knew I had to sit and enjoy a chapter or two of this delightful book. But the uncomfortably tiny, non-cushy chair zone that is the Venice library would not do, so I headed over to Lemonade--the trendy new eatery on Venice's Abbot Kinney. At Lemonade I settled in to enjoy Ramona's antics and some cucumber & mint lemonade. Very yummy. The cookie was rather "meh."
It was the perfect afternoon. I walked to my car with an extra skip in my step, eager to get home and curl up for an hour or two with a book, blithely trying to ignore the very grown-up buzz-kill that is Los Angeles traffic.
I was actually pretty disappointed by this branch. It has only three bookcases of fiction! With one shelf dedicated completely to Michael Crichton. It made me miss the vast and glorious library of downtown SLC.
Nonetheless I made off with some wonderful, purely indulgent selections:
Eat, Pray, Love I have been meaning to read for a while now, I bought my mother the Spanish translation so we could read it together. I hope she is still game.
The Little Prince is another book I have been meaning to read for a while. They didn't have a copy of it in French, so I will just breeze through it in English. I am expecting to be delighted.
Flesh and Blood is a novel by Michael Cunningham. I really enjoy his quiet, introspective prose. It's about this family of characters that seem to touch on all aspects of Michael Cunningham's personality, so, like much of Michael's stuff, it seems to be a work of literary/intellectual masturbation.
My final book choice is Beezus and Ramona by Beverly Cleary. This is perhaps my favorite book from childhood. It still makes me laugh out loud, and even as a grown-up, I relate to the characters. I just wish they had better cover art.
Notice none of these books are nonfiction books designed to educate on a topic, in particular marketing, culture, symbology, religion, or art (the only books I have read for the past five years). The choices were pure, unadulterated literary indulgence. I wasn't even going to reach for books I "should" read, like a Tolstoy tome. Just escapist fun. And no screens!
After reading just a few pages of Beezus and Ramona in the check-out line, I knew I had to sit and enjoy a chapter or two of this delightful book. But the uncomfortably tiny, non-cushy chair zone that is the Venice library would not do, so I headed over to Lemonade--the trendy new eatery on Venice's Abbot Kinney. At Lemonade I settled in to enjoy Ramona's antics and some cucumber & mint lemonade. Very yummy. The cookie was rather "meh."
It was the perfect afternoon. I walked to my car with an extra skip in my step, eager to get home and curl up for an hour or two with a book, blithely trying to ignore the very grown-up buzz-kill that is Los Angeles traffic.
Friday, August 7, 2009
The Future of Advertising
(above is the vomit of this digital marketing behemoth)
Perhaps it is because creatives AND business people are the biggest bunch of navel-gazers on the planet, but I am SO sick of hearing about "the future of advertising". "The future of advertising is . . . !" or "John, what would YOU say is the future of advertising?" or "Is advertising dead?"
It's like the frivolity of fashion forecasting. In fact the parallels between our industry and the fashion industry are staggering (for all that industry types loathe fashion ads). The point being, you can sit on the red carpet and postulate that patent leather will be the must-have for fall, but people with real style aren't very affected by these trends. They disdain the trendy and go for a unique style that conveys their values and outlook on the world and that works with their body types. They understand that jumping on fall's fad will leave them looking like an idiot in spring.
Not that I am the most stylish person in the world, but I do enjoy the impact of smart aesthetic choices in clothes, and I know that there are items in my closet that I wore in high school that still garner praise and still look very fresh and relevant and can be found echoed in the "latest trends".
It's like vintage Chanel or the brand identity designs of Paul Rand. They still look great, they are still appealing, and they are still very effective.
Rather than trying to figure out the next gimmick, I think it is the role of good advertising/marketing/pr/creative agencies to help individual companies find their own "sense of style", then as gimmicks and trends come along, like the latest social media app (it's scary how easily that word comes now) or a new media outlet, you can work with the brand to decide, "Does this fit? Hm. Maybe it kind of makes my ass look fat, let's go with the distressed oxford shirt. If we we change out the buttons and pull it with a cool blazer, we can really make it work." Ultimately, I guess I am saying its about the identity/message, not the medium and not the funky tools (*cough* drop shadow!).
