It's good to have your mind blown at least once a day. I mean, that's what I've always said.
OK Go has got to be one of the most brilliant musical (theater? dance?) acts on the planet. I loved them the minute I first got wind of them. They've joined the ranks of other mind-blowingly talented folks who have used Chrome to deliver a personalized, make-you-cry-it's-so-good, Internet experience. I feel like a total toolbag writing the words "Internet experience", but I'm at a loss for how to explain what just happened to me.
What makes this even BETTER is that OK Go has teamed up with Pilobolus, a Dance Theater Company. Here was my introduction to them:
If you are not moved by this, then I'm pretty sure you are dead inside.
There are thousands of critics of our thoroughly modern electronic-gadget-driven lives. Hell, on some days, I am one of them. I waffle back and forth between wanting to unplug and run through fields of daisies and wanting to know what every single person in the world is doing right now through some form of media. I remember days when the first thing I did when I got out of bed was reach for the tea kettle. Now, before I do anything, I slip into my desk chair and check the news, my email, Facebook... Those simpler days are over. And soon to morph into something different, I'm sure. Though it's sometimes exhausting to keep up, I LOVE that our brains are complex enough to invent things like the Internet, streaming video, wireless accessories, and Facebook. (and I love that I'll be able to look back on this post in ten years and laugh at half of what I listed because it will be obsolete.)
On some days, I just need the tactile sensation and smell of an old book in my hands and utter silence.
Today, though, I needed these guys and what they have done with technology:
(You'll need Chrome to make this work properly)
http://www.allisnotlo.st
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Dear Tuesday
Dear Sprint,
There's a war on. You know that, right? Between you and the iPhone people? And that every time I take my phone out, I might as well be pulling a six-shooter out of a holster? And that every time an iPhone and another phone are in the same room together, the air becomes dry and crackly and people nervously clear their throats? You can practically hear the jangle of spurs and the theme music to The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly out here, Sprint. To the iPhone users, every hiccup in your performance is an opportunity to prove to me that the iPhone is faster, easier to use, and just downright BETTER than the phone I use, Sprint. SO. Here's a little advice, from someone down in the trenches: Get. Yo'. Shit. Together. Don't make me look like an idiot in front of the iPhone users. I've defended you for a long time, but the jackals are circling. They want an excuse, ANY excuse, to say to me, "Why don't you just get an iPhone?". Are you going to let them have it, Sprint? Are you just going to lie there and take it? Because that's what the iPhone people are saying you'll do. They think they've got you pegged. They think I'll eventually get so frustrated with you that I'll cave and buy a shiny white lozenge of a phone and leave you in the dust. Is that where we're headed, Sprint? You know, now that I think about it, I actually can't understand my loyalty to you. You really haven't done much more than provide me with uninterrupted, trouble-free service for nine years or so. I mean, it's not like you throw in a dozen roses every time I upgrade my phone. So why should I stick with you when everyone tells me the iPhone is better, faster, and smarter than your best smartphone? Because you had me at Hello, You're Lazy. It's true. I can feel a migraine coming on whenever I think about having to switch phone companies. So let's make a deal, shall we? I will continue to fork over my seventy-some-odd-dollars for a worry-free, all-inclusive plan, and you continue to reward me for mylaziness loyalty. Here's another pointer: When I come into your store, make it seem, like the iPhone people do, that I have just brought in a wounded comrade and that you are a triage center. Treat that comrade like he is family. Gently tuck him into a white Formica drawer with other wounded comrades and promise me you'll do everything you can to save him. Ask me how long it's been since I've been without my device, and offer your condolences with lowered eyes and a respectful distance. Offer me a service ticket electronically and act like you don't even know what paper is anymore. Tell me you'll have a new phone in my hands pronto. And do this all with a smile. I mean, for godssakes, Sprint, the iPhone people are watching.
Dear Sprint,
You know I have, like, twenty six followers of this blog and that I could easily foment an insurrection against you? Do you know that in some parts of the world, twenty-six people all hating you at once out of solidarity constitutes a goddamned revolution? How much bad juju can you handle being beamed at you from every corner of North America anyway?
Dear Sprint Store Employee,
I can tell that every morning, in one motion, you push your arms into the sleeves of your corporate logo'd sweater and you put your heart up in a Mason jar on the top shelf of your closet because that is what it takes to do your job. It's okay. I can't blame you. I used to work for a corporate entity once. I, too, got tired of dealing with people who brought back items that THEIR CATS HAD OBVIOUSLY BEEN PEEING ON for three years and tell me that they just "changed their mind" about the color and could they just get a refund, please? I'm sure the stories you hear about what people do to their cell phones is equally as horrifying. I'm sure that people feign ignorance left and right about why their phones suddenly don't work and why they need replacements right this instant for free. I'm sure you have to stare grown men in the face and not move a muscle as they tell you they most certainly did NOT drop their phones in the lake even as wriggling minnows tumble onto the countertop from their battery casings. I'm sure you have to defend against all kinds of asinine behavior that voids service contracts and that you have to tell a hundred or more people a day that that kind of stuff is just not the kind of thing that warrants a free phone.
