Ghost Town

This past weekend, for my photography class, we were instructed to explore (on foot) downtown Dallas, or any surrounding area, and take a series of technically specific photographs of interesting subject matter. I ended up straying a bit further away from downtown, choosing to wander around the streets close to the South Side on Lamar building. I am very familiar with these streets from a driving, mobile perspective, however I have never taken the time to stroll around. Maybe because it was a hazy, lazy, Sunday afternoon, but the emptiness of the streets and obvious neglect that the encompassing buildings emanated was astounding to me. I ran into one, maybe two people (if I include the guy I stared at for a while as he loaded some rad-looking beach cruisers into a bus) during the couple of hours that I walked around, taking pictures whenever I found something that caught my eye. I loved the pictures that I ended up taking away from my afternoon, but the eerie feeling of exploring a semi- ghost town, not even five minutes outside of downtown left me wondering... how could this happen to a seemingly bustling, funky area of urban landscape? Check out some of the photos I took and decide for yourself... the area is deteriorating in beautiful kind of way, empty of the hustle and bustle of what one would think any surrounding area of Dallas would encompass. Needless to say, it was a solitary afternoon...

Dreamin'

I am completely convinced that reoccurring dreams are trying to tell us something, and I'm not one versed in dream interpretation. Every so often I will have a frighteningly realistic toothless dream, almost to the point where I can feel pain (or so I think when I wake up). There never seems to be anything else going on around me, and I am either completely toothless, missing a few, or feeling  jagged shaped-teeth scattered around my mouth. Any dream interpreters out there?? Maybe it's a subconsciously-transferred message from my childhood orthodontist, angry at me for never wearing my retainers... Whatever the case, I am not a fan. Dr. Sayed, if you ever happen to read this, maybe you could schedule me in for a quickie check-up? I would like to put an end to your methods of Inception, thank you very much.

Mr. Wind

Today, in my advertising literacy class, we spent the entire time watching foreign (to the US) commercials, which, needless to say, proved to be an entertaining and "what the.....was that" sort of hour and twenty minutes. Longer in length, racier in content than most US television ads, foreign commercials, for the most part, don't let you in on the product of service that they are selling until the last couple of seconds, if ever. It's more about creating a memory, a feeling for the brand, and one of my favorite ads happens to be from Epuron, a German wind energy company... here ya go:

The first time I watched it, I felt a little confused, maybe even anxious at times. The second time you go through it, it's hard not to at least smile, maybe even let out a little giggle or two. I can only hope to someday create such playful, yet meaningful messages that are able to wittily entertain, but also have a purpose other than the hard sell, I want to create awareness.

Musica Para Tú

I am a music fiend. And I mean that in the most healthy way possible. For the most part. I don't consider my week complete until I have discovered at least a couple new artists that I dig, or a handful of unusual mashups or remixes that can hook me in their entirety. I am a big fan of the Hype Machine (hypem.com, check it out, open your ears), and most recentlty, music festivals. . . Austin City Limits was my most recent excursion, I would LOVE to attend South by Southwest and Coachella, but unfortunately those adventures are not in the cards for me this year, but someday! In no way do these little tidbits of  info about my music obsession qualify me to be a critic, but hey, we all know what we like, and I love sharing good music. If my friends, random passerby, or an I-pod theif (s**t happens) enjoy music that I love, I consider that a two-way gift that keeps on giving. . .a little bit of Pay It Forward, if you will? I might be pushing it a tad, but I like to think that music makes the world go 'round, in a happier, more enjoyable, more meaningful gravitational rotation. 

All of this leading up to a leeeetle somesing I want to share with you, a band by the name of 

Delta Spirit

From what I've seen of their track record, these guys have been under the radar for WAY too long, and something this good needs to be shared. I've been a fan of these guys since high school, seeing a few of their local shows in southern California (they're all from Long Beach) solidified my love for their funky, soulful, and a little bit punky vibe. Heed my advice, LISTEN TO THEIR MUSIC!!!! It will make you happier person, guaranteed... by yours truly. Here's a couple of their songs for your listening pleasure, you're welcome, and happy Valentine's Day, to all you lovers out there.

A little thing that drives me crazy...

Today in advertising creativity class, our professor prompted us to use "a little thing that drives me crazy" as a blog topic. Clearly, a number of pet peeves popped into my head, and I consider most of my little annoyances to be fairly generic. Why is it that it is so easy for complete strangers to agree upon a common source of annoyance? That is something that will never cease to amaze me...we all despise the pen-tappers, body-twitchers, and deep-sighers when we're trying to get some studying done at the library, yet no one will be the sacrificial lamb to confront the culprit for the sake of the majority's sanity. We all want to be the hero, but never at a price... food for thought. 

