"He's a very loving cat."

I owe my memory of the Internets' infancy due to hijinks. A co-workers' boyfriend hung around the studio all day long, while his then-girlfriend worked. He did the odd Art Department chore now and again, but he wasn't officially a designer.
I guess he was a "Guy Friday"*, if that even exists anymore.
Oh well. We shrugged it off as yet another eccentricity, typical of the weird atmosphere that surrounded us. He called out to us one evening, long after regular office hours, so we would gather around a computer screen in the now-absent creative directors' office.

"Guys, guys, check this out!" He signalled us over, then pointed at the screen he sat in front of. "This is the Internet. And it's free! You can chat with people online. I got a couple of girls on here right now that I'm talking to, at the same time." One of my friends said: "How do you know it's a girl on the other end? It could be some dude who's messin' with you." Excellent observation. And it looked like: 

Huh. Neat. Not exactly the hip future we were hoping for: geeks fumbling awkwardly after women. How novel. It was the computer equivalent of one hand clapping. Needless, we were not dazzled. And so, I waited. It wasn't too much longer that web browsers and desktop publishing interfaces were introduced, warming up the digital environment to resemble actual human eyesight and thinking. Mac users were there from the start because we had to, eking out a living.

By the 90s, I had a home set-up, after tears and yelling, a bit of hair pulling and gnashed teeth, plus hours of 1-800 phone calls to tech support lines. Some refused assistance because I wasn't on a paid warranty program, and I wouldn't cough up a credit card number to whoever was on the other end of the line (and it was a land line). Hacking and piracy, cyber-crime, went hand-in-glove with advances back then, just like any other frontier town. The territory was The Wild West, unregulated and rarely monitored. With great freedom came some risk, but isn't that how the best situations always begin?

It was a nail-biting experience, setting up a home system, adding the Internet with dial-up capabilities. Each peripheral, like the printer, external disk reader (be it floppy, SyQuest cartridge, or Zip), and scanner, had different software, drivers, ports, wires, connections, and cables. One wrong move in the daisy chain, and the whole works didn't function properly, which amounted to hours of work for naught. We were truly on our own in this new world. So, we learned and adapted, to the point where modern companies still sometimes confuse our job roles with those of computer programmers or IT. 

see also: http://mariedoucette.blogspot.com/2011/11/tech-angst.html

But set it up I did, as I sat there for hours watching time bars move at an excruciatingly slow rate of speed across the screen. I studied the Internet as a medium. Search engine. Hm. I typed in "midget porn". Links!! Yeah! Ohhhh. Sadly, the top one was the site of a little persons' Australian rugby team, but I was thrilled nonetheless. (Rubs hands together over keyboard). World Wide Web, indeed. Here. We. Go. Back at the office, we created badly Photoshopped gag images hastily, as fast as we could master new software, and played hours of networked computer games among our intrepid band of artists and designers.

http://www.smh.com.au/news/sport/big-hoop-dreams-for-small-heroes-at-world-dwarf-games/2009/07/23/1247942008504.html

By the time me and my then-fiancé had a couple over for dinner at the apartment, I had the works at home up and running. Après-dinner, I showed the group what my new-found knowledge had provided us with, and that was....stupid videos! We chatted with drinks in hand, while I periodically checked the screen for status. Finally, after about 25 minutes or so, it was ready to run. And this is what I showed them, successfully producing the sought-after reaction: wildly gut-busting fits of laughter. Pinky now lives forever in cyberspace, perhaps as the first-ever web video that went instantly viral. Long may he reign.

Are you ready for Friday?

*http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/guy+friday

Kitchen Mission Accomplished

Dear Readers, 

This morning, I woke up late
(for me) and like many of you,
I found myself without instant coffee. I'd offered my coffeemaker machine to the street gods years ago. In Brooklyn, that means you leave something on the sidewalk in front of your dwelling, and it magically disappears. It was a counter hog in my mostly counter-less kitchen anyway, plus I'm not typically a big caffeine drinker, for health reasons.