Dear Assurian Insurance Company Who Insures My Phone,
I am not one of those people.
Dear Sprint Employee (again),
Please review your customer service policies regarding "cracked smartphone screens". Understand that when I hand over my phone and you casually remark, without making eye contact or mentioning a price, that you "could probably have a technician replace the screen in an hour", this equates, in my mind, with a FREE service. You can understand, then, how frustrated and confused I was when, an hour later, you said the technician could not replace the screen because the phone showed signs of water damage. Water damage, Sprint Employee? I'm not following. HOW DOES A CRACKED SCREEN HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH WATER DAMAGE? I brought the phone in because my screen is cracked. And now I've gone from being mildly inconvenienced to irritated and confused. Do you see what's happened here? You've turned me into an all caps lunatic. When you ask me if I've ever taken the phone into the bathroom while I've showered because, you know, condensation from a shower could be the culprit of said water damage and I stand there with my mouth agog, it's because I am trying to comprehend how this is in any way related to my screen. My screen that is on the front of the phone and not the back of the phone where you checked for this alleged "water damage". Sprint Employee, do you live here in our fair city of Seattle? Perhaps you are aware of how much it rains here. And surely you are aware of the high number of smartphone enthusiasts in our fair city (I'll direct you to the paragraph above regarding the iPhone users). So, you must, you simply MUST, understand how, given the number of days in the year there is measurable moisture in the air (ahem, you might understand this better as "shower condensation"), and the number of smartphone users, that, by your logic, EVERYONE'S PHONE IN SEATTLE HAS SUFFERED WATER DAMAGE AND THEREFORE EVERYONE'S SERVICE CONTRACTS ARE VOID. Am I understanding this correctly, Sprint Employee?
Dear Assurian,
You might want to have a talk with the Sprint people. Apparently, there is some confusion about when to pay a deductible for a new phone and when screens are fixed for free. Now, having paid you people seven dollars a month for the last year to insure my phone, I was more than ready to pay this deductible and to have a new phone shipped to me pronto. But, it seems like we all had different ideas of what was supposed to happen here, now didn't we? You shipped me a phone in three days due to "backups" and "popularity of the phone" (and not immediately like you should have, like I am paying you to do). And then, when I got the phone, it was damaged. And when I called and asked your customer service rep if I should ship back the whole package, which included a battery and a memory card, or just the damaged phone, your representative told me "just the phone". And then you somehow, AMAZINGLY, MIRACULOUSLY were able to ship me a BRAND NEW PHONE overnight to replace the damaged one... which, of course, included ANOTHER battery and ANOTHER memory card. (Are you catching all this, iPhone users?)
Dear Really Stupid Week I've Just Had,
Man, am I glad you're done. Geez.... Now, if I could just back to a regular sleep pattern...
Dear Crows Outside My Bedroom Window at 7 am:
Who elected you to the position of Urban Roosters, huh? GET OFF MY GODDAMNED POWERLINES, YOU JERKS!! I'M STILL SLEEPING!! HEY! CROWS! YOU LIKE IT WHEN SOMEONE CAN'T TALK IN A NORMAL TONE OF VOICE? YOU LIKE IT WHEN SOMEONE JUST SCREAMS THE SAME THING OVER AND OVER AGAIN AT THE TOP OF THEIR LUNGS FOUR FEET FROM YOUR HEAD? HUH, CROWS? HUH? YOU LIKE THIS? CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! YOU WANT SOME MORE OF THIS, CROWS? DO YA?
Dear Baby Next Door,
Are you in cahoots with the crows? Do you suffer from night terrors? Why the hell else would you be awake at 7 am and screaming like you're being murdered? Do you fall out of your crib every day at the same time and land in rusty bathtub full of broken glass? Why the hell must you scream like that, baby? I wake up every morning terrified that you're being mauled by lions. Why, baby? Why? I've met your mother; she's a dear woman. I know you're not being harmed in there, baby, so it must be all in your head. Do you need to see a therapist, baby?
