When hear the name Finckenstein I think of a large green monster, bolts in neck, playing three card monte on the streets of New York.
Last week the CBC news online was following the CRTC usage based billing debacle with almost an hourly coverage. This week everything has switched to a story about a murdered kid in the Dominican. So an important story that impacts the lives of literally millions of Canadians gets bumped for a single murder. Murder is sad for the families involved, but dedicating so much coverage for it is bizarre. I guess the CBC isn't really Canadian anymore as seems drenched in the stink of the American 24 hour news cycle.
The CRTC reversal is such a monumental event in Canada. It's the first time I know of where a community of online protesters (self included) have been able to gather what is now well over 400,000 signatures and actually pressure the government to listen to the people and govern them responsibly. Obviously there are political motivations involved seeing as there is likely going to be an election in May. Just the fact that people at a grassroots level actually achieved their goal without dissolving into just another place to buy all-natural hemp grocery bags and dated bumper-stickers inspires me.
In case you don't know what usage based billing is I'll give you the skinny. The CRTC is our radio and telecommunications commission. They're composed entirely of various animals in the rodent family and have about as much use as my testicles, namely none. If you think of all the weird, evil American government agencies that get to create their own rules and then enforce them, the CTRC is our media version of that. The FCC of the north.
The usage based billing system that the CRTC passed allows the major internet service providers to cap their monthly plans at a staggeringly low 25 gigs and then charge as much as $5.00 per gig on top of that. Their reasoning behind this is that they claim lower bandwidth users are now having to pay for heavier bandwidth users and that a cap would level the playing field. To a person who is not familiar with how bandwidth and ISPs work this may seem like it means something. It doesn't. Leaving side the obvious blurred distinction between bandwidth and file transfer these companies have the capabilities to handle amounts much, much higher than they are currently allocating. But even if they didn't have the framework to allow more traffic on their lines the solution is to expand, not minimize.
The market needs more access. You don't have to be an IP pirate to easily use 100 to 200 gigs per months. Gamers, Netflix subscribers, online television watchers, itunes, you tube, and imaging users all require large amounts of file transfer to do what they are currently doing legally. Then are people like myself who subscribe to different online educational programs and utilize video tutorials to learn. We're fucked by this. This doesn't even begin to cover the shear volume of small businesses that require heavy usage in order to run. Clearly the population all over the world is asking for more access. The big difference of course is that in the rest of the world business is keeping up with market demand. In Canada though we have the opposite. Our providers want to reverse the amount people use and then gouge them for being regular internet users and they have the CRTC's sign of approval to do this.
It can be hard for most people to understand why this is wrong. The older generations still think internet use is a fad and that it's somehow "bad" to be online so much. It's probably the same mentality that the horse and buggy generation thought when the automobile took over as the literal driving force. It's what the clergy thought once the printing press took off and what our grandparents thought when our parents started watching television and using the the telephone for business. It's monopolizing, price gouging on a resource that essentially unlimited. It has nothing to do with fairness and everything to do with government approved greed.
Sorry for the early rant. I'm posting this unedited.
Oh I also had my song of the day all picked out and ready to go and then when I went to find a you tube video I discovered that this tune is on the Twilight Eclipse soundtrack. It's a little like finding out that a teacher you liked was a pedophile. I almost decided not to share it because of this fact, then I remembered how many of my favorite bands have songs in current television commercials... I'm looking at you Matt Pond PA, Slow Club and Vetiver! Anyway here it is.
By the way you really should be listening to these. Many of these songs you don't know and will probably love. If it's good enough for Twilight...
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Monday, February 7, 2011
Fleshy Lettuce
I didn't write a post yesterday.
There are a few good reasons for that but the main one is that Mary and I were watching Gangs of New York and got tired. Daniel Day Lewis trumps blog every time.
As it turns out, the key to making a good website is clean code. I've been working on the LoveSprouts Photography site all day, everyday for a week. About two hours ago I decided to redo all the code to remove all the extra junk hanging around. As I re-wrote each line of code I was able to get rid of everything confusing. Now I'm on fire.