And yet, today herbal tea was clearly not going to cut it.
On the tippy top shelf, I remembered I might have some grounds for brewing purposes.
I stood on a chair and fished out a container from among the upper recesses. By now, you know how we roll in this town: what we lack in square footage, we gain in ceiling height, which makes the highest cabinets in my kitchen a sort of uncharted and forgotten territory that I rarely visit.

The stove clock is still set on Spring time. Doh! Actual time of experiment: 7:48 a.m

I am happy to report, I "MacGyvered" a cup of coffee from a container that had a "best used by" date of 2008, utilizing two paper towels as a filter, and a plastic to-go container as a stand-in for the coffee pot. Obviously, unbleached and organic paper towels would be the best choice for this experiment. It takes a bit of patience to slowly pour hot water onto the grounds in intervals, allowing sufficient time for the water to drip through without incident, but in the end, it was totally worth it. I secured a freshly brewed cup of coffee. Just don't tell my doctor it wasn't decaf. 

"Necessity is the mother of invention."

http://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/necessity-is-the-mother-of-invention.html

This is how Penguins roll

By now you should know the excellence that is The Penguins of Madagascar. Not only is it a great show for kids, but like the best work made for children, adults can enjoy it on many levels, too. How awesome is it that they live in Central Park Zoo? 

http://johnkennethmuir.wordpress.com/category/1980s/page/2/

So, let's dive right in to my favorite episode "Crown Fools" (Season 1, Episode 11) which makes references to: Ninjas, Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome, martial arts, cage fighting, The Matrix, the madcap histrionics of William Shatner as Captain Kirk from Star Trek, and the nostalgic audio joy of the The Bionic Man sound effect during the Skipper's fight-winning corkscrew move. If you want to see the cage match, skip to 6:23, then 7:55. Happy Fun Day!

Penguins of Madagascar - Season 1 Episode 11 Crown Fools
    
  Vezi  mai multe  video    din   haioase

http://www.centralparkzoo.com/

A New York State of Mind

As a young child, I had no idea people lived in other places besides "The City". After all, it dominated every facet of my world. Our parades were shown on every major t.v. network, like The Macy's Parade on Thanksgiving, and The St. Patrick's Day Parade in March. Even though these days are national holidays, I always saw my city on t.v. Sesame Street looked like any block in Brooklyn (I like to think it greatly resembles Park Slope :),  and The Electric Company back in the 70s had a multi-ethnic cast (remember the Asian-American girl with the Crystal Gayle long hair?!). And it wasn't just t.v. 

The biggest, most famous movies in the world were set in New York, a list that's far too long to write, like King Kong and Taxi Driver, with New York actors like Robert DeNiro. Beloved and adored cartoon characters, like Bugs Bunny, were voiced by Mel Blanc in a distinctly urban voice, reminiscent to me of my grandfather, an Irish-American Con-Ed worker from Brooklyn, who worked in the lower East Side, an area where Yiddish was widely spoken. I can bust out a bunch of words I learned from him, like "meshugga", "shiksa", and a decent "Oy Vey!" that's full of feeling, to the surprise of some. Broadway plays, operas, Lincoln Center for The Nutcracker and ballet, The Rockettes, The Harlem Globetrotters, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, The Guggenheim, commonplace to kids from the area.

http://jennylens.com/dee-dee-ramone-changed-my-life/

That was just entertainment. Magazines and catalogs were adorned with models who worked and lived in New York, shot in studios in Chelsea or with city backdrops at locations around town. My cousin was a model and sometime girlfriend of DeeDee Ramone, voted "Best Legs" 1976 (or '77? Suzy, forgive me!), by an underground 'zine that catered to the punk scene. Like every New York girl, I had a fling with modeling, though I was too short for haute couture. And thankfully so, because I was already deeply immersed in my college education. Still, I took a runway walk class, got ripped off by a small-time NJ photographer for some photos, was rejected by Elites' receptionist right out of the elevator and told to go to the Petites division around the corner (bailed on that), booked a shoe show at The Javits Center with a less prestigious agency, then blew it off, as teenagers on summer break are wont to do. I had to make money, so I worked and hung out with friends. A kid from high school was already appearing in commercials as an actor, mostly famously for a board game ad, and dancing friends were auditioning for companies in the city or programs.

