Category Archives: Random Observations

Leveraging Metrics for Sustainable Messaging

A recent poll showed that the most annoying phrase in conversations is “whatever.”  Poor whatever.  It’s been just so beaten out of shape.  What once was a perfectly utilitarian word, a word that could be paired with other words to be part of a full sentence to communicate one thought or another, has, over the years, been ostracized, singled out, pulled out of the lineup of words that work well together, to stand alone.  Now it’s not “Whatever happens, I will always love you.”  And instead it’s “Hey, you want to go out? ”  “Yeah.  Whatever.”

 

I have to say that I’m one of those who is put off by the common off-handedness, the ambivalence, of the word “whatever.”  I know someone who thinks that she can use the word “whatever” with immunity simply by following it with a “that’s so-and-so’s favorite expression,” thereby acknowledging the term’s less than shiny reputation, but pushing the blame of busting it out nonetheless on to poor old so-and-so, who, by the way, stopped dropping the W bomb some years ago.

Whatever.

I’m off to hunt down a survey of the most annoying business terms, but for now I’m nominating those words including in the title of this post.  Leverage.  Metrics.  Sustainable.  Messaging.  PEOPLE!  YOU CANNOT SIMPLY CREATE A NEW ACTION WORD BY ADDING “-ing” TO THE END OF A NOUN.  Seriously.  Stop it.

Play What You See

birds

How cool is this?

Says the artist, “Reading a newspaper, I saw a picture of birds on the electric wires. I cut out the photo and decided to make a song, using the exact location of the birds as notes…”  Click on the image of the birds above to hear the resulting song.

I like this;  there’s something about it that feels so clean.  Here’s to a fresh start this week…

Why Do We Remember The Things That We Do?

I’m thirty-nine years old and I still vividly remember this one moment as a three year old camping with my parents when I got a splinter in my pinky and walked over to have my dad pry it out.  There’s a snapshot of this in a photo album somewhere at my mom’s house in Vegas. But I remember that complete feeling of trust in that one moment:  there was something wrong, something hurting me, and my dad was going to fix it.  Simple as that.

memory

My mom has been traveling quite a bit since she retired about ten years ago.  The other day when we were talking on the phone, she mentioned that she was headed to New York City.  “You’re leaving for New York?” I asked.  “Huh.  When?  When will you be back?”

She sighed impatiently.  “I emailed you my itinerary.  Why can you never remember my travel plans?”

“Why?” I snapped.  “Maybe it’s because I’ve got a gajillion other things rattling around in my brain.  I’ve got my schedule.  Charley’s, Colin’s, Kai’s.  Don’t give me a hard time woman.  My brain is full.”

I routinely forget where I put my keys.  I still don’t know where my pool pass is.

All of which makes me wonder what determines what information is important enough to be remembered, to be tucked away safely in this finite brain of mine.

My dad once casually mentioned that he read an article somewhere that someone had done a study and found that the cleanest public toilets are usually the ones closest to the restroom entrance.  To this day, that’s the stall that I choose. Why did that stick in my brain?

On the other hand, I have a hard time remembering my closest friends’ birthdays.

It just all seems so arbitrary.   I picture my brain like a walk in closet, filled with all these shoe boxes full of memories arranged without rhyme or reason.  I like to think of memories as physical things.  I just wonder why I’ve made room for some and not others…

image from:  http://z.hubpages.com

We Live In A Culture of Oversharing

I’m as guilty as anyone — witness this blog — but for god’s sakes, when Madison Avenue jumps on board and starts making references to dingleberries and the like, I feel like I must draw the line.  It ends here people.

tmi

Surely I can’t be the only one who objects…

Bear!

My girlfriend A has been posting some pictures on Facebook of a bear — is it a grizzly? or just a large brown bear? — that has been wandering around in Crested Butte.  I had the chance to visit with A last summer, and I can say with some authority that Crested Butte is a little slice of heaven.  Small happy hippy town set against the most beautiful of natural settings.  It snows like a mo-fo for more months of the year than many folks can stand, but still, it’s amazing.

grizzly

And now there’s a bear traipsing through the town.  Rummaging through refrigerators stored in the the unlocked garages of the Crested Buttians.  Climbing trees in front of the homes.  Amusing, yes, and yet…

The nervous Nelly side of me can’t help but wonder how this bear thing is going to play itself out.  The whole situation reads a little like a Jack London short story or something.  But think about it; what are the possible outcomes?