The Stoney Creek Dairy is my hometown's major claim to fame. In it's day people would line up down the block waiting to get their hands on wacky flavors like "Tiger Stripe" and "Strawberry Cheesecake". When I was 18 I got my first real part-time job there. It seems crazy that I was officially an adult before I ever got legitimate employment. I only got the job because I knew Danny had left and so I slipped in there right away.
The work was easy and consisted mostly of replacing the cardboard cubes of ice-cream for the scoop-girls in the front, recording inventory in the freezer and taking out garbage. In the ice-cream industry the volume of trash is obscene. This isn't including customer scraps either, just the crap behind the counter. The dairy had a large industrial trash compactor that required walking through a series of abandoned hallways and what was as that point a defunct diner. The weird unused spaces reminded me of the 1950's. Everything had pale, thick paint on it and rolls of old, sun-faded signs were piled all over. The compactor remains to this day, the worst smell I've encountered.
Part of my job was sorting the freezer which consisted of two sections, the holding freezer and the deep freezer. I loved working in the deep freezer. We had these industrial coats and gloves that made performing laborious tasks doable. Ice mounds would form and the large cardboard cubes of French Vanilla would become encased in a glacier of delicious. For some reason, no one ever wants French vanilla. They had rules about how long it was safe to be in there for a consecutive period of time but it was never enforced. The only time someone would check up to see if I was dead was when they needed more buble-gum or cotton candy flavors.
The holding freezer was a separate room at a slightly less frozen temperature. The bizarre thing was that this room felt much colder than the big one. Bricks of ice-cream were organized and piled up creating a maze of awesome. They never got much higher that 3 or 4 feet but it was still tricky to navigate the room and find what needed finding. This was because the guys over in the actual factory would stamp the flavors onto the side with small, worn out stamps. In addition, this room also had fans blowing the cold air around. It was like the smaller, louder, more annoying teenage version of a freezer.
There was also a huge walk-in fridge out front. This housed all the sundae extras. Brownies, sauces, bags of soft-serve ice-cream. I remember having to mix syrup with a sugar-water saline liquid to make the caramel and English toffee sauce. I would often gorge on brownies while working. This is where I gained most of my weight, the shear volume of crap I ate would make you vomit and drool.
The dairy also had a rooftop patio where I would hide out and pretend to be doing something important. I think my personal tasks on any given shift consisted of hiding from people, not doing any work and eating creamy, stolen desserts. I didn't really care at all about the job seeing as I was leaving at the end of August to go live in a soviet-style concrete box across a hall from the McPoyles.
I was reminded of this time in my life because I had ice-cream yesterday during my nephews 4rth birthday and was staring at my belly in the mirror today feeling guilty as shit for enjoying the small amount I had. I weight about the same as I did in grade 8 I think. I know I shouldn't lose anymore weight, and Mary tells me that I'm disappearing and that my face is sinking in but I can't imagine changing my paranoid eating patterns. My diet is like web design, everything is easier to maintain with a good clean code.
Song of the day:
There are a few good reasons for that but the main one is that Mary and I were watching Gangs of New York and got tired. Daniel Day Lewis trumps blog every time.
As it turns out, the key to making a good website is clean code. I've been working on the LoveSprouts Photography site all day, everyday for a week. About two hours ago I decided to redo all the code to remove all the extra junk hanging around. As I re-wrote each line of code I was able to get rid of everything confusing. Now I'm on fire.
The Stoney Creek Dairy is my hometown's major claim to fame. In it's day people would line up down the block waiting to get their hands on wacky flavors like "Tiger Stripe" and "Strawberry Cheesecake". When I was 18 I got my first real part-time job there. It seems crazy that I was officially an adult before I ever got legitimate employment. I only got the job because I knew Danny had left and so I slipped in there right away.