My parents met at a jazz club in The Village (that's Greenwich Village, in downtown Manhattan), and went to poetry readings during their courtship. Your parents didn't do that? Huh. I got a dose of reality in the 5th grade, when I wrote an essay about it for Miss O'Brien, a very young and earnest substitute teacher. I really liked her, but she took a red pen to my story, crossed out the word "bar" and replaced it with "restaurant", or something like that. The change riled me enough to give me the courage to go up to her desk after class and inquire about her alterations, a rarity for such a shy girl like me. She explained that it wasn't polite to write something like that, and she was making my story better. She was sure my parents wouldn't like it. I think I even went home and showed to them, and they laughed. She may have been a local from the area we moved to, a suburb which was still quite isolated and rural back then, surrounded by farmland, and accessible to New York City only by a local highway that still has no lights on it, courtesy of a national parkland designation. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Palisades_Interstate_Parkway

Songs were written about our fair city, broadcast on every radio station, famous anthems like "New York, New York" by Frank Sinatra. Everyone knew the Yankees and their iconic players, regardless of locale. My grandmother watched them at the stadium as a girl, and she's 96. Compared to most Americans, we have a long history. People come from around the world to see our attractions, like the tree at Rock Center, Radio City, Times Square, the Statue of Liberty, the Empire State, and the late, great Trade Towers. These weren't local attractions. I knew that because they were in such crowded areas, I had to hold an adults hand so I wouldn't get separated. The people on the streets spoke all sorts languages, people of every size, shape, and color that represent humanity. My first real boyfriend in high school was originally from Puerto Rico, though fully Americanized, and I had friends from Ghana, England, and the south of France. To this day, I have trouble in homogeneous and less diverse zones of our country. Where are the rest of the people?

http://www.ebaumsworld.com/pictures/view/597895/

The bubble from The Land of Oz finally burst for good in college, amongst a surfeit of Long Islanders. The girls' floor in our dorm was filled with sorority sisters who simply traded their town from downstate to upstate New York, sporting the same baggy Champion sweatshirts and topknot ponytails held in place by velvet scrunchies. I was horrified by their singularity and conformity, a herd mentality that signalled an utter lack of courage and individuality. If this was what was out there, I'll pass. I had the good fortune to meet a group of kids from the North Shore who skateboarded, surfed, and spent summers clam digging around bonfires on the beach. Cool. That I could roll with. I'm a beach kid who spent summers swimming the ocean of Long Beach Island. The first time I went to their dorm room, some great artist had pencilled an amazing drawing of The Ramones on the floor, at the entrance to their suite. Home sweet home.

From 1989, in front of Galway Cathedral.

I went on to travel a great deal. I got struck young and early by a restless wanderlust. Before the age of 19, I had already been to Amsterdam and Ireland, the first among my crowd to travel overseas, and in pre-Euro days. I would return to Ireland, travel through Italy, have a brief work stint in Germany, with side trips to Paris and Amsterdam, again. I would take incessant road trips around America, desperate to see what else was out there. I've found similarly sexy vibes in cities like New Orleans and Montrèal, but when you're from a place like New York, you come from a fabled land that's up there with London, Paris, Tokyo, and Hong Kong. Along with our many visitors, people come to our town laden with a head full of prejudices and media programming. Rest assured, most of us are normal, we just have a vision that's as grand and impressive as our skyline. My excessive nervous energy has been replaced by a contentment to be settled in a small town, in one of the largest cities 

in the world. Happy trails to you!

http://brooklyn.com/

Bright lights in a big city

With an artist, it never ends. We don't put on our jackets, shut the lights to a room, and shed the remains of the day like clothing. Ideas, images, text, narrative, stories, sights, sounds, smells—they fill our heads as we move through the world and stay with us. We are always looking, always aware, always seeking. And I love that, but it can be hard to explain. 

