The making of a gabber
Jaimeson spoke her first word this evening. Or at least her first real attempt at a word. Julia would say "Dada" to her while pointing at me. Jaime would repeat after her "A-da". She said it several times for me too. She was just mimicking the sound we were making, not actually making the connection that it was me she was talking about.
Jordan actually started doing the same thing at about three months (no kidding!) You could say a few words to him and he would do his best to repeat it back to you. It would sound like he was saying what you said, but doing it underwater. Jaimeson's repetition is much more distinct, though she's done it only once.
• • •
I asked Lyn today how she deals with it when people remark on how great it is that the new Foresters logo is in the primary colours, and all that represents. I nearly fall over when I hear that. I must look like I'm going to be sick. I want to grab them and shake them. "Don't you get it!", I would scream, "It's not so boorish, or simplistic as that!"
She just smiled and said "It's everybody's brand, and if they make it their own, that's great." I could never be so altruistic about it.
Jamieson's entry
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To hell with dental hygiene
After reading through a stack of resumes, and rewriting two creative briefs, I stumbled to bed at 4:45 this morning. I had slept for a few hours earlier, but had gotten up to finish my work.
Brad Usherwood, who, by the way, is the son of renowned typographer Les
Usherwood, was in again today. I'm very excited for the opportunity to work with Yield; it's a chance to gain some industry best practices, and fall under the protective creative wing of a long-time design aficionado.
There is so much work though that I don't know what to do about it. I can't send it out, because there's no one else trained on the brand. They can't go to Yield because they don't have the money; it costs a small Carribean island to get anything done through them. And we, quite simply, don't have the capacity to handle it all. I work every waking moment that I can. On top of this, I'm the Brand Guy, the one who answers all the questions, and is the sole supplier of the logo. That's a full-time job in itself.
Amanda at my work is feeling pretty much like me. She claims she's selling her house, moving to Sudbury to live in a trailer and claim Welfare. I told her to save some room in the pick-up, I feel a tooth coming loose already.
Also, I sent a lengthy commentary on the common misuses of the word "only" to the company creating our brand guidelines document. They all think I'm cracked for not letting it go after we debated it for a few minutes yesterday. In the words of the Brit, Helen from
Enterprise IG, I'm "bonkers". I suppose she's right.
Filth and defeat
Answer me this: what good is it for people in fast food restaurants to wear gloves while preparing food, but keep them on while handling the cash? I don't get it. The worst part is that if they didn't wear the gloves they would probably clue in to wash their hands after taking the money. But this way, what are they going to do; wash the gloves?
• • •
With a hundred thousand restaurants throughout the city, it grows increasingly difficult for a new place to establish any notoriety for itself. One new eatery I've noticed in our area is obviously aware of the fact. It has perhaps given up on trying to differentiate itself, accepting relative ignominity.
The name of the place is "One More Restaurant". Cute.
Yellow triangle
I spent a fair bit of time with Brad from
Yield today, first as part of a brand training session, then chatting with him about how to execute some of our projects. I think that the whole experience is very, very valuable. You can't just buy mentorship from a first-rate agency.
A couple things have struck me, though. First off, no one is as together as they first appear, not even a great agency. If you look hard enough you can see that they scramble a bit, too, to deliver on some things, and it's not always (though almost always) quite up to snuff. I can nitpick 'cuz they're the big whigs. Also, what's more important is the fact that I realized that it's a continual learning process. Their processes are changing all the time. An agency that has been in business 15 years, last year completely junked their enire workflow process for a new one. They don't have
all the answers about the brand either. That too is an exploration and a learning process. Don't get me wrong, they're some of the best creative minds I've had the privilege to work with. It's just good to know that nothing is so elevated that it's entirely unattainable.
Clarity
Tonight demonstrated the problem we've got in trying to get a business organized. Darryl came over tonight so we could all talk about our plans. The trouble is that we've got four control freaks, all with their own idea of how things should be done. I'm the closest thing we've got to a strategist, and that's not saying much. I can strategize a topic to death before managing a single bit of execution. And even then I'll want to think on it some more. Only top-level too; big picture. I can never get down to the nitty-gritty. Julia's a doer, but has trouble focusing on the important things. Amy is as opinionated as I am, but can be in topics where she has no experience as much as those in which she is well-versed. And Darryl is probably too new to the group to be able to take charge. So how's that for a mess of dynamics?
