A reality nightmare

September 27, 2007


Kitchen NightmaresI don’t get into reality television. I think that, for the most part, it’s over-dramatized, over-edited tripe. I watch it on occasion – sometimes, it’s the only thing on, and often it possesses that train wreck quality that makes everything else utterly unimpressive; a horribleness so bright it fades the other channels in comparison.

I’ll admit – some reality television has its merits. I’ll never slag on American Idol, or Dancing with the Stars, or Survivor – these are ground breaking television shows that garner high numbers and are doing everything right. It’s stuff like Kid Nation, or Rock of Love, or any other “famous/non-famous person seeks mate/job/acceptance through grueling challenges/taking clothes off/surprisingly limited talent” program that sets me off. It’s like that Shaq’s fat camp show that was mercifully canceled (more accurately, “not renewed”). Those are the shows that make my teeth grind.

I’m even tired of the house-flipping, redecorating, Ultimate Home Makeover stuff. And I used to like that.

But there is a small genre of reality television, however, that I cannot get enough of.

Cooking shows. I’m talking about Top Chef. Hell’s Kitchen. Iron Chef. And my new personal favorite: Kitchen Nightmares.

What is it I love about this? Realistically, this is the same thing as the ultimate home makeover genre, except with horrible restaurants. Maybe I just like Gordon Ramsey. (Though it can’t just be him – I sat and watched hours of Top Chef while in the hospital with Kerrie after Sierra was born. I couldn’t get enough of it.)

I like food. And I like cooking. And I like seeing the art and design put to use out of every day kitchen items. I like British guys yelling at hapless restaurant owners, calling out the lazy drag-alongs and butchering the unconvincing chefs. I love the hopeless shots of disgusting kitchens, of ridiculous menus, of flies and rotten burgers and exhausted wait staff left to fend on its own thanks to the moronic deeds of the restaurant’s management.

Really, you wonder why anyone would want to eat there after the horrible exposure of each restaurant’s flaws. And then, just like a makeover show, Gordon flips the restaurant into something worthwhile. While he’s at it, he gives it some peripheral marketing through positive “after” images and impressive promise.

Yeah – it’s the same thing I hate. It’s a little hypocritical. Oh well. I hate reality television for the most part. But if you throw a few cooking challenges, it’s suddenly appointment viewing. How’s that for petty?

Anyway, you have to watch this show. It’s awesome. Kitchen Nightmares. Wednesdays at 8 PM CST on Fox.

Tags: Television |

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Mr. Momming it

September 26, 2007


Mr. MomThere will be no washing machines overflowing with laundry soap; no kitchen messes so vast the children are lost; no poker using coupons or exploding ramen noodles.

Today is my first day home alone with Sierra. I begin my paternity leave. It promises to be a special time, sitting in the house, alone with Sierra during her last days without daycare and my last days of vacation until next year.

And if I said I wasn’t a little nervous, I’d be lying.

No. Nervous is too strong. I’m not expecting mass disaster, or any other stereotypical “man watching the kids” type of bull honkey. I’m no Michael Keaton. I’ve got a lot of skill over Mr. Mom. So no, I’m not nervous

Apprehensive, maybe. Not of my ability to do it, but of my ability to do it right. I mean, how hard can it be? I understand the basic steps in taking care of a child – after all, I’ve been doing it after work and on the weekends for the past two months. But there are subtleties that I’m sure I’m missing – the kinds of subtleties that Kerrie was able to glean from of constant attention and undying dedication over her maternity leave.

Now, here I am. Alone. With Sierra.

It’s wonderful, actually. It’s the joy of parenthood mixed with the joy of a day off. I’m still in my pajamas. Sierra finally fell asleep after her bath and is now rocking gently in her swing. She’ll eat when she gets up, and then we’ll go run some errands. It’s all in the name of stay-at-home-fatherhood, and I’ll have to admit, over these last few hours I’ve really gotten to enjoy it.

Parenthood isn’t hard. Yet. Though I doubt it ever gets truly difficult. It’s all a matter of where your mind is and what tips your scales in the wrong direction. And if you can put the trivial annoyances aside and realize that the fussy little monster that’s screaming bloody murder for her bottle is actually a small little person having just as hard a time of life as you are, then parenthood is a breeze.

And that, my friends, is the talk of a man with two entire months of experience. Take it for what you will.

That being said, it’s hard not to realize that everything in life fades to the background, that if there’s a cure to loneliness, or hate, or even wider problems like war or discrimination, that it has to start with a child, the eyes of whom are wide and open minded, ready for anything, waiting for everything. A child prepared to make a difference, regardless of whether or not any of us know what that difference is going to be.