 

We compartmentalize so much during the day—constantly screening out the distractions that surround us to get our work done. Leaving a constricting environment is like letting my hair down, shaking it out, putting my feet up, and finally sighing in the comfort of my home, to release the pent-up breath I'd been holding in all day. Now I can just be me. We see design in everything, natural or handmade, so it follows suit that this would mark our homes, too. 

As in nature and life, change is constant. The seasons change, the lighting changes, the earth moves, and so do we. Nothing remains constant, static, stuck in place, dead. It evolves and adapts as we do. Our jobs blur the lines between disciplines into a harmonious whole. We do clerical, administrative, marketing, accounting, even change coffee filters, any facet of business you can think of, in addition to creating product on the clock. As"artist" is a general term and "designer" is specific, both accomodate as constraints dictate, on demand. 

And so I change my home with the seasons, as inspiration drives me, or as I see fit. It's an energy, that creative spark, and when it moves you, you just go with it. Sometimes it pans out and sometimes it doesn't, but the great thing that comes with age is that we master our impulses, gaining timing and foresight with the knowledge we constantly absorb. Unlike other disciplines, like music, acting, or dance, there are no artistic prodigies, because it's manual dexterity applied with accrued learning is beyond the scope of youthful immaturity.

I surf a myriad of design sites every day, including decor and interior design. As I was taking down and putting away the Christmas decorations, I thought about how much I love the way the lights look in this season. Why put away something so cheerful looking? But, how to incorporate Christmas lights without harkening to a dorm room? I'd been into solar-powered light jars for sometime, though they seemed really expensive. And I know I've seen lights in jars and vases, so why not? It took me back to childhood, to that magical time between daylight and sunset, dusk in summertime, when the fireflies come out twinkling and the crickets start chirping, as we ran about the yard collecting them in jars. Who wouldn't want to be reminded of that? Especially when there's more dark than light during the Winter Solstice.

After packing away the Christmas decor, I realized I'd left some green beads strung around a large picture frame, to give it some holiday color. Oops. No way I was gonna unpack that large container for some beads. Hmm. Then I remembered my cousin in New Orleans, readying for Mardi Gras. Aha! At first I had the beads as curtain ties in my bedroom. I liked the way they sounded as I drew the fabric behind the holds, but it was unwieldy to do so. Where could they go, as a reminder? I scanned the apartment, looking for places. They now happily adorn a living room shade, which is ornate in the style of a French Quarter salon. Perfect. I love the association—it suits the Doucette in me well.

Please feel free to borrow and idea or two. Heck, go ahead and steal them, because I sure did. Apologies to the design sites with the gorgeous lighting ideas that stuck in my head. I'd reference you, if I could separate you out from among the jumble. Anyway they are filed away in my brain forever, so thanks for making such a big impact on me. Here's some favorites that I scan throughout the day:

http://thedesignerpad.com/

http://www.loveitalot.com/

http://www.notcot.org/

http://www.apartmenttherapy.com/

À bientot!

Video Games

After T.V. console sets, the next step in gamer evolution was the hand-held. The only arcade game I could stand (like George "Can't Stands Ya" Constanza) was Frogger. The rest seemed accurately designed to milk as many quarters as possible from the player. As a kid, that gets frustrating, especially when game after game ends in under 30 seconds. Where's the fun in that? GAME OVER!