Dear Neighbor with Backfiring Motorcycle/Neighbor with Lawnmower,
Really? Are you and the baby and the crows all in on this together? Is there some conspiracy to make as much noise as possible at the appointed hour of 6:45 am to get me out of bed? You know I don't actually GET out of bed at 6:45, right? Sure, sometimes I get up and press my nose to my screen window and scream at the top of my lungs for the crows the shut the hell up but that doesn't constitute "getting out of bed" per se. Anyway, please stop. It's getting a little ridiculous out there. I mean, a screaming baby is one thing. And crows another. But mowing your lawn AND repairing your motorcycle all at once? Come on. That's just silly.
Dear Self-Employment Schedule,
Thanks for letting me sleep in.
There's a war on. You know that, right? Between you and the iPhone people? And that every time I take my phone out, I might as well be pulling a six-shooter out of a holster? And that every time an iPhone and another phone are in the same room together, the air becomes dry and crackly and people nervously clear their throats? You can practically hear the jangle of spurs and the theme music to The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly out here, Sprint. To the iPhone users, every hiccup in your performance is an opportunity to prove to me that the iPhone is faster, easier to use, and just downright BETTER than the phone I use, Sprint. SO. Here's a little advice, from someone down in the trenches: Get. Yo'. Shit. Together. Don't make me look like an idiot in front of the iPhone users. I've defended you for a long time, but the jackals are circling. They want an excuse, ANY excuse, to say to me, "Why don't you just get an iPhone?". Are you going to let them have it, Sprint? Are you just going to lie there and take it? Because that's what the iPhone people are saying you'll do. They think they've got you pegged. They think I'll eventually get so frustrated with you that I'll cave and buy a shiny white lozenge of a phone and leave you in the dust. Is that where we're headed, Sprint? You know, now that I think about it, I actually can't understand my loyalty to you. You really haven't done much more than provide me with uninterrupted, trouble-free service for nine years or so. I mean, it's not like you throw in a dozen roses every time I upgrade my phone. So why should I stick with you when everyone tells me the iPhone is better, faster, and smarter than your best smartphone? Because you had me at Hello, You're Lazy. It's true. I can feel a migraine coming on whenever I think about having to switch phone companies. So let's make a deal, shall we? I will continue to fork over my seventy-some-odd-dollars for a worry-free, all-inclusive plan, and you continue to reward me for my
Dear Sprint,
You know I have, like, twenty six followers of this blog and that I could easily foment an insurrection against you? Do you know that in some parts of the world, twenty-six people all hating you at once out of solidarity constitutes a goddamned revolution? How much bad juju can you handle being beamed at you from every corner of North America anyway?
Dear Sprint Store Employee,
I can tell that every morning, in one motion, you push your arms into the sleeves of your corporate logo'd sweater and you put your heart up in a Mason jar on the top shelf of your closet because that is what it takes to do your job. It's okay. I can't blame you. I used to work for a corporate entity once. I, too, got tired of dealing with people who brought back items that THEIR CATS HAD OBVIOUSLY BEEN PEEING ON for three years and tell me that they just "changed their mind" about the color and could they just get a refund, please? I'm sure the stories you hear about what people do to their cell phones is equally as horrifying. I'm sure that people feign ignorance left and right about why their phones suddenly don't work and why they need replacements right this instant for free. I'm sure you have to stare grown men in the face and not move a muscle as they tell you they most certainly did NOT drop their phones in the lake even as wriggling minnows tumble onto the countertop from their battery casings. I'm sure you have to defend against all kinds of asinine behavior that voids service contracts and that you have to tell a hundred or more people a day that that kind of stuff is just not the kind of thing that warrants a free phone.
Dear Assurian Insurance Company Who Insures My Phone,
I am not one of those people.
Dear Sprint Employee (again),
Please review your customer service policies regarding "cracked smartphone screens". Understand that when I hand over my phone and you casually remark, without making eye contact or mentioning a price, that you "could probably have a technician replace the screen in an hour", this equates, in my mind, with a FREE service. You can understand, then, how frustrated and confused I was when, an hour later, you said the technician could not replace the screen because the phone showed signs of water damage. Water damage, Sprint Employee? I'm not following. HOW DOES A CRACKED SCREEN HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH WATER DAMAGE? I brought the phone in because my screen is cracked. And now I've gone from being mildly inconvenienced to irritated and confused. Do you see what's happened here? You've turned me into an all caps lunatic. When you ask me if I've ever taken the phone into the bathroom while I've showered because, you know, condensation from a shower could be the culprit of said water damage and I stand there with my mouth agog, it's because I am trying to comprehend how this is in any way related to my screen. My screen that is on the front of the phone and not the back of the phone where you checked for this alleged "water damage". Sprint Employee, do you live here in our fair city of Seattle? Perhaps you are aware of how much it rains here. And surely you are aware of the high number of smartphone enthusiasts in our fair city (I'll direct you to the paragraph above regarding the iPhone users). So, you must, you simply MUST, understand how, given the number of days in the year there is measurable moisture in the air (ahem, you might understand this better as "shower condensation"), and the number of smartphone users, that, by your logic, EVERYONE'S PHONE IN SEATTLE HAS SUFFERED WATER DAMAGE AND THEREFORE EVERYONE'S SERVICE CONTRACTS ARE VOID. Am I understanding this correctly, Sprint Employee?
