fire on main street.

why i love esquire.

2008-05-08T07:59:00.001-07:00

my final brand campaign at the brandcenter imagined a new life for esquire magazine, giving it a younger-leaning edge while maintaining its attitude, flair and sarcasm. i never thought i would read esquire. or become an esquire guy. it seemed out of reach, or, well, not me. but strange things happen when you pick up a pub that tells you how to break a pinata. or absolutely reduce me to tears reading about one fallen soldier's journey home. and all the people who carried him there.

needless to say, i became a fan during the process. this morning, i sent my professor a link to a rather amusing article about teen stardom and instantly attainable celebrity. when finished, a box popped up celebrating my accomplishment. and i wanted to share it with you. because this is why i love esquire:

nine lives.

2008-05-05T17:44:00.000-07:00

i seem to restart this blog quite often. when last i left things, i was a month into my last semester. now i sit less than a month from graduation and starting my new job. which means, theoretically, i can put more time into this puppy.

but time will tell. for now, though, i leave you with a video of my cat. because pets always win at america's funniest home videos. so why not here, too?

Change in the air(waves).

2008-02-11T12:37:00.000-08:00

Last September, news reports predicted the influx of traditional advertising would highlight the upcoming political campaign. Sadly, they were right. Politicians are pretty interesting idiots sometimes. They operate knowing full well that voters rejected the status quo two years ago. They ignored that voters crave engaging messages in the places they are engaged.

Except for one – the one boldly energizing the country with change. Obama.

I’m not sure I’m an Obama believer. I don’t see incredible dimension or brilliant legislation ticking behind his words. I try to remove myself from the media hysteria surrounding “firsts”. But, damn, it’s hard to ignore his passion. He believes it at his core. He seeds that passion in speeches, communications and his younger voter base. Because it feels authentic. And rallying around a passionate cry for change just feels right.

On Saturday, I sent a text message to 62262 (OBAMA). A text titled HOPE. A text fired back immediately, welcoming me to the campaign and asking for my zip code. Another few seconds later I had updates and alerts about upcoming events in the days leading up to the Virginia primary. On Sunday, I received a news alert about Obama’s Maine victory. Mobile seems like a brilliant way to mobilize a text-drive nation of younger voters. Maybe, just maybe, he really understands his base.

Pundits and politicos continue to talk about the young voter explosion in Obama’s favor. For media analysts, this shouldn’t be such a surprise. He has the right message and he hits the right spots. He knows his audience and where media hits them. Unlike his competitors, he understands the complex web of touch points surrounding this hugely untapped and often ignored audience – one that can seize control of the electorate.

McCain, bowing to traditional tactics, has video and blog capabilities on his site. Romney employs YouTube, Facebook, Myspace and limited mobile messaging. And Hillary virtually copies Romney’s initiatives. What makes Obama different? With them, these tactics are add-ons talking to, not with voters. With him, though, it’s an authentic conversation, designed to unite and share.

McCain, Huckabee, Clinton and Romney (in his last days) revert to online video and television commercials to drive the vote. But Obama is, as his site says, everywhere. He’s online and off-line. He’s in print; he’s on TV. He’s on BlackPlanet.com, Flickr, YouTube, Twitter, Glee and more. And he’s texting. He’s leveraging the technological world and the community-based, social networking platforms to bring people together. To ignite change. To spread the furor.

Is it any wonder he wins every caucus that physically simulates the vast online community he owns? I don’t think so.

the political machine.

2008-02-05T19:22:00.000-08:00

and so it goes. i'm sure by the time anyone reads this, the graphic above will show its age. it's a fascinating time to watch the political process at work. especially when it appears that the youth vote might actually mobilize and vote. as opposed to previous times when the youth vote moaned and screamed, but vanished when election day arrived.

virginia holds its primary in one week. it's clear i lean democrat. it's just how i've always aligned. but this is an interesting choice between a woman i've voted for before. and a man who, damn it all, offers a vision that's incredibly hard to not follow. how odd, it seems, to finally have a choice that's not the lesser of two evils.

we'll see how things go.

the world through new eyes.

2008-02-03T18:34:00.000-08:00

i've been relatively silent the past few days. part of that has been a deluge of work in configuring details for the tap project. part has been the onset of a new cold. and part has been the newest member of the family. my sister is amazing at having boys. but on tuesday, january 29, she welcomed a girl. her name is addyson. she has poofy cheeks! and i can only wonder what kind of world she'll encounter when she's my age. twenty-six years from now. in 2034.

picturing myself.

2008-01-29T14:45:00.000-08:00

i stole this from a "friend" on myspace. i thought it was an interesting way to understand my past and my life. or open it up to interpretation. i won't do all of them. just a few.

the rules:
1) Answer the questions below
2) Take each answer and type it into Photobucket (www.photobucket.com)
3) Take any picture from the first page of results and post.

1. The age you will be on your next birthday:

2. Your favorite food:

3. Your favorite color:

4. City where you live now:

5. Name of someone you love:

6. Your nickname or screen name:

7. Your current job:

talk about connections.

2008-01-28T17:59:00.001-08:00

Part 1 in a series of good and bad CRM stories.

Thank you, Verizon FIOS. Our relationship started pretty horribly. Yeah, remember? I sought you out, read about what you had to offer, and we made a date. I was so excited. You promised me faster Internet speeds. And, oh, the TV options. The N! Three Nickelodeon stations, every news station I could imagine. Oh, man. I had found my soul mate. Then, you flaked on me. Bastard. Typical. As it got closer to our exciting, all-day rendezvous, you forgot. You “lost the date” or something like that. I don’t believe you. I should have dumped you then.

But you redeemed yourself. You called me and apologized. You sweet-talked me into setting up another date and still managed to give me the same deal. Then, when it was time, you called to let me know you were on your way. You brought me cable. You brought me Internet accessibility. You stayed with me until it was all working correctly. Six whole hours. And you never complained. The next day you called me to see if it was working. Not an operator, mind you, but the installer. Then you called me a month later to make sure everything was still ok. We may have had a rough patch, but we’re blissfully happy now.

silent.

2008-01-24T14:18:00.000-08:00

currently seeking my voice. it's funny how when you think you need it most, it disappears.

up in smoke.

