christmas

So it was christmas yesterday. I just got home. I decided that I was gonna spend this christmas just wandering around manhattan and talking to strangers. I think the holidays are a perfect time to just talk to people randomly, its not that easy regularly in NYC. People's guard just seems to be down this time of year and they are more open to other people. Its a very rare inviting feeling in NYC. The first encounter was actually initiated by a man on the train. He just sat next to me and said "excuse me" and then went on a very long rant about how awful the MTA service is and how its never on time and unreliable and how he hates that the fare is getting raised to $3 this summer. He went on to talk about how the MTA exploits low income NYers as they have no other option to get around. I sat and listened to him for a while and then chimed in a thought of mine. He replied with "oh, god. I didn't even think you spoke english." I find that kind of amusing that in a city like NY so full of strangers this man just wanted to speak regardless of whether he was understood or not. We went on to talk about a lot of issues such as paranoia and anthropology and the need to just leave NY sometimes. We talked of the church and of bars and of irish residents in brooklyn, we covered alcoholics anonymous and being homeless on 42nd street. And then I wished him a merry christmas. The next encounter was very brief. As I was getting out of the train station a lady asked me if I would swipe her in, no please, just bluntness. I swiped her in, she said thank you and left. I started to wander around and admire the lights on the trees and the couples walking around spending christmas together. I gave all my change to a homeless woman and had a conversation with a doorman at Armani Exchange. The doorman talked about how he has to work on christmas and that the employer has no heart. How he was going to go on a cruise with his fiance to Chile and Colombia and wanted to sneak his own liquor in because it wasn't included into the 3000 dollar ticket fare. But with the state of the economy he had to postpone this trip. We smoked a cigarette together and then parted ways, I continued wandering and he went back to his post. After that I somehow ended up on 42nd street talking to all the various hotdog vendors looking for a pretzel that didn't cost $3, finally I found one for $2, I savored it. I had a short conversation with a black guy who saw me admiring sneakers in a shop window and asked if i was interested in anything, as he had "blackmarket" connections. Afterwards he commiserated with me about the fact that I didn't have enough money for anything that I wanted and we parted ways. I wandered around central park and on the outskirts ran into 2 girls who were looking for the building where John Lennon was shot. I regretted not knowing the answer and kept wandering. I found the building and thought of those 2 girls looking way in the wrong area for it, but there was nothing to be done about that. I kept wandering and luckily ran into those girls again and told them that this time I knew where the building was and pointed them in the right direction. That was pretty much everything and me and my friend hopped onto the train and went home. I think that this was a pretty awesome christmas filled with random encounters and strangers. It is nice to realize that it really isnt that difficult to talk to people, and comparing this day to life, it seems that life is just a series of random encounters. The guy on the train was called Brian btw. I like him and I wish him lots of luck. He wants to pack up and leave NY but he cant seem to find the strength. If any of you run into a brian on the N or R line in NY, let him know that his friend Rostislav says hi. Merry Christmas everyone

Smiling

I think that one of the things that we don't do enough as a society is smile. And I know how foolish that sounds, but I personally love to laugh, and I love to make people smile. I want to draw attention to one of the greatest things I have seen in a while. This was sent to me by a friend in a very down time of my life, basically the last 3 months of my life haha. It is a video on youtube called Validated, and though its longer then most youtube videos, I highly encourage everyone to watch it, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cbk980jV7Ao. I think that as a society not enough people are taking care of each other, we seem to be too concerned with ourselves and our own lives. If more people did movies like this, and more people led their lives like this, I'm positive even our economy would rise again. Please watch it and enjoy.  :)