Whatever the case, It's going to take some serious work, and some struggling to get things organized. I believe it's possible though, even likely.
As Lydia says, we'll take Winnipeg by storm.
Smile and wink
I have a young admirer at work, I think. She's very cute, and not just a little sweet, but very young-minded. She's playing the game in that naive sort of way that holds nothing back: the smiles, the going out of her way to talk to me, the pointed touch at every opportunity.
It's funny because she reminds me of Julia way back when. I feel a bit sorry for her. I wish someone would tell her I'm married, I have two kids, and there's no chance. I mean, even if I were interested, I wouldn't. It's so messy that way.
It's funny, too, because I think it falls into that guy-who's-attractive-because-he's-older-and-more-established category. I hadn't realized that I was old enough to be that guy. Sort of a rude awakening there.
Role reversal
Those of you who know me well, know that I take on a significant portion of the
uxorial responsibilities.
Today was a case in point, as the girls sat on the couch, swilling beer and watching the hockey game, while I did laundry. That's not even funny.
That is except for Amy who holed up in her bedroom this evening to read her big book of holocaust attrocities. Stories of Nazi imperialism always seem to do the trick whenever she's really in the mood to feel good and sad, maybe even have a cry. I know the people who shared their experiences want others to read them and know what took place. I do wonder though how they'd feel about their stories contributing to emotional masochism.
Thought of the moment
Selfishness and generosity are not mutually exclusive.
Disbelief
Driving to work today, my vision was arrested by a Crossing Guard. She was wearing a bright pink tube top, with fully exposed midriff, and a bright blue mini skirt. She was not good-looking and neither did she have a nice body. It was a very strange sight, and I wondered what motivated her to draw such inappropriate attention to herself.
• • •
Those creative briefs are coming along nicely. I'm pretty proud of myself about that.
I got lots of
props from Lyn today in our Directors and Managers meeting. It's not undeserved; I've worked really hard and have done really good work for the Brand Team. But it made me think about how far I've come and how much of it I owe to Lyn's faith in me. I have been able to survive some tremendous stresses simply because Lyn believed I could survive. And even if the position I'm in isn't exactly where I want to be, I have learned an incredible amount. I have gained the kind of knowledge and skill that cannot be taught in a classroom, and I owe that primarily to Lyn. She has done so much for me that I feel a measure of disbelief. I don't know where I'd be today without her.
I would not have been able to do the things I have done if it wasn't for her. And I do mean
for her. The only way I was able to last through some of it was because I was doing it for Lyn. I would do almost anything she asked of me.
And though she says she hasn't, she has been there for me, when it really counts. There have been times when the tide threatened to prove too strong, where I was in danger of being pulled under and lost. People have not always been happy with me. In these times, Lyn's talent for influence shone. Sometimes, when I needed someone most, she was there completely unexpectedly, subtly working behind the scenes to put things right. She has a brilliant sense for people and for delivering help when it's most needed.
I feel that Lyn has been a nurturing influence in my life that I haven't had before. I talked to Dr. Rothman about it once, and he said that the best thing is when that influence becomes internalized, so that even when that person's direct influence is gone you can still benefit from it. You just have to hang on to that sense of security and remember how that person treated you.
I know now that I will always have that. I feel deep gratitude for what Lyn has given me. I will always remember her fondly and, thanks to her, I am stronger and more confident. That is the sort of thing that goes beyond the realm of being a good boss, or even a good leader. It comes from being a genuinely good person.
Thank you, Lyn.
Chaos and Harmony
That's the
book that Julia bought me recently. I've been looking forward to it, but now I'm even more excited about it since I began reading.
Author Trinh Xuan Thuan, a Vietnamese physicist dedicates the book to his father, but also to all in search of beauty and harmony. I count myself in that number. In the very first chapter he strikes a chord with me as he talks about the beauty the universe holds. How infinitely complex, yet beautiful in simplicity it can be. Thuan echoes my own feelings as he describes how awesome and incredible the universe truly is. He speaks, too, of the beauty in science and formulae: "If nature is so beautiful, why should the theories that describe it not be so too?"