2008-01-22T18:53:00.000-08:00

smokers have always played an interesting role in my life. for years before i popped out, my mom counted her cigarettes as a closer friend. my uncle, my cousins, teachers, bosses - they lit up, too. every person i've dated has been a smoker to some degree (whether habitual or strictly social smokers). even i dabbled in the art before i decided going to ask for a pack at a convenience store required more effort than i was willing to give.

in my lifetime, it's been a relentless assault against smoking. campaign after campaign touted tobacco's ills on personal health and the social fabric of the united states. though i escaped the scapegoating attack on joe camel and the utter collapse of the marlboro man, i've witnessed the appropriate vilification of the tobacco industry. i'm talking lawsuits, movies, lobbying efforts, spoofs on family guy, the truth campaign and movements to reduce hollywood's glamorous use of smoking. at least, that's what the pundits say. i've been privy to smoking bans in new york, and i watch with baited breath to see if virginia follows others' lead. will old tobacco be so bold? though it is nice to go out to a club and not come home spewing in smoke.

but it's all made me wonder, as i scan this article about the new iteration of the truth campaign, what does it mean to be a smoker today? what are the generational divides? the motivations to do it? is it a rite of passage for underage rebels? it is parental rebellion? or does it have any parallels to the good old days when tobacco sponsored radio and television content? what are the barriers, the emotions and the stigmas surrounding today's smokers? and does anyone care anymore?

hmm. there may be a thesis topic in there somewhere. but, until then, here's an article:

New Anti-Smoking Ads Turn Marketing On Its Ear

by Karl Greenberg, Monday, Jan 21, 2008 5:00 AM ET

THE AMERICAN LEGACY FOUNDATION (ALF), an anti-smoking fund funded by tobacco companies following a late-1990s settlement agreement, is launching a new campaign in its eight-year-old "Truth" campaign aimed at keeping kids away from cigarettes. The effort, launching this week, comprises TV ads, an Interactive campaign and a summer tour.

It is also the last "Truth" campaign in which both Arnold Worldwide and Crispin Porter + Bogusky (the latter is departing the campaign) participated. The campaign aims to alert teens and twenty-somethings to the dangers of smoking without sounding like their parents.

The new push, "The Sunny Side of Truth," is a tongue-in-cheek effort that matches Broadway-style music and lyrics in ads--some of which are animated--with a satirical spotlight on marketing practices by tobacco companies.

Actually, the musical-theater tone is not happenstance: the music is by David Yazbek, who wrote Broadway shows "The Full Monty" and "Dirty Rotten Scoundrels."

The five TV spots initially follow a motif that "Truth" has used in documentary-style ads in the past, with young people gathering in places like the edifice of a tobacco-industry headquarters. But suddenly the group breaks into song and dance when they realize the "sunny side" of smoking and Big Tobacco tactics.

In one, teenagers in front of a tobacco company HQ are unrolling a banner with "Tobacco-Related Deaths" written on it. One says: "Wait until we show tobacco executives the 5 million people around the world who died from their products last year."

Another responds that he's being, perhaps, a bit negative, suggesting that the 5 million statistic is actually a typo. Then, animated typewriters and accessories accompany the teens in a song and dance about how the statistics are the result of a clerical error.

In another spot, teen protesters are setting traps in a NYC park using cigarette packs as bait to demonstrate how Big Tobacco has manipulated levels of nicotine in cigarettes to keep people addicted, but not enough to make them sick. As he speaks to passersby through a megaphone, suddenly a unicorn and other fantastical creatures appear to launch into a musical number about "the magical amount," which explains in saccharine tones why it is so wonderful that the tobacco companies are so precisely regulating nicotine dosage.

The TV elements will be supported by an interactive campaign comprising a Web site and a campaign on social-networking Web sites like MySpace, Facebook, Bebo, Hi-5 and Xanga. There will be Web-based games, like one modeled on "Guitar Hero," called "Key-Tar Slayer," where participants can jam to the music in the TV ads."

Another element called "The Useful Cigarette" shows how ingredients in cigarettes and cigarette smoke are found in things like toilet bowl cleaner, nail polish remover and rocket fuel.

Patricia McLaughlin, senior spokesperson at the ALF, says the music theme is central to the effort. "We are trying to use music as an asset across media."

She says the campaign also marks the first time that ALF has used animation in ads. "It's designed to be over the top." She says the TV spots will air on cable channels like MTV, VH1, Fuse, and ABC family.

She adds that the effort will include advertising in cinemas in April and September. The ads will be in 2,065 Screenvision theatres nationwide. Later in the summer, there will also be radio ads. "The target is 12 to 17 year olds," she says. "We are going for edgy kids--those likely to rebel with sensation-seeking behavior."

The effort will also include a summer grassroots tour. The Truth Truck will have music-themed events at such venues as the Vans Warped Tour.

Source: Marketing Daily via MediaPost

photo launch.

2008-01-20T15:46:00.000-08:00

as this semester gets underway, this blog will incorporate some of the projects i'm tackling. first up, the entry below about the film there will be blood. in that vein, this photo launches another assignment for a class - take a photo every day and post it on flickr. it seems fitting that my first photo is of my sleeping cat. because i'm incredibly jealous of the bugger.

i won't post them all here, but you can follow my attempt to be a photographer here:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/callmeroo/

oil!

2008-01-20T14:38:00.001-08:00

the innocent beauty of greed exploded into the sky. it sliced through the sun and stole the moon's midnight show. it seduced religion. it founded false hopes and corrupt partnerships. it killed lives, yet saved a town. in the selfish pursuit of greed, never doubt that there will be blood.

at shutter speed.

2008-01-18T12:32:00.001-08:00

i have a date. in a little under one hour i embark on a journey millions before me did years ago. i'm finally buying a digital camera. i'm already years behind, and, honestly, months behind when i said i would originally grab the thing. i'm not sure why i waited so long. laziness? probably. sometimes in my life i have to wait to have the one that seduces me into investing. i mean, think about it. as i search around the stores, i'm speed-dating different digital cameras.

one might impress me with its skills. others, the sleek design. if it's tiny, it wins cute bonus points. and nothing brings a bigger smile to my face than something red. wow, that's a way to win my heart. sure, i've looked around on the internet. i even interviewed friends who already found their camera mate. you think i would have taken good notes. or jotted a useful fact. nope. why? because i know me. i'll wander around that store, and i'll wait. i'll wait for something to jump out at me, screaming that it's the one. i'll place it in my hands, hold it, play with it's buttons. i'll check myself out in the mirror. let's face it, the camera has to compliment my style.

and no matter what a camera pimp tries to do, the chemistry between me and the metal will decide the victor. unlike some friends, i won't name this device. we're not that close. but this will be one of the more important relationships of my life. i will take it on trips. it will spend time with some of my closest friends and family. it will capture the moments i'll relish to relive. or scratch my head in defeat, asking "what was i thinking?" we'll head to different states, bars, countries, altitudes. we'll witness impeccable beauty and human disgust. we'll document everything we see.

gee, this sounds like i'm getting married. maybe i need counseling.

threading a revolution.

2008-01-18T12:15:00.000-08:00

is it a company that truly wants to make change? or is it a publicity stunt? either way, it fits within the edgy, sometimes awkwardly bold nature of american apparel. i think the end is interesting, a campaign designed to champion employees. i wonder if it makes the ones working away in the bubbly world of carytown feel special. in a store decorated by trendy, white kids in tight clothes paired with expensive sunglasses, i wonder if they even know about the immigration battle. or if they care.

The New York Times
January 18, 2008
Advertising
Politics Wrapped in a Clothing Ad
By LOUISE STORY

IT is not often that a clothing advertisement includes the words “apartheid” and “purgatory” along with a quote from President Bush, but American Apparel has always been different from other consumer brand companies.

The clothing company, known for its tight-fitting jersey T-shirts and brazen attitude, regularly runs advertisements showing scantily clad young people, photographed by the company’s founder and chief executive, Dov Charney, that some critics say border on the pornographic.