The Media

Hey guys, there's something that I've been wondering for a while. Have you ever decided to go travel somewhere or have friends in other places in the world and you read the news and you hear of something really awful and you get worried and start to call your friends to find out if they are all right. last year i spent a month in Israel, Egypt and Jordan just traveling around. I did this all without the permission of my parents, we had been in a little fight and I was a little homeless ha ha, but regardless, we did keep in touch while I was there. I remember  my parents calling me constantly and saying this just happened and that happened and he was killed and there was a bombing here and how am I not scared and when am I coming home. Now this is all fine because that is just a natural parent thing, that I'm sure we are all sick of. Also there was a huge storm in the New York area last year sometime and my roommate got a call from relatives in California asking if he was okay, if he had managed to keep his stuff from flooding, if the electricity was all okay and so on. My roommate stepped outside and said that it wasn't even raining. Now what I am actually getting at is that I'm trying to understand why the media is biased. The media only seems to talk about the bad things that are going on. while I was in Israel I never experienced any of the things that were being talked about in the news, sure perhaps I was lucky, but I would like to believe that we are getting biased information. The media reflects and talks about the things that we want to hear. It wouldn't be successful if they talked about things that people didn't want to listen to. Which makes me believe that we as a people seem to only get pleasure out of hearing negative things. Earlier today I was watching a talk on Ted.com by Cameron Sinclair who is one of the founders of Architects for Humanity. he was talking about a bunch of projects that they had done in developing countries developing housing for them and also local areas in the US. After Hurricane Katrina, we all heard about everything negative associated with the rebuilding process, about how so many people lost their homes and had to move to other areas, about Fema and about the government not being able to handle the situation. But he also said that there was something that wasn't mentioned in the media, and he didn't understand why the media selectively portrays what it wants. He talked about the town of Biloxi, Mississippi that didn't wait for the government to aid them, and didn't wait for Fema and instead took the rebuilding of the town into its own hands and started a volunteer organization amongst its own residents to rebuild their entire community. And there was no word of this in the mainstream. So my question is this. Is the information provided to us in the media catered to what we actually want to hear? Do we as a people only ask to hear the bad things? And if so what are the reasons. I feel that there is a huge problem with this and that perhaps we need to reconstruct our entire information system in the united states. I don't think I know how this can be done, but I feel that it is possible. There exists such a thing as a Measure of Happiness, and Americans are some of the unhappiest people in the world. We strive to achieve so much, we are one of the most developed countries in the world, we have all the opportunities in the world open to us. We don't live in shanties and we have sanitation and clean drinking water. Every necessity in the world we have and yet we are some of the unhappiest people in the world. This strikes me as somewhat of a strange occurrence. We strive so much to be at the top but we sacrifice happiness int he process. We need to rethink our situations, and perhaps this starts with just changing our demand, and surrounding ourselves with happy thoughts. Media surrounds us with everything negative we could ask for and if we don't want the negative we have to look for the positive, shouldn't it be the other way around? Shouldn't we be abundant with everything positive and then try to take ourselves down to earth to see the negative? Any thoughts?

Getting Famous

I've been wondering recently on how easy it is for people to make a name for themselves. Is there a definite formula and a guaranteed method or is it just entirely random. This has been circling around in my head because I ran into a couple of clips on YouTube about 2 Chinese boys. These boys became famous for what seems to me to be an entirely absurd reason. All they do is they lip sync. Here is a link to a clip of theirs Chinese Backstreet Boys - That Way. They have a whole series of songs that they lip sync to and they became quite the craze and the clip I linked has as of now 8,477,598 views. But what struck me most about their situation is that they became so famous for nothing that they had people interviewing them and they even had a concert, two Chinese boys:a show. It makes me wonder about what it actually takes to get media attention and become successful in this world. As artists, and designers we have a goal to get our names known, so that we can have a constant flow of jobs, of publicity and so that we wont be "starving" as they myth states we will be. Looking at cases such as the two Chinese boys and others such as that of Sanjaya from American Idol maybe there is something that we as artists and designers can think about. Sanjaya became famous for bad singing. And when I say bad, I mean it in comparison, because I know for a fact that he sings better than I do, I'm completely tone deaf. However he still made the limelight thanks to the make Sanjaya win website. And the media attention he received by not being voted off when he should have been. There were many factors that played into it but regardless he became very famous if only for a short while, and I personally don't remember any one else's name besides Jordin Sparks so that says a lot. What I'm wondering is if this phenomenon is limited to the music scene or if it also spreads out to the world of design. We live in an age where more and more people are graduating from college and a degree doesn't mean as much as it did in ages past, so there is something that we need to be doing on top of that. Skill will get you far but we all need to be salesmen also. A good work is sometimes not characterized by how good the work actually is, but rather how well it is presented. If the two Chinese boys were able to have a concert for their lip syncing and Sanjaya became famous for mediocre singing, what does it say about skill and hard work in the world?

