Archive for July, 2008

Stalkr Much?

Wednesday, July 30th, 2008

Should I feel terrible about this?  I feel like I’m being creepy.

But the internet is public domain, right?  If someone is posting info in public, it’s so people will look at it, correct?  And moreover, these days the curious don’t have to work that hard to answer their questions.  All you need is simply a real name or a more popular alias to chase.  (Having to spend entire days on the internet helps, probably.)

This is a long post about Sunday, (even though there are more exciting things going on here… like an earthquake that broke nothing), and to protect the innocent, I won’t be using her real name.

“Her” – the lovely Apple Store employee who made my phone purchasing experience quick, painless, and actually somewhat pleasant despite my lack of sleep the previous night.

And this post is about my complete failure to present myself as a suitor.  One can learn something from watching others’ (or my) mistakes!  Take, for instance, the fact that you should never make a bet with friends and coworkers that you will inevitably and consistently lose.

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Shark Week Coming!

Friday, July 25th, 2008

Short post because it’s been a hectic Friday for me.

But hey!  Shark week is almost upon us!

I love Shark Week.  I have no idea why I love Shark Week.  But I like it enough to make a banner for everyone to share knowing full well that Discovery Channel probably can’t do something this… risqué, so I’m taking it upon myself to do it for them.

Here ya go:

Have a good weekend, y’all!

Music Kick

Wednesday, July 23rd, 2008

I spent $600* on this program so it’s damn well appropriate that I should be using it on a frequent basis.

But I’ve been thinking, have any of you taken on a creative hobby that sometimes feels like you’re only making minor progress because simply going through the motion is what you find most appealing?

Think of baking a cake.  You set to making cake mix, but you find yourself playing with the flour for about three hours before considering adding it to the mix.  Then, you look at the clock and see that you should get to bed.  You become sad now that your time is up, and resentfully clean up the flour mess you’ve made, but not before marveling at the mess first.  You say to yourself that you’ll get to adding the flour tomorrow.

…So maybe cake mix is a terrible analogy, but you get my point.  And this describes what writing music has become for me recently.

That is, until I rediscovered how to practice singing; introducing this dynamic to the music I’m currently writing completely re-frames a shit-ton of my usual antics.

Problem: I am highly insecure about how my voice sounds.  And another thing, it’s profoundly weird to disembody your own voice and have a computer recite it back to you, especially if you’re not used to disembodying it in the first place.  Those of you who practice singing on a regular basis probably don’t have this problem (eh, Courtney?).  But the thing is I am primarily an instrumentalist.  I feel much safer behind a guitar.

“So what? Just do it. Sing. Get out of your comfort zone.”

Okay, fine.  After all, practice makes perfect, right?

So get ready, internet.

It’s about to get all awkward up in here.

———-
*“Nico, why didn’t you steal that program?  Aren’t you good at that?” Well, yes, I am.  But if I like a program well enough, I will support the developers by purchasing it.  Same principle applies to music.

Sry, TV, I

Friday, July 18th, 2008

Short post today since I’m still a little groggy from last night’s Mindshare event – which was, in short, as their tagline describes: enlightened debauchery.  Met some of the most interesting people I’ve ever met, and the presentations totally blew my mindhole.  More on that soon.

But I wanted to share with everyone a couple of things that have made my day that much better, and why I’m looking forward to just not owning a TV ever again.  And not just because I can watch all the TV shows I ever really wanted to over the net.

The Future of the Celebrity Crush

Cali Lewis hosts a show I’m totally addicted to, Geekbrief.tv. And why should I have a crush on this seemingly normal lady?  Well, for one, she knows what she’s talking about (tech!), she gets access to events and interviews I actually really like to see, and she is genuinely into it.  Her enthusiasm comes across in her delivery and it’s infectious.  I may even buy a drobo simply because she recommends them and offers discounts on her show… even though I really have no need for one.  But maybe I should consider a RAID array

Anyway, Here’s a gag reel. (Mp4)

For those into girls: She has an adorable laugh.  Just you watch.