In a new series of ads, American Apparel is moving in a political direction. The cause is immigration reform, and the ads say in part that the status quo “amounts to an apartheid system” and should be overhauled to create a legal path for undocumented workers to gain citizenship in the United States.
•
The black-and-white quarter-page advertisements show American Apparel employees of Guatemalan origin — fully clothed. The ads have run in newspapers like The Los Angeles Times and The New York Times over the last month. Like the company’s usual sexually charged ads for T-shirts and leggings, the political ad bears the imprint of Mr. Charney, himself an immigrant from Canada.

“These people don’t have freedom of mobility, they’re living in the shadows,” he said in an interview. “This is at the core of my company, at the core of my soul.”

Most advertisers try to steer miles away from controversy, particularly avoiding political issues that are as divisive as immigration. Benetton and Nike have run ads about social causes, and scores of companies today are addressing environmental change in their ads. But, advertising executives said, those issues were not the lighting rod that immigration tends to be.

“This is an issue that elections are being decided on,” said Greg Stern, chief executive of Butler, Shine, Stern & Partners, an advertising agency. “But, of course, they’re a very radical company.”

The company is used to publicity, some of it unwelcome. Mr. Charney has been sued on accusations of sexual harassment by several employees, who said he had created an uncomfortable work environment. The company denies the accusations and is fighting a case in Los Angeles, where the company designs and manufactures all of its clothing.

The ads have already generated attention for American Apparel, and the company has received letters of support, Mr. Charney said. Other large companies privately lobby the government over various policies, but he said he would rather be open about his position.

“Let me be clear who makes our clothes. It is a collaboration between American-born people and non-American-born people,” he said. “I don’t think supporting immigration reflects negatively on my brand, and in fact, it makes it look like we’re a responsible business.”

American Apparel, which operates the largest garment factory in the United States, has long advocated fair treatment of workers and in the past has run ads in local publications about immigration. American Apparel went public in December, and Mr. Charney said that has allowed him to take the company’s advocacy to national outlets. He said he planned to continue to try to spark debate on the topic.

Some immigration experts criticized the advertisement and said it amounted to an admission that American Apparel uses illegal immigrants.

“It is self-serving propaganda to perpetuate cheap labor policies that are in violation of American law,” said Vernon M. Briggs Jr., a professor emeritus at Cornell who specializes in immigration policy. “This is not ‘apartheid.’ This is simply law-breaking. ‘Apartheid’ is an emotional term that is designed to inflame the issue.”
•
Mr. Charney said the company was careful to make sure that its workers presented the necessary documentation for employment.

Alicia Schmidt Camacho, an associate professor of American studies at Yale, called the advertisement “brave” and said she largely supported its statements.

“What I think is startling is that this is a partisan advertising campaign that advocates for workers and is not advocating for the consumer,” Ms. Schmidt Camacho said. “It’s an appeal that is based on their brand and identification with particular values.”

Mr. Charney said American Apparel’s customers appreciate the company’s views on immigration. He said his customers were “borderless.” He named the company American Apparel, rather than “USA Apparel,” he said, on purpose.

“I think my Latino workers are American workers,” he said. “They’re from the Americas. We’re all here together.”

what do you know.

2008-01-16T15:24:00.000-08:00

sitting in the uncomfortable seats of goldstein auditorium, dean david rubin said times were changing. media consolidation was just about to explode. the big 20 would become the big 10 then the big five. cell phones were about to infiltrate our lives. and Napster loomed on the horizon. social networking meant mIRC chat rooms and message boards. myspace didn't exist. facebook's founder was a teenager. that was 1999.

it's 2008. and what we know will be nothing like what we knew. or thought we knew. boyko showed us this today as he heralded the same idea. times are changing. and you can change with it. be changed by it. or be shortchanged out of it. you decide.

she's touching me.

2008-01-15T14:55:00.000-08:00

declaring something a favorite is no easy task. i remember failing to explain why fargo tops my list of favorite movies. and i'm still searching for the words to the pitter-patter in my heart that makes juno a close second on the list. stories that transform my hope and viewpoints. that place me somewhere i want to be. or, sometimes, perfectly tap into the emotions of my heart.

i struggled to explain one movie when i applied to the newly-minted brandcenter almost two years ago. i had to justify a cartoon. in the past two weeks, as i've made my boyfriend watch all of the lilo and stitch entries, i'm thinking about their meaning again. about hope and the search for a friend soul mate. about the meaning of family. and finding our right place in the world. to do, audaciously enough, what we're best at doing. it's oddly optimistic, but strangely familiar from the company the dares you to dream. so many animated tales rely on enchanting our dreams of what, honestly, never can be. isn't that why we call it a fairy tale? this one, though, is just plain human. told through the eyes of a little girl and her alien experiment. and as i've learned from my nephews, kids and lilo - they are the best strategic thinkers around.

from the application: list your three favorite movies and why.
2] lilo and stitch
after one piece of garbage after another, lilo and stitch restored my hope in disney to tell meaningful stories. little human lilo is desperate for friends. stitch, the dog-like alien, is a fluffy, coffee-drinking, destructive, spaceship-driving maniac unsure of his surroundings. beneath the chaos of alien invasion, this story reminds me of my (and their) journey at that age looking to belong and seeking friends. i value this film because it conjures my past. i remember quite vividly feeling awkward in my neighborhood, at school, in life. i remember my tantrums, my fantasy worlds, my inane attempts to be like them. and i remember the day that changed. when my stitch named jeremy arrived across the street. unfortunately, he was not an alien.

the technology wardrobe revisited.

2008-01-14T17:43:00.001-08:00

i'm sitting here with my little LG phone to my left. an iPod sits dust-covered on my fireplace mantle. i have a TV on, powered by Verizon's FIOS network. and my little MacBook lets me type away while listening to the random sounds of sirens and drunk people stumbling past my block. i faced a crushing defeat by the computer during another round of Wii Tennis. i hate that as i get better, so does the computer. technology outfits most of my life. it always has. even if i have this random sunday newspaper sitting on the floor. (i'm seeking a new camera).

last semester ended with a presentation on examining a personal technology wardrobe. we focused on this idea of modifization, a meeting point where modification and personalization unite to create a new hybrid, perhaps synergistic relationship between tech manufacturer and end-user. on the search, we noticed an intriguing trend of technology and fashion colliding together to create super-premium status devices. for example, the Prada LG phone, clocking in at about $900. when all was said and done, we delivered an interesting trend with future merit, but lacked the closer. so, in a way, i'm taking my stab at it.

i'm prompted by the idea of emotional design, or as other companies might call it, the moments of truth. emotional design pulls three ideas together - visceral, behavioral and reflective - to create a possibly unbreakable affection and connection with a product. technology, for all its advances in form and function, neglects this emotional tie that makes something more than its pieces. visceral is the gut reaction when you first see the product. behavioral deals with the actually function and use of the product. and reflective makes the end user assess what the product means to them. what does it say about me? separately, each piece segments an audience based on aesthetics, ease-of-use or personal expression. together, they bond the user to the brand. technology, especially cell phone manufacturers, have yet to pull all three together. which is why, when a new model comes out, we're quick to dump whatever we have to seek the new. we have no bond to the phone other than the credit card line item on the bill.