Huh? Aren't scientists soulless geeks who have no appreciation for aesthetics? French mathematician Henri Poincaré answered it well when he wrote that it is because Nature is so beautiful that scientists are motivated to study it. His words: "I speak of an inner beauty that stems from the harmonious order of the parts." I like to think of it all as one giant design project executed with incredible sophistication and unprecedented production values. Einstein called it magic.
The thing about it though is this: as scientists uncover more details, theories are proven to be fact, and a marvelous clarity dawns on one area, then another, and another. And all these previously unrelated areas of science prove themselves to be, in fact, inextricable from one another; that these strands are woven together into the fabric of our reality. The universe operates under such utter precision, and what appears chaotic turns out to be part of a higher order. As I read the book, I feel that it points to one increasingly inarguable conclusion: the universe is a product of design, and I keep expecting that Thuan will echo my sentiment; but he doesn't. He claims that it is the product of chance, which to me is inexcusable. He does hint at the "theological implications" of all of this, so I'll be interested to see where that leads us. I find it difficult to fathom when the very tone of his writing implies a consciousness as he decribes "the Creative Universe", anthropomorphising it to the point where it seemingly has a will.
That's all I can write right now. I'm falling asleep and my head hurts from thinking about it.
We did go to the zoo yesterday, weather be damned. It was a little disappointing though. There were few animals outdoors, and few people too. Everyone crowded into the hot African and Australian pavillions.
Jord tired himself out running up and down the long pathways. Julia and Erin tired themselves out just dragging themselves from exhibit to exhibit. Actually, in truth, there was relatively little complaining about the cold, the lack of sun and the long walk.
• • •
Back at work after the long weekend, I cringe at the thought of what the week holds. Today was crammed with meetings. I've got two, maybe three, creative briefs to write and present on Friday, and there's rush work, as always. I don't know why I put up with it. Marianne said that she thinks I'm a martyr for the brand. I'm the quiet guy who will suddenly snap, take a machete to work and hack up a few nice people. They'll say they can't understand it, and that I was always so pleasant.
Correction
Okay, so it wasn't that beautiful. It was one of those days that is deceptively sunny and pleasant-looking, but when you get outside is just a little too chilly and windy for comfort. Our lazy walk in the sun turned into an impromptu trip to Old Navy. Later, Jord and I did sneak out for an hour in the park though.
Also, he and I went to see Spiderman, which was as disappointing as I thought it might be. Julia went last week and saw it at Movies for Moms, a new venture at a local theatre which gears the matinees to mothers of babies. It's an intelligent piece of marketing, if you ask me. The deal comes complete with product sample giveaways, extra change tables, and stroller parking. The Dolby is turned down for the sake of baby's sensitive ears And since it's all Moms and Dads with little ones anyway, no one minds a bit of squirming and fussing. It worked out pretty well for her.
Tomorrow, is a zoo trip, weather-depending. Barring that, I've got a dungeon battle scheduled. I'm so glad I don't have to work tomorrow.
Sun
It's a beautiful day. We gotta get out.
Game day
Jordan and I were rewarded today for our patience and diligent saving. For quite a number of months, we have been saving up all the loonies, toonies, and other change we have gotten, with the single-minded goal of buying a Playstation 2, and the Zelda-styled RPG
Dark Cloud.
Sure, we could have splurged, gone and dropped the $600 it would have cost us a few months ago. But it seemed hard to justify with so many other financial priorities, a new baby among other things, and all for an item that is bound to be little more than a time glutton; especially when time is already at a premium.
Last week we were more than halfway there, closing in on $400, almost entirely in coin. Then came the big news, the price had dropped.
What? This was unexpected. The system seemed still months away, but all of a sudden, the price was down to $299. We had our money, including tax and cost of the game. Glory be. It was a gift.
On a more sobering note, I'm worried that I might be coming down with something: maturity. While I'm happy that we got the system, I'm not beside myself with excitement, as I might have been a few years ago. In fact, as I went to Toys R Us to pick it up, I didn't feel even one twinge of giddiness. That's frightening.
