Just wanted to post a few links to some other projects I've worked on this year at Shippensburg.
The first link is to a flash video about feral cat awareness that supports the Feral Cat Coalition. The second is to a podcast about going green in your every day life. It discusses important tips and easy steps you can make in your home, office or school to go green.
Both projects were planned, produced and created by Alissa Greco and Sarah Schaffstall.
So if you're feeling like you need a little more awareness in your life, check these out!
webspace.ship.edu/ajborr/flash/grecoschaffstall2.swf
webspace.ship.edu/ajborr/finalprojectgrecoschaffstallpodcast.mp3
December 10, 2009
December 8, 2009
Podcast Review: Digital vs. Traditional Advertising
Marketing Voices is a weekly podcast that focuses on how social media is impacting marketing for businesses worldwide.
In the December 7th edition of the podcast, host Jennifer Jones discusses the outlook for digital advertising in 2010. Her guest is Bill Predmore, president of POP, a Seattle-based digital marketing agency.
Predmore explains that marketers are "getting off the bench" when it comes to digital advertising, and they're getting involved. And although 2009 was a hard year for marketing and advertising, he predicts that in 2010, there will be an explosion of growth in the use of social media platforms in advertising.
Any size brand or company can get involved in the new technology, and many are looking towards mobile phones and applications.
The push towards digitalization is the result of a company's understanding what its users need. According to Predmore, when you understand what the needs of the customers are, it's easier to build a platform that will support those needs.
In 2010, Predmore predicts that devices such as the iPhone, the Palm Pris, the Droid, the PSP Go and ereaders will gain in popularity along with social media.
"People want to understand the value they're getting out of the investments they're making, he told Jones.
Predmore's opinion on which brands are doing the best job in digital advertising so far? Dove soap's newest Campaign for Beauty, which has "done a very good job of connecting the television and the web."
To find more podcasts that discuss social media platforms, please visit www.toprankblog.com.
In the December 7th edition of the podcast, host Jennifer Jones discusses the outlook for digital advertising in 2010. Her guest is Bill Predmore, president of POP, a Seattle-based digital marketing agency.
Predmore explains that marketers are "getting off the bench" when it comes to digital advertising, and they're getting involved. And although 2009 was a hard year for marketing and advertising, he predicts that in 2010, there will be an explosion of growth in the use of social media platforms in advertising.
Any size brand or company can get involved in the new technology, and many are looking towards mobile phones and applications.
The push towards digitalization is the result of a company's understanding what its users need. According to Predmore, when you understand what the needs of the customers are, it's easier to build a platform that will support those needs.
In 2010, Predmore predicts that devices such as the iPhone, the Palm Pris, the Droid, the PSP Go and ereaders will gain in popularity along with social media.
"People want to understand the value they're getting out of the investments they're making, he told Jones.
Predmore's opinion on which brands are doing the best job in digital advertising so far? Dove soap's newest Campaign for Beauty, which has "done a very good job of connecting the television and the web."
To find more podcasts that discuss social media platforms, please visit www.toprankblog.com.
Murdoch Discusses Journalism and Freedom, I Discuss My Thoughts
On December 1st, 2009, Rupert Murdoch, chairman and CEO of News Corp., shared his views and opinions regarding journalism and the Internet before the Federal Trade Commission's workshop.
In his eyes, government assistance poses a greater threat to media than any new technology.
In a way, he's right.
Yes, newspaper readership has certainly declined over the past ten years, but can the main cause really be traced back to government?
Murdoch states that "the future of journalism...is limited...by government using its heavy hand either to overregulate or subsidize us," which I agree with, but he's wrong in assuming that newspapers have only ever prospered from the trust that they gain from their readers.
Some prosper from where they are located, some from the quality of their images/stories, others for their writers' reputations.
I do agree--the power lies with the readers, but it's not in their trust, it's in their needs. Newspapers aren't losing readership because they're losing trust, they're losing readership for the exact reason that Murdoch dismisses: technology.
If cell phones are coming equipped with access to online news sources, then newspapers should publish e-articles each day in addition to printed text.
However, I can't be too quick to dismiss all of Murdoch's opinions, because there are many that he got right.
"More and more, our readers are using different technologies to access our papers during different parts of the day," he writes.
Evidence of this can be seen in a recent article of Media Week magazine titled "CBS Philadelphia Launches Digital Newsstands." Instead of traditional newsstands that sell hard copies of newspapers and magazines, CBS's Philadelphia affiliate is implementing a series of digital kiosks throughout center city. The kiosks will feature digital screens that continuously flow with updated information on local news, sports and weather.
While Murdoch tends to agree with the fact that news sources must keep up with the technological demands of readers, he seems to contradict himself by blaming the government for the decreasing popularity of traditional news sources.
CBS Philadelphia's Digital Newsstands Attract On-the-go Readers
(Photo courtesy of http://www.digitalsignageexpo.net/)
In his eyes, government assistance poses a greater threat to media than any new technology.
In a way, he's right.
Yes, newspaper readership has certainly declined over the past ten years, but can the main cause really be traced back to government?
Murdoch states that "the future of journalism...is limited...by government using its heavy hand either to overregulate or subsidize us," which I agree with, but he's wrong in assuming that newspapers have only ever prospered from the trust that they gain from their readers.
Some prosper from where they are located, some from the quality of their images/stories, others for their writers' reputations.
I do agree--the power lies with the readers, but it's not in their trust, it's in their needs. Newspapers aren't losing readership because they're losing trust, they're losing readership for the exact reason that Murdoch dismisses: technology.
If cell phones are coming equipped with access to online news sources, then newspapers should publish e-articles each day in addition to printed text.
However, I can't be too quick to dismiss all of Murdoch's opinions, because there are many that he got right.
"More and more, our readers are using different technologies to access our papers during different parts of the day," he writes.
Evidence of this can be seen in a recent article of Media Week magazine titled "CBS Philadelphia Launches Digital Newsstands." Instead of traditional newsstands that sell hard copies of newspapers and magazines, CBS's Philadelphia affiliate is implementing a series of digital kiosks throughout center city. The kiosks will feature digital screens that continuously flow with updated information on local news, sports and weather.