 

My brothers had their hand-held games, too. The best was Mattel's Electronic Football: a simple black screen with red dash marks. You started at one end of the screen to work your way towards the "end zone", which was the other side of the screen. After awhile, I got the hang of it. Basically, after one or two moves forward onto the field with a up or down direction thrown in as a feint, you used the "up" arrow key to position the mark representing your player to the very top of the screen, then used the right arrow key to move forward, which dodged all the other marks, to get you into the end zone for a touchdown. 

It became a flawless formula, satisfying in the same way as solving a Rubix cube. But once learned, those games lost their luster fast, becoming so much plastic fodder for the garbage dump, where I'm sure they still are, since this was pre-recycling days. Computer games replaced arcades and hand-held games, which is an article for another day. Suffice to say, I'm back to playing hand-held games on, you guessed it, my iPhone. So what am I playing now, with all these tech advances? Tetris. And it's still so, so good. Current high score: 637,767.

Let the games begin.

Breaking Bread

I love cooking shows. I'm largely self-taught, with the help of cookbooks, online recipes, good ole trial-and-error, and the
occasional question to key grown ups during childhood (like "Moo" and Grandma). Years ago, I found this gem of a program on PBS called Breaking Bread with Father Dominick.

How cute is the logo? Father Dom (as he's called) also has cookbooks to go with his mini-empire. At the time, the show was a welcome reminder of my culture, a taste of back home. I was living out west, where Catholicism is not widely practiced. I encountered some derisive thinking and the odd question like, did we "believe in animal sacrifice"? Hmm. Ignorance in the late 20th century...with the amount of information we put out there?! Not cool, man. It was kinda shocking, and also deeply isolating. There's no better time to find out what you're made of, than when you meet prejudice. It wasn't the first time, and it certainly won't be the last.

So I relished this time to watch a person of my faith present himself simply as he is: a man of God, who also bakes bread. The Last Supper is a key depiction of the Act of Communion: to come together in worship and break bread, in the form of a wafer, which represents the Body of Christ. And no, it's not cannibalism. It's a concept called "Transubstantiation", which is defined thusly: (in Latin, transsubstantiatio, in Greek μετουσίωσις metousiosis) "means the change, in the Eucharist, of the substance of wheat bread and grape wine into the substance of the Body and the Blood of Jesus,[1] while all that is accessible to the senses (the appearances - species in Latin) remains as before."[2][3][4] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Transubstantiation

The priest intones these words, during service, when we prepare to accept The Host: “This is my body…this is my blood”, which are represented by the wafer and the wine we eat and drink. We imbibe them as symbols of Jesus, words he spoke during that last meal with His Apostles. You can imagine eating and drinking feature quite importantly: "Give us this day our daily bread." http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lord%27s_Prayer.

It speaks to who we are as Catholics, because who among us doesn't eat daily? As we do, the very act of a meal can also become an act of devotion, a reminder of those words spoken by a man who would revolutionize the world and shape it for thousands of years. But those concepts, looming large and powerful, can seem distant, cold, unattainable, overwhelming, unreachable, unreal, magical, beyond human scope and imagining.

A cooking show brings these extremely intellectual concepts back down to earth, and into your kitchen. I love Father Doms' obvious warmth and joie de vive, as do many of his fans, Catholic or not. He's not "preachy", punching you in the head with complex ideas. He's punching dough, to teach you how to do this one thing well, and in the process, you just might connect it back to something bigger than yourself. It's real, it's human, it's fun, and it's life. This is who we are, so come see for yourself. Good luck in the kitchen today!

http://st-bede.com/benedictine-monks/

The Irrelevance of Offices

Over the course of my career, I've had a range of employment experiences: part time, temp, freelance, and permanent staff, with different pros and cons. As I see what is being called in various media outlets a "recession" lengthen into more than a speculative stock market game, I know that change is happening, and fast. In my book, it's about time. More time is wasted on a job site than any other environment. Think about a typical 9-5 day in an office.