For those not into girls: Well, do you at least like bloopers?

The Next Generation of Musicals

You like the work of Joss Whedon? How about Neil Patrick Harris?

Me too! Okay! Here ya go! (link out)

It’s good.  Trust me.  Srah and angelaboration can corroborate this.  Some will dismiss it for being a musical, or having musical numbers in it, but it’s more complex than that.  It has layers.  There’s something totally different underneath than what’s on the surface.  And sometimes there’s a third even deeper level, and that one is the same as the top surface one.  Like with pie.

Just watch it.

What about your life can be easily translated to the internet?

The Unrelenting Crush of Musicianship

Wednesday, July 16th, 2008

It’s entirely possible that the music I write is complete garbage.  I have no delusions that that happens to a lot of people and I may very well be one of them.

But the more I think about it, crappiness has had little to do with who wants to listen to demos or who supports it out of friendship.  From my experience as an amateur performer and from working at a venue, I think it’s more likely that there are just too many artists out there to care about the people who are making music around you.  I am also feeling that people will generally only actively consume music if that artist has something that creates a layer of distance between them and their audience.  Exempli Gratia, if it has been propped up by a label, no matter how small that label is – and in some cases, especially if it’s a small label.  And when there is that layer of distance to an artist, be it management or simply not knowing them in person, there is a sense of legitimacy.  I think this distance is required for fan-dom.  I also think it’s mostly it’s a subconcious thing.

Think about it:

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phone? not i.

Monday, July 14th, 2008

Ya see what I did there?  ;)

In the last post I talked a little bit about my sudden lack of having a phone.  And as I’ve always hated my phone, no matter what kind of phone it was and how well it worked when it did work, maybe this is a blessing in disguise.

I’ve always hated answering the phone.  I’ve always hated calling people.  I’ve always resented txting being so useful for when I didn’t care to have a conversation with someone, and only needed a specific piece of information.

For example: [name of bar] 2nite?

See?  Just a yes or no suffices there.  Even asking for ETA is stupid, as everybody ends up at the damn bar by around 10:00 PM anyway.  And why didn’t I want to just talk to them?  Because I was going to see them later anyway, where I could give them full and undivided attention.  Well, maybe divided by two, as I would have been paying as much attention to my drink.

Anyways, after being shut out of buying one of those fancy schmancy iPhone 3Gs for three days in a row – I started to question myself.

“Waaaaaitaminute… if I hate phones… what is the point of me getting a more involved phone?”

Maybe I should not be getting an iPhone.  Maybe I just dislike phones altogether.  And maybe I should be replacing what was touted as a smartphone (more like a STUPID PHONE!) with something that just sends and receives calls and texts.

In the short period of time I have not had a phone, I have really enjoyed myself.  When I had a phone, the only reason people would call me would be to ask for something.  If they could book a show at the venue.  If I could find or do this or that for them.  If I had the time to go somewhere to hang out, which essentially meant I would help alleviate their boredom.  It was never “How have you been?” or “I thought you might like to know [x] because I thought of you when I heard about it.”  Those conversations – real conversations – are relegated to in-person and online, because in those realms you aren’t charged by the minute (excepting rollover.  And unlimited nights and weekends.  To your [#] favorite people.  Nationally.  Or roaming.).

It makes me think two things: 1. That people only call me as far as I am useful, and 2. that this is what cellphones were made for – to reach out to your resources and get shit done.

Maybe the only “smartphone” is to just have one at home, connected to a wall.

Good Company

Saturday, July 12th, 2008

After quite an awkward week I felt it was appropriate for me to hit a bar on my way back home before I booted up my computer to get more work done.  My phone has bricked, the booking company that was supposed to put together tonight’s show at the bar has bailed on us leaving us to scramble for new acts for a straight week, I can’t call the bar or other bands to get replacement acts because I CAN’T CALL ANYONE, the freelance market is looking a little dry so I haven’t gotten the chance to pick up any disposable income, and the regular old complaints anyone could have about their day job.