Ambient Awareness

Hi, I was randomly going through the Internet and ran across this article in the NYT about ambient awareness. For anyone who doesn't know what this is, you should. living in the Facebook, Myspace, twitter and all together virtual world that we live in now, it is quite important to be aware of what you are a part of. The article is primarily about Facebook and twitter but from a psychological aspect, going into the emotional attachment that people have and how your emotional limits get tested as well as making the Dunbar number void. Dunbar was an anthropologist who said the limit of a regular persons friends and acquaintances is normally 150. the Internet seems to change all that. anyways, the article obviously explains it much better then i do. do check it out.... go

The Right to Tell

I was rummaging through the Internet earlier today and I ran across this book called "The Right To Tell." The book had some fascinating points on media and the power that it holds. It explores "the role of the media as a watchdog of government and the corporate sector, and the policies that prevent the media from exercising that role. The Right to Tell assesses the media's function as transmitters of new ideas and information. This book also evaluates the damaging effects that an unethical or irresponsible press can cause to a society." Every single day we look at the news for our information, we plan our days around it, it affects how we act, respond, what we think about and what we worry about. I remember being in the wood shop the night the election results were going to be announced, a couple of my friends were working with me and every 10 minutes they were running to the computer to try and catch an Internet connection to go onto some site and find out if Obama had won or lost, and I remember stepping outside and seeing all the people running and screaming down 5th Ave, and Taxi cab drivers riding by with their windows down, fist out the window honking their horn. Everyone was happy that night, they were happy because they received their information fast enough, they were able to find out quickly who had won the election, be it by Internet, radio, television or even text messages from other friends who had found out. Information spread out quickly and efficiently and people reacted to that in an amazing evocative way. Within the next week many friends of mine were going through their days happier then they had been all year. The fact that Obama had won had made their week so much better. I was outside of the parsons building sitting on the window ledge and a woman came up to me and asked if she could interview me. She asked me what my hopes and expectations were for Generation O. Generation O being generation Obama. The fact that this was historic and world changing. Just the simple fact that there were people going around interviewing people in response to the election, of our hopes and expectations shows how much of an effect mass communication has on us, it shows how it can affect our daily lives and influence our thoughts and actions. but my thoughts go out to other places in the world, "The Right To Tell" also describes "the role of the media and the challenges they face in specific countries including Bangladesh, Egypt, the former Soviet Union, Thailand, and Zimbabwe. These fascinating case studies highlight the media's ability to act as a catalyst for change and growth." The fact that unlike in the US where information is available at the speed of light, the election results being an example, in many places in the world information is censored and blocked and the effect that it has on people is very different. In those places the people have no power and live almost in denial not having a true idea of the actual going ons in the world. "And a people who mean to be their own Governors, must arm themselves with the power which knowledge gives." Knowledge is power and access to knowledge is crucial in giving people the basic human rights that they deserve. Many people in the world can't imagine a better life for themselves because they don't know what a better life means. They do not have Internet nor newspapers and cannot access information that we in the developed world can. There is a dream that "Everyone shall have the right to freedom of expression; this right shall include freedom to seek, receive and impart information and ideas of all kinds, regardless of frontiers, either orally, in writing or in print, in the form of art, or through any other media of his choice." This dream is sometimes even far from reality in the developed world because it is sometimes hard to speak freely without interference from public authority, and even when public authority doesn't interfere, money does, the fear of losing a status, of losing money, of losing a scholarship, of disappointing people will all hinder our free speech. We are subjects of the media, of the law and of daily fears. We have been shown the life that we should be living, we know the American dream, that information isn't hidden and we sacrifice our own rights in order to protect that belief, in order to achieve that image. And very often the Media will hide things in order to make us believe.