While Murdoch tends to agree with the fact that news sources must keep up with the technological demands of readers, he seems to contradict himself by blaming the government for the decreasing popularity of traditional news sources.
CBS Philadelphia's Digital Newsstands Attract On-the-go Readers
(Photo courtesy of http://www.digitalsignageexpo.net/)
The Cat's Out of the Bag...
According to the Feral Cat Coalition, a pair of feral cats that aren't spayed or neutered can produce an estimated 420,000 offspring in a seven year period.
...Imagine trying to pay that child support.
When a domesticated house cat becomes a stray and then has kittens, those kittens are considered feral. Then those kittens mate (as early as four months old) and have more kittens, then those kittens have kittens, and so on...
A problem occurs when too many ferals inhabit a single area, and there really is no set solution.
If we feed them, nothing will happen, if we remove them, more will come back.
The only way to stop a feral cat colony from getting larger is to have the cats spayed and neutered. That way, they will be unable to produce more offspring.
Many communities and shelters have set up Trap-Neuter-Release programs (TNR) in their area. These programs are run by volunteer veterinarians and members of the community.
Traps are set; once the cats are trapped, they are taken to the TNR facility (usually at the vet's or a designated area set up by volunteers). Then, they are spayed and neutered, given shots and usually tagged on their left ear. The cats that are deemed adoptable are sent to shelters around the area to be given homes; the cats that are too wild to be pets are released back into their natural habitats.
The truth is, only one in nine feral cats live to see adulthood. The others are hit by cars, picked off by predators, starved, or frozen during the winter months.
Most--if not all--are neglected.
This is a growing issue and it effects everyone, no matter if you live in the city or a rural area; the problem is, it needs more awareness.
I've been speaking to students, commmunity members and shelters that participate in TNR programs to really get to the bottom of the issue.
Look for a feature story soon! In the meantime, check out some of these sites to learn more information about feral cats and how you can help in your area.
www.humanesociety.org/issues/feral_cats/
www.alleycat.org/
www.feralcatproject.org/
If you're in the Shippensburg area and would like to visit/adopt from TNR-friendly shelters, please visit these websites...
www.betterdaysanimalleague.org/
www.pawsorpa.org/
...Imagine trying to pay that child support.
When a domesticated house cat becomes a stray and then has kittens, those kittens are considered feral. Then those kittens mate (as early as four months old) and have more kittens, then those kittens have kittens, and so on...
A problem occurs when too many ferals inhabit a single area, and there really is no set solution.
If we feed them, nothing will happen, if we remove them, more will come back.
The only way to stop a feral cat colony from getting larger is to have the cats spayed and neutered. That way, they will be unable to produce more offspring.
Many communities and shelters have set up Trap-Neuter-Release programs (TNR) in their area. These programs are run by volunteer veterinarians and members of the community.
Traps are set; once the cats are trapped, they are taken to the TNR facility (usually at the vet's or a designated area set up by volunteers). Then, they are spayed and neutered, given shots and usually tagged on their left ear. The cats that are deemed adoptable are sent to shelters around the area to be given homes; the cats that are too wild to be pets are released back into their natural habitats.
The truth is, only one in nine feral cats live to see adulthood. The others are hit by cars, picked off by predators, starved, or frozen during the winter months.
Most--if not all--are neglected.
This is a growing issue and it effects everyone, no matter if you live in the city or a rural area; the problem is, it needs more awareness.
I've been speaking to students, commmunity members and shelters that participate in TNR programs to really get to the bottom of the issue.
Look for a feature story soon! In the meantime, check out some of these sites to learn more information about feral cats and how you can help in your area.
www.humanesociety.org/issues/feral_cats/
www.alleycat.org/
www.feralcatproject.org/
If you're in the Shippensburg area and would like to visit/adopt from TNR-friendly shelters, please visit these websites...
www.betterdaysanimalleague.org/
www.pawsorpa.org/
December 1, 2009
"There's Something About Bricker" Feature Profile!
There’s Something About Bricker
We all have it. That something. That one thing about us that no one knows or understands yet seems to consume our entire lives. It’s that pill we pop every day just to get going, or that meal we skip just to be able to look at ourselves in the mirror. For some, it’s never getting the chance to say goodbye to someone who’s already gone; for others, it’s the constant struggle to overcome prejudice and hate.
In October of 2007, Michael Bricker, a high school art teacher, asked his Photography I students to do something bold, something they probably didn’t expect to encounter when they signed up for the class, but also something “so typically Bricker.” He asked them to tell him about their somethings, to speak from their souls about the challenges they’ve overcome and bear their weaknesses and insecurities for the world to see.
“I am amazed by what they trust me with,” said the 33-year old.
And he’s right. They do trust him. In response, Bricker received a motley assortment of thoughts, ideas, poems, musings and black-and-white photographs that portrayed each individual’s sadness, shame, embarrassment or heartache. There were memories of loved ones battling deadly diseases and tears for loved ones lost too soon. Some shared personal struggles dealing with issues of race, terrorism and body images. Many wrote about just trying to fit in.
With the help of his students, faculty and community members, Bricker’s simple photography assignment grew into an engaging exhibition titled “Facing the Demons Within.” It was held in January of 2008, then featured and published in Life Images magazine that summer. Most of the participants were nervous, anxious as to how their stories would be received once under the scrutiny of the public eye, but Bricker continued to urge them to open up, to be proud to say “This is me! This is what I’m going through. Tell me about you.”
“I think it was a tough project just because it was so in touch with our emotions. People cried during class, and some didn't even want to share the progress of their project. I don't think it was as hard for me, because a lot of others shared the same fear that I did, even if it wasn't the basis of their project,” said Carleigh Williams, a student who participated in the “Demons” assignment her senior year of high school.
It may be that he’s the type of person who notices you, who can get you to notice you, or it may be that he’s so willing to understand what makes us all tick, but there’s no doubt that there’s an extra something about Bricker.
He teaches drawing and painting and photography. He coaches varsity tennis and Junior Varsity women’s basketball. He is a son, a husband and a youth adviser at his church. But, when it comes down to it, Bricker doesn’t consider himself to be a person who teaches one subject or another. First and foremost, he teaches kids.