There's checking emails, talking with co-workers, bullshitting with friends, water cooler talk, calls to and from home, chores and errands done online or during lunch break, shopping online or on break, trips to the kitchen and back to prepare food or get coffee, which necessitates more small talk with co-workers, then lunch, maybe a computer game or two, web surfing, day dreaming about vacations, arguing with HR about vacation time, checking social media sites, meetings that may or may not draw productive conclusions, the obligatory awkward office birthday party with cake, other mandatory "social" activities, which force us into more interactions, hobnobbing with bosses, client meetings, and in my case, towards the way end of the day, I may actually have time to make some art or design, or at the very least, generate a layout.

The bulk of my day is devoted almost solely to non-creative tasks, which is exactly what I was hired NOT to do. By the time I'm hired on staff, I've met at least two times (typically it's 3-4 meetings) with creative management, who have carefully screened my portfolio online, work which has taken years to generate, that I then bring in person for an interview presentation, in addition to the typical interviews other workers have with administrative staff like Human Resources, who are unqualified to accurately assess art and design talent. Let's not forget the myriad of distractions we must endure: office banter, rumors, gossip, bitching, griping, backbiting, politicizing, ass-kissing, backstabbing, sabotage, plotting and scheming, the dating games, music from the cube over, conversations overheard that are too intimate for such an impersonal setting, food smells (and body smells) that are not your own, it goes on and on. And it's inhuman.

Sharing ones' personal space with a myriad of total strangers selected by people other than yourself seems to guarantee social madness. We are humans, and as a species, we tend to separate into groups that are like-minded, or align ourselves with genetically linked people like family, someone who shares something with us other than a paycheck by a faceless company. It's simply not enough of a bond for such a complex animal like Homosapien. No wonder there's a dog-eat-dog mentality! It's not geared towards human living. Put a random bunch of people in a series of sterile boxes with artificial daylight, and then observe them freaking out on one another. A reader would think it's the plot of a sci-fi story, or the basis of a psychological experiment.

So, what's the alternative? It's called "Living", and it's most conducive to humans! Kidding aside, any environment can be used for labor in the 21st Century, as the bulk of our work moves into the digital sphere. Artists and designers have been on this forefront for decades and we relish it, as long as we can solicit enough work to pay the bills. We interact with most professionals in our work flow via email and phone anyway. Of course, nothing replaces "face time" and the information that brings, but really, a meeting space should be just that, and nothing more. Who needs an institutional feel for communication? Many artists use the local café for meetings, cyber-meetings with Skype are becoming standard as we go global economically, making the status quo way of doing business extinct anyhow. And for those big clients who require a more traditional setting, many studio buildings shared by small businesses and workers have a space set aside with the obligatory meeting table, just for such purposes. You can even sport a suit-and-tie corporate look to recreate businesses past, like an episode of Mad Men, which completes the retro feel.

I love conducting business, so I see this move as a huge leap forward, one that's advantageous to many, many people. It's certainly more beneficial for women, because working from the home is aligned with the way we actually live and behave. We "work" 9-5 at an office, on company time, following their rules, at their convenience, then go home to start our 2nd unpaid job: making life run smoothly for everyone else. The flexibility of a work/home situation allows us to be truly productive, on our terms, by removing the stress of being dropped into a foreign environment that is (most often than not) a glass-ceiling, top-heavy with men in management who profit from the status quo. 

In publishing, which is the core of my business, flex-time is a reality. Editors and designers are issued company-standard laptops that connect them via servers to other workers, maintained by what are typically IT workers in India, who are wayyyy off-site. It greatly reduces the amount of overhead paid out by a company, by minimizing or eliminating enormous real estate costs, which are particularly astronomical in New York and other urban areas, plus other costs associated with a large group of people gathered in any area: coffee, water, food, paper, office equipment and supplies, maintenance, bathroom and health services, etc. Employers also limit themselves to the available pool of talent, from being tied geographically to a space. As we move forward, let's embrace and encourage "The New Frontier". 