Dear Assurian,
You might want to have a talk with the Sprint people. Apparently, there is some confusion about when to pay a deductible for a new phone and when screens are fixed for free. Now, having paid you people seven dollars a month for the last year to insure my phone, I was more than ready to pay this deductible and to have a new phone shipped to me pronto. But, it seems like we all had different ideas of what was supposed to happen here, now didn't we? You shipped me a phone in three days due to "backups" and "popularity of the phone" (and not immediately like you should have, like I am paying you to do). And then, when I got the phone, it was damaged. And when I called and asked your customer service rep if I should ship back the whole package, which included a battery and a memory card, or just the damaged phone, your representative told me "just the phone". And then you somehow, AMAZINGLY, MIRACULOUSLY were able to ship me a BRAND NEW PHONE overnight to replace the damaged one... which, of course, included ANOTHER battery and ANOTHER memory card. (Are you catching all this, iPhone users?)
Dear Really Stupid Week I've Just Had,
Man, am I glad you're done. Geez.... Now, if I could just back to a regular sleep pattern...
Dear Crows Outside My Bedroom Window at 7 am:
Who elected you to the position of Urban Roosters, huh? GET OFF MY GODDAMNED POWERLINES, YOU JERKS!! I'M STILL SLEEPING!! HEY! CROWS! YOU LIKE IT WHEN SOMEONE CAN'T TALK IN A NORMAL TONE OF VOICE? YOU LIKE IT WHEN SOMEONE JUST SCREAMS THE SAME THING OVER AND OVER AGAIN AT THE TOP OF THEIR LUNGS FOUR FEET FROM YOUR HEAD? HUH, CROWS? HUH? YOU LIKE THIS? CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! YOU WANT SOME MORE OF THIS, CROWS? DO YA?
Dear Baby Next Door,
Are you in cahoots with the crows? Do you suffer from night terrors? Why the hell else would you be awake at 7 am and screaming like you're being murdered? Do you fall out of your crib every day at the same time and land in rusty bathtub full of broken glass? Why the hell must you scream like that, baby? I wake up every morning terrified that you're being mauled by lions. Why, baby? Why? I've met your mother; she's a dear woman. I know you're not being harmed in there, baby, so it must be all in your head. Do you need to see a therapist, baby?
Dear Neighbor with Backfiring Motorcycle/Neighbor with Lawnmower,
Really? Are you and the baby and the crows all in on this together? Is there some conspiracy to make as much noise as possible at the appointed hour of 6:45 am to get me out of bed? You know I don't actually GET out of bed at 6:45, right? Sure, sometimes I get up and press my nose to my screen window and scream at the top of my lungs for the crows the shut the hell up but that doesn't constitute "getting out of bed" per se. Anyway, please stop. It's getting a little ridiculous out there. I mean, a screaming baby is one thing. And crows another. But mowing your lawn AND repairing your motorcycle all at once? Come on. That's just silly.
Dear Self-Employment Schedule,
Thanks for letting me sleep in.
Thursday, July 07, 2011
Just Brushing It Off
The last thing I heard before the fall?
Classical music.
The last thing I thought before the fall?
I should jog to classical music more often.
The sound I made to the strains of Bach as I smashed, palms first, knees second, into the sidewalk?
Uuhhfffff. Oh fuck.
The number of seconds it took me to understand what had just happened?
Three.
The thought I had after realizing what had just happened?
Geezus. I hope no one saw that.
The thought that went through my head when I peeled back my jogging pants to check for injuries and saw my knee skin stuck to the inside of my pants?
Don'tthrowupdon'tthrowupdon'tthrowupohgoddon'tthrowup.
The likelihood, I thought, that my phone would turn back on after it hit the sidewalk and all but exploded?
Very small.
The relief I felt when it did turn on and I was able to dial Burdy and tell him I need you to pick me up. I fell and I'm hurt?
Huge.
The number of blocks I had to hop-step before Burdy found me in the dark?
One.
The number of times I said "FfffffffffffffffffffIt stings!" and AaaaaaaaghHurry up!" to Burdy while he pawed through the linen closet looking for Neosporin?