“It is that hat that I am most proud of in my life,” he said. I have wanted to be a teacher since I first realized my parents were teachers when I was a couple of years old.”
Because Bricker places precedence on things like education, family and friends, and he’s definitely not the person who’s caught in a place that he doesn’t want to be. In fact, the days he dreads coming into work are “few and far between.”
“I actually enjoy being around teenagers and believe in them and want to encourage their dreams,” he said.
When a student in his sixth period drawing and painting class began to fall behind in his work, Bricker spent time with him after school to offer his guidance and support. When students began bombarding him with requests for letters of recommendations to prospective colleges, Bricker answered every single one. When he noticed that some students seemed too advanced for his Photography I course, he designed and proposed a Photography II course specifically to fit their needs.
“He was always the teacher that got on your case, but not in a bad way. Only in the way that if you needed him, he was there,” said Sarah Prall, a senior at Shippensburg University who never had Bricker as a teacher, but knew him well.
On a typical Wednesday morning at 7:30, Bricker enters through the front doors of Central Dauphin High School in Harrisburg where he has been employed for nearly five years. The excitement of yet another successful homecoming weekend lingers in the lobby, and his egg shell-white and baby blue-striped shirt and khaki slacks contrast a sea of green and white posters, banners, sweatshirts and bags. The sluggish line of growling buses has just begun to crawl away as students and faculty bustle in from their morning commutes. Bricker briefly adjusts his black-framed glasses and straightens his collar before grabbing his daily stack of mail from the front office, sliding it between the leather pockets of his laptop case and preparing for the traffic jam of teenagers that has been steadily growing at the mouth of the cafeteria.
After he pauses to let those racing to reach their lockers or visit the ladies room before the late bell rings scurry by, Bricker reaches Room 902. Unlike most high school classrooms, there isn’t a textbook in sight. There are no maps or globes of posters with periodic elements and quotes from dead presidents. In fact, if you were trying to study for a calculus exam seventh period or write a history essay on the ancient Mayans, this classroom would be downright distracting.
That’s because it is a room for welcoming, building and strengthening creativity, not copying lectures and memorizing dates. The tables are smudged with thick lines of graphite and charcoal, the stools fingerprinted with creamy pastels and colored chalk. The sinks are lined with acrylic-caked cardboard palettes and worn-handled paintbrushes, the cabinets packed with assorted scrap papers, burlap canvases and silky linens. Figure drawings and still-lifes line the walls where diagrams and pie charts should be, and several wooden easels arranged in a circular formation take the place of miniature desks and hard-seated chairs.
Bricker can tell you how to best go about drawing an accurate self-portrait or the exact chemical properties of photographic emulsion, but he never wants those to be the only things that define his work. He uses art (any kind, really) as a sort of therapeutic outlet from a world that can often seem confusing and intimidating. His assignments aren’t necessarily about drawing or painting or developing a roll of film, they are really expressive tasks that allow students to flex their creativity and escape to another place. No matter the guidelines, they always carry the same message: I believe in you.
But in this day and age, it’s hard to teach any other way.
“I have seen so many things in my classroom,” said Bricker. “I can only imagine what goes on when our students walk out the school’s doors.”
Bricker has held a student in his arms after she told him of her mother’s death, has brought another to his brother’s gravesite after that student opened up to him about a similar situation. He has encouraged one to face her eating disorder head-on and helped place her in professional care, all the while reminding her—now that she is a successful college student—that she is welcome to call him any time. He has patiently listened as a teenage boy vividly described the horrific torture of addiction, and given his best advice to a young girl who wondered how to explain to her parents that she was pregnant by a boy she wasn’t even allowed to see. He has pounded his fists on his desktop after students have walked out of his classroom, then driven home wondering why the world is the way it is.
But he has also witnessed kids getting into colleges they never believed would accept them, posed for photographs at proms and homecoming dances, grinned proudly from the stage at numerous graduations and received unexpected contact from students he never knew he reached.
Because Michael Bricker is not just a high school art teacher. He is also an adviser, a parent, a son, a sibling, a husband, a guidance counselor, a confidant, a psychologist, a doctor, a nurse and a probation officer all in one.
He is someone who can take that something we fear and hide behind and turn it into something that helps us overcome our challenges and mature and grow as human beings.
“Because each and every one of us has their something or somethings,” wrote Bricker in his contribution to the “Demons” exhibition. “That is what connects each and every one of us. And that is what keeps us alive.”
We all have it. That something. That one thing about us that no one knows or understands yet seems to consume our entire lives. It’s that pill we pop every day just to get going, or that meal we skip just to be able to look at ourselves in the mirror. For some, it’s never getting the chance to say goodbye to someone who’s already gone; for others, it’s the constant struggle to overcome prejudice and hate.
In October of 2007, Michael Bricker, a high school art teacher, asked his Photography I students to do something bold, something they probably didn’t expect to encounter when they signed up for the class, but also something “so typically Bricker.” He asked them to tell him about their somethings, to speak from their souls about the challenges they’ve overcome and bear their weaknesses and insecurities for the world to see.
“I am amazed by what they trust me with,” said the 33-year old.
And he’s right. They do trust him. In response, Bricker received a motley assortment of thoughts, ideas, poems, musings and black-and-white photographs that portrayed each individual’s sadness, shame, embarrassment or heartache. There were memories of loved ones battling deadly diseases and tears for loved ones lost too soon. Some shared personal struggles dealing with issues of race, terrorism and body images. Many wrote about just trying to fit in.
With the help of his students, faculty and community members, Bricker’s simple photography assignment grew into an engaging exhibition titled “Facing the Demons Within.” It was held in January of 2008, then featured and published in Life Images magazine that summer. Most of the participants were nervous, anxious as to how their stories would be received once under the scrutiny of the public eye, but Bricker continued to urge them to open up, to be proud to say “This is me! This is what I’m going through. Tell me about you.”
“I think it was a tough project just because it was so in touch with our emotions. People cried during class, and some didn't even want to share the progress of their project. I don't think it was as hard for me, because a lot of others shared the same fear that I did, even if it wasn't the basis of their project,” said Carleigh Williams, a student who participated in the “Demons” assignment her senior year of high school.