 What a beautiful world this will be
What a glorious time to be free

http://www.lyricsvip.com/Steely-Dan/I.G.Y-Lyrics.html

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/I.G.Y._(What_a_Beautiful_World) 

Hayao Miyazaki

I remember my first Hayao Miyazaki movie. I was talking
to a friend about Princess Mononoke, which features
a rebellious, righteous girl raised by a white wolf. From the opening scene, I was sold on his artistic vision, a done deal.

It's flawless animation, beautifully drawn, with the most gorgeous landscapes I've seen on film. This is the hand of a living master, there's no denying it. I began working my way through his filmography. http://28.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lsxk1qQPeX1qzea6yo1_500.gif

After watching Spirited Away, I remain in awe. It is the best animated movie I have seen thus far, and I am a huge devotee of the form—such spectacularly rendered water scenes, like the train ride from The Sixth Station. What craft, with timelessly enrapturing storytelling that pulls you in and doesn't let you go until the end. Wow. Powerful stuff. The characters are fascinating, from the small soot spirits, to the engorged wandering lost soul "No-Face", desperate to fill a need that material goods cannot satiate.

My Neighbor Totoro brilliantly captures the magical world of a little girl and her secret friends. In this case, it happens to be a large, furry, adorable tree spirit named "Totoro", which sparked a very profitable stuffed toy craze that I've yet to indulge in. Who wouldn't want a big, benign protector like Totoro around?

I also get a satisfying eyeful of incredible tree and forest art, writ large on the big screen.
I've always drawn, painted and taken pictures of tree forms in landscapes. Trees evoke so much character and personality.

They are the height of nature's beauty to me, an endless variety of shapes, colors, and forms, etched against different skies and backgrounds. I love the traditional Shinto mythologies woven throughout Miyazaki's movies. It resonates with me, as that spiritual centeredness which define me as a hiker.

I could write about each film, but there's so much to discover visually, I don't want to divulge spoilers for the uninitiated. I invite you to explore his worlds at the very next opportunity you have.  
You will be blown away.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hayao_Miyazaki

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Studio_Ghibli

http://www.ghibli.jp/

Word of the Day: "Milhousing"

http://www.craftster.org/forum/index.php?topic=265697.0

Part of the fun with language are new words that enter our collective lexicon after years of use. It harkens back to childhood, when we learned to read and spell, and in doing so, we made mistakes, often very silly ones that made us giggle. In the process, we inadvertently stumbled onto a phrase that aptly captured our zeitgeist, becoming in-jokes among friends and family for years. Same with nicknames, which convey a sense of intimacy among the users. And so I flow with words, to see where it takes me, enjoying the ride. 

But, there is a flip side, like all natural laws. Where there is dark, there is light. There cannot be one without the other, existing in perfect counterbalance, like The Tao. One of my favorite reads of all-time is George Orwells' 1984, which delves, among many themes, into words as political tools, part of any Propagandist's toolkit. "Newspeak" became my go-to term for years, referring to fabricated concepts with dicey language that reflect a hidden agenda, the purpose being to craft ones' midset into a particular direction, typically in the form of commercialism, i.e. to sell you some crap you didn't need or couldn't afford anyway. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Newspeak

So, here's my first "Word of the Day", for you the reader to have at no cost, free to use anywhere, at any time, for the sole purpose of having a good time. That's my agenda, transparent as it is. And it's coming at you from a most excellent source, The Simpsons, my favorite show. Let's watch a clip from the episode that struck my funny bone forever:

 http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=coming%20up%20Milhouse

There after, I would refer to a bad day gone good  as "Everything's coming up  'Milhouse' ", which seemed most pertinent in office situations, where things can go to s#*t quicker than I can use a computer, and that's really f@^$ing fast. The evolution of the phrase eventually shortened to become simply the verb "Milhousing", meaning I was having a bangin' day.

As many of you re-enter the work world after holiday vacations, hang on to your flow if you can, and keep on Milhousin'.

Have a great week.

http://www.urbandictionary.com/