      One of the other chapters in the book was written by one of my favorite Novelists, Gabriel Garcia Marquez. He talks about journalism of the past and journalism in the present and talks about the education system that creates the journalists in the world today. He talks about his disappointment in journalism today, how in his opinion Journalism used to be the greatest profession in the world but now it seems that it has come a long ways from where it was. He talks about how "newsrooms have become aseptic laboratories where people toil in isolation, places where it seems easier to communicate via cyberspace than by touching the hearts of readers." he fears that "Dehumanization is spreading at an alarming rate." and one of the things that he blames for this is technology, technology has developed so rapidly that many newsrooms spend all their time and energy in trying to get the most advanced tools to work with but forget that ultimately news is written by humans. He thinks that the fact that the interview has been exalted to the highest form of journalism is a mistake, the tape recorder is not the most important tool for the journalist, he says that previously journalists had 3 tools, a notebook, their ethics, and their ears. And he feels that in modern journalism all three of those have been lost. The tape recorder hears but it doesn't listen. It speaks but doesn't interpret and often when a reporter is using the tape recorder he doesn't even listen to what is being said but instead thinking about the next question that is being asked. And perhaps journalists need to return to the notebook and pay attention to things that they are hearing and interpret them based on their own model of ethics. In its true form "reporting is, in reality, a meticulous and accurate reconstruction of facts. In other words, it is the news in its entirety, as events actually occurred, presented in a way to make the reader feel as though he actually witnessed them." And this is something he feels that we no longer have. To many modern journalists "the notion that the best news is not always the news that is obtained first, but very often is the news that is best presented, means nothing to them. And part of this problem Marquez feels is education. He feels that many schools "persist in the perverted practice of providing information rather then training." This idea in my opinion stems out from just journalism but extends to many forms of education, such as illustration, communication design, fashion and other forms of art and design. There seems to be a stronger emphasis on learning information but not being taught how to use it. This is something that we need to consider in our daily lives, information is only information, it can empower but it is ultimately how we use it that signifies its importance. We need to take in as much information as possible, news, events and ideas and mold them for our use. Unlike many places in the world where information and media isn't accessible we in a sense are blessed to have access to this and need to start to learn how to best use this tool that is given to us. To any one who is interested in the book, the full online version is available for free, all you have to do is go to books.google.com and search for "The Right To Tell."

flowers

Alex Steffen one of the founders of worldchanging, gave a speech on TED. He talked about many things but there was one thing in particular that made me grab my hair and say "what"? This thing was a landmine detecting flower. Here is the link, http://www.worldchanging.com/archives/000352.html. The plant is bioengineered to detect nitrogen that is given off by landmines. When the flower detects the nitrogen, it turns red. This in my opinion is what our age is all about. It's about taking advantage of the tools and resources that we have available and using it to help people worldwide. I have a friend from Colombia and one of her goals in life is to help people who have been affected by landmines. There are many places worldwide that have been used as battlegrounds and landmines have been planted in the ground. The battles are long over but the landmines still exist, and cause massive problems for the locals that continue to live in the area. These flowers, have the potential to do so much for these people and these countries. This is what its all about.

Short stories

       My favorite writer in the world is Gabriel Garcia Marquez. I honestly just get lost in his books, and wish that I was a character inside of one. That life just seems so much better, more romantic, more fun, more exhilarating than the life that I live. I recently read his book, Strange Pilgrims, which is a group of 12 short stories about latin american travelers in 

Europe. Now I don't usually like short stories, they hold a lot of promise in them, slowly dragging you in to the story, and then they end, often making you thirst for more. Thats why I am a fan of novels, sitting down for hours reading a story. However, Marquez is so amazing that he made me love the short story. In fact I was so inspired that I decided that I would write one myself. I have always wondered if I could have ever become a writer. I honestly don't think that I have it in me, hell, I don't even think that I could be an artist, but thats what I'm doing, for better or for worse. But as critical as I am of my own work, I decided to just throw it out here. It's actually quite an amusing situation because I don't even let my friends see my writing because I am embarrassed, but, this is the internet, no one knows me, my friends don't know the address to this blog, and I don't even know if anyone is reading this. But in the offchance that I am not talking to myself, please do comment and let me know what you think. Maybe I'll give up my life as an artist and take up a life as a writer, do you readers realize the power you hold? My entire life goal is in your hands, nice isn't it. Anyways enough chit chat, here is the story.