Sierra’s waking up. Here goes nothing.

Tags: Sierra, Vilhauer |

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Taking stock

September 24, 2007


Some random stock photographyBefore my current job as a copywriter, my only experience with stock photography could be boiled down one concept: MS Word Clip Art. Logos, actual photography, fonts - these were so far out of my range of being that, while I knew the MS Word Clip Art sucked, I certainly didn’t go to any lengths in changing my use.

Now, I’m not saying I ever resorted to using the little faux kokopelli character ad nauseum like many of my co-workers were wont to do. But I was extremely sheltered in the idea of using someone else’s artistic material as your own.

Which, as I was flipping through the new Veer catalog, got me thinking.

Is there any less rewarding position as “stock photographer?”

Please. Someone fill me in. I’m begging to know.

How does a stock photographer receive his or her jobs? Are they hired by a company and told to come up with as many situations as possible? Are they given a list of topics for the day (men and women shaking hands, generic football conversation, random people on couches in the middle of a grassy knoll) and told to do it artistically? And non-artistically, I guess, for clients that prefer less risk and more vanilla. Is part of a stock photographer’s job to develop shot lists that haven’t been done before? Or to improve upon the classic “three diversely organized business people looking busy” shot?

Are there stock photographers that specialize in the absurd? In wildlife? In nature scenes, business meetings, city life or farm minutiae?

If I was ignorant of stock photography before, I’m equally ignorant of the process now.

I’m really just curious of how it works. The Veer catalog had page after page of extremely creative photography - the type of images that you’d hire someone to take when looking specifically for a modern edge for your promotional piece. These are photos that take a lot of skill, a great eye, a brilliant idea.

And there’s a good chance that it will never be used.

Thousands of brilliant pictures, few of which have a potential future. Thousands of ideas, wasted. Miles of film, figuratively.

Imagine - you’ve found a great shot. You’ve set up a fantastic background of trees, an old style couch and a young hipster, the hipster lounging with his arms slack, signifying defeat. It’s a neat picture, even if it means nothing. You’re proud of it. It’s different, and it took a while to prepare. You’ve spent two hours setting it up.

Three weeks later, you find out it’s been used in an advertisement for men’s antiperspirant. Even worse, five years later you find out it’s never been used. Ever.

Do stock photographers recognize their work? Do they get credit if their image is used in an award winning campaign, or does the corporate umbrella they work under take the prize? Do they feel slighted? Do they even care?

Hundreds of creative jobs are based on the machine-like churning of ideas, including mine. But it seems that stock photography is largely seen as a faceless venture. So how do the faces behind the cameras feel? There has to be something obvious I’m missing. Anyone?

Tags: Advertising and Marketing |

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Bilbo…Bilbo Baggins

September 21, 2007


A conversation with my friend Jim reminded me of this classic Leonard Nimoy variety show song: The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins.


Video may be quiet and faded thanks to age - go ahead, turn it up.

There’s a lot to love about this video. The Laugh-In style dancers, the rocky beach location (unlike anything Bilbo Baggins would have actually experienced), the random flying clothing near the end of the song, the obligatory Spock ears and the general feeling that, no, this song isn’t really about Bilbo Baggins of Lord of the Rings fame but, actually, about wild, romping sex in the swinging 60s.

I wanted to know more, so I did some Wikipedia research:

“The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins” is a song composed by Charles Randolph Grean and performed by Leonard Nimoy, telling the story of Bilbo Baggins and his adventures in J. R. R. Tolkien’s novel The Hobbit. The recording originally appeared on The Two Sides of Leonard Nimoy, the second of Nimoy’s albums on Dot Records…A year before the recording was commercially released, Nimoy lip-synched to the recording during a guest appearance on the July 28, 1967 episode of Malibu U, a short-lived variety television series.

Enjoy.

Tags: Random YouTube |

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The life-long teacher

September 21, 2007


When I went to college, I did so with the express goal of becoming a high school science teacher. I completed the necessary classes. I struggled through student teaching. I realized it would be a tough job, but I persevered. I graduated and started searching for a job.

Back then, I assumed teaching was my calling. I had some wonderful experiences that I continue to hold on to. I discovered the joy of the “a-ha moment,” the split second when something clicks, when a child comprehends an idea unfailingly. I was thrilled to become a teacher - I gushed about it over beers, practiced the proper stereotypes and prepared myself for the calling.

It never quite worked out that way. My true calling was in writing, and I had taken a detour through teaching thanks to some random experiences and good luck. The negatives ended up outweighing the joy, the breathless search ran dry, and I found myself looking for solace in the one trade in which I knew I could succeed.