The work was easy and consisted mostly of replacing the cardboard cubes of ice-cream for the scoop-girls in the front, recording inventory in the freezer and taking out garbage. In the ice-cream industry the volume of trash is obscene. This isn't including customer scraps either, just the crap behind the counter. The dairy had a large industrial trash compactor that required walking through a series of abandoned hallways and what was as that point a defunct diner. The weird unused spaces reminded me of the 1950's. Everything had pale, thick paint on it and rolls of old, sun-faded signs were piled all over. The compactor remains to this day, the worst smell I've encountered.
Part of my job was sorting the freezer which consisted of two sections, the holding freezer and the deep freezer. I loved working in the deep freezer. We had these industrial coats and gloves that made performing laborious tasks doable. Ice mounds would form and the large cardboard cubes of French Vanilla would become encased in a glacier of delicious. For some reason, no one ever wants French vanilla. They had rules about how long it was safe to be in there for a consecutive period of time but it was never enforced. The only time someone would check up to see if I was dead was when they needed more buble-gum or cotton candy flavors.
The holding freezer was a separate room at a slightly less frozen temperature. The bizarre thing was that this room felt much colder than the big one. Bricks of ice-cream were organized and piled up creating a maze of awesome. They never got much higher that 3 or 4 feet but it was still tricky to navigate the room and find what needed finding. This was because the guys over in the actual factory would stamp the flavors onto the side with small, worn out stamps. In addition, this room also had fans blowing the cold air around. It was like the smaller, louder, more annoying teenage version of a freezer.
There was also a huge walk-in fridge out front. This housed all the sundae extras. Brownies, sauces, bags of soft-serve ice-cream. I remember having to mix syrup with a sugar-water saline liquid to make the caramel and English toffee sauce. I would often gorge on brownies while working. This is where I gained most of my weight, the shear volume of crap I ate would make you vomit and drool.
The dairy also had a rooftop patio where I would hide out and pretend to be doing something important. I think my personal tasks on any given shift consisted of hiding from people, not doing any work and eating creamy, stolen desserts. I didn't really care at all about the job seeing as I was leaving at the end of August to go live in a soviet-style concrete box across a hall from the McPoyles.
I was reminded of this time in my life because I had ice-cream yesterday during my nephews 4rth birthday and was staring at my belly in the mirror today feeling guilty as shit for enjoying the small amount I had. I weight about the same as I did in grade 8 I think. I know I shouldn't lose anymore weight, and Mary tells me that I'm disappearing and that my face is sinking in but I can't imagine changing my paranoid eating patterns. My diet is like web design, everything is easier to maintain with a good clean code.
Song of the day:
Saturday, February 5, 2011
It's Wobin, I'm He-yuh!
Of all the apartments I've lived in before my favorite has to be the upper floor Piccadilly St place in London. It was small and had those angled walls from the roof slope so I could really only utilize a a few feet for standing room. The size was really small but the layout was done so well that you felt as if the space was bigger. It was also really high up like a third floor. The ceilings on the main floor must have been insanely high. Insanely high... it sounds like a turn of phrase that makes complete sense until you see it written. The height of this room must have mental illness.
Across the street was a small convenience store that rented movies at an insanely low rate. The inexpensiveness of the rates had mental illness. The Asian family that owned the store took turns manning the counter. I remember that on occasion the nine year old son would be working the cash. There was also a chubby teenage son and a grandpa, the kind of elderly Chinese man that pops into your head when you read "Asian grandpa". After I moved away to Montreal I found out that the store was robbed and the father was stabbed or shot.
The neighborhood was pretty nice and a lot of other houses were easily million-plus homes. That said it was also the area where my car was stolen on Christmas Eve. It was actually pretty easy to steal my car because the back window was composed of strips of packing tape from when my car had been broken into in the same parking lot about 2 weeks earlier. I had Credence tapes but they didn't get stolen. Put a candle in the window indeed. These events didn't bother me because the car had no insurance. This happened after the only car accident I had ever been it. I wasn't actually driving but it was decided I would just claim I was.