 

              “GIRL”

- Do we really have to go out? I mean it’s been a long day, it’s raining, I’m sleepy, and I just have no energy.

- Fine just stay here, I never ask you to come with me anyways.

- It’s dangerous for a girl to be walking around this late; you know I wont let you go alone. 

-  So then what’s the point of everything you’re saying then? 

- I’m just trying to convince you to stay in. 

- … You know I cant. Anyways I’m out.

- Fine, fine, just wait five minutes. Let me at least make some coffee.

- We can just stop by a Starbucks.

- Yuck, you know I hate that crap; I gotta have my French press, just put a record on and chill.

“ Is there anybody going to listen to my story, all about the girl who came to stay? She’s the kind of girl you want so much it makes you sorry, still you don’t regret a single day…”

       Even now when I listen to that song, I cant help but feel depressed. It was a Wednesday; the weather was as stated terrible. I shouldn’t have let her out that day, but it was futile. This was a routine, every Wednesday as if possessed by some lunar spirit she would leave the house as soon as it got dark and wander around looking for little pieces of trash which she put in her bag. Nails, bolts, television sets, pieces of wood, old sneakers, pens, pencils, cardboard, paper cups, jackets, tennis racket strings, pipes, straws, sweaters, forks, bottles, bottle caps, shoelaces, Plexiglas, wire … needless to say it was a big bag, most of the time I carried it.

       I met her on one of these late night trips of hers. I had been suffering from insomnia and had just finished drinking a cup of coffee. Coffee was now entirely useless on me. I drank it solely for the flavor. That night it was the Sumatran blend, its softer then the Guatemalan and a bit tangy. As I sat there listening to the Beatles on my record player, I was looking out of my window and I saw her walking by. Hunched over with that potato sack bag on her back, she looked too young to be a bum. I went outside, she was sitting on the bench across the street smoking a cigarette, a Parliament of course. As I approached her she said, “It’s about time.” She got up, picked up her bag, and handed it to me. I started to mumble something when she put a finger on my lips and said “shhhh, you’ll scare the moon and him.” Who was this “Him” I don’t know till this day. “Lets go.” I hesitated for a moment, but then I decided to follow her, what the hell, I had nothing to do otherwise. I was still confused by her “about time” comment. Did she know who I was? Was I supposed to know who she was? It was as if I were a character in a fairytale. She was the damsel and I the knight in shining armor. Some knight I made, a 23 year old insomniac virgin who stayed up all night playing Final Fantasy and reading books by Umberto Eco, buying coffee with my unemployment check and getting fed by my grandmother everyday at 3 pm when I walked to her apartment half a block away. The only excitement I had were those monthly anime conventions where I would dress up in a cosplay suit of my favorite Final Fantasy character of the time. This month it had been Squall from Final Fantasy VIII. And so I decided that I would follow her into the darkness defeating the behemoths, chimeras, and Marlboros that would jump out along the way spewing toxic breath and fireballs.

       We walked in silence, she two steps ahead of me and not in sync. Try as I might I could not match the pace of her steps. It was as if I was fated to never be in harmony with her. Every once in a while she would bend over and pick up some piece of trash that was on the side of the road. It was weird because Wednesday was not trash night. I began to think that there was some phantom that was walking ahead of her and placing trash onto the street. And she was Sisyphus destined to walk every Wednesday picking up this seemingly endless trash. It was the meaning of her existence and without it she would cease to exist, or something of the like. I guess phantom was “him.” As long as he was around she would not be free. I felt my job as her knight was to slay him as Saint George slew the Dragon. But if uttering a single word was enough to scare him, wouldn’t that be enough to get rid of her rock? I did not dare try. I worried that I would free her and then never see her again, like a dream she would vanish into my reality. Wouldn’t it be enough to just pretend to fight off her demons and run away from the final battle just to prolong my time with her? Perhaps I have been reading too many comic books…