Thus, alcohol.  The source of and solution to all of life’s problems.

What I didn’t know was that a friend of mine was also having a pretty bad week.  She was living like me – for other people.  She has been endlessly catering to her friends coming in from out of town, she’s got her own work gripes, and to top it off, her car brakes failed.  And that was a breaking point for her.

So I gave her a ride back to her place – but on one condition: that she join me in getting a drink.

And for the first time in a long time, we were able to relieve all the built up pressure we’ve been feeling lately.  After all the bitching and moaning we did about our jobs, we reminisced about musicianship, and how we both missed being on stage and performing.  How we missed the music and hated being embroiled in the business.  We caught up on all the drama that has been swirling around us and made a mental map of all its interlocking parts.  We talked about our families, why suburb culture frightens us, when we were going to get the new iPhone, tattoo care, our astrology and that of our friends, re-enacted what it was like to be a dog living in her house, why she keeps getting picked up by a-holes, how you can’t name a band before it’s formed, why my convictions and values are shining examples of how men and women CAN be just friends, ice cream, the popular misinterpretation of feminism, and how we really needed to get away from everyone and everything and just have a nice drink, a nice conversation, and talk to only one person.

I think what made it better was that we hadn’t hung out in a long time.  There was a lot of catching up to do, and that fuzzy feeling you get when you re-discover why you made friends with someone in the first place.

It was refreshing.  It’s a perfect platonic date – all the fun of really connecting with someone without all the sordid anxiety that comes with trying to impress a date.

I knew there was a reason I kept her around as a friend.  Good company.

Now, I get ready for work, for a job that’s been causing me a lot of stress lately.  But because of a good friend, I don’t feel so resentful about it.

Tonight’s Toast

Ad Fides Ex Fraternitas

“To confidence from brotherhood”

Blunk Drogging

Tuesday, July 8th, 2008

I’m not sure my parents are as perceptive as I give them credit, as I arrived home slightly phased from having two whiskies on the rocks and no dinner in my stomach.  Wait.  Three whiskies.

Man, my tolerance is not what it used to be in college…

Regardless of what I had to drink, I have come to the conclusion that the best way EVAR to get a parent to join a social networking service is through Geni.  I don’t know if I’ve blogged before about this application, but if your family is as large and unwieldy as mine, you will get a good number of people to join in this site if you begin a project there.

It’s a family tree website, complete with profiles, photos, tastes, contact information, so on and so forth.  It’s facebook meets linkedin meets yadda yadda yadda (Go check it out for yourself.  It’s free!).

It’s pretty cool, and I’m pretty happy that the project I started has burgeoned into something incredible.  I have discovered that I have 134 blood relatives to date.  One of which is Cessie (hi, Cessie!).

134!  That’s fucking incredible!  My family is ENORMOUS!  This does not even count the other 33 people who are joined to me via simply marriage!

So that’s Geni for you.  The reason I bring this up is that if you get your family to join the website, you may find yourself tipspy and inadvertently acting as a veritable tech support guru if you are simultaneously and opportunely in contact with a family member while coming off of drinking some.

And what does this have to do with drinking in the general sense?  Well, sometimes, bonding with family is better over alcohol.  That way, the stories are are a lot more entertaining and profound.

Mostly, they are profound.  And never has the urge to say, “I love you, man!” been so present as when I am generally inebriated around family members.

Alternatively, this could distinguish my family has having a natural predisposition for alcohol.

Either way, I have fun.

**********

Note: I would like to take this opportunity to brag about my capability to spell correctly and to use acceptable grammar while under the influence, which is a skill I honed while earning my Bachelor’s degree in English.  Suck it, losers!

I Thee Wed

Friday, July 4th, 2008

My friends are getting married all over the place.  For this weekend, I’m making a trip up to the Bay Area to celebrate the union of two college friends.