PS-I will confess I am still irked that everyone started wearing blazers with jeans a few years ago because I enjoyed being the only person wearing that in high school.
The Perfect Day
What would the perfect day look like for John Quintana? If this anal-retentive, uber-picky guy had everything go his way, what woudl the world look like? Well, it would look something like the Saturday after my birthday, which I decided to take for self-indulgence. (for those of you who are patient enough to sit through all of this, there is a surprise at the end)
The night before I was able to go to bed at a reasonable hour and I woke up without the aid of an alarm and with no rush for a particular destination, which meant I could just roll over and cuddle indulgently with my favorite person in the whole world.
We defied the conventions of L.A. and headed out with pillow wrinkles still fresh on our faces to get my new favorite breakfast: bagels with cream cheese and lox!
(When first I saw the ambulance I was mortified someone had died or something at the bagel shop . . . and I would not be able to get my bagels and lox. I am that awful of a person.)
We enjoyed breakfast at my new favorite place in all of Los Angeles: our terrace. The morning light just made Shane look even more amazing.
We then got our asses kicked by a lithe Japanese yoga instructor at the gym. It was awesome, purifying, re-aligning, and transcendent!
I decided to treat my boyfriend to lunch at the restaurant where I am serving penance. I got to show him off to all of my co-workers, and I chose to sustain myself on yet another form of smoked salmon (FYI for my Gentile friends--lox is a form of smoked salmon).
On the way home, we were once again intrigued by the assembled young people waiting in line for days now in front of the Johnny Cupcakes. I decided to exercise my planner chops and went out an interviewed the people on the street. It was so much fun! And I learned a lot about this wholly different clothing brand. I will post a full report on my little gum shoe work later next week.
Once I put away my little tape recorder, it was time to bust out the Gregorian chants and do some baking! (thankfully I had a nice iced coffee to keep me cool, thanks to Shane's wonderful parents who got us a coffee maker while they were here)
Our good friends here in L.A. came over, we packed up some sandwiches, the banana bread I just made, and various other goodies and headed to Venice Beach (my new favorite beach) for a sunset picnic on the beach.
Everyone brought the perfect things for a picnic on the beach. Kevin brought a bottle of champagne and my favorite chocolate, Naomi brought yummy berries (which went great with the bubbly) and cookies, and Phil (bless his heart!) brought SMOKED SALMON SANDWICHES! I was in heaven. My third meal of delectable, savory smoked salmon. This time perfectly off set with dill and lemon.
We spent the rest of the evening wandering around Abbot Kinney, giggling like crazy and soaking up the local scene. We ended the night eating the amazing Korean-Mexican fusion taco truck that is Kogi.
Ah, it was a perfect day! I wish everyday could be like that. There were only two things that I didnt get to do that day, that I wanted to: 1) do a little clothes shopping and 2) go to the public library and piece of real, indulgent FICTION! Sigh. Maybe this weekend. Still, a perfect day, and I think Shane for being so wonderful in going along with all of it.
Still, there is the surprise I was talking about before. You see, on my actual birthday, Shane took me out to this marvelous Latin-fusion restaurant to give a birthday present unlike any other I have received: a trip to Machu Picchu!!! Aaaaaaaaaahh!!! Where is an Oprah studio audience when you need one?
Anyway, we are going in December and we are both super excited to plan the trip together, so I guess the most perfect part of the day was the reminder that I have a wonderful partner with whom to have wonderful indulgent days and exciting adventures, and for that, I have every reason to be grateful.
*for full photos of the day go to Flickr set.
The night before I was able to go to bed at a reasonable hour and I woke up without the aid of an alarm and with no rush for a particular destination, which meant I could just roll over and cuddle indulgently with my favorite person in the whole world.