  1. Bear and townies happily co-exist forever more.  Becomes sort of a folksy brand for the town, in the same way that moose wandering through downtown Cicely defined the 90’s TV show Northern Exposure.
  2. Bear one day decides that “city” living isn’t for him/her and heads back into the woods, and is only occasionally spotted from afar by back country hikers.
  3. Bear becomes dangerously acclimated to the easy living in town, foraging through the well-stocked pantries of its residents, until one day bear’s bear-like instincts are triggered unexpectedly and he/she takes a swipe at someone.  And then what?

I, personally, am rooting for Scenario #2.  But in the meanwhile, my message to A and the rest of the townsfolk is this:  be safe!

image from: http://www.firstpeople.us/

Eyebrow Envy

I wish I had eyebrows.  I feel at this point in my life, they’d serve me well.  I’d love to be able to arch one brow on occasion, knowingly, questioningly, alluringly.  I’d love to be able to twitch them both at the same time, playfully, or to be able to furrow them in a moment of deep thought.  I could really use a pair of well defined eyebrows.

Instead I’ve got these wispy blond things, that are both shaggy and thin at the same time.  Mere suggestions of what real eyebrows could and should be.  Not only that, but they’re lopsided.  And droopy. I do the best with what I’ve got.  I try to brush a little color on them each morning, but I’m not convinced I’m fooling anyone.

When I was a little girl I once asked my mom to draw in some eyebrows for me.  And instead of giving me sensible little-girl brows, she went a little artsy with me.  She pulled out her jet black eyebrow pencil and gave me thick, dark, and dramatic swooping brows — the kind that that a drag queen might sketch in for a Broadway performance where she’s playing a villain of some sort.

I was a little put off by eyebrows for a long time after that.

But now when I see women with lucious furry brows, I get a little jealous.  Have you seen Madonna’s daughter’s eyebrows?  Holy moly. Sure they’re a bit Frido Kahlo-esque in this one particular picture (she’s since tamed them quite a bit), but tell me you don’t see amazing potential here.  With brows like that, she can do anything. lourdes unibrow


The Crazies Are Out.

Or at least they’re calling me on the phone.  I’ve been holed up in more meetings than is typical over the last few days, and have only been able to talk to a handful of website customers.  And yet every single one of them has been at least a little nutty.  I just checked, and it’s not even a full moon.  Apparently the moon is currently in the “waxing gibbous” phase.  Whatever that means.

gnarls-barkley-crazy

Mrs. Barron is an elderly woman from the south who needs a website to promote her book describing the various ways that the Constitution violates her rights.  She can’t spell her way out of a wet paper bag, but she has, apparently, written a book. She attempts to mask the fact that she can’t distinguish a URL from a SUV by raising her voice, and E-NUN-CI-A-TING all of her syllables very precisely.  And she likes to repeat the phrase “the crux of the matter is” without ever really identifying exactly what the crux of the matter actually is.

Joe lives in a trailer in Rhode Island and has a couple of websites that he’s built for Jesus. Oddly he’s chosen to feature pictures of his trailer throughout his website.  One of the addresses for one of his website has something to do with living with Jesus.  I pointed the site out to a coworker who asked, “He lives with Jesus?  In that?” He’s posted videos of himself rambling on and on about how Jesus rules.  In these video’s he’s wearing a baseball cap and t-shirt covered with the word JESUS over and over again.  And he sells hand painted Jesus t-shirts that feature a large yellow smiley face with the word Jesus below.

Tara is hoping to start a successful online store to sell footwares (sic), but was only planning on spending $23 over the course of a year for the care and feeding of her website. When she learns that $23 is the monthly cost for hosting an online store, she hesitates.  I’d love to think that she had put together a full business plan and had used the $23 figure to help calculate some long-term financial projections for her start-up business, but frankly I suspect that she may have been a little drunk.

