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less cold equals more hot
6.29.2009
It's funny the things you remember. There are expected things like particularly good or bad situations in your life. There are repetitive things like birthdays and remembering to breath. And then there are just kind of throwaway memories that stubbornly persist.
I had this girlfriend once who, while taking a shower together (SCANDAL!), wanted the water a little hotter. Being closest to the taps (it was the individual hot and cold kind, not the combined one) I reached down to turn the knobs. Thinking "more hot", I opened the hot tap a little more. She looked at me with kind of a disgusted look and said something along the lines of, "I guess I'm more concerned about the environment than you are."
What??
"Because opening up the hot tap uses more energy than just closing up the cold one"
Oh.
Needless to say, we broke up eventually. I certainly can't argue with the logic, but the manner in which it was delivered honestly hurt my feelings. Perhaps that's why the incident has stuck with me. Every. single. time I adjust the water temperature in the shower I think of it.
I had this girlfriend once who, while taking a shower together (SCANDAL!), wanted the water a little hotter. Being closest to the taps (it was the individual hot and cold kind, not the combined one) I reached down to turn the knobs. Thinking "more hot", I opened the hot tap a little more. She looked at me with kind of a disgusted look and said something along the lines of, "I guess I'm more concerned about the environment than you are."
What??
"Because opening up the hot tap uses more energy than just closing up the cold one"
Oh.
Needless to say, we broke up eventually. I certainly can't argue with the logic, but the manner in which it was delivered honestly hurt my feelings. Perhaps that's why the incident has stuck with me. Every. single. time I adjust the water temperature in the shower I think of it.
thank you, baby jesus
6.28.2009
Lord in Heaven above, thank you for the gifts that you bestow on your humble servant on earth. Though undeserving, your magnanimous grace provideth me gifts of bounty and happiness.
Thank you, baby jesus, for sending to this sinner: Voltron on Hulu. Amen.
Thank you, baby jesus, for sending to this sinner: Voltron on Hulu. Amen.
is an LED just an LED?
6.26.2009
As a product designer, I go to a lot of design reviews. Passionate and long conversations about the smallest minutiae. And when I say smallest minutiae, I mean the size of a small 1mm radius on the back of a product that lives in an environment that you never interact with. How does it make you feel? What is the message it conveys? Does it communicate friendliness combined with functionality.
It's incredibly detailed in an emotional way.
And I dig it.
It's incredibly detailed in an emotional way.
And I dig it.
the king is dead, long live the king
6.25.2009
I'm sure every person with a semi-regular blog in the world is posting about Michael Jackson's death today. I'm no different. I grew up in the 80's, I listened to the music, I had that poster, I wore my Thriller tape out, I did my poor version of the moonwalk in the scorching Texas summer sun. Today I don't care about the scandals, or the surgeries, or the weirdness and eccentricities. MJ meant a lot to me for a good long part of my life, and I still can't help but dance or sing along when I hear the familiar beats. I wanna rock with you...all night.
It sucks losing your icons.
A rockstar friend of mine just met Michael a few weeks ago. It was amazing. It was transcendent. And, in today's light, it was even a little more weird.
How many sparkle gloves will be worn on Halloween this year? How many will be in honor, and how many will be in jest?
No matter the personal life, this reporter still contends: too soon.
father's day?
6.21.2009
I'm not the greatest of sons lately. Well, maybe that's not true, but I'm not the greatest in terms of gift-giving. For the past few years, I've only been able to muster a call on father's/mother's day and no gift or card. I'm a bad son.
I attribute this to work. I'm so overwhelmed wih stuff that I don't have time to take care of myself, let one go out shopping for cards. If Hallmark wad OpenDoc until 2am, it might be a different story.
I wonder if I'LL ever celebrare father's day? Did anyone else just feel that shudder?
I attribute this to work. I'm so overwhelmed wih stuff that I don't have time to take care of myself, let one go out shopping for cards. If Hallmark wad OpenDoc until 2am, it might be a different story.
I wonder if I'LL ever celebrare father's day? Did anyone else just feel that shudder?
we've got to stop meeting like this
6.20.2009
A couple of weeks ago, I saw a dead body for the first time outside of a mortuary. Yesterday there was a fatal gang shooting across the street from the studio...which also sadly ended in death.
I had my DSLR with me, and went up to the roof and took a grip load of pictures. Capturing the guy bleeding on the sidewalk, the police and paramedics, the ambulances, the crowds, the scene. At the time, it was OK for me to be so seemingly callous, because he wasn't dead. He was definitely in a bad way, his friend was standing over him covered in his blood, but they loaded him into an ambulance instead of covering him with a sheet and leaving him on the street to cool.
Today though, it turns out he didn't make it. And that changes the picture taking. Being right across the street I was the first person in the area with any kind of significant camera. By the time the press got there, the victim was already on the way to the hospital. So, without exaggeration, I may have the last pictures of this guy alive.
Weird.
I had my DSLR with me, and went up to the roof and took a grip load of pictures. Capturing the guy bleeding on the sidewalk, the police and paramedics, the ambulances, the crowds, the scene. At the time, it was OK for me to be so seemingly callous, because he wasn't dead. He was definitely in a bad way, his friend was standing over him covered in his blood, but they loaded him into an ambulance instead of covering him with a sheet and leaving him on the street to cool.
Today though, it turns out he didn't make it. And that changes the picture taking. Being right across the street I was the first person in the area with any kind of significant camera. By the time the press got there, the victim was already on the way to the hospital. So, without exaggeration, I may have the last pictures of this guy alive.