       Lost in my thought, we had wandered all the way to the other side of town, to the industrial district. Around us were textile factories and meat packing stores with the occasional porn shop thrown in the midst. Finally she walked up to this cheap looking hotel and sat down on the stoop. It was called The Three Suns. The lights in the name had long since burned out and the paint on the door was peeling, the hotel was just a fleeting memory of a time long past. The sun began to rise and she lit up a Parliament. As she was smoking in silence I saw how the rising sun illuminated her face. She had an empty gaze on her as she seemingly looked far into the distance seeing things of which I could only dream. That night she had picked up: 3 hinges, 10 rusty nails, the rubber interior of a keyboard, 10 coffee cups, 15 Poland Spring bottles and one bottle of Evian. “Lets go,” she said. I didn’t move and did not know what she meant. I still did not dare to speak. She began to open the door and turned around with a grin on her face. I followed her in. We took the stairs up to room 321. I had asked the lady downstairs for a cup of coffee, Nescafe, but whatever, beggars can’t be choosers. I sat down onto the stool drinking my coffee. She placed her potato sack into the corner and walked over to an old jukebox. The room filled with the sound of “Norwegian Wood.” She closed the shades on the window and got undressed. Through the little slits in the shades bits of sunlight penetrated the room and I could see the contour of her naked body. I felt a behemoth stir within me. She threw a glance my way and then got down into the bed and lay there silently. I took my last gulp of coffee and walked over to the bed. I was in no state to fight the behemoth and Squall was nowhere to be seen. She stared into my eyes as I stood above her and grabbed me by my collar. I tried to say something but she just covered my lips and kissed me.

       I awoke around 2 pm. She was gone as was her potato sack in the corner. I hadn’t slept in a long time. I stepped outside, 23-year-old insomniac, no longer virgin, and walked back towards my house. At 3 pm I went to my grandmothers and ate dinner. Next week I stood by the window wondering if any of that had been a reality. Perhaps my insomnia had finally taken hold of me and she was my Tyler Durden? It was a Wednesday, I had made my coffee, Ethiopian blend this time, and I went outside. I began to walk down the streets looking for garbage, but there was none. Why would there be, Wednesday wasn’t trash night. I walked to the park and hopped onto the swings. I swung to and fro singing “I’ve just seen a face I cant forget the time or place where we just met, she’s just a girl for me and I want all the world to see we’ve met, ya la la lala la.” I got up and walked down the next block. I came to a convenience store and bought a pack of cigarettes, Parliaments of course. I hadn’t smoked in 2 years since graduating college. I lit up and walked all the way back to the industrial district to look for The Three Suns.

She was sitting on the steps smoking a Parliament. She smiled at me and I was about to say something when she put her finger on my lips and said, “lets go.” Every Wednesday I would run into her randomly somewhere in the city. Until I met her on any given night I would see no trash on the streets, but walking behind her there was always something. Over the course of the 2 years that I knew her, she had amassed a collection of: 719 Poland Spring bottles, 36 bottles of Evian, 936 rusty nails, 732 regular nails, 47 sheets of Plexiglas, 15 stop signs, 62 keyboards, 39 mouse balls, 792 feet of wire, 15 television sets, 10 old computers, 1019 coffee cups, 732 cans of Coke, 3 cans of Pepsi, 62 pieces of 10 x 4 plywood, 39 records (35 from the 60’s, 4 from the 80’s), 62 books (12 biographies, 39 textbooks, 1 book on the origin of race, and 10 works of fiction by Oe Kenzaburo and Haruki Murakami), 11 pairs of Levi’s, 781 door hinges, 5 tennis rackets and 23 pairs of Reebok sneakers with laces.