It may be that he’s the type of person who notices you, who can get you to notice you, or it may be that he’s so willing to understand what makes us all tick, but there’s no doubt that there’s an extra something about Bricker.
He teaches drawing and painting and photography. He coaches varsity tennis and Junior Varsity women’s basketball. He is a son, a husband and a youth adviser at his church. But, when it comes down to it, Bricker doesn’t consider himself to be a person who teaches one subject or another. First and foremost, he teaches kids.
“It is that hat that I am most proud of in my life,” he said. I have wanted to be a teacher since I first realized my parents were teachers when I was a couple of years old.”
Because Bricker places precedence on things like education, family and friends, and he’s definitely not the person who’s caught in a place that he doesn’t want to be. In fact, the days he dreads coming into work are “few and far between.”
“I actually enjoy being around teenagers and believe in them and want to encourage their dreams,” he said.
When a student in his sixth period drawing and painting class began to fall behind in his work, Bricker spent time with him after school to offer his guidance and support. When students began bombarding him with requests for letters of recommendations to prospective colleges, Bricker answered every single one. When he noticed that some students seemed too advanced for his Photography I course, he designed and proposed a Photography II course specifically to fit their needs.
“He was always the teacher that got on your case, but not in a bad way. Only in the way that if you needed him, he was there,” said Sarah Prall, a senior at Shippensburg University who never had Bricker as a teacher, but knew him well.
On a typical Wednesday morning at 7:30, Bricker enters through the front doors of Central Dauphin High School in Harrisburg where he has been employed for nearly five years. The excitement of yet another successful homecoming weekend lingers in the lobby, and his egg shell-white and baby blue-striped shirt and khaki slacks contrast a sea of green and white posters, banners, sweatshirts and bags. The sluggish line of growling buses has just begun to crawl away as students and faculty bustle in from their morning commutes. Bricker briefly adjusts his black-framed glasses and straightens his collar before grabbing his daily stack of mail from the front office, sliding it between the leather pockets of his laptop case and preparing for the traffic jam of teenagers that has been steadily growing at the mouth of the cafeteria.
After he pauses to let those racing to reach their lockers or visit the ladies room before the late bell rings scurry by, Bricker reaches Room 902. Unlike most high school classrooms, there isn’t a textbook in sight. There are no maps or globes of posters with periodic elements and quotes from dead presidents. In fact, if you were trying to study for a calculus exam seventh period or write a history essay on the ancient Mayans, this classroom would be downright distracting.
That’s because it is a room for welcoming, building and strengthening creativity, not copying lectures and memorizing dates. The tables are smudged with thick lines of graphite and charcoal, the stools fingerprinted with creamy pastels and colored chalk. The sinks are lined with acrylic-caked cardboard palettes and worn-handled paintbrushes, the cabinets packed with assorted scrap papers, burlap canvases and silky linens. Figure drawings and still-lifes line the walls where diagrams and pie charts should be, and several wooden easels arranged in a circular formation take the place of miniature desks and hard-seated chairs.
Bricker can tell you how to best go about drawing an accurate self-portrait or the exact chemical properties of photographic emulsion, but he never wants those to be the only things that define his work. He uses art (any kind, really) as a sort of therapeutic outlet from a world that can often seem confusing and intimidating. His assignments aren’t necessarily about drawing or painting or developing a roll of film, they are really expressive tasks that allow students to flex their creativity and escape to another place. No matter the guidelines, they always carry the same message: I believe in you.
But in this day and age, it’s hard to teach any other way.
“I have seen so many things in my classroom,” said Bricker. “I can only imagine what goes on when our students walk out the school’s doors.”
Bricker has held a student in his arms after she told him of her mother’s death, has brought another to his brother’s gravesite after that student opened up to him about a similar situation. He has encouraged one to face her eating disorder head-on and helped place her in professional care, all the while reminding her—now that she is a successful college student—that she is welcome to call him any time. He has patiently listened as a teenage boy vividly described the horrific torture of addiction, and given his best advice to a young girl who wondered how to explain to her parents that she was pregnant by a boy she wasn’t even allowed to see. He has pounded his fists on his desktop after students have walked out of his classroom, then driven home wondering why the world is the way it is.
But he has also witnessed kids getting into colleges they never believed would accept them, posed for photographs at proms and homecoming dances, grinned proudly from the stage at numerous graduations and received unexpected contact from students he never knew he reached.
Because Michael Bricker is not just a high school art teacher. He is also an adviser, a parent, a son, a sibling, a husband, a guidance counselor, a confidant, a psychologist, a doctor, a nurse and a probation officer all in one.
He is someone who can take that something we fear and hide behind and turn it into something that helps us overcome our challenges and mature and grow as human beings.
“Because each and every one of us has their something or somethings,” wrote Bricker in his contribution to the “Demons” exhibition. “That is what connects each and every one of us. And that is what keeps us alive.”
November 24, 2009
FEAR FACTOR!
What are you afraid of? Spiders, needles, plastic spoons? The world of fear is all around us and interesting because we all know what being absolutely and utterly terrified feels like.
Above is a link to a Podcast planned, outlined, produced and recorded by me and my fellow Communications/Journalism classmate, Alissa Greco. It is themed after the idea of FEAR, and discusses trends in phobias, scary movies and stories and Halloween traditions, costumes and customs.
Alissa and I had a lot of fun creating this podcast, and we'd love to know what you think about it. As always, comments are appreciated!
Hope you enjoy!
Above is a link to a Podcast planned, outlined, produced and recorded by me and my fellow Communications/Journalism classmate, Alissa Greco. It is themed after the idea of FEAR, and discusses trends in phobias, scary movies and stories and Halloween traditions, costumes and customs.
Alissa and I had a lot of fun creating this podcast, and we'd love to know what you think about it. As always, comments are appreciated!
Hope you enjoy!
November 17, 2009
Creative musings...
Wanted to share a story I wrote a few years ago about a very dear friend. Enjoy!
"The Painting"
On the day Daniel left, the painting started as a mediocre blob of red acrylic paint on a shoddy piece of canvas. It wasn’t anything in particular, Daniel had said, just a blob.