but high-end fashion started making phones. and other technology devices. witness samsung and armani joining forces to create an entire electronics line. or tag heuer turning its equity in watches to phones and other devices. as a culture, we're constantly upgrading to better and sleeker things. is a fashionable TV really different from a fashionable purse? isn't it all part of the outfit?

i'm revisiting this idea because, apparently, the Prada phone worked. nearly 700,000 units later (in under one year), Prada and LG are about to release the first limited edition run of the already limited edition phone. the silver Prada phone, full with QWERTY keyboard and more features than you can figure out how to work with, drops in the stores within the next few months. the essential dilemma remains, which brand wins in this co-branded tech environment? we didn't pick a winner back in december. but i can now. emotional design argues that the emotional aspect is the key to transforming the product into something extraordinary. and, perhaps, to generate a higher price point. in this equation of fashion + technology, the emotion rests in the fashion brand. it carries social capital. it has social and personal value about how we see ourselves and how we want to portray ourselves to the world. with exception of apple, it's hard to find a technology company that fully understands this deeply personal emotion and embeds that within the design functionality.

the future means that a Prada LG phone will become simply the Prada phone, and LG (as will be the case with other manufacturers) will bow to the emotional branding power of its partner. the fashion brand will also have to incorporate the same customer service experience and expectations into tech support. this should be a terrifying prediction for technology companies. they, most likely, won't own the tech conversation when it comes to these specialty devices. and they will reap the steepest penalty if the devices flop. because electronics is their currency. the fashion brand only has to lend its name to make the device emotionally appealing. if the device fails, it's a testament to the development and brains of the tech company, not the fashion brand. and if it succeeds, the fashion brand continues to be fashion forward on the runway and in personal electronics. the tech company becomes a third party innovator destined to need the fashion brand more than the fashion brand needs the tech company. and, in that scenario, the tech brand might simply vanish.

there's a scary thought.

flipping for my matchbook.

2008-01-13T20:21:00.000-08:00

well, it sure has been a while. consider tomorrow the spark to starting over. since this is no longer a requirement. blogging, for me, has never been an assignment. i speak when i have something to say. and in these final months before i'm launched into the much vaunted "real world" again, i suppose it's time i focused my voice.

we'll see how brave i am.

______

shades of life are ringing through my open ears.
december.24.2007

according to the news reports, a giant fat man in a red suit is making a perilous trek across the nighttime skies as i write this. delivering smiles and magic to people who, most likely, need them. deserve them. i'm sitting here at the kitchen table, flooded by two decades of memories. i'm eagerly awake, but not for the impending arrival of santa and my deepest desire: a shiny g.i. joe box. yeah, talk about weapons of mass destructions.

it's funny to be in this house tonight. to witness, maybe more so than last year, how we grow up. how it's eerily quiet as i count down the minutes to a midnight episode of family guy. how i'm not bursting with curiosity at what i might get. about how i'm more entertained and excited for spencer to get here tomorrow and pull apart the blue plastic bag hiding his new batman bed. god, that thing is fucking cool. in many past eves, i've spent these last minutes before my eyes fell to dreams hoping the cookies tasted well enough. that i had been a good enough boy. that, maybe, miracles come to those who wait. that the stars held this strange kind of magical power to crisscross the universe and unite people. no matter how far the distance separated them. by space. or by hearts.

i think, most of the time, i forget the call of magic. or faith. or whatever it is you want to call it. maybe it's just blind hope. especially when i'm surrounded by point-of-sale displays and pop star versions of classic holiday tunes. but maybe it's the allure of the three movies i saw in the past three days, weaving three very different stories about love. about power. and, ultimately, about hope. three stories that restore, in some little luster, a glimmer in my heart when you wish upon a star.

my wish for you is that you believe who you are is exactly what my heart has always searched for. my wish for you is for you to be fully happy. my wish for you is for your demons to go away. my wish for you is for your doubts to subside. my wish for you is for someone to unlock your heart. my wish for you is for your ambitions to shine. my wish for you is for you to know the best is yet to come. my wish for you is for the strength to deal with what's ahead. my wish for you is to find the love you've always been seeking. and my wish for you is that the smoke finally clears.

wishes, after all, are just a spectacle of magic. a cannonball shot with a hectic direction. so i'll just sit here in my childhood home on the eve of another christmas. oddly eating cookies. take that, jolly fat man. and hoping that magic touches those i love the most as they scatter across the universe.

merry christmas.

ironing out the details.

2007-11-27T20:30:00.000-08:00

this past friday, i went on an adventure with my boy in search of escaped dogs. see, somehow they magically broke free from the gated backyard. regardless of the details, said dogs were running rampant around the malvern area. or so the story went two hours before we joined steven's friends in search of the dogs.

we ducked around corners, explored streets and, at one point, steven suggested popping through the alleyways. in the depths of the night (ok, 8:30 p.m.), i stumbled upon a really wicked mirror tucked quietly behind a trash can in the alleyway. i stopped. i stared. i told steven that i wanted it. because i have this thing for giant mirrors. i looked at him. he smirked his eyebrows. suddenly, the door unlocked, and i was in hot pursuit. until i noticed the missing chunk from the bottom left corner.

but fear not fellow divers. dejected i felt. but we continued on our original journey in search of the dogs. only to discover, a few homes farther down, an ironing board propped beside another green trash can. steven remarked, 'i need an ironing board.' we jumped out again, claiming the prize. we turned it 45 degrees and in it went. we didn't find the dogs that night (don't worry, they came back two days later), but we did get an ironing board.

so to the group that asked if i would consider going dumpster diving. i guess my answer is done and done.

transgender day of remembrance.

2007-11-20T15:29:00.000-08:00

i guess this goes out to will, who passed away a few months ago. at least that's what the news alert said the other week before the memorial. i met him during my stint in syracuse. and while his passing wasn't, to my knowledge, violence related, the violence surrounding the transgender community continues to silence voices, ideas and expressions. it silences their culture. in syracuse i met an incredible array of people identifying as transgender - many who had to combat misunderstanding, stereotypes and judgment from those around them. but to my friends who remain some of the strongest, most vocal and bravest folks i know, i just wanted to say thanks for opening my eyes up. and for showing the power of just being yourself.

so today is the national day to remember those who have been victims of anti-transgender hatred and violence. here's an excerpt from the site:

The Transgender Day of Remembrance was set aside to memorialize those who were killed due to anti-transgender hatred or prejudice. The event is held in November to honor Rita Hester, whose murder on November 28th, 1998 kicked off the “Remembering Our Dead” web project and a San Francisco candlelight vigil in 1999. Rita Hester’s murder — like most anti-transgender murder cases — has yet to be solved.

Although not every person represented during the Day of Remembrance self-identified as transgendered — that is, as a transsexual, crossdresser, or otherwise gender-variant — each was a victim of violence based on bias against transgendered people.