Entirely too many for a grown woman.
The number of minutes in the bathroom cleaning the wound before I fainted?
Roughly eleven.
The number of seconds I was out?
Roughly twenty.
The number of times I have ever tripped and fallen while jogging in my whole entire life?
Just this once.
The number of pieces my phone's screen is in after the fall?
A brazillion.
The sole reason I chose this phone over the others in this price range?
The FM radio receiver.
The reason I was scanning for something to listen to (which is how I found the classical station)?
Bad reception.
The idea that, because my phone normally gets excellent reception and because the only thing I could pick up last night was classical music, and because I got the distinct impression before I left the house that it was NOT a good idea to jogging at 9:30 at night, that some cosmic force had choreographed the whole thing?
Disturbing.
The amount of time I spent today marveling at the invention of Band-Aids (seriously. BAND-AIDS. THINK ABOUT IT)?
Quite a bit.
The amount of time I spend, when catastrophe strikes, thinking about all sorts of modern inventions I take for granted, like running water, and bathtubs, and gauze, and ice-packs, and television, and re-runs of Seinfeld?
Far too much.
The gratitude and awe I feel for people who have to deal with blood and skin and Band-Aids and gauze on a daily basis?
Immense.
What my dancin' buddy, Terri, said when she saw my bandaged knee underneath my rolled up workout pants at Zumba class tonight?
Did you get a boo-boo?
Number of minutes of class that went by before I remembered that my skin was missing from my knee-cap and I started to get woozy?
Forty seven.
Willingness to dismiss idea of cosmic choreography and accept the fact it was just a matter of my sneaker catching a piece of raised sidewalk in the dark?
Strong.
Determination to listen to inner-self when it says: Don't go jogging right now. Stay home and eat popcorn instead?
Renewed.
Classical music.
The last thing I thought before the fall?
I should jog to classical music more often.
The sound I made to the strains of Bach as I smashed, palms first, knees second, into the sidewalk?
Uuhhfffff. Oh fuck.
The number of seconds it took me to understand what had just happened?
Three.
The thought I had after realizing what had just happened?
Geezus. I hope no one saw that.
The thought that went through my head when I peeled back my jogging pants to check for injuries and saw my knee skin stuck to the inside of my pants?
Don'tthrowupdon'tthrowupdon'tthrowupohgoddon'tthrowup.
The likelihood, I thought, that my phone would turn back on after it hit the sidewalk and all but exploded?
Very small.
The relief I felt when it did turn on and I was able to dial Burdy and tell him I need you to pick me up. I fell and I'm hurt?
Huge.
The number of blocks I had to hop-step before Burdy found me in the dark?
One.
The number of times I said "FfffffffffffffffffffIt stings!" and AaaaaaaaghHurry up!" to Burdy while he pawed through the linen closet looking for Neosporin?
Entirely too many for a grown woman.
The number of minutes in the bathroom cleaning the wound before I fainted?
Roughly eleven.
The number of seconds I was out?
Roughly twenty.
The number of times I have ever tripped and fallen while jogging in my whole entire life?
Just this once.
The number of pieces my phone's screen is in after the fall?
A brazillion.
The sole reason I chose this phone over the others in this price range?
The FM radio receiver.
The reason I was scanning for something to listen to (which is how I found the classical station)?
Bad reception.
The idea that, because my phone normally gets excellent reception and because the only thing I could pick up last night was classical music, and because I got the distinct impression before I left the house that it was NOT a good idea to jogging at 9:30 at night, that some cosmic force had choreographed the whole thing?
Disturbing.
The amount of time I spent today marveling at the invention of Band-Aids (seriously. BAND-AIDS. THINK ABOUT IT)?
Quite a bit.
The amount of time I spend, when catastrophe strikes, thinking about all sorts of modern inventions I take for granted, like running water, and bathtubs, and gauze, and ice-packs, and television, and re-runs of Seinfeld?
Far too much.
The gratitude and awe I feel for people who have to deal with blood and skin and Band-Aids and gauze on a daily basis?
Immense.
What my dancin' buddy, Terri, said when she saw my bandaged knee underneath my rolled up workout pants at Zumba class tonight?
Did you get a boo-boo?
Number of minutes of class that went by before I remembered that my skin was missing from my knee-cap and I started to get woozy?
Forty seven.
Willingness to dismiss idea of cosmic choreography and accept the fact it was just a matter of my sneaker catching a piece of raised sidewalk in the dark?
Strong.
Determination to listen to inner-self when it says: Don't go jogging right now. Stay home and eat popcorn instead?
Renewed.
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