“Will you promise me something?” I asked as I sat up from the splintery old bench at Falls Creek. Daniel extracted the rusty old harmonica that his grandfather had given to him when he was fifteen from his lips and placed it gingerly back in the left-hand pocket of his favorite corduroy pants. He looked at me. “When the blob is finished,” I said, “come back home.”
Daniel flashed his familiar toothy grin. “I promise,” he laughed.
No one really knew where he was going, because Daniel never told anyone, not even his parents, or his best friend, or even me. But we weren’t surprised when he left. Oklahoma loved Daniel, and he loved it too, but not as much as he loved to wander the open road.
By October I had nearly forgotten about Daniel and the blob; school had started back up and it had been three months since I had seen or heard anything about either of the pair. I guess it was rather ironic that he called me on the day that he did. I had been thinking of Daniel that very same evening as I was sprawled on my back gazing up at the tall Oak trees that lined the cemetery by my house. The leaves had just turned from a deep sunflower yellow to a soft rusty orange, the same color that danced from the strands of Daniel’s unkempt hair when the sun hit just right.
I told him this during the hour-long conversation that followed after we exchanged salutations for the first time since that day on the bench at Falls Creek. I learned that Daniel was boarding with a pregnant woman named Jacquie in a small town in Kansas. I shrieked when he told me about the category 4 tornado that had ripped through the town, I sang along when he played Tom Petty’s “Wildflowers” on his acoustic, and I laughed when he told me about bathing his pet rat, Clementine.
“How’s the blob?” I asked when our chuckling had finally subsided.
“The blob,” Daniel replied, “is now a mess.”
“A mess?” I asked
“Yes,” he said, “a mysterious mess of color. Blues, greens, purples, and the most vibrant yellows you could ever imagine. But it’s not anything in particular.”
“Well, when the mess is finished,” I sighed, a bit exasperated “come back home.”
“I promise,” he said with a goodbye.
When Christmas came that year, I got a letter in the mail postmarked from Chicago. ‘Greetings from the Windy City! (and Daniel, of course),’ it read. The letter was four pages long and animated with details of snowflakes, suitcases, and soft voices of kind strangers. Daniel was now living in a small youth hostel in the heart of the city, and was working as a caretaker for a man named Robert Williams who was paralyzed from the neck down. Daniel was his hands and feet for twelve hours a day.
Through his letter, I indirectly met all the quirky characters that were living and interacting with Daniel. There was the massive black transvestite named Pink Gregory who volunteered at the hostel, the mysterious woman who always wore her sad eyes on the subway train and the homeless man on the corner of Fifth and Ceromac who sat on a bucket and sang “God Bless America” over and over and over.
At some points during the letter I became fitful with anger and jealousy, often violently throwing the ink-stained pages to the ground. I missed my dear friend, and knowing that these strangers were interacting with Daniel while I could only think of him outraged me.
But at the end of the letter, Daniel wrote about the mess. The mess which was now a symbolic photo album, for Daniel had painted a special section of the canvas for each person that he had met along the way, “and a special place right in the middle for you, Sarah,” he scribbled.
“And when the photo album is finished, I will come home. I promise.”
I received many other letters throughout the next year which were similar to the first, except the dates, the faces and the cities on the covers of the envelopes had all changed. From Texas to Washington, Kentucky to Tennessee. And what began as a blob, morphed into a mess, and transformed into a photo album, eventually went through the stages of being a timeline, an atlas, a portrait, and a poem. Each infused with pieces and parts of the people Daniel encountered, the places he saw and the interesting experiences he came upon.
And each letter ended the exact same way—with a meaningless promise that after the timeline, the atlas, the portrait, and the poem were complete, Daniel would return home.
It’s been about six months since the last letter, and I often think of Daniel, remembering the day he left and trying to remember how that rusted harmonica looked in the left-hand pocket of his favorite corduroy jeans. A sight that was once all too familiar has slowly become foreign to me.
But I guess life is like that harmonica, and those jeans, and coming and going, and pregnant women named Jacquie, and transvestites, and homeless men singing “God Bless America” and everything in between—nothing will ever stay the same. People will come and go. And some friends will become strangers.
However, taking what we can from each new face and place is what’s truly important. I learned that from Daniel.
And as for the painting, I no longer need to wonder about its progress, because even though Daniel may never come home, I know that what begins as a blob will eventually always end as an autobiography.
And that’s a promise I know will be kept.
"The Painting"
On the day Daniel left, the painting started as a mediocre blob of red acrylic paint on a shoddy piece of canvas. It wasn’t anything in particular, Daniel had said, just a blob.
“Will you promise me something?” I asked as I sat up from the splintery old bench at Falls Creek. Daniel extracted the rusty old harmonica that his grandfather had given to him when he was fifteen from his lips and placed it gingerly back in the left-hand pocket of his favorite corduroy pants. He looked at me. “When the blob is finished,” I said, “come back home.”
Daniel flashed his familiar toothy grin. “I promise,” he laughed.
No one really knew where he was going, because Daniel never told anyone, not even his parents, or his best friend, or even me. But we weren’t surprised when he left. Oklahoma loved Daniel, and he loved it too, but not as much as he loved to wander the open road.
By October I had nearly forgotten about Daniel and the blob; school had started back up and it had been three months since I had seen or heard anything about either of the pair. I guess it was rather ironic that he called me on the day that he did. I had been thinking of Daniel that very same evening as I was sprawled on my back gazing up at the tall Oak trees that lined the cemetery by my house. The leaves had just turned from a deep sunflower yellow to a soft rusty orange, the same color that danced from the strands of Daniel’s unkempt hair when the sun hit just right.
I told him this during the hour-long conversation that followed after we exchanged salutations for the first time since that day on the bench at Falls Creek. I learned that Daniel was boarding with a pregnant woman named Jacquie in a small town in Kansas. I shrieked when he told me about the category 4 tornado that had ripped through the town, I sang along when he played Tom Petty’s “Wildflowers” on his acoustic, and I laughed when he told me about bathing his pet rat, Clementine.
“How’s the blob?” I asked when our chuckling had finally subsided.
“The blob,” Daniel replied, “is now a mess.”
“A mess?” I asked
“Yes,” he said, “a mysterious mess of color. Blues, greens, purples, and the most vibrant yellows you could ever imagine. But it’s not anything in particular.”