I had also held off on buying a DVD player since the PS2 can double as one as well, though I have heard complaints about the playback quality on large screens. It works fine, though, on our 27 incher. We watched
The Man Who Wasn't There as the inaugural movie. (It was quite good too; another fine mix of Billy Bob and the Coen duo). The picture was crystal clear, there's perfect freeze frame which is great if there's something you want to look at in detail, and at long last our movies play in surround sound, a tad better than our
mono VCR.
As always, the sale of support products for the thing is a racket in itself. I actually was thinking ahead about all the pieces that I would need in addition to the actual console, in order to hook it up and to be able to watch movies, etc. I bought an adapter to hook it up to single cable style TVs (for an extra $20), which it turns out I didn't need, as well as the DVD remote (another $40).
You're supposed to be able to use the game controller to operate the DVD mode, but I thought the remote would be handier. As it turns out, you need the DVD software that comes only with the remote before you can watch anything. Before you can load the software onto the system, you need a memory card,
not included with the remote, but do you think anyone told me that? These days, that's pretty much par for the course as far as customer service goes.No matter; in he end, it's here, it works great, and Dark Cloud is shaping up to be the epic RPG of all time.
Sometimes, life tosses you a bone.
Okay,
now I have a properly functioning archive, complete with links to posts.
• • •
With the
Sadness gone, I had a fine day. Though I'm still not happy with a lot of small issues, things have the potential to change significantly for the better.
There's a booming market in Vancouver for creatives. I'm not drowning in work anymore. I have the confidence to make some definite strides forward. It's really just a matter of picking a direction and going after it. If only I weren't so tired.
• • •
I have a serious yen for some new
BT.
It's baa-aack
It's what I call the Inexplicable Sadness. There's no particular reason for it. It just is.
It's not entirely without cause. It's been building for some time. I've been feeling for a while that all I do is try to keep people happy. At work, there's a whole host of people I need to keep happy. Clients who need things, staff who aren't really happy with how things are going, bosses (yes, that's bosses plural, as in 3 of them) who all have their own agendas, and everybody needs stuff from me, me,
me. I do not remember agreeing to this.
Then there's home, a household full of people to keep happy: a wife who needs more attention, a baby who's more or less always on the verge of unhappiness, and a boy who requires a
lot of work to keep happy. Not to mention a sister-in-law.
Don't even get me started on the
reading circle, and how hard it is to keep an entire roomful of kids happy.
I have begun to wonder whether I would ever put so much work into keeping myself happy, and the answer was pretty obvious.
The Inexplicable Sadness manifested itself today, in a desire not to go to an after hours work function: beer, wings, cholesterol, thanks a bunch. It wasn't just that I didn't want to go; I really wanted not to. I did, however, manage to muster up the strength to show up and put on a brave face, even if more than fashionably late.
I realized that I felt exactly the same way the day of our last work function, to which I didn't show. I couldn't bail again. I think it has something to do with a whole lot of unprocessed resentment toward the entity that steals my life away. I'm not able to go and celebrate it; I just get more depressed and angrier as the day progresses.
Beer helps, and so does pretending. It's not nearly as bad as last year when the Inexplicable became the Infinite. I can get up tomorrow knowing that the Sadness may be gone.
Yay me
Finally, I have a fully functional archive. For a while there, I thought I was in danger of losing entirely all my early posts. It's all good now though. Feel free to browse right back to blog day one.
No luck with the comment function yet...a very frustrating procedure. Wish me luck. I trust you'll understand if I pack it in for tonight.
Random neurons firing
Sometimes bizarre thoughts occur to me. Those of you who know me well are familiar with these. What even you don't see, for the most part, are the quick and often strange creations of the mind that aren't so fully developed as to be called thoughts, but are merely the ebb and flow of liquid consciousness.
For example, on my way to work today it was raining. I was not looking forward to walking over to the building in the rain. For the tiniest fraction of a second the idea occurred to me that I could drive around to the front of the building and drop myself off first. It was a flash and then it was gone, squashed by the cold reality of physics; but I can't deny that it lived, even if only for a miniscule existence.