We live in times more sensitive than ever to hatred based violence, especially since the events of September 11th. Yet even now, the deaths of those based on anti-transgender hatred or prejudice are largely ignored. Over the last decade, more than one person per month has died due to transgender-based hate or prejudice, regardless of any other factors in their lives. This trend shows no sign of abating.

The Transgender Day of Remembrance serves several purposes. It raises public awareness of hate crimes against transgendered people, an action that current media doesn’t perform. Day of Remembrance publicly mourns and honors the lives of our brothers and sisters who might otherwise be forgotten. Through the vigil, we express love and respect for our people in the face of national indifference and hatred. Day of Remembrance reminds non-transgendered people that we are their sons, daughters, parents, friends and lovers. Day of Remembrance gives our allies a chance to step forward with us and stand in vigil, memorializing those of us who’ve died by anti-transgender violence.

autobots, transform.

2007-11-14T12:06:00.000-08:00

since i'm on this nostalgia kick with g.i. joe, i thought i would share a clip from an event i would love to go to someday: botcon. botcon is the annual transformers convention bringing together crazy people like me who obsess over the show, the toys, the everything. part of my Ph.D. dreams rests in uncovering or studying the affinity for 80s cartoons and how they've remained alive for decades after their initial airings. maybe one day i'll finally get there. enjoy.

swimming around the mill.

2007-11-14T11:26:00.000-08:00

this past saturday i spent the afternoon weaving between the masses at potomac mills. my journey started on the way to my friend's condo, trying to duck the uproarious applause of the marathon runners. and i saw a woman screaming on her cell phone as she drove at a 40 mph clip. i hope no one died.

i hadn't been to potomac mills in a while. it's this behemoth of retail space that feels like i need a scooter to get me from place to place. we started at the marshalls mega store and worked our way through the food court, screaming babies and the most terrifying santa ever, to the nordstrom end. twenty-eight miles later. ok, i'm exaggerating. originally, my thoughts as i watched all these shoppers - families, singles, girlfriends, college buddies, white, black, latino, asian, gay, straight, kids, parents, moms, dads, grandparents, friends - centered on the culture of shopping at a perceived outlet mall (which, as times change, becomes less of one). about the search for a deal, the buzz of looking or furor of thousands of people surrounding you. this would be a germophobe's worst nightmare.

but i started to pay attention to everyone's bags. to the stores people spent more time in. for example, how i avoided the papaya store. but i flock to the disney store. or how my friends rush to the fossil store while i demand stopping in hot topic. or how abercrombie is a waste of my time. but the shoe section at nordstrom is my slice of heaven. there are a myriad of cultures working simultaneously as we walked around this retail space: the culture of the mall, the cultures within each store, the cultures reflected by the shoppers and the cultural dynamics of the shopping unit. wow, i think i confused myself.

i don't think it all hit me until i was in hot topic fighting to buy a g.i.joe t-shirt featuring my favorite cobra character. i realized i was playing in a few cultural moments: 80s nostalgia, sleek emo-indie, cartoon, etc. and they were ones not shared by my two friends who looked puzzled at my need to own this shirt. i remember the year-long search to find the storm shadow action figure. and i never found him attached to the original box art. it was just the loose figure. the shirt features the box art -- and a part of my childhood is now complete.

maybe i'm the crazy one.

a tko from tokyo.

2007-11-05T19:37:00.000-08:00

on friday night i became one of the addicted, infected, obsessed Wii fanatics. after weeks of putting it off, i finally installed the machine which has, in my lifetime, turned gaming upside down. i've been a gamer at heart since the first time i put a nintendo controller in my hands. i watched mario bounce on goombas. and i hunted ducks with a bizarre little gun controller. nintendo always has been my system of choice, even if i'm late to the game, so to speak. i wanted a Wii when it first came out. but i waited -- too much work to do. and does a boy need distractions when he's saving brands.

but there's something remarkably exciting about connecting with a game you last played at age nine. so friday night, after an abysmal showing at the artwalk, i tangoed with electronic art. by downloading mike tyson's punch-out. i'll have more on my Wii exploits later. but, for the time being, take a look at a game which made me the boxer i never had the body to become.

throw your hands up.

2007-10-29T12:54:00.000-07:00

and screaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaam.
it started the minute my crew passed over the bridge from pompei to italy. rumbles under the bridge, horrible screeches from the speakers. a strange fog sneaking through the cracks beneath our feet. a final night of terror at busch gardens.

i'm a theme park kinda boy - the food, the rides, the smells, the odd array of people. but i had yet to venture to one morphed into a spooky nightmare. it starts with my roommate, terry, who, despite being absolutely terrified of all things scary, routinely puts himself through these events. he knows the zombies will try to taunt him. he knows that the vines might be someone in disguise. he knows that blasts of air will stun him while walking through the maze. but it's the thrill of testing limits, i guess, which brings him back for the sixth time this season.

the scenery is quite incredible. from the green fog virtually eliminating our visibility to the singing skeletons positioned throughout the park, europe transforms into a harrowing adventure. the mazes are hysterical because, if you pay attention, you can pinpoint where the "surprises" will be. you can see the holes, you can watch the people ahead of you, you can get a hint to what your fate is going to be. this is why i'm a terrible companion on these things - because the logic dictates they can only do so much before they have to terrorize the people behind you. it's intriguing how we can profit off of fear and things which make our hearts jump. and how, in this land mirroring europe, countries are defined by their rides, not their names, cultures or language. i'm not going to germany, i'm going to the big bad wolf. duh. funny, more so, how we spent more time sampling beer than riding rides - perhaps an indicator of our priorities. or just terry's directive that he couldn't do this sober.

i recommend the trip for the people you'll encounter. like the trio from norfolk who kept trying to score a swig from our beer. despite our repeated declines. the ones who were clamoring to get out of norfolk. or the group behind us who became solid friends during the windy maze set to the pulse of a strobe light.

what's most amazing about this idea of fear is how, even in an amusement park, fear binds all people together. to get through it all. even if it's just a kid dressed in make-up for $7/hour.

my highlight came from the amazing 200-foot drop in complete darkness on apollo's chariot. it's a heightened level of fear because you're moving so fast on a track you know by heart, but you just can't see. and nothing is more terrifying than speeding ahead into the unknown.

morning walks.

2007-10-21T20:39:00.000-07:00

carytown is strangely silent in the morning. hours before the shops open, limiting chatter and life to those sitting in restaurants for brunch and coffee. i've walked the streets this past week, winding around this little independent slice awkwardly thrust into richmond. i get frustrated with carytown because of how busy it is - which is a contradiction for a cultural observer. the slow moving traffic, the inability for people to understand crosswalks, the random pee smells, well, you get the drift.

it's a pocket of vitality, regardless of my opinion about it, full of energy, art and personal expression. making these morning strolls all the more intriguing because none of that exists. it's an eerie silence. the calm before the eye of the storm, if this was a hurricane. the morning imprisons the spirit of the sidewalks, even if the storefronts hint at the bubbling life hidden behind glass.

i can almost here myself think - a scary reality for a place always screaming for attention. and i wonder, in this silent moment, how it's not carytown unless it's annoying me. and my affinity for it, what it offers and why it matters rests in the absolute madness that pastes the blocks together. this makes me wonder if, in a culture we seemingly dislike for so many reasons, would changing the cultural obstacles actually change your opinion? because changing the personality alters the fabric of the culture. hmm.

if you see me walking in the morning, say hi.
it's awfully quiet. and, well, i guess i want some noise.

red hair on the highway.