“Well, when the mess is finished,” I sighed, a bit exasperated “come back home.”
“I promise,” he said with a goodbye.
When Christmas came that year, I got a letter in the mail postmarked from Chicago. ‘Greetings from the Windy City! (and Daniel, of course),’ it read. The letter was four pages long and animated with details of snowflakes, suitcases, and soft voices of kind strangers. Daniel was now living in a small youth hostel in the heart of the city, and was working as a caretaker for a man named Robert Williams who was paralyzed from the neck down. Daniel was his hands and feet for twelve hours a day.
Through his letter, I indirectly met all the quirky characters that were living and interacting with Daniel. There was the massive black transvestite named Pink Gregory who volunteered at the hostel, the mysterious woman who always wore her sad eyes on the subway train and the homeless man on the corner of Fifth and Ceromac who sat on a bucket and sang “God Bless America” over and over and over.
At some points during the letter I became fitful with anger and jealousy, often violently throwing the ink-stained pages to the ground. I missed my dear friend, and knowing that these strangers were interacting with Daniel while I could only think of him outraged me.
But at the end of the letter, Daniel wrote about the mess. The mess which was now a symbolic photo album, for Daniel had painted a special section of the canvas for each person that he had met along the way, “and a special place right in the middle for you, Sarah,” he scribbled.
“And when the photo album is finished, I will come home. I promise.”
I received many other letters throughout the next year which were similar to the first, except the dates, the faces and the cities on the covers of the envelopes had all changed. From Texas to Washington, Kentucky to Tennessee. And what began as a blob, morphed into a mess, and transformed into a photo album, eventually went through the stages of being a timeline, an atlas, a portrait, and a poem. Each infused with pieces and parts of the people Daniel encountered, the places he saw and the interesting experiences he came upon.
And each letter ended the exact same way—with a meaningless promise that after the timeline, the atlas, the portrait, and the poem were complete, Daniel would return home.
It’s been about six months since the last letter, and I often think of Daniel, remembering the day he left and trying to remember how that rusted harmonica looked in the left-hand pocket of his favorite corduroy jeans. A sight that was once all too familiar has slowly become foreign to me.
But I guess life is like that harmonica, and those jeans, and coming and going, and pregnant women named Jacquie, and transvestites, and homeless men singing “God Bless America” and everything in between—nothing will ever stay the same. People will come and go. And some friends will become strangers.
However, taking what we can from each new face and place is what’s truly important. I learned that from Daniel.
And as for the painting, I no longer need to wonder about its progress, because even though Daniel may never come home, I know that what begins as a blob will eventually always end as an autobiography.
And that’s a promise I know will be kept.
October 27, 2009
Social Media and The Enterprise
When I sign into my Facebook page, I have the world at my hands. Seriously. I can type anything—ANYTHING—in the search bar at the top right-hand side of my screen and am guaranteed to get at least one result.
For example, if I type in the word ‘banana,’ I can request to be Johnny Bananas’s friend, become a fan of Banana Republic or display my love for the yellow fruit by joining it’s support group.
Let’s say I suddenly remember that awesome sweater my mom got me last Christmas that just happens to be from Banana Republic. I choose to “Become a Fan” of the store. Once I do, my friends will be able to see, and then they’ll think of those comfortable khakis Uncle Jim gave them last fall and be more likely to become a fan of Banana Republic, too.
It’s exactly what Banana Republic wants.
Because social networking sites such as Facebook, Myspace and Twitter are bringing the success of using “word of mouth” to garner popularity and (hopefully) customers to the World Wide Web.
But, even better, by using these social media sites, enterprises are putting their products directly at the consumers’ fingertips. If one person becomes a fan of Banana Republic, he or she then exposes however many friends they have on his or her friends list to becoming a fan, and if any of those friends decide they’d like to become fans of Banana Republic too, then there’s an even larger group exposed, and so on…
It’s not hard to recognize the chain reaction.
On the corporate blog for the McKremie Web Hosting Company, a May 4th entry titled, “Seven Examples of Local Social Media Marketing,” Banana Republic is listed as one of the first large-scale clothing stores to take advantage of the growing interest in social media outlets.
The enterprise found that through the use of Twitter, it was able to keep in touch with the demands and awareness of its customers, as well as announce new arrivals and promotions. With over 1,000 subscribers, there is no doubt that using social media provides a greater chance that news about one’s business will circulate.
Twitter is free and anyone can sign up. It provides users with a platform to post short, 140 character messages (called “tweets”) on what they are doing right now. Tweets can be used to distribute quick thoughts, news and ideas as well provide links to further information. Then, users select other people or organizations they know to follow or receive their messages in more or less real time.
In a press release dated for March 26, 2009, Gartner, Inc., the world's leading information technology research and advisory company, highlights four ways in which enterprises are using Twitter.
"Despite the fact that Twitter is primarily aimed at individual users in the consumer market, many of those individuals work for companies and 'tweet' about business issues, leading businesses to explore how they could best use it," said Jeffrey Mann, research vice president at Gartner.
When users get to Twitter.com, they are offered popular topics being recently “tweeted” about. Thus, just like in the real world, you’re bound to get noticed if people are talking about you.
If you type in “Banana Republic” on the search bar of the home page, you are offered a collection of the most recent tweets mentioning the search term. This is another important reason why enterprises like Banana Republic and its affiliates benefit from the use of social media sources. Not only can they set up their own Twitter pages to connect with consumers, but they can readily access what others are saying about their products.
But when it comes down to it, there’s really no other choice. Nearly everyone has a Myspace, Facebook or Twitter account. It’s how we stay connected to those around us and it’s how many enterprises are bettering their business.
Afterall, it’s just part of living in the “now generation.”
Photo courtesy of Hubspot.com.
October 5, 2009
Just Relaaax...
.Sometimes easier said than done.Imagine yourself sitting in your apartment, eating ramen noodles (or some other poor, college kid food) and watching TV. The phone rings and your mother tells you that your best friend has just been in a car accident.
How do you feel?
Your heartbeat might race, you may begin to sweat and feel dizzy, perhaps even feel like vomiting or passing out.