We defied the conventions of L.A. and headed out with pillow wrinkles still fresh on our faces to get my new favorite breakfast: bagels with cream cheese and lox!
(When first I saw the ambulance I was mortified someone had died or something at the bagel shop . . . and I would not be able to get my bagels and lox. I am that awful of a person.)
We enjoyed breakfast at my new favorite place in all of Los Angeles: our terrace. The morning light just made Shane look even more amazing.
We then got our asses kicked by a lithe Japanese yoga instructor at the gym. It was awesome, purifying, re-aligning, and transcendent!
I decided to treat my boyfriend to lunch at the restaurant where I am serving penance. I got to show him off to all of my co-workers, and I chose to sustain myself on yet another form of smoked salmon (FYI for my Gentile friends--lox is a form of smoked salmon).
On the way home, we were once again intrigued by the assembled young people waiting in line for days now in front of the Johnny Cupcakes. I decided to exercise my planner chops and went out an interviewed the people on the street. It was so much fun! And I learned a lot about this wholly different clothing brand. I will post a full report on my little gum shoe work later next week.
Once I put away my little tape recorder, it was time to bust out the Gregorian chants and do some baking! (thankfully I had a nice iced coffee to keep me cool, thanks to Shane's wonderful parents who got us a coffee maker while they were here)
Our good friends here in L.A. came over, we packed up some sandwiches, the banana bread I just made, and various other goodies and headed to Venice Beach (my new favorite beach) for a sunset picnic on the beach.
Everyone brought the perfect things for a picnic on the beach. Kevin brought a bottle of champagne and my favorite chocolate, Naomi brought yummy berries (which went great with the bubbly) and cookies, and Phil (bless his heart!) brought SMOKED SALMON SANDWICHES! I was in heaven. My third meal of delectable, savory smoked salmon. This time perfectly off set with dill and lemon.
We spent the rest of the evening wandering around Abbot Kinney, giggling like crazy and soaking up the local scene. We ended the night eating the amazing Korean-Mexican fusion taco truck that is Kogi.
Ah, it was a perfect day! I wish everyday could be like that. There were only two things that I didnt get to do that day, that I wanted to: 1) do a little clothes shopping and 2) go to the public library and piece of real, indulgent FICTION! Sigh. Maybe this weekend. Still, a perfect day, and I think Shane for being so wonderful in going along with all of it.
Still, there is the surprise I was talking about before. You see, on my actual birthday, Shane took me out to this marvelous Latin-fusion restaurant to give a birthday present unlike any other I have received: a trip to Machu Picchu!!! Aaaaaaaaaahh!!! Where is an Oprah studio audience when you need one?
Anyway, we are going in December and we are both super excited to plan the trip together, so I guess the most perfect part of the day was the reminder that I have a wonderful partner with whom to have wonderful indulgent days and exciting adventures, and for that, I have every reason to be grateful.
*for full photos of the day go to Flickr set.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
RE-flections!
It's the morning after my 27th birthday. My day has begun as I often like to begin the day of my birthday--I woke up before dawn and am taking my time to think about the trajectory of my life.
It is a little crazy that I have now had enough birthdays that I have developed my own personal preference for birthday ritual. I generally have an intimate dinner with friends, I afford myself a bit of personal indulgence (take a "me" day. This year it will be on Saturday. I have already planned a yoga class, some art time, and maybe a little hike.), and call my parents.
I am now 27. It doesn't really feel any different. In fact, I often barely feel much older than 18 (and yet am perpetually 40). Now I have the benefit of hindsight. 10 years ago today, I had just graduated from high school and was on BYU campus starting as a freshman summer term. I was eager to get on with life and didn't want to spend an entire summer at home. I couldn't wait to get college over with and really "start" my life.