Anyways, one little pet peeve that I just can't seem to get over, is the ever-present loss of a sock by way of doing laundry syndrome.... that one gets me every time. Not only does it happen to me in almost every single load of laundry, but I seem to have lost any sort of coherence in my sock drawer, leaving me with an array of choices, both in color and in length, every time I decide that socks are necessary for the day (which isn't too often...but still). I am convinced that a sock-snatching leprechaun is posted up, ready for action during my quick switch from washer to dryer....

True Life... I've worked at a Superbowl party

I am just now waking up... 2:45 on a Sunday afternoon is not normal, people, and I have my reasons. Both Friday night and last night I worked as a VIP coat-checker at two different high-roller Superbowl parties... who just does that? A couple weeks ago, my sorority received a mass e-mail from an event planning company that was in charge of the Black Eyed Peas/David Guetta party on Friday as well as P Diddy's party (oh, the irony) on Saturday night, and they needed volunteers to fill spots as random worker bees at a venue in downtown Dallas. Knowing that getting paid was not an option, a group of my friends and I decided we were going to do it for the possible chance of celebrity sightings (yipeeee!) Friday night we quickly learned that being assigned to "VIP" coat check was no special treat--the A-listers had an entrance all their own--isn't that a bit much for a party where the main entertainment is a live performance that everyone will be watching? Anyways, little did we know that our friends at the coat check would be such lovely tippers! Now there's a little extrinsic motivation for ya. In the beginning of the night, there were six of us working the coat check, and with hundreds of guests, things were getting a little hectic. At the end of the night, our coat-checking friends began stumbling out of the party, cash in hand, searching for a tip jar. We quickly threw some make-shift cardboard boxes on the table and decided to split all tips between the six of us. As soon as the tips began rolling in, our fellow SMU volunteers began bee-lining over with dollar signs plastered over their eyes. Look who wanted to help all of a sudden, when chaos had been ensuing since the beginning of the night! Surprise? I think not. The physical appearance of money is one of the most dangerous of all extrinsic motivators (which in turn hinders uninhibited creativity), and even the promise of monetary reward for a task can turn into trouble, as we saw firsthand the following night. Granted, this is an extreme analysis of a situation that really had no creative bearings whatsoever, but it was the implication that extrinsic motivation had over our co-workers' ability to lend a hand that drove the point home for me. We were in dire need of help, but not by 20 other people, eying the tip boxes the entire time. Let me tell you, it was a pretty uncomfortable situation at the end of the night, divvying out the tips to everyone who helped. 

The next night, everything was much more organized (a product of it being Diddy's party, I'm sure) and yet again, I was assigned to the "VIP" coat check, this time along with seven other girls, making the grand total of coat-checking extraordinaires eight. Saturday night also had a different vibe, due to the fact that our "bosses" for the night gathered us for a meeting before the party, and told us that we were each receiving $100 at the end of the night, no exceptions. This changed the mood of the crowd, and everyone was much more fruitful in their labors, not surprising. After the party, at the glorious hour of 3, maybe 4am, we found ourselves waiting around for the big boss who had promised us a paycheck. Some people wanted to leave, others were really counting on the cash, and the dancers that had been hired for the night were beginning to grumble. We all had a feeling that some bad news was headed our way, so it was no surprise when big boss man perched himself on a table, demanded our full attention, and announced that no one was getting paid. Uproar ensued. He was blaming the head of the corporation, the dancers were screaming (well-deserved) obscenities at Mr. Boss Man, and we all felt deflated. Had money not been "guaranteed," this entire situation could have been avoided, and we would have all left, content with our Cameron Diaz and Jersey Shore crew sightings. Let me tell you, extrinsic motivation is a scary thing. 

Man on Wire

Flipping through the free movie channel on another iced-in day free of school (for the 3rd day in a row... soon to be 4th... sooo unlike SMU) actually proved to be enlightening. As my roommates shuffled around our apartment, I sat, entranced with what I was watching for 90 minutes straight. Philippe Petit, a Frenchman with a crazy passion for walking on wires at unimaginable heights, mostly between public monuments around the globe, has inspired me. Although some of Philippe's words were rather ominous and to some extent morbid when he discussed the possibility of his own death occurring during any one of his rope-walking feats, this quote stood out to me;

"If I die, what a beautiful death, to die in the exercise of your passion." 

Of course, one's passion does not, in any sense, need to be life-threatening in order to have substance, but I think that passion is what drives us, what pushes us to want more from life, and to move us to arrive at some sort of awakening at the discovery of what our individual passions truly are.