According to the National Institute of Mental Health, one in every eight Americans suffers chronically from symptoms like these, which occur amidst a world of anxiety and panic attacks. And many don't really know why or what to do about it. Due to the fact that so many, including myself, experience some sort of anxiety during their lifetimes, I believe that this type of mental illness is one of the biggest challenges that young adults and students face today. And also one of the most misunderstood.
But by attempting to understand what anxiety is, its symptoms and types, how it can be treated and the different ways in which it affects one’s everyday life, it's much easier to grasp.
Now, you may be asking yourself, “What exactly is anxiety? And am I at risk?"
About.com defines anxiety as feelings of apprehension, danger, dread and uncertainty, accompanied by restlessness and tension. It can also be characterized by palpitations, sweating and feelings of stress.
However, anxiety is also a result of chemical imbalances in the reduced availability of neurotransmitters such as Serotonin, Dopamine, and Norepinephrine in the brain. Neurotransmitters are molecules that carry signals between nerve cells in the brain, or, simply, neurons.
This chemical imbalance helps doctors determine who is at risk for anxiety, which touches at least 19 million lives every year, but each story is different. Females are two times more at risk than males at experiencing anxiety, and anxietypanicattack.com says those ages 18-34 are most at risk.
Many who suffer face the difficult decision of determining whether their condition is that of the mind, the body, or both.
Body anxiety deals with the genetics, and many who suffer from anxiety have at least one family member who suffers as well. This was confirmed by several twin studies that back-up the ‘genetic inheritance’ theory.
However, slightly different from body anxiety, mind anxiety occurs when an individual experiences a stressful life event, such as recent loss or separation. Mind anxiety can be compared to a thermostat: when stress lowers the mind’s resistance, attacks are triggered.
Most anxiety attacks are a combination of both mind and body, working together so that the suffered actually helps bring on attacks by responding to physical symptoms.
For example, after drinking a cup of coffee, your heartbeat usually increases. Someone living with anxiety may notice this and fear that they will have an attack, which actually causes one. Depending on how strong the chemical imbalance in one’s brain, anxiety attacks range from mild to impairing. This can be determined by the symptoms one experiences.
Anxiety and panic attack symptoms range from relatively mild, such as racing heartbeat, lightheadedness or nausea, sweating and tingling in the limbs, to severe, such as feeling like you can’t get enough air, paralyzing terror, trembling, choking, chest pains, hot flashes or sudden chills, fear that you’re going crazy or about to die, and even passing out.
Those who experience many symptoms in the latter list often are sufferers from the worst type of anxiety, called agoraphobia, during which the sufferer is plagued with an absolute fear of any and everything. Living with this crippling type of anxiety is not fun. Many despise being in public, most choosing to not even leave their house or room at all.
But There’s a Treatment in Sight!
Once symptoms of anxiety begin to occur, it is important that it is professionally recognized and treated as soon as possible. You may feel like the feelings you experience, say, right before you give a speech or go off to college are normal, but what about when they begin to affect your every day life?
It’s time to see the doc!
We all know how nerve-wracking going to the doctor is, but for those with anxiety, a professional’s guidance often offers the sufferer a sense of relief, taking away the vulnerability of the question, “What’s wrong with me?” A question the anxiety-stricken often finds unanswerable. Once one is diagnosed, they now have the option of selecting a path of treatment.
Many choose prescribed medication, others, a more natural approach.
The types of medications available to treat anxiety differ according to severity. For the mildest cases, antidepressants such as Lexapro, Zoloft, Paxil, and Prozac act in the brain on the chemical messenger Serotonin, restoring balance to the brain. Other, older types of medications, such as Monoamine oxidase inhibitors (MAIs), tackle the more severe types of attacks.
There are also anti-anxiety medications such as Xanax that are highly potent but act quickly on symptoms.
But is this really safe?
Choosing the right medication is important, and even then, side effects can be a huge downfall. The most common side effects are nausea and feeling jittery. Others include sexual dysfunction, dry mouth, weight gain, and in severe cases, fluctuating changes in blood pressure that can be dangerous.
Herbs and other natural remedies are also emerging as popular among medications, such as Serodyn. While anti-anxiety medications do work well, they can often be habit-forming or cause side effects, whereas herbal remedies for anxiety are considered safer and typically do not lead to dependence or addiction.
However, because the FDA does not thoroughly evaluate all natural treatments, most of the herbal remedies for anxiety on the market simply are not effective.
No matter what treatment one chooses, the ultimate goal is simple—help treat these problematic symptoms! Anxiety is a chronic illness that can only be treated, rarely cured.
Although many who receive treatment live years without reoccurring symptoms, there is usually a trigger reaction that occurs when stress has reached its breaking level.
This means that anxiety can come back, even when you least expect it. Without proper attention, anxiety may lead to phobias, depression, substance abuse, medical complications, and even suicide. And even when treated, medication often leaves people feeling like victims, living in fear of the next anxiety attack.
Anyone who truly does suffer, including myself, will tell you that whatever type of treatment that worked for him or her has been a complete lifesaver, restoring the feelings of comfort and normalcy back into minds that were once plagued with terror and panic. And it is important to both recognize the reality of anxiety and to feel safe within our own skins.
So if you ever do receive that phone call while you’re eating your Ramen noodles and waiting for Stewie to actually kill Lois, I hope that you are able to keep yourself calm and composed. Because if you can’t, you just might develop an anxiety attack, and all I’ll have to say is: welcome to my world.
If you or someone you know is suffering from anxiety, get help here.
September 18, 2009
Where's the cream filling?
Imagine grocery shopping with your kid, or your future kid.
At the end of the bread aisle, near the frozen foods, it's more than likely that little Johnny or Susie will notice the gigantic display of Tasty-Kake products stacked ever-so-cleverly at eye level, and beg you to buy some.
You give in.
Ten pairs of chocolate cupcakes iced with vanilla and fudge frosting. And let's not forget about that delicious, light, processed cream center.
So what? Let the kid be happy--you'll just balance out the guilty pleasures with something a bit healthier to eat.
Ironically, the produce department is on the complete opposite end of the store from which you stand, and you've already picked up your strawberries and rutabaga for that tasty pie you're concocting for Sunday night's dessert. But no matter...an apple a day makes the cupcakes OK.