After half a year I had asked her to move in with me. During the week she worked as a librarian and every Wednesday she would make these late night excursions. I still had no idea who Phantom was but judging from the trash I imagined him to be a 40 year old man who wore his sneakers out too fast, drank Poland spring and Coke unless the stores were sold out in which case he drank Evian and Pepsi, he seemed to have a lot of money seeing as to how many television sets and computers he threw out, he was obviously not a fan of modern music, played some occasional tennis and he enjoyed reading. Was it even possible to find a man like that? It seemed like he could be just about any middle-aged man in this city. Had I been neglecting my duty as her knight? I was scared to face him, scared to lose her. Was it my fate to just watch her push her rock from the side? But what is Sisyphus without his rock?

I had no idea what she did with the trash that she picked up. She stored it all in the garage and would not let me in. I had assumed that she was making some sort of sculpture. This was due to the glimpses I caught of this huge mass that was under a blue tarp. I could occasionally glance into the garage when she brought in her weekly haul.

   

 - Well are you done with your coffee?

 

- Yeah just let me grab an umbrella.

 

             My head was killing me. We left the house just as “Girl” finished playing. I had forgotten to take an Advil. We walked in silence, she two steps ahead and out of sync. My head felt like it was about to burst. My grandmother had called recently telling me how she missed having me over for dinner everyday. I had played all my Final Fantasy games at least 10 times and was anxiously waiting for FF XIII to come out. I had won best costume at the past 3 anime conventions and had enjoyed having a partner to dress up with. We had been walking for about 2 hours when my head started to hurt so much that I was about to cry. Finally I said, “Are you done yet?” This was the first time in 2 years that I said something during the Wednesday hunt. This was obviously due to the headache and I did not have full control over my thoughts. She stopped in her tracks, smiled, and said, “Actually yeah, I think this is all I need.” We returned to the house and routinely deposited the trash into the garage. We crawled into bed and made love as usual, my headache passed as soon as she put her hands around my neck and kissed me. As I was falling asleep she lit up a Parliament.

       I awoke in the morning and she was gone. All that was left was a half empty pack of Parliaments. I knew that she was gone. I went to the garage and stared at the huge blue tarp. Finally I gathered my courage and dragged the tarp off. I saw in front of me a bust statue of myself made of: plywood, Poland Spring, Evian, Coke, Pepsi, keyboards, mice, televisions, wire, nails, stop signs, old records, books, sneakers, computers, hinges, pencils, pens, tennis rackets, paper cups, and Plexiglas.

       Every Wednesday I go outside with a potato sack bag looking for trash. My grandmother is long dead, Umberto Eco is too, I no longer go to anime conventions because the children look at me funny, my arthritis does not permit me to play Final Fantasy and my doctor has forbade my drinking coffee (but I still sneak in some Sumatran once in a while). Perhaps it was I who walked in front and out of sync? I walk all night but always return empty handed (Wednesday isn’t trash night after all) reeking of parliaments singing…

 

“Is there anybody going to listen to my story…”

sunsweet ones

So one of the things that really angered me recently was a commercial I happened to see about Sunsweet Ones. Sunsweet ones are individually wrapped prunes. Here is the link to a video of it, unfortunately I couldn't find the English version, but that one is just as clear. I don't understand what was wrong with the way prunes were packaged before and why is there a need to have them individually, so you can throw them into your bag? With all the talk nowadays about sustainability, and not wasting, and recycling. In a time when plastic bags are illegal in California and bottled water is illegal in Toronto, how can a company release a product such as that? All the excess plastic now, that is more than likely not recyclable because it isn't made from type 1 or type 2 plastic, is destined to just end up in garbage cans and ultimately in the landfills. Not to mention, all the extra costs that the company now spends on buying the plastic to package those prunes individually, the increased transportation that is used as the plastic is delivered to the company to make the packaging, and all of the other externalities that are not factored into the price of those prunes. Is there really a need for individually wrapped prunes? And if so, was it not possible to find a better way to package them so that it would be done in a sustainable manner? any ideas?