Another thought...upon watching a large gaggle of geese enjoy the rain and and the bounty of edibles it produced from the grass on a huge green hillside..."Life is good." This came not from my own enjoyment of watching the geese, but from the point of view of the goose itself. For that split second, I
was the goose nibbling the grass.
Maybe I shouldn't be sharing
quite so much, but that's what this blog is all about: truth; capturing it and not being afraid to put it down in words. Every once in a while, those energetic synapses muster up something, and it's important to grab it while it's there.
Too late
Half-asleep, half-crazed in a blurry-vision way. More dreams than memories. Cartoon images and anime.
There's a broth of intimidation, respect, admiration, regret, and longing, that's seasoned with a little satisfaction. There's a lot of wondering about people long gone. There's fear of being left behind. There's fear of not staying too.
Non-existent peacock
Today was the wedding day of Peter and Bonnie Defilice. Peter works with Julia and Amy at
TCI.
It was an italian affair, complete wtih six-course dinner, dancing circle groups, and a loud-mouthed drunken uncle. Our gift was money, of course, as is the custom.
In effort to make it a tad more interesting than plain bills in an envelope, I decided to fold the money into origami shapes. I had recently bought a book on origami, and was anxious for a chance to apply it to something practical. I folded a box, a top, and an insert that quartered the inside. The idea was to then fold four bills into interesting shapes; one for each section.
It went well. The book taught a model called the Money Pig, a design intended specifically for a dollar bill. It worked pretty well. The trouble came when I tried to find other models suited to rectangular paper. There aren't many, in fact, almost none. They all seem to use a square.
It got frustrating
really quickly as I tried to adapt the designs for bills. For once at least, I had the good sense to cut practise sheets before folding my crisp, new bills. I came close to completing a money rabbbit, as well as a peacock, before I got frustrated and gave up. It didn't help that I ran out of time, either.
In the end I just made four pigs, and off we went. It was alright, but the frustration of an unrealized vision nags me still.
This is great
Today marks our first recorded incidence of Jordan being ironic.
Scene: the parking garage
Me: "Aaah, shoot! Jordan, I forgot something. I'll be back in two minutes, okay? I'll run."
Him: "Okay"
Upon my return
Him: "Well,
that was fast."
Me: "Was it?"
Him: "I mean, like, it
wasn't."
Isn't that supposed to be a teen years thing?
• • •
As an aside, I double-checked my trusty aide
Merriam Webster since I was trying to figure out whether his statement should be called sarcastic, or facetious, and discovered it's neither. For an enlightening comparison of these words and others similar (ironic, satiric, sardonic), follow this
link.
Tick for tap
Someone upstairs has a habit of tap, tap, tapping on the floor most nights around bed time. It's enormously frustrating, partly beacause it's loud, and partly because I wonder what they're doing. Whenever I hear it, I have half a mind to barge up there and bang on their door. Occasionally, if it goes on too long, and I get
really fed up, I take the heaviest book I can find, and hurl it at the ceiling with all the force I can muster. It makes a satisfyingly tremendous thud. The tap, taps usually stop immediately. Right now, Barabara Kinsolver's The Poisonwood Bible gets the honour.
It reminds me of an appartment Julia and I had when we were first married. Every night when we went to bed, we'd hear tick tick tick through the wall. Then we noticed that it wasn't only at night, but during the day too. It sounded as if the guy was tapping at the wall with a small chisel, planning eventually to come right through. It drove me insane. I couldn't figure out what this man was doing, or why he tormented me so. Sometimes, when I could bear it no longer, I would pound my fist againt the wall to no avail. The tapping would continue, unrelenting. It was rhythmic, but not precise. Tick, tick, tick, pause, tick, tick, tick, pause, pause, tick, pause, tick. Neither was it constant; sometimes it would stop all together for days, or even weeks.
Firmly resolved to address the matter with this man (I knew it was a man as I had seen him on rare occasions) I banged on his door, often, but he would never answer. I grew fitful, waiting for the opportunity to pounce on him, but he never left, and he never entered.