At another juncture in my life I lived in a soviet style concrete box on what I remember as being the fifth floor. I think it's the 35 year old carpet in the lobby that makes every shitty apartment building have that poverty-esque smell. The smell of Value Village-musk has a poorish smell too but it's much easier to handle than a decaying building. The kind that has the thick black elevator buttons where the white paint that once made the embossed floor numbers have long since faded.
From the balcony of the concrete box the view consisted of a rail-yard and a large psychiatric hospital. If you squinted you could make out a massive catholic high-school that looked more like shopping mall than a school. Beyond that was Fanshawe College. This was Fanshawe when it still looked like a set from Stanley Kubrick's A Clockwork Orange (this was my reason for choosing the school... I'm not kidding).
The building was part of series of buildings that were called something along the lines of The Mornington Towers which of course meant referring to it as "Morning-Wood Towers". It had a lot of Students as well as recently release patients from the crazy house down the road. At the time the idea of being close to people who were hospitalized was quite unnerving. I'd go as far as to say in was insane... Now, having seen the inside of more than one crazy-house the idea that they were scary is funny.
I'm not sure if I told this story yet but across the hall of this particular location was a pair of brothers and a wife. They were scary. Scary in a way that chills me to the core even now. "If I can just get the frog out of my throat we can all have a Merry Christmas." They were like a cross between the McPoyle brothers and the family from The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.
I lived in two other places in London but they both take up full posts on their own. The two in this set are my favorite and least favorite. Oh... besides the cavepartment, although I do miss my cot-air mattress combo.
Today Mary and I went to see two apartments. We have our specific area that we're sticking to which is essentially within walking distance of the Hamilton Go Station so that I can take the long train ride into Toronto to work. I imagine myself playing Mario on a DS while sipping on a hot coffee that eventually stains my tie as I relax on the lengthy ride into the T-dot. This area of Hamilton is completely foreign to me other than St Joe's which I really only knew from the inside. Circumcisions and overdoses.
The first place we saw was pretty nice but kind of small for the price. It had exposed brick but I couldn't really see myself living in the space. We don't actually plan on getting a place until May 1st but it's good to get an idea of things and to to jump on it if the perfect place pops up. That's a lot of 'p's so you know it's important. The big sellers on this place were the brick, the insuite washer/dryer and the parking spot. If Marybral Palsy gets a placement at St Joe's than she won't need her car anyway. She works essentially beside the Go Station so if we need to go to Toronto to visit people it right there and everything else is also in walking distance.
After we saw the first place we walked around looking for For Rent signs but it was fucking chilly. I had on three pairs of socks and my toes still went from pain to numb. We eventually went to a Bakery on Locke Street. I had never been to Locke Street before. The trendy part, not the Al Simmons gunshop. I liked it a lot.
Later we saw a place that was on an awesome street in a great area that had a nice price and was listed for May 1st... It sucked. The people who own the property were really nice and Scottish. I say that with both meanings; that they were nice and also very nice and Scottish.
We wandered around a lot more and even went to White Elephant and Mixed Media. I almost bought a book on Graphic design theory and at this moment regret not spending the money. If I do buy it I'll go back and get it there rather than online or at a Chapters. I want to support the scene. I'm a huge fan of gentrification! Not sarcastic either. I love gritty areas and I think that if the local poor don't figure out how to make the best of gentrification through creative economics then they're too dumb for any area and are probably better off getting shuffled out.
I'm excited about claiming Hamilton as my home. I grew up in Stoney Creek hating both Hamilton and pretty much all of the lake brim. After living in so many places though I think Hamilton is really awesome place. It's not yet trendy but it's still punk enough to be from. It's Canada's Portland, it's the tiny Apartment with the slanted walls that feels bigger then it actually is.
Song of the day:
Across the street was a small convenience store that rented movies at an insanely low rate. The inexpensiveness of the rates had mental illness. The Asian family that owned the store took turns manning the counter. I remember that on occasion the nine year old son would be working the cash. There was also a chubby teenage son and a grandpa, the kind of elderly Chinese man that pops into your head when you read "Asian grandpa". After I moved away to Montreal I found out that the store was robbed and the father was stabbed or shot.