You’d think that this would be a post about how being single makes me think I’d really like to get married but that’s just really not in the cards for a long time.  Or at least until I can get to where I want to be in my career.

Or, perhaps, this post would be about what I think about my friends getting married.  Nope, not doing that either.  After all, I’m not married.

But wait, maybe I am already married.  To the interwebs?  Or maybe to my guitars.

Well, the net is my career, so I’m probably married to my guitars.  It is, after all, my guitars that I love. It’s too bad that I can’t think of anybody I’ve dated that I loved more than the feeling of pressing strings onto frets.  And I’ve fallen in love before – hard, and once for a long time – and still, the guitar wins.

I remember practicing guitar in my college dorm room and falling asleep with it still in my hands.

I remember naming my acoustic guitar Lillian, after my paternal grandmother, who reminded me of purple orchids and Mu’umu’u sun dresses and afternoon naps.

I remember naming my electric (a black Stratocaster) Estelita, after my maternal grandmother, who reminded me of ballroom dancing and putting on a show, swearing with zeal and vitriol, laughing hard at a good joke.

I named my Telecaster Pandora, knowing full well that it was the indication of a musicianship which would definitely compete with the rest of my life at the time, taking me many places and putting me in interesting situations.  In both, equal servings of good and bad.  Serves me right, seeing as how that guitar was stolen before it made its way to me, and I’m still unclear on the details of how that happened.

Then there’s being on stage.  Lord, how I miss being on stage.

Perhaps my priorities are out of line.  I mean come on, how does one fall in love with inanimate objects?

Maybe I should put it this way: How many of you have fallen in love with learning another language and the culture that came with it?  How about letting your guard down, and dancing your ass off under dazzling lights to the thump of a darkened dance floor?  The wind in your hair on the open road?  Getting runner’s high in the pouring rain, when the air starts to smell like the taste of sugar?  Getting dangerously close to that delightful nausea on the spinny cups at Disneyland?

Yeah.  It’s a lot like that.

So I guess this turned into a post about guitars.  Huh.  Interesting.

So tomorrow I will be around a newly married couple.  Being around people who are in love remind me that I am in love.  My heartstrings stretch over frets.

Maybe I should play a show soon and I won’t pine over this so much.

Yeah.  That’s a good idea.

Go with the Flow

Tuesday, July 1st, 2008

Have I been showing my geekery lately? Not as much, sadly.

But oh, what do we have here?  (There!–>)

Aside from immensely enjoying Firefox 3 now that I’ve tricked it out (See Lifehacker), there hasn’t been anything I’ve found worth talking about concerning geekery other than video games. I mean, web development changes as far as the content you create goes, but the means to do it are usually pretty consistent.

Not today, kiddies. If you are a web developer and you need something way lighter than the nightmare that is Dreamweaver* (you see what I did there?), you might want to look into something that was just recently brought to my attention: Flow by Extendmac.

I have it, I love it, I like how I can edit remote files and use an FTP AT THE SAME DAMN TIME WITH ONLY ONE PROGRAM, and I am really digging concurrent FTP connections.  And did I mention that it’s light as a feather on your OS? Oh, about that: It’s for OS X Leopard only. So, Mac power users rejoice! We have a simple solution, and it’s about damn time.  BBEdit is great too, but it’s nowhere near as light as Flow.

Web dev is a blast with this little app.  I feel so much lighter!  Dumping Dreamweaver was like taking a long overdue poop.  An interweb poop. (an interpoop?)

…Maybe I should refrain from referencing bodily functions when talking about a program called “Flow”, but whatever.  No point in editing that out.  If I have the image in my head you might as well, too.

(PC user? I didn’t forget about you guys. Try EditPlus, which has been around for a while but it’s still notably effective.)

*To be fair, Dreamweaver has made some significant improvements since Adobe bought it. But it’s still heavier than a Scandinavian death metal band and slower than the continental drift, so that’s one tall glass of fail as far as I’m concerned.