modern v postmodern

So yesterday I was in a history of modern design class, and we were studying postmodern design. Looking at the characteristics of postmodern design and looking at the characteristics of modern design, It made me think where are we now? Modern design was classified as: Ideology and morality, seriousness, socialist design, good taste, rational structure and universal value. While Post modern design was characterized as: pastiche and parody, whimsy and irony, capitalism, "bad taste", celebrates surface, and different means of interpretation. Looking over these broad descriptions it made me believe that right now we have gone back to modern. Movements in sustainability and design for the other 90%, and communication technology that is meant to allow the developing world to begin to operate on the same ground as we can. Sustainable green architecture that is meant to be socialist, thinking about the areas and the people, the environment in the surrounding, buildings being built so that they could then be reused. There are a lot of movements now whose ideology coincides with modernist design. We are slowly trying to move away from the the throw away culture of the postmodernist era, with thoughts about reuseability and recycling, greenseal certified paper that is made from 100% recycled content, CD packaging that has seeds in it so that when you are done you plant it, office buildings that are built with high ceilings so that when the building is done being an office it can be reborn as a residential building, laptop casing that is made out of bamboo, etc. I recently read that water bottles have been banned in the city of Toronto. 

I wonder two things, one, is this thought process in design that seems to be so modernist in its essence really the majority of the design today, or is it just little tidbits that seem to show themselves from time to time while postmodernist ideals still continue to thrive. And two, if it isn't the majority, then what can we do to make it the majority? Does it start with education, does it start with designer ethics, does it start with capitalism, with a market for that kind of design, command and control regulation, or will it never start?

hopes and confessions

      Alright, lets hope that at some point I won't be talking to myself. I'd like to start with a wish, I realize that with a name of a blog like the one I chose it might be a little hard to live up to the name. The topics are things that I am very interested in, and I'm not really sure what this will be about. I imagine it will be just me ranting on about this and that. So I honestly hope that I won't disappoint.

      Let me also say that I am a a recovering technoholic. I am one of those people, that hate what cell phones have done, I hate myspace, I hate facebook, I hate twitter, I hate television, I hate addictive blackberrys and iphones. I am an advocate for face to face communication, for going to the park and accidentally running in to someone and a friendship forming, spontaneity, and people very simply just talking to each other. The little things that you see when you are facing someone are incredible, the facial expressions, the body language, the tone of voice, eye contact. All of that disappears on the internet and through mobile communication. I was at the blueman group and I was shocked by a this little line that they had during their show. it said : Welcome to the internet cafe, come and sit next to people you don't know, and talk to people who are not there. I don't think that I will ever forget this line for the rest of my life. 

      However, just like when a person goes to an AA meeting, they sit around a table and introduce themselves. They say: Hello my name is Zack and I am an alcoholic. Hello, my name is Rostislav and I am a Technoholic. I send out almost as many text messages as a 14 year old girl with a sidekick. And I now own a blackberry. I have an RSS feed on it, the internet, text messaging and unlimited emails. Goffman once talked about public interaction and shields. A shield is something that one hides himself with in public, like a newspaper or a book. Well my cellphone is my shield. I'm not one to be afraid of any form of public interaction, but I look at my cellphone constantly, even if there's nothing on it. I'll read worldchanging, or BBC, possibly treehugger, or joke of the day. But I hate it, I wish that I could stop but I have become so dependent on my email, on knowing what to do. One thing though, I am proud to say that I don't watch television. There is nothing better than sitting down with a good book and reading to your hearts content. I read an article recently on  a study performed on Wifi in public spaces in two cities. The results of the study classified people who utilize wifi in cafe's into two different categories, Placemakers and Truemobiles. Truemobiles were people who came into wifi cafes with their laptops, for work as an escape. They tried to escape any form of public interaction and hid behind their laptops for most of the time. Mostly the only interaction that they had was if an acquaintance showed up. Placemakers were people who came with their laptops, but spent most of the time looking around and trying to make some form of public interaction. Their main goal was for interaction with people there. The laptop was just one of the tools for them, and a temporary distraction so that they don't just sit there. In terms of those two categories, even though I don't usually sit in cafes with my laptop, but with my cellphone I imagine I would be a placemaker. 

      So thats it. I want everyone to know that I have high expectations for this blog, and I do hope that at some point I won't be talking to myself. adios