In the eyes of 17 year old John, this would be the year I hopefully finished my Ph.D. in Clinical Child Psychology. I was nervous about being able to provide for a family while in grad school. Like any good Mormon, I expected to be married by now, with perhaps one or two children. I was nervous and excited about serving a mission. I thought of myself as a great counselor to those around me. I was thrilled by my new-found freedom of being away from home. That summer was actually probably the most fun summer I have ever had. My friends and I stayed out until all hours--having impromptu concerts in front of the dorms, driving out to Bridal Veil Falls in the middle of the night, going to the 24-hour grocery store for early-morning ice cream runs.
In some ways I wonder how much I have really changed. I feel like much the same person.
My life, however, is definitely nothing like what I imagined. The only thing that has turned out as I expected, was that I hoped at this point I would have made it back to southern California. Here I am. Living with my boyfriend and about to finish my third (fourth?) year of my master's degree . . . in advertising (?!). The ways that I choose to define myself are less concrete than at 17. I understand things about myself that I never could have anticipated. Nonetheless, in this relationship with Shane, I am pushing myself even more, confronting even more about myself and being forced to grow. Like anyone else who gets older, I can look back and say I thought I knew so much back then and realize now how little I took the time to really listen and try to understand.
Perhaps the greatest achievement I can lay claim to right now is that I am happy. I was taught as a child that true, life-giving, love-filled happiness is sign of a life lived rightly and goodly (proper use of adverbs, I swear). I hope and believe that is true. I know that I need to challenge myself more, to be more spiritually aware and live more mindfully, but I also have faith God will be patient with me and help me as I try to figure out the next steps of my life.
I am grateful for the friends I have made on this path of my life who have helped me become the person I am today and who have sustained me in difficult times. I wish they were all a constant part of my life, but life keeps us marching forward. I think we will be reunited.
When I woke up yesterday with an ache in my heart for my parents. Mom, if you read this, I love you and Dad both so much. I am the person I am today because of your influence and love. My birthday wish would have been to see you both and hug you. I hope I can do so soon.
. . . and now, it's time to get my butt in gear. I have been having the most amazing time writing this on the terrace with our flowers and the morning getting brighter (another grey day! My favorite! (I am serious)), but I have to commute to Venice.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Tell Me Lies, Tell Me Sweet Little Lies
Did I get that 80's song stuck in your head? Great because that was the first thing that came to mind when I saw this:
It's part of an inventive new campaign from Tappening, an organization aimed at reducing bottled water consumption. It's a popular trend that has inspired the proliferation of the annoyingly over-priced Sigg water bottles and banning of bottled water use by some government offices.
In a very aggressive move, Tappening is launching a campaign of self-admitted "lies" about bottled water. Their rationale being that the bottled water industry touts many lies about the health and purity of its products, and so it is only fair to fight fire with fire.
They are even encouraging people to start their own lies about bottled water across various social media channels on their site, startalie.com.
I do have to give them props for this inventive strategy. It shows a keen understanding of human nature. This hearkens back to what I kept saying about the whole Prop 8 strategy: it is easier to push human behavior with the very base human emotion of fear rather than convincing and compelling with love. Pro-Prop 8: fear mongering of societal demise. Anti-Prop 8: love is for everyone. Any time you can inspire fear in groups of people you can get them to go along with what you say. Witness American military engagement in Iraq, post-911 which enjoyed wide public support because of fear.
Tappening has "tapped" into this by recognizing that you are going to receive limited support by getting all squishy and emotional about reducing plastic waste and saving the environment, but if you can get people to see the bottled water industry as nefarious, deceitful, and harmful . . . well, then now you are going to get people moving.
While I support the cause, I am still morally unsettled on the tactic.
Interestingly, this issue has recently come to the fore in my personal life. As a new denizen of Los Angeles, I am the beneficiary of the City of Los Angeles' wonderful water treatment facilities! . . . which makes water taste like swill. This was particularly noted when we were out at dinner with our good friend Adam who described the water here as "slimy". I just think it tastes like pool water (read: HEAVY chlorine). Shane also does not like the water in LA and suggested we get water delivered to our home. Our PUR water filter only reduces the funky taste, but does not eliminate it. I was immediately concerned about the carbon footprint of water delivery, but Tappening's own link to an LA water analysis did nothing to make me feel better about drinking local tap, highlighting 46 pollutants in my tap water!