The neighborhood was pretty nice and a lot of other houses were easily million-plus homes. That said it was also the area where my car was stolen on Christmas Eve. It was actually pretty easy to steal my car because the back window was composed of strips of packing tape from when my car had been broken into in the same parking lot about 2 weeks earlier. I had Credence tapes but they didn't get stolen. Put a candle in the window indeed. These events didn't bother me because the car had no insurance. This happened after the only car accident I had ever been it. I wasn't actually driving but it was decided I would just claim I was.
At another juncture in my life I lived in a soviet style concrete box on what I remember as being the fifth floor. I think it's the 35 year old carpet in the lobby that makes every shitty apartment building have that poverty-esque smell. The smell of Value Village-musk has a poorish smell too but it's much easier to handle than a decaying building. The kind that has the thick black elevator buttons where the white paint that once made the embossed floor numbers have long since faded.
From the balcony of the concrete box the view consisted of a rail-yard and a large psychiatric hospital. If you squinted you could make out a massive catholic high-school that looked more like shopping mall than a school. Beyond that was Fanshawe College. This was Fanshawe when it still looked like a set from Stanley Kubrick's A Clockwork Orange (this was my reason for choosing the school... I'm not kidding).
The building was part of series of buildings that were called something along the lines of The Mornington Towers which of course meant referring to it as "Morning-Wood Towers". It had a lot of Students as well as recently release patients from the crazy house down the road. At the time the idea of being close to people who were hospitalized was quite unnerving. I'd go as far as to say in was insane... Now, having seen the inside of more than one crazy-house the idea that they were scary is funny.
I'm not sure if I told this story yet but across the hall of this particular location was a pair of brothers and a wife. They were scary. Scary in a way that chills me to the core even now. "If I can just get the frog out of my throat we can all have a Merry Christmas." They were like a cross between the McPoyle brothers and the family from The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.
I lived in two other places in London but they both take up full posts on their own. The two in this set are my favorite and least favorite. Oh... besides the cavepartment, although I do miss my cot-air mattress combo.
Today Mary and I went to see two apartments. We have our specific area that we're sticking to which is essentially within walking distance of the Hamilton Go Station so that I can take the long train ride into Toronto to work. I imagine myself playing Mario on a DS while sipping on a hot coffee that eventually stains my tie as I relax on the lengthy ride into the T-dot. This area of Hamilton is completely foreign to me other than St Joe's which I really only knew from the inside. Circumcisions and overdoses.
The first place we saw was pretty nice but kind of small for the price. It had exposed brick but I couldn't really see myself living in the space. We don't actually plan on getting a place until May 1st but it's good to get an idea of things and to to jump on it if the perfect place pops up. That's a lot of 'p's so you know it's important. The big sellers on this place were the brick, the insuite washer/dryer and the parking spot. If Marybral Palsy gets a placement at St Joe's than she won't need her car anyway. She works essentially beside the Go Station so if we need to go to Toronto to visit people it right there and everything else is also in walking distance.
After we saw the first place we walked around looking for For Rent signs but it was fucking chilly. I had on three pairs of socks and my toes still went from pain to numb. We eventually went to a Bakery on Locke Street. I had never been to Locke Street before. The trendy part, not the Al Simmons gunshop. I liked it a lot.
Later we saw a place that was on an awesome street in a great area that had a nice price and was listed for May 1st... It sucked. The people who own the property were really nice and Scottish. I say that with both meanings; that they were nice and also very nice and Scottish.
We wandered around a lot more and even went to White Elephant and Mixed Media. I almost bought a book on Graphic design theory and at this moment regret not spending the money. If I do buy it I'll go back and get it there rather than online or at a Chapters. I want to support the scene. I'm a huge fan of gentrification! Not sarcastic either. I love gritty areas and I think that if the local poor don't figure out how to make the best of gentrification through creative economics then they're too dumb for any area and are probably better off getting shuffled out.