Victor is a talented painter who can’t figure out how to create a new page today, even though he’s created a website with at least a dozen pages already.  When I offer to remote into his computer so that I can show him, he is unable to type in the website address of the site that will allow us to connect.  When I send him a link to the website in an email, he is unable to figure out how to check his email.  Eventually he gives up and tries to sell me a painting.

I talked to a man once who was having trouble designing his own website because his mouse had gotten to the edge of the desk and he needed to move it further to the right.  I told him he needed a bigger desk.

My coworker R spoke with a man who complained that he couldn’t edit his site because he couldn’t find his mouse.  R, who has patience for days, suggested that the man follow one of the chords from his computer.  Then he listened for the next few minutes as the man crawled under his desk, mumbling all the while, and eventually successfully traced back one of the chords, only to report that the chord was connected to a printer.  After he had dusted himself off and was sitting in front of his computer again, the customer remembered that his grandson had come over the day before and installed a chordless mouse.  “Now where would that be?” the man wondered.  And then he asked R to describe what a wireless mouse looks like.

It’s not always glamorous work.  But it’s rarely boring.

image from:  http://digital-lifestyles.info

Finally Somebody Takes A Stand

First it was Abercrombie and Fitch selling thong underwear designed for 7 year old girls.  More recently, the makers of Dora the Explorer have decided to bring her into tween-dom, providing only a silhouette preview that makes it appear as if Dora has gone all hoochie on us.  What’s next?  Will Lil Kim come up with a clothing line for infant girls?

I’m glad to report that in this climate of declining moral values, the good people at Cost Plus World Market have taken a stand.  It’s an arbitrary and somewhat mysterious stand, and not likely to make even one iota of difference in the loosening of standards of decency, but it’s a stand nonetheless.

DSC00037

So while mothers of daughters everywhere will continue to wrestle with the question, “When is it okay for my little girl to start wearing makeup?” or “Should I really let her leave the house looking like that?“, at least they won’t have to worry about whether or not the jewelery at Cost Plus is really appropriate for their 13 year old.  At least this point is clear.  Nuh uh honey.  Not yet.   See the sign?  You’ll have to wait a  year or two.

I know I’ll have other drama, specific to the raising of two boys, at some point down the line, but I sure am glad I won’t have to deal with all that…

Grumplepus

My sixth grade teacher, Ms. Wild, once explained to her entire class that once every month or so, she’d get irrationally moody.  We had this conversation in the context of the “your bodies are growing and going through a lot of changes right now” lesson.  I remember thinking that if she was self-aware enough to recognize irrational moodiness for what it was, that it seemed to me that it would be easy enough to just override those spells.  Snort.

grumpy2

I’ve been going through a bit of a grumpy spell lately.  I think part of it has been hormonal, sure, but part of it is just that I’ve been a bit exhausted.  The thing is, as aware as I’ve been of it, as hard as I’ve tried to shake myself out of this funk… it persists.  Today I tried to walk it off.  Get some air.  And it worked for a minute or two, but then it came back.

Let me just say that it sucks to watch yourself being a bitch for almost no reason. It’s like a really crappy out of body experience.

Sigh.

image from: http://www.flickr.com/photos/riot68/1391527981/


So Sick of Cop Shows

A few years ago, the BBC tried a new comedy show centered around a the staff of a city planning department.  I don’t think it ever took off, and I guess I can understand that.  It’s the TV equivalent of watching paint dry. But still.

I had a conversation with the co-chairs of the Planning Department at local university just before the BBC show came out.  They were bemoaning the fact that enrollment was down, that they couldn’t seem to get enough young people interested in the field. It’s not a particularly high-profile profession, not very sexy in the traditional sense. Where would young people learn about what planners do?career-day-1

I have a theory that there’s a relationship between the most popular professions and what’s showing on TV.  Think about it:  cop, lawyer, doctor.  Actor, model, chef.  Rich housewife.  So what does it mean that my newest favorite shows are so fringe-y?  Can we expect kids growing up hoping to be a sister wife, a pot-dealer, gigolo, a serial killer with a conscience?  A vampire?  If our future workforce degrades any further, I’m going to blame HBO and Showtime.  Amazing how they can make those lives just so darn interesting to watch, isn’t it?

image from: http://www.nataliedee.com