Fast forward four years. It’s been ages since I’ve thought of myself as a teacher. It’s a dream long dead, a wrong turn at the fork in the path of vocation, a valuable experience long passed.

Now, I have a daughter who I adore, as any father adores his daughter, with unceasing love and amazement. And every day, I find she’s changed - grown in size and in knowledge and in motor skills and all of that. It’s a wonder to realize the constant trail of discovery that Sierra travels. Though it sounds cheesy and cliché, it’s all true - life changes with a baby, both literally and figuratively. Our lives changed, and hers constantly changes.

The changes are visible, too. You can tell on her face that Kerrie and I have evolved from fuzzy black and white images floating somewhere in Sierra’s brain to something more defined, more real and worth examining. Before, we were simply sounds, familiar voices and shades reminiscent of a Peanuts teacher, a “wah wah” that was both soothing and familiar. Now, we’re real.

And now, with what seems like sudden recognition, Sierra focuses nearly exclusively on our faces - grasping to every word, studiously examining every sound, making a study of every aspect of her life.

It’s the idea of learning everything for the first time that seems so amazing. We don’t make the connection as adults - we’ve become so practiced in every minutiae of life that we take it all for granted. But it isn’t just that we’ve learned to do our jobs well and construct meaningful relationships and rattle off complex theories and political positions. We’ve also learned the basics, perfecting them over time until they become second nature. Which makes sense. After all - it is nature.

We had to learn not just to read and write, but to talk and listen. We learned not just how to play games and ride bikes, but to kick our legs and move our arms.

Our muscles developed, our sight, our hearing and our thoughts. We began to learn to remember things, to identify, to make simple connections. And we did it all without even knowing it.

When Sierra was first born, I marveled at her ability to seemingly do nothing. To stare aimlessly into space, to eat, sleep and cry 24/7. But as she progresses through her learning, I realize she was constructing the basics.

You can’t learn complex algebra until you learn how to count. And knowing the monstrous mountain of learning that Sierra has ahead of her, I now take a little offense when people assume babies don’t do much.

They do. In fact, they do more learning than we can even comprehend. It’s like imagining the simple binary code that makes up the most complex computer language. And in realizing that, I’ve discovered that my life as a teacher was only on hiatus - each of us as a parent becomes the most important teacher our child will ever have. Except this time, I’m ready for the task, excited and willing to teach, thrilled to finally find a child I can relate with on a personal level.

So I guess things did turn out the way I first thought. I am a teacher. Just not in the way I ever imagined.

Tags: Career, Sierra |

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Choose your own adventure

September 20, 2007


I never win things.

So it was a nice surprise to get an e-mail from Chris at Culture Bully informing me that I had won a CD from his Second Annual Choose Your Own Giveaway contest - a brilliant contest where the winner gets to choose the prize he or she wants out of the day’s selections.

And being the grateful winner I am, I made a promise to myself to plug the contest.

I chose Ani DiFranco’s new greatest hits CD for a few reasons - it’s a disc that we wouldn’t buy on our own anyway (Kerrie has every album, so it’s quite a bit of overlap aside from re-recordings of older songs) but still want to make the canon complete. The album, actually, is called Canon, which I think is a great name for a greatest hits CD. I’m surprised more people don’t use it.

Anyway, you should all be reading Culture Bully regardless of giveaways - he’s smart and funny and I’ve learned more about the current indie rock scene from him than any other blog I’ve read.

So go ahead - treat yourself to a free CD. I finally did. It runs through September.

Tags: Blogging, Music |

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One quart of milk, a humidifier, seven whole chickens…

September 18, 2007


It’s more than green M&M’s, cases of beer and whole roasted chickens.

When musicians and comedians go on stage, they want potted plants, chairs with special backs, rice cakes, B-12 shots, brand-specific products and 24-packs of ribbed condoms.

While perusing the Link blog today, I found a link to The Smoking Gun’s backstage rider list section. So I went there.

It’s pretty fun.

For instance, Christina Aguilera’s catering list includes Flintstones vitamins, an entire cornucopia of health food store items, both 10 AND 6 bottles of water, depending on where they are on the list (NO EVIAN, PLEASE!) and … Oreo cookies. Oh, and they would request that you please supply exactly ZERO (0) pounds of dry ice. So PLEASE make sure that the dry ice is (isn’t?) there.

Go check it out. See what Pavarotti wanted backstage. Compare it to Beck, The Rolling Stones or Ozzy Osbourne.

There you go. Feel free to waste some time today.

Tags: Music, Random Links |

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