I'm excited about claiming Hamilton as my home. I grew up in Stoney Creek hating both Hamilton and pretty much all of the lake brim. After living in so many places though I think Hamilton is really awesome place. It's not yet trendy but it's still punk enough to be from. It's Canada's Portland, it's the tiny Apartment with the slanted walls that feels bigger then it actually is.
Song of the day:
Friday, February 4, 2011
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Painted Ceilings
Sometimes I get dressed for bed. I'm talking socks, jeans, wallet, pockets full of change and receipts, undershirt, tee-shirt and sweatshirt (hooded zip-up). I like the idea of waking up ready to go. It's not comfortable at all but that adds to the experience. Waking up in my clothes also makes me feel like I can survive with just the clothes on my back. It's preparation for my homeless future.
When I realized that I liked do this I thought it was kind of weird. Then I remembered that I did it all the time before I got together with my ex wife. I'm not saying that she wouldn't let me do it, only that it's one of those things I feel weird doing with another person there. I'm passed that now. Mary knows I do this and as bizarre and unsnuggly as it may be she seems fine with it. People do it all the time when they're drunk, I just happen to plan it out and savor the moment.
Sometimes I also like sleeping on the carpet, in chairs and on top of a made bed. I love waking up at 3:00 am and then crawling under the covers. It's fun, try it tonight!
I decided today that I'm 24. I look like I'm 24 anyway so it's like having a time machine. It's not that I want to relive the last 5 years at all. It's a way to feel less like I've wasted my life and now have plenty of time to become a grown up. Women in their late 40's do it all the time...in movies. The hardest part will be convincing everyone else to just accept it and be ok with it. I'm 24, turning 25 on my 30th birthday.
It seems like a cop-out to try and avoid getting older but in the long scheme of things it won't matter. I can't tell the different between a 73 and 78 year old, fuck I can't tell the difference between a 43 to 48 year old. Age matters to me. It's how I judge my level of success. If I just reset the clock a little I have more room to get to that level. I don't think it will be all that big of a deal except for legal purposes. In that regard it's essentially the same as changing your name. People do that and it's not weird. I don't really even think it will come up in conversation around people who know my birth year. The only time friends really even think about it is on birthdays. And seeing how many of you forgot my birthday last year I don't think that will be too big of an issue. A friendly reminder to friends and family to act as if I'm a half decade younger around that time should help.
Sleeping with my shoes on in Vancouver was also a common practice. I don't mean just leaving them on when I go to bed. I'm usually in sock feet and then put them on just as I'm getting into bed.
I'd like to include a podcast style radio show in the new blog. I've wanted to for a long ass time but it always became yet another unfinished project. If I divide the daily writings up into two parts, I can publish half and then keep the other half for the audio. I'd love to have interviews and discussions on random shit with interesting people. If there is one thing I have in my life, it's interesting people.
I'm so greedy when it comes to skills. I want to be able to do so many things that it weighs heavily when I realize I can't. I'm going to finish everything I start now that I have an extra five years before I get back to this point. What I'd like to do is just teach myself to blank out my age all together. I figure lying to myself long enough will eventually just stick. Then again I'm only 24, what the hell do I know?
Song of the day:
"Displaced" by Azure Ray
When I realized that I liked do this I thought it was kind of weird. Then I remembered that I did it all the time before I got together with my ex wife. I'm not saying that she wouldn't let me do it, only that it's one of those things I feel weird doing with another person there. I'm passed that now. Mary knows I do this and as bizarre and unsnuggly as it may be she seems fine with it. People do it all the time when they're drunk, I just happen to plan it out and savor the moment.
Sometimes I also like sleeping on the carpet, in chairs and on top of a made bed. I love waking up at 3:00 am and then crawling under the covers. It's fun, try it tonight!