Weird.
the times they are a'changin
6.16.2009
Way back in the late 20th century, when I was still in school, History was my absolute least favorite subject. Even less so than math, which is why I became an engineer...wait, what?
It's not that I was bad at it or anything, I just really found it boring. A bunch of dead people went somewhere and talked a lot, wrote down some things, and then died because they were cold. And these fascinating occurrences happened from this month and year to this later one. Annnd test.
It always just seemed like brute memorization to me, which therefore sucked all the fun out of it. You know, like religion.
Now though, it seems like 90% of what I watch is on the History Channel. I find this odd. Is this because the delivery is better or because I'm not staring at Kate Bartells as much (cheerleader, blond, Friend, endlessly frustrating while never being aware of it...you know what I'm saying fellas)?
It's not that I was bad at it or anything, I just really found it boring. A bunch of dead people went somewhere and talked a lot, wrote down some things, and then died because they were cold. And these fascinating occurrences happened from this month and year to this later one. Annnd test.
It always just seemed like brute memorization to me, which therefore sucked all the fun out of it. You know, like religion.
Now though, it seems like 90% of what I watch is on the History Channel. I find this odd. Is this because the delivery is better or because I'm not staring at Kate Bartells as much (cheerleader, blond, Friend, endlessly frustrating while never being aware of it...you know what I'm saying fellas)?
there are too many people in LA
I have a bunch of completed and near-completed stories on my harddrive. Where by a "bunch" I really mean like ten. I've written stories on and off my whole life, but i have no idea where they are. I don't know if that's because I find them disposable, or I just don't do a good job of keeping track of them...either way, I was looking for something and ran across this small snippet that I have no recollection of writing whatsoever. I must have done so within the last 5 years or so, but I can't recall under what circumstances.
You'll also notice that it's really more of a blog post than a story, observations being the kinds of things I usually post.
I'm not sure why I just said that. At any rate:
There are too many people in Los Angeles.
There are two ways you walk by a stranger in Los Angeles.
1. With your head down
2. With your eyes straight ahead and a don’t-fuck-with-me look on your face.
What does that tell you about Los Angeles? It tells you that there’s such a surplus of people here that you can afford to either ignore them or beat them. Consider time past, let’s go with Colonial when we were still exploring this vast land of purple mountains, majesty. Imagine yourself in your deer-skin cap and tattered boots. The last of your hardtack begrudgingly digesting in your stomach. Murky water stored in an animal hide your only relief from the hot sun. When, in the distance, you see a small wagon train shimmering on the horizon. You bet your ass you’re going to roll up and say “hi”.
You'll also notice that it's really more of a blog post than a story, observations being the kinds of things I usually post.
I'm not sure why I just said that. At any rate:
There are too many people in Los Angeles.
There are two ways you walk by a stranger in Los Angeles.
1. With your head down
2. With your eyes straight ahead and a don’t-fuck-with-me look on your face.
What does that tell you about Los Angeles? It tells you that there’s such a surplus of people here that you can afford to either ignore them or beat them. Consider time past, let’s go with Colonial when we were still exploring this vast land of purple mountains, majesty. Imagine yourself in your deer-skin cap and tattered boots. The last of your hardtack begrudgingly digesting in your stomach. Murky water stored in an animal hide your only relief from the hot sun. When, in the distance, you see a small wagon train shimmering on the horizon. You bet your ass you’re going to roll up and say “hi”.
ah snap
6.13.2009
I have a love/hate relationship with flickr. I love it because I can put my pictures up and feel like I have a pretty good eye and have some measurable kind of skill.
But then, as is inevitable, my eye starts to wander and I see humbling work by jd and jimbo, and get reminded that I have a long way to go. Humbling inspiration can be a great motivator.
OK, that's a reason to love flickr, too.
But then, as is inevitable, my eye starts to wander and I see humbling work by jd and jimbo, and get reminded that I have a long way to go. Humbling inspiration can be a great motivator.
OK, that's a reason to love flickr, too.
a shadow of my former self
I'm falling apart, America. The eyes are going fast, the hair is on its way out, the fat is stacking up...It's a sad sight.
I can't help but think that it has a lot to do with the 50-60 hour work weeks and the stress that comes with that; and I'm starting to think that it has even more to do with internalizing the trauma of my own little personal tragedies. If I might self-aggrandize a bit, I dealt with my fire, the repeated car accidents, and now the loss of 10 years worth of pictures with an uncharacteristic calm. I've gotten compliments on that calm and told that I'm great under pressure, results-driven, blah, blah, blah.
But lately, as I fall to pieces in the mirror, I wonder if that's really all that good of a thing. Maybe I'm not so much dealing with these situations as burying them, and it's manifesting itself in my faltering body.
Or maybe I'm just getting older.
Also, I've just been watching "I'm A Celebrity, Get Me Out Of Here!" on Hulu, so clearly my mind is also going.
I dunno.
I can't help but think that it has a lot to do with the 50-60 hour work weeks and the stress that comes with that; and I'm starting to think that it has even more to do with internalizing the trauma of my own little personal tragedies. If I might self-aggrandize a bit, I dealt with my fire, the repeated car accidents, and now the loss of 10 years worth of pictures with an uncharacteristic calm. I've gotten compliments on that calm and told that I'm great under pressure, results-driven, blah, blah, blah.
But lately, as I fall to pieces in the mirror, I wonder if that's really all that good of a thing. Maybe I'm not so much dealing with these situations as burying them, and it's manifesting itself in my faltering body.
Or maybe I'm just getting older.
Also, I've just been watching "I'm A Celebrity, Get Me Out Of Here!" on Hulu, so clearly my mind is also going.
I dunno.