...Or something like that.
The thing is--disregarding fat contents and calorie counts--the cakes and the apples have one common trait. Something in that center. Although one is an addictive sugary icing and the other a few tiny brown seeds, each serves its particular purpose. To plant and grow into apple trees, or simply to stuff your face and enjoy (The latter being less time consuming and arguably more gratifying. For me, at least.)
When we buy things like Tasty-Cakes and apples, we know what to expect. We know we won't find that icing in the fruit's flesh or those seeds in the baked goods.
The same concept could apply to bigger, more abstract things--like journalism.
Ask yourself this: if we can't have the Tasty-Kakes without the cream filling, or the apples without the seeds, what is it about communications and journalism that holds it together, that serves as its core?
In my opinion, it's the desire and the drive to find out why, to question any and everything, and to present those answers in the form of a news story for the public.
It hasn't changed.
Sure, we've gone from type-writers to MAC computers, mores code to instant messaging, snail mail to email, but what stays the same is that core, that hub of information, the reason we conduct research and interviews and meet deadlines.
Regardless of the fact that we can now almost instantaneously pull up the website for the New York Times and read that day's top stories on our lunch breaks (don't believe me? Click the link), the truth is that the story wouldn't even be published had its author failed to ask questions, get involved, and observe.
Frankly, we're all moving a little too fast.
But as journalists hired and paid to seek out the facts to tell a story, we are forced to slow down. We can't see details and feel emotions from our subjects if we aren't there with them in their environment, watching, questioning, wondering.
It's the difference between writing fiction and writing news--real people. And people take time.
The bottom line: yes, journalism is changing; it's growing, expanding and maturing as newer technologies change the way we tell our stories. But its core, its most archaic element, has not.
As long as we continue to question our surroundings and the people who exist there with us, we will always possess the ability to tell a story that is factual, accurate, and most importantly, engaging.
Unfortunately, you can't eat it.
At the end of the bread aisle, near the frozen foods, it's more than likely that little Johnny or Susie will notice the gigantic display of Tasty-Kake products stacked ever-so-cleverly at eye level, and beg you to buy some.
You give in.
Ten pairs of chocolate cupcakes iced with vanilla and fudge frosting. And let's not forget about that delicious, light, processed cream center.
So what? Let the kid be happy--you'll just balance out the guilty pleasures with something a bit healthier to eat.
Ironically, the produce department is on the complete opposite end of the store from which you stand, and you've already picked up your strawberries and rutabaga for that tasty pie you're concocting for Sunday night's dessert. But no matter...an apple a day makes the cupcakes OK.
...Or something like that.
The thing is--disregarding fat contents and calorie counts--the cakes and the apples have one common trait. Something in that center. Although one is an addictive sugary icing and the other a few tiny brown seeds, each serves its particular purpose. To plant and grow into apple trees, or simply to stuff your face and enjoy (The latter being less time consuming and arguably more gratifying. For me, at least.)
When we buy things like Tasty-Cakes and apples, we know what to expect. We know we won't find that icing in the fruit's flesh or those seeds in the baked goods.
The same concept could apply to bigger, more abstract things--like journalism.
Ask yourself this: if we can't have the Tasty-Kakes without the cream filling, or the apples without the seeds, what is it about communications and journalism that holds it together, that serves as its core?
In my opinion, it's the desire and the drive to find out why, to question any and everything, and to present those answers in the form of a news story for the public.
It hasn't changed.
Sure, we've gone from type-writers to MAC computers, mores code to instant messaging, snail mail to email, but what stays the same is that core, that hub of information, the reason we conduct research and interviews and meet deadlines.
Regardless of the fact that we can now almost instantaneously pull up the website for the New York Times and read that day's top stories on our lunch breaks (don't believe me? Click the link), the truth is that the story wouldn't even be published had its author failed to ask questions, get involved, and observe.
Frankly, we're all moving a little too fast.
But as journalists hired and paid to seek out the facts to tell a story, we are forced to slow down. We can't see details and feel emotions from our subjects if we aren't there with them in their environment, watching, questioning, wondering.
It's the difference between writing fiction and writing news--real people. And people take time.
The bottom line: yes, journalism is changing; it's growing, expanding and maturing as newer technologies change the way we tell our stories. But its core, its most archaic element, has not.
As long as we continue to question our surroundings and the people who exist there with us, we will always possess the ability to tell a story that is factual, accurate, and most importantly, engaging.
Unfortunately, you can't eat it.
September 15, 2009
"What's on your mind?"
On Sunday, September 14, 68 of my Facebook "Friends" (I use this term loosely) had something to say about the 2009 Video Music Awards.
At first I noticed the updates...
..."Wow, poor Swift."
..."I can't believe Kanye did that."
..."Way to go, Beyonce!" and even...
..."K.W. can blow me."
Having already had prior engagements with the Sunday night prime time line-up on HBO (and not really giving a you-know-what anyway), I had missed the VMAs premiere.
As it turns out, I really didn't need to see jack.
From the 15 minutes I spent updating my status and reading a few messages, I learned that when Taylor Swift came to the stage to accept her award for Best Female Video, rapper Kanye West stole the microphone. He then gave a shout-out to Beyonce, who won her own award later in the evening, and asked Taylor Swift to come "get her moment."
Needless to say, I've seriously begun thinking about canceling my cable subscription.
...If you don't have Facebook, and you missed the moment...check it out here.
At first I noticed the updates...
..."Wow, poor Swift."
..."I can't believe Kanye did that."
..."Way to go, Beyonce!" and even...
..."K.W. can blow me."
Having already had prior engagements with the Sunday night prime time line-up on HBO (and not really giving a you-know-what anyway), I had missed the VMAs premiere.
As it turns out, I really didn't need to see jack.
From the 15 minutes I spent updating my status and reading a few messages, I learned that when Taylor Swift came to the stage to accept her award for Best Female Video, rapper Kanye West stole the microphone. He then gave a shout-out to Beyonce, who won her own award later in the evening, and asked Taylor Swift to come "get her moment."
Needless to say, I've seriously begun thinking about canceling my cable subscription.
...If you don't have Facebook, and you missed the moment...check it out here.
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