2007-10-15T07:58:00.000-07:00

The weekend took me to Syracuse, NY – a destination I swore I would never return to after I last visited in April. Syracuse sat on the cusp of spring and summer – a changing season I knew was changing in me. I wasn’t quite enchanted anymore with the city I spent the past few years. Sometimes you know when your time with a place is over.

Which makes the flutter of phone calls back in July all more bizarre. See, my roommate loves Tori Amos. And I don’t mean love – I mean obsessive, life-altering, idolize. Yeah, something like that. The U.S. leg of her tour would put her in Syracuse, NY. And, since it was a weekend, it seemed logistically possible to go. Before I could convince said roommate otherwise, we had eight-row seats, left-center stage. A crash course in the Syracuse version of The Landmark Theater – those seats fucking rock.

Memories pervade my drive up I-81. I’ve spent so many hours of my life passing trucks, stopping at Turkey Hill and creating games to test my speeding ability. This weekend was no exception. We stopped at Perkins in Hershey, PA. It’s a strange combination of Denny’s and a truck stop. Here, Randolph said to every table: “My name’s Randolph, I’m your server. What can I get youz?” Every time. Perkins smelled stale, the lighting looked a depressed yellow, and the restaurant bubbled with travelers, truckers and locals. It’s a strange energy. Because roommate and I clearly stuck out in tighter jeans, form-fitting shirts and styled hair. Clearly, we weren’t from these parts.

But nothing shakes the image as I approach Syracuse. I remember the first time my parents and I approached that puffy, marshmallow dome. And I told them this is where I would go. It’s the first image I see when I arrive and the last when I exit. It hits me, when a thousand emotions and memories rush back of the seven years in this space. This snowy, blustery, wickedly alive, yet dead, place. I instantly recall why I chose to come here, and why, after all those years, leapt out. It’s no coincidence that I returned on Homecoming weekend, but not because of that event.

A Tori Amos concert is an interesting exercise in musical appreciation and fanaticism. Between the vultures swirling around the merchandise table to the listless fans swaying in the bitter chill of winter’s preview – listening for the faint sounds of a soundcheck. Yeah, we were there – as my roommate proclaimed, “I think I hear something!” I love going to concerts with him, especially these. Because music, to me, is an emotional lift regardless of the end result. And no one in my life feels music more than he does. So it’s no surprise that the minutes clicking down to show time feel like death. That the minute the lights go down and everyone screams in anticipation, he is silenced by the sheer power of his idol peaking around the corner. That, if he dropped dead right then, he would be smiling.

These people are euphoric. They have special names for themselves “Ears with Feet” – a name Tori coined back in the day to describe her fans. Why? As one person said behind me, “we go to at least 7 shows a tour.” My roommate is going to three. Next up is DAR Constitution Hall in D.C. And we’ll continue the ritual. The drive consists of listening to albums, consulting setlists and imagining what the concert might entail. What songs would you die to hear? Which ones would you cringe at? I would love to hear Gold Dust – because it spins an incredibly lonely story that I want to see. But if I hear Leather one more time…

My roommate’s happened this Saturday when Tori unleashed a song he had waited for a decade to hear. Everyone has a defining song – this was his. Little Earthquakes – the final track on her debut album on Atlantic records. And it didn’t take much to rip him into pieces.

Set list:
Bouncing Off Clouds
Little Earthquakes
Juarez
Rattlesnakes
Beauty of Speed
Roosterspur Bridge
Professional Widow
Big Wheel
Parasol
Spark
improv
Cornflake Girl
Northern Lad
Caught A Lite Sneeze
improv
Yes, Anastasia
Never Seen Blue
1,000 Oceans
Taxi Ride
Code Red
Precious Things
Tear In Your Hand
Hey Jupiter

And I'll leave you with a clip from one of the better versions of Yes, Anastasia that I've seen:

wrapping strategy in religion (a cue from last march).

2007-10-08T18:50:00.000-07:00

it seems appropriate on this night when we pitched thoughts on expanding religious dialog that i remember an assignment from strategic thinking last semester. we responded to how a conversation with a speaker (ben) entered in the marketing arena.

while it's not an original entry for this journal, i figure it offers some direction into where religion plays into my life. or doesn't. so, for the record:

Religion never fully ensnared my family. I come from two competing sides – Baptist on one side, Catholic on the other. And, somehow, my dad stumbled into the Methodist church. Church was something we did on Sundays out of blind allegiance. Until my mom became fed up with church gossip – the kind that favored personal vendettas than religious intent. My dad represented the family each week, and I chose to sleep during the services. We became more folks who believe in faith than devout followers of a Methodist tradition or teaching.

But religion is funny. And excuse the unfocused nature this will take – religion has never been a topic I can articulate in a logical flow. I find Ben’s implicit idea that you have “big-ticket” Sundays quite interesting. Because despite a fervent belief in connecting people to the words and beliefs of a chosen religious brand, the strategy revolves around filling seats. I almost liken it to higher education. The overall goal is educational – with higher education, the attempt is to provide tools for academic inquiry. In religion, the goal lies within articulating a way of living and believing the world. And while these two goals are similar in nature in understanding the way we go about processing information, they survive only when filling the seats. Jaded, no?

I’ve been battling this idea of religious brands for weeks now. The struggle of my childhood church to remain relevant and alive in people’s lives illuminates my dilemma. Growing up, Huguenot Methodist Church was the sole Methodist church in the Midlothian, VA district. Like a major network, it had its audience almost by default. The closest church was miles away. Huguenot preached a message its audience wanted to hear and to believe – until Mt. Pisgah opened in the mid 1990s. Both churches shared the same beliefs and the same texts, but framed the conversation quite differently. Mt. Pisgah spoke to a growing middle class discovering the roots of religion for the first time. Huguenot aimed more traditional, speaking to its established older crowd. Time killed Huguenot’s core base. Mt. Pisgah reached out.

For a while, I thought the strategy of religion was as simple as just spreading the message of that religious brand. But it rises far above that. It means making conscious decisions on who will listen to that message and, almost as important, who delivers that message. In some ways, I wonder if Mt. Pisgah’s strength came not only from reaching an untapped segment, but also from the messenger – a charismatic, young preacher not much older than the audience. At some point, whether in internal crises, poor strategy, or inconsistent messages, Huguenot failed to maintain its relevancy. And my dad stopped going. Others broke away. Now, the congregation is a mere shadow of its former size.

The battle, I think, came in what Ben mentioned – the constant struggle to define an identity. What did my church stand for? And what does it stand for now? When we talk about how everything matters in a branding strategy – the congregation of Huguenot usurped control of the brand through its gossip and bickering. Who was in control? Somewhere the mission of Huguenot fell apart – a struggle that remains unresolved today. Its members and its message remain insular and unfocused. Mt. Pisgah offered a challenge – a different frame to believe the same message. It was a challenge that energized an audience that continues to sustain and renew itself.