What Philippe represents, for me at least, is the drive (which I believe is in all of us) to do something great. Doing something which personally resonates does not mean attempting the pursuit of a passion for notoriety, or to go down in the history books, but to reach a goal or to create an experience that you feel is meaningful, maybe even life changing. It can also mean living your life a certain way, maybe embodying a certain perspective, or setting some sort of standard to live by, and not necessarily having one specific reason for doing it. Philippe hits the nail on the head for me, regarding personal motive;

"You know, [I was repeatedly asked] 'Why, why [did you do this]?' and that was a very, again, in my way of seeing America, a very American finger-snapping question. I did something very magnificent and mysterious, and I got a practical 'Why?' And, the beauty of it is that I didn’t have any 'Why!'"

 In the words of Nike, 'just do it,' seems to be Philippe's personal mantra. Not every action needs to be abundant with meaning, scrutinized, analyzed, or picked apart for a deeper significance. It was apparent that Petit possessed an urgency to rebel, to exercise his passion in extreme fashions, and I think what he meant, when refusing to answer "Why?!?," was to leave his actions up to interpretation, for individuals to gain inspiration, hope, whatever feeling they attained from witnessing his incredible displays of daring with such calm. The great thing about Philippe is that he's still at it in his old age, maybe not to the extremes of rope-walking 100+ stories above city streets, but he continues to exercise his passion on a wire between two trees in his own backyard. 

Extreme Over-Reliance

A line from one of my creativity class's readings on Howard Gardner's multiple intelligences <http://www.businessballs.com/howardgardnermultipleintelligences.htm> stuck out to me, "...over-reliance on, or extreme interpretation of, any methodology or tool can be counterproductive."This was in reference to Howard Gardner's multiple intelligences theory, and his categorizing of individuals into seven main intelligence types. I actually found it interesting to see the results of my intelligence test, to discover that I (according to the test) am strongest in my musical ability (musical intelligence) and my perception of other people's feelings (interpersonal intelligence). Not to stray away from thinking about the above quote, which has the potential to be interpreted in countless ways, I can only imagine. I feel like we could all benefit from heeding this warning. Taking anything to an extreme can be unhealthy, mainly in reference to an overly-biased way of thinking, or  a "my way or the highway" mentality. Over-reliance on a specific ideology, religion, personal mantra, or even on words of advice from a trusted source can hinder openness and general worldview. Relying on anything as a be-all, end-all hypothetically slaps on the blinders, leading to a one-track mindset (hence why math is not my area of expertise). This may seem a bit all over the place--maybe my brain is short-circuiting--but I like to think that our innate human ability to question all that is presented to us as "the answer" or what is "right" and what is "wrong" is what keeps us going.

Encounters on Katy

The other day I went for a jog with both ears plugged into my music and halfway through the trail, I realized how much I was missing by entirely blocking out the sounds of anyone and anything that surrounded me. In The Creative License by Danny Gregory, he highlights the importance of "being present," to be in the here and now, to stop and listen to the world. I like to think that I try to heed this advice in the way I go about my day, but realizing that by being in my own little world and tuning everything out with my music while amidst hundreds of other people on the Katy trail, I am doing quite the opposite of being present. Granted, exercising can be a very personal thing for most people, a time to get away from everything and focus on nothing but the path in front of you, but going on the Katy trail around 4 or 5 in the afternoon is not the best way to avoid crowds. Needless to say, I plucked one of my headphones out and continued on my way.

A few minutes later, I just about tripped over a cute little kitty who was chillin smack dab in the middle of the trail. He (or she... I wasn't about to check to make sure) seemed to be oblivious to the herds of joggers and bikers swarming the roadways, and made no attempt to rise from his warm spot in the sunshine. There was an older man standing a few feet away, who looked a bit concerned with the cat's well being, so, naturally, I stopped to chat and withdrew from my music completely. I learned that this man's name was Larry, that he knew the woman who was keeping the wild kitty fed, and that they had decided to name him Chico (cute). Larry was amazed that I had stopped to hang out with Chico, he informed me that Chico was the friendliest stray he had ever met, and that he was very close to adopting Chico as his own. Larry did not want to take his future pet away from roaming the brush surrounding the trail, but he seemed very concerned with the safety of the stray cat population on a trail inhabited by bikers zinging past every minute.

I was able to give Larry some hope by telling him that a few summers ago, I adopted a stray kitten that was wandering around the streets of SMU, and brought her back to California to live with my mom. Larry seemed swayed by my story, and promised me that by the end of next week he would make a decision. Larry seemed like an animal lover, like myself, especially after I learned that he came to visit Chico at the same spot almost every day. I said goodbye to my newfound friend and jogged away, smiling. I will definitely be taking out my headphones on a regular basis, with the hopes of meeting more Larry's in life.