Tappening has even taken aim at my beloved San Pellegrino! I enjoy Pellegrino as an alternative to soft drinks and beer, not as a regular form of hydration. You can take my Evian, but you can never take . . . my Pellegrino!
Seriously, though, I support carrying your own reusable water bottle (I carry one myself) and getting people to think more about where the waste from their casual consumption goes, so I wish Tappening luck in their campaign to slash bottled water at the knees and if you want to help--start getting creative with your fibbing: www.startalie.com.
It's part of an inventive new campaign from Tappening, an organization aimed at reducing bottled water consumption. It's a popular trend that has inspired the proliferation of the annoyingly over-priced Sigg water bottles and banning of bottled water use by some government offices.
In a very aggressive move, Tappening is launching a campaign of self-admitted "lies" about bottled water. Their rationale being that the bottled water industry touts many lies about the health and purity of its products, and so it is only fair to fight fire with fire.
They are even encouraging people to start their own lies about bottled water across various social media channels on their site, startalie.com.
I do have to give them props for this inventive strategy. It shows a keen understanding of human nature. This hearkens back to what I kept saying about the whole Prop 8 strategy: it is easier to push human behavior with the very base human emotion of fear rather than convincing and compelling with love. Pro-Prop 8: fear mongering of societal demise. Anti-Prop 8: love is for everyone. Any time you can inspire fear in groups of people you can get them to go along with what you say. Witness American military engagement in Iraq, post-911 which enjoyed wide public support because of fear.
Tappening has "tapped" into this by recognizing that you are going to receive limited support by getting all squishy and emotional about reducing plastic waste and saving the environment, but if you can get people to see the bottled water industry as nefarious, deceitful, and harmful . . . well, then now you are going to get people moving.
While I support the cause, I am still morally unsettled on the tactic.
Interestingly, this issue has recently come to the fore in my personal life. As a new denizen of Los Angeles, I am the beneficiary of the City of Los Angeles' wonderful water treatment facilities! . . . which makes water taste like swill. This was particularly noted when we were out at dinner with our good friend Adam who described the water here as "slimy". I just think it tastes like pool water (read: HEAVY chlorine). Shane also does not like the water in LA and suggested we get water delivered to our home. Our PUR water filter only reduces the funky taste, but does not eliminate it. I was immediately concerned about the carbon footprint of water delivery, but Tappening's own link to an LA water analysis did nothing to make me feel better about drinking local tap, highlighting 46 pollutants in my tap water!
Tappening has even taken aim at my beloved San Pellegrino! I enjoy Pellegrino as an alternative to soft drinks and beer, not as a regular form of hydration. You can take my Evian, but you can never take . . . my Pellegrino!
Seriously, though, I support carrying your own reusable water bottle (I carry one myself) and getting people to think more about where the waste from their casual consumption goes, so I wish Tappening luck in their campaign to slash bottled water at the knees and if you want to help--start getting creative with your fibbing: www.startalie.com.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
You've Got To Breathe a Little
Shane and I have a quandary of etiquette, a perplexing pickle on the path of politesse, if you will.
We are settling nicely into our new place (video tour to come), but our apartment is regularly invaded by the awful stench of cigarette smoke. We have narrowed it down to our next-door neighbors. They are nice people who kindly opened their backgate when we moved in so we could get our stuff into our place. We live in an apt complex and their balcony adjoins ours.
Now, I believe in a person's right to smoke in the privacy of their own home, but I also believe in my right to breathe clean air (please hold all wisecracks about living in L.A.). So the question is--how do we resolve this?
Shane thinks we should make some of my famous banana nut bread as a peace offering and go over there and discuss it with them. The coward in me prefers the anonymity of going to our landlady. Can we really even expect any change? I mean, what are they going to do? Stop smoking?
We realized we don't really have any friends who smoke, but do you have any input on what we should do?
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