Is Mt. Pisgah some model for how things should be done? I don’t know. Sometimes things have a time and a place where all the components align perfectly. But I think part of thinking strategically is finding these tenets to create connections with people who are seeking them (or give them reasons to seek them). Religion, I believe, offers ways to rationalize and explain the challenges life throws. Which brings us back to those words of challenge and inspire. I think, in theory, that’s what thinkers, planners, creators, and destroyers do. They challenge and inspire new ways of thinking and constructing belief. But I would also argue that they act as catalysts. Fundamentally, religion sparks a desire to believe that jumps above just challenge and inspiration. And in preparing to create work that connects with people, being catalysts to their lives seems to be an end result I want to accomplish.

On a side note, though I’m not a fan of religious debate, I found the idea of this discussion quite interesting. I spent a lot of time at Syracuse University convincing my colleagues in Student Affairs that we’re in the business of connecting with students in the same ways advertisers do. We’re branding our offices by everything we do. We send messages, we have targets, and we want measurable goals. We’re buying and selling students. And we have to reach them when they’re most engaged. But this conversation challenged and inspired my thoughts on wrapping strategy in religion. And this notion of religious brands was something that, until now, I hadn’t quite considered.

fire in the streets.

2007-10-07T17:01:00.000-07:00

friday night took me to richmond's hottest place for art. i remember the days of my childhood, wandering around a soon-to-be-deserted downtown area. i remember begging my dad for a piece of fudge from the 6th street marketplace. i remember there being a life to downtown.

which is why i think fire is the perfect spark for the monthly arts adventure called first fridays. it's an interesting construct - a virtual mix-up of young and old from all sorts of paths converging on these places, these galleries, to participate in an artistic search for meaning. why did the artist use this? or that? is that art? why does the right wall in 1708 resemble a collection of media flow charts? perhaps i'm at the adcenter too much lately?

i've seen a lot of mind-blowing art in the nearly two years i've wandered the pockets of broad street. but nothing captures my soul the way the fire spinners do. there's something inherently dangerous and mesmerizing about these artists twirling fire around their bodies, creating movement and speed. almost like an urgency because the fire, inevitably, will extinguish. i wondered what the motivations to do this are. how do you get into this? why do they remind me of a little family. and what do they think about all of us staring and gawking every month as they craft stories in flame?

the group in richmond is called the river city burners. their philosophy is
"The River City Burners aim to be a driving force in Richmond's art community. We are here to teach, entertain, and to reach out to anyone willing to expand their physical "beingness" and to open their minds to the wonderful world of self expression through the fire arts. We dedicate our time and energy into sharing our knowledge through performance and teaching others. Our lives have individually, and as a group, been touched, changed, and inspired through learning how to express ourselves in this unique and amazing artform. Not only do we want to show you how , we want to be open communicators and help spread the inner peace that comes with learning how to spin fire!!"

i suspect one of these days, i'll just ask them. i'm curious about how fire releases expression. and what that emotion is like. why fire? how do theatrics play into the mix? a whole bunch of questions. and why on earth did they theme friday's show to "the phantom of the opera"?

but, for the time being, i'll do the typically thing and point you to a site. where you can learn about the people i see every month. take a look at their photos. watch one of the movie clips. and i'll stalk through the forums. so sometime before this semester is over, i'll report back on what i discover about their artistic passion.

check them out:
http://www.rivercityburners.com/index.html

the cat came back.

2007-10-04T17:44:00.001-07:00

in a day where i've watched smart people find smart ways to rescue the culture of new orleans, i've drowned in studies on alcohol and liquor. and all i have to show for it, at this moment, is this little tidbit:

so now to a human tradition: the toasting of a birthday. and the inevitable spanking. i mean, drinking.

the hodgepodge.

2007-10-03T13:09:00.000-07:00

random observations from an exhausted adcenter student on a wednesday afternoon:

1. today i watched a man in jeans and a white t-shirt dance with the spirit of three hundred drummers. he waltzed and moved next to the bus stop across from the adcenter. i couldn't help but think that music can transform any situation. any life. any second. a bunch of people stared at him from the second floor of this building. but i bet none of them had the guts to go join him.

2. i ate teriyaki chicken from the thai cabin for lunch. i'll admit, i tend to travel the same routes around this building. coffee? to shockoe. sandwich? to southern railway. pizza? jo jos. same old streets for the same old addictions. so today i got food from a cart - for the first time since i've been calling this place my home again. i think i never thought the food could be good. call it my internal barrier. because the other places i frequent are such gourmet beacons. right. stupid assumptions.

3. i've been at my new apartment for a month now. and, in that time, my contact with my parents has dwindled to almost nothing. not because i don't want to talk to them. but i guess it's because i'm busy. or because there's family drama working it's way through. i wonder how often i avoid issues because it's easier to not drive farther down the street to say hi.

4. i'm being watched right now. by rebecca. she wants eternal glory in the blog space. i told her it won't happen. because clearly by not saying her last name, she joins the 129,093,423,498,483,290 of rebeccas in the world. so, joke's on her. ha.

5. i probably need to shower.

6. i can't wait for the fire throwing people on friday night.

romancing the shoe.

2007-09-25T11:36:00.000-07:00

another warm, late autumn day in sunny richmond, va. i'm sitting outside on a heavy, black chair watching them wander by, debating for an instant about whether to take the ride. a cyclone of smoke swirls behind me, asking whether or they'll just go in.

there's a woman clad in sneakers, jeans and a white top, pocketbook hugged to her side. a young girl weaves in between what i assume is her mom. there's a struggle for entry - mom has things to do, girl wants to try on new shoes. reluctantly, alleged mom agrees. so we rise from the chairs and head inside, too.

a disclaimer first. i have an 'in' with this store, because one of my best friends is the manager. i plop on the cushions adjacent to the young girl. she's a curious creature, standing high on the tips of her toes to see the slip-on shoe, decorated by sparkles and a pirate cat. it's the one she wants, but alleged mom is crooning over another corner. others circle through the space - a man in his 30s deciding on sneakers or boots, an older woman patiently waiting for her friend to decide if this shoe is the one, etc.

it's the strangest place to see that there's a new romance in the sole of america. yes, i just used the pun. i've never quite noticed the elaborate dance we play with shoes. we're meticulous and plotting - deciphering color, style, matchability, function, trend. we put more effort into what slips over our feet than most decisions in life. because our shoes represent goals, ambitions, priorities. right?

shoes tease us with new designs and value prices. there's a hierarchy - is it a monolo or is it a payless brand? it's a seduction between convincing you this shoe fulfills your needs. and it attaches a price tag to them. these shoes, these wily crafty shoes, create situations to wine and dine you, putting so many on display with informational cards. call it a new type of speed dating.

shoes, in my life, have been these functional beasts. until the day i found a pair of red steve madden shoes that redefined my life. do i have jeans to match? can i find a matching red color belt? i hope people notice them. i've only seen three people with this pair. the nearly maniacal process i went through to decide if i would take these shoes on a life-date became the foundation for every other purchase. and awakened my awareness to doing this with every aspect of my life.

what shoe took you on a date?

thoughts on religion.