For months this went on, the ticking, the pausing, the hovering by the door, the ears pressed to the wall in an effort to decipher the sound. It was mechanical; it had to be. It was too rhythmic to be sustained for so long. But what? And why? During this time, the man went unseen.
Life went on. We were in debt almost 7K on the credit cards, and money was slim. I often used one card to pay the bill of another. Things were getting progressively worse financially. Jordan was born, and I knew I had to do something to increase my earning power. I quit my mailroom job, and went back to school. Through all of this, the mystery of the noise next door went unsolved.
When the money from the student loan had been used up, I had to find a job that I could do while in still in school. Julia, Jord and I moved downtown where I took a part-time job as a superintendant.
A few weeks before this happened, I came across the man next door by chance. He had ducked out to the grocery store for a few provisions. He was an elderly man, mid-sixties, who apeared gentle and mild; not the sort at all who would come through your wall. I said hello, prepared as I had always been to bully this man to tears; though that plan was short-lived. It quickly became evident that my neighbor was, for all intents and purposes, deaf.
With this information, some things fell into place. I soon realized that the noise seemed exactly like a noisy ceiling fan. Our man next door wouldn't even have known that anything was wrong.
The irony was that by this point, we had become so accustomed to that ticking, it didn't bother us in the least.
The little literati
My son Jordan, age 5, creates a title for his first mini-epic: The Super-fruit Leagues and the Wrath of Stinky Watermelon.
Really
I just heard that the NRg logo went on to take "Best of Category" after taking gold in its particular entry field.
So it beat out
all the other logos entered in the awards contest. I'm a bit bewildered. It's not
that good.
TKO
Men's boxing is pointless enough, but women's boxing is just plain silly.
Tsk Tsk
I just had a harrowing experience with
TD Canada Trust.
Due to my recent nagging general preoccupation, I foolishly scheduled the same transfer twice via web banking. The end result was insufficient funds when TDCT went to withdraw their mortgage payment. This was a month ago; no one has contacted me yet from the bank to even let me know that they have stopped withdrawing the money. So now I'm two payments behind instead of just one.
Worse, I just called there to explain my plight, and was connected to some East coast phone rep. She took it upon herself to chastise my poor account management, telling me that
she would never let her account go for a month without checking it, and that automatic debits of an account are a
privilege. This privilege won't be reinstituted until my account is in good standing. Suddenly I'm in second grade getting chastised by my 60 year-old teacher.
I actually had to cut into her diatribe saying "Stop, stop! I need to ask you a question!"
Yes, banking can be this comfortable.
Fire up the BBQ
I very nearly removed my eyebrows today.
I had opened the barbeque, turned the knobs to "ignite", heard the hiss of gas, and punched the auto-light button.
Nothing.
I tried it again, and again. No biggie, I had had this problem before. I just needed to light it manually. The valve on the cannister was making an odd hiss too though, which worried me. I got down to check it, closed the valve, and reopened it, just to be certain.
Unfortunately, I have been more than a little absent-minded lately, and I was distracted a little longer than I should have been. Of course, the gas was open more or less the entire time. So, imagine what happened when I used the lighter.
I actually saw the giant ball of flame in time to close my eyes, but I didn't turn my head quite quick enough to avoid singeing my hair, my eyebrows, and even my eyelashes.
I jumped back, still feeling the heat on my cheeks and nose. I reached up tentatively to inspect the damage. The cheeks seemed okay, the nose stung but was alright. I had heard of people who had completely burned off their eyebrows in the very same way, and I thought right then of what it would be like to go to work naked above the eyes.
I could smell the burnt hair, and when my fingers touched the crusty brows, I really began to believe that I might have done it. I came inside, and cautiously made my way to the bathroom, hoping that I would meet no one on the way. If something really bad had happened, I wanted to be the first to know.
For one second, I paused, full of trepidation about what I might see when I flipped on the light. I couldn't not know, though, and was relieved to see no blistered or hanging skin. There were crinkly, but intact eyebrows, and mostly unharmed eyelashes.
In the end, the steak were fine, the burgers juicy, and despite the lingering acrid scent, all is well.
In the car
Jordan: Old people are really poor, right?
Me: Poor?
Jordan: Yeah. Or they just wear really weird clothes.