2007-09-17T19:12:00.000-07:00

put a face on the issue.

a simple statement that has been the heart of every civil rights movement in history - racial, political, social, economic, gender, etc.

put a face on the issue.
so how are we going to do that?

to be continued.

my culture map.

2007-09-17T18:57:00.001-07:00

well, it's impossible to read. last week we presented our culture maps to the class. mine took various forms before it landed in this format. uncovering your cultures seems incredibly easy at first. i'm a lot of things, right? but which have meaning and relevance in my life?

i ask because of a few quirks in designing my map. first, i started to peel away the layers to the cultures i claim membership. for instance, i'm a syracuse university alumnus. but that ties me to university culture. but i've been three groups in that culture -- undergraduate student, staff member and alumnus. i've also been part of the culture within the division of student affairs. and i've been an out staff member within that division. do i roll that into one, or does it blow out to the threads of other cultural ties? i'm not quite sure yet.

in my cultural self-exploration, i noticed some confusing descriptions. because of my time in syracuse, i label myself a new yorker. i love the speed, aura and language of the empire state. but don't call me a virginian. i'm a richmonder and, more specifically, and midlothian boy. but labeling myself as a virginian seems out of place. and i'm not quite sure why.

i also left out a part which defined nearly four years of my life in syracuse. strange to leave out being gay. funny that. maybe it's because i hoisted that banner for so long, my dive into my social scene back in richmond has taken me out of the activist role i had before. my attraction and interaction with gay culture, well, isn't quite the same. just a facet of who i am. and, as my priorities switch, one that grows a little more distant with media plan deadlines and rent to pay.

i wonder how this will look in 2008.

resting in peace.

2007-09-09T12:59:00.000-07:00

i began studying cultures, truthfully, in my magic and religion class. i remember sitting in the auditorium talking about rituals tied to death, and how in some cultures death is the final gift in life. it shifts your soul into higher planes, making you revered as an ancestor to the generations that flow from your blood.

and, here, it's entirely different. death feels shameful, at times, in this american culture. it's an unspoken reality of life that we rarely speak of. it's tied to the unpleasantness of planning out our wills - trying to determine how our legacies will thrive and live after we are gone. death fascinates me because of the elaborate way we construct ourselves to exit the earth and the various ways in which we do so.

i guess it's been on my mind since june when my grandmother passed away. i watched how my family fractured over how to handle her passing. my grandpa refused to hold a funeral. she wanted to be cremated, and she didn't want a big fuss about her. which, in hindsight, is how she lived her life. perhaps a huge celebration of life would have embarrassed her. i guess i'll never know. so her ashes were split between the family so we could celebrate her in ways personal to us and reflective of the impact she had in our lives.

for my parents, her death became a signal to their mortality. it started the conversation of how they wanted to leave the world. no fuss, my mom said. bury me in a george strait t-shirt and all my favorite compact discs. 'i need something to listen to.' my dad fell silent. the only time we've talked about him is when he had his triple bypass. which was when wills were reviewed and tentative plans made just in case.

it's funny how we don't plan for the end. or think about how we want to exit the world despite spending hours, weeks and years comprising the life we want for ourselves. or how we dedicate thousands of dollars on clothes, electronics, homes, vacations, etc. we spend, i suppose, so much time grounded in the now that the meat of our legacy becomes one of accumulations, not acts. and, in death, all we have is our legacy - the memories that spin into stories, tales and fables. i wonder what mine will be. and what things will define my memory? what emotions? what stories?

beyond the actual physical death, how do we commemorate the life? do we hold massive funerals that become somber, sad occasions? does the moment morph into a celebration, ripe with song, life and energy? it's all so varied depending on family, religion, ethnicity, impact, planning, on and on and on. every moment, from the initial viewing to the photos, burial, flowers, song choices, and everything in between...tells a story of our culture and, more astutely, the culture of that family. which makes me question how the italian current of my family allowed my grandma to pass away virtually unnoticed. maybe it's a result of my grandpa's marine-discipline to not show emotion that led the charge. i just don't know.

what i do know is that i'm amazed at the lengths we go to keep life alive. my cousin, a victim of a motorcycle accident in 2003, has a cement bench over his resting place. the choice still intrigues me - since this tempts a moment to sit when he was a boy more likely to stay in motion. my grandma rests in a small urn. a family friend rests in a coffin. and my cat sits in a tiny brown box underneath my growing pine tree. i've heard stories of people released into the ocean, ashes turned to diamonds, ashes becoming pencil lead and massive parties to send people off in style. but my newest discovery is around richmond - bumper stickers. in the past week i've encountered two very different bumper stickers remembering two people whose lives i'm suddenly curious about. and i'm incredibly interested about the decisions that led to these bumper stickers. why this?

what do you think?

prelude to an urban tribe.

2007-08-28T18:01:00.001-07:00

sentimentality is the sin of the memoirist.
-ethan watters, urban tribes

freedom at last.

2007-08-27T20:40:00.001-07:00

i find more truth in this quiet disclaimer.

it was a night made infamous by painted nudes. literal living art (though, isn't it all?). but this is what caught my attention that night on first fridays in richmond.

the s.i. newhouse school of public communications opens its third building this year, with chief justice john roberts dedicating the multi-million dollar expansion. the words to the preciously delicate first amendment roll across the concrete. a testament to the power of communication, regardless of craft, form or vehicle. these words, well, they remind the young minds inside exactly of the freedoms we're supposed to inherit as citizens. i suppose. but i'm a cynical little communicator, skeptical of the true freedom of the press. when kings hold the castle gates closed from different points of view.

i stepped into an auditorium in august 1999 as an optimistic journalist ready to change the system. i said i valued the days (cherished maybe) when news was solely that, not orchestrated entertainment digested in ticker-tape blips. but access changes opinions. and experiences alter realities. do dollars fuel everything we do? what value does culture play in the creation of entertainment? or that age-old media question: does culture define our entertainment, does entertainment define our culture, or is some parasitic relationship pumping the engine?

probably a little from column a. a little from column b. or, really, whomever or whatever can pay the rent.

into the stampede.

2007-08-27T20:06:00.000-07:00

the tale of three blogs. and since course requirements ask for a new entry every week relating to culture, it seems best to start a fresh one. to do only that. which means i'll multi-task, blog-style.

so on this strange night when i'm elated and exhausted - fueled by the sounds of a downloaded "daria" episode and a rerun of "the simpsons" downstairs - i'm searching for an opener on culture. or a quote or an icon. a marker (or a maker) of my culture. of who i am. of what i belong to. what's my culture(s)?

"If you can see in any given situation only what everybody else can see, you can be said to be so much a representative of your culture that you are a victim of it."

S. I. Hayakawa (1906 - 1992)

it reminds of what katherine w. said one night. tell them what they don't already know. find a new insight. learn. ask questions. find the heart. the words, the language, the symbols, the ties. tell the story of the people you meet and, as they taught me in syracuse, weave it with respect.

i guess that minor in cultural anthropology might come in handy now. we'll see.