I decided today that I'm 24. I look like I'm 24 anyway so it's like having a time machine. It's not that I want to relive the last 5 years at all. It's a way to feel less like I've wasted my life and now have plenty of time to become a grown up. Women in their late 40's do it all the time...in movies. The hardest part will be convincing everyone else to just accept it and be ok with it. I'm 24, turning 25 on my 30th birthday.
It seems like a cop-out to try and avoid getting older but in the long scheme of things it won't matter. I can't tell the different between a 73 and 78 year old, fuck I can't tell the difference between a 43 to 48 year old. Age matters to me. It's how I judge my level of success. If I just reset the clock a little I have more room to get to that level. I don't think it will be all that big of a deal except for legal purposes. In that regard it's essentially the same as changing your name. People do that and it's not weird. I don't really even think it will come up in conversation around people who know my birth year. The only time friends really even think about it is on birthdays. And seeing how many of you forgot my birthday last year I don't think that will be too big of an issue. A friendly reminder to friends and family to act as if I'm a half decade younger around that time should help.
Sleeping with my shoes on in Vancouver was also a common practice. I don't mean just leaving them on when I go to bed. I'm usually in sock feet and then put them on just as I'm getting into bed.
I'd like to include a podcast style radio show in the new blog. I've wanted to for a long ass time but it always became yet another unfinished project. If I divide the daily writings up into two parts, I can publish half and then keep the other half for the audio. I'd love to have interviews and discussions on random shit with interesting people. If there is one thing I have in my life, it's interesting people.
I'm so greedy when it comes to skills. I want to be able to do so many things that it weighs heavily when I realize I can't. I'm going to finish everything I start now that I have an extra five years before I get back to this point. What I'd like to do is just teach myself to blank out my age all together. I figure lying to myself long enough will eventually just stick. Then again I'm only 24, what the hell do I know?
Song of the day:
"Displaced" by Azure Ray
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
General Error
As predicted there was no payment today. I'm literally worthless in my boss's eyes it appears.
My last evening living in Vancouver was spent sleeping in the back of a rented Ford Edge. I folded the back seats down, put on my headphones and slept for about three hours outside of Alison's house. I ended up getting the remaining hours on her pull-out sofa and then slipped out in the early morning hours leaving behind the army cot I had called my bed once. That Ford Edge was an amazing vehicle. It was rather large and showy but it also had a god damn touch screen and iPod controls on the steering wheel.
My actual final hours spent in the city and not counting the airport was in the Blendz I had grown fond of. It was situated between a London Drugs and the main Lululemon store front and offices. The Lululemon has a large wall of glass that lets you watch the seamstresses at work sewing future camel toes and muffin-top containers. The London Drugs on the other side also had a coffee shop chain called Artisiano I believe. When I was a different person I remember going to the Artisiano across from the Vancouver Art Gallery. I remember it, that doesn't mean it actually happened. The London Drugs at this location was the most expensive of the main three I shopped in. For those of us east of the "Thunder Bay Chain Store Line" London Drugs will probably need some explaining. London Drugs is a massive chain of "pharmacy-esque" stores that are all over the western provinces. The best way to describe a London Drugs to fellow Ontarians would be to imagine that a Shopper's Drug Mart pooped a FutureShop.
The Blendz in the middle was very narrow. I looked up the history of the Blendz Coffeehouse Chain and found out that it is indeed a Vancouver chain. In the 90's they started to open locations in Asia and it began to spread like Chlamydia. The big draw for me, besides the wifi, was the massive Rice Krispy Squares and "Nature Bars". The Nature bars I discussed often last summer and tried to recreate back in autumn with limited success. The Rice Krispy Squares though were the real mother-fuck! They would regularly reach sizes of 5"x5"x3". I would often have them as my breakfast and also dinner. Looking back now they must have been about 800 or 900 calories a pop.
They were also open 24 hours a day. This was great during my final hours because it was 4:00 am-ish when I pushed Alison's house keys back through the mail slot. I remember feeling calm and focused and tried hard to download a movie to watch on the plane. I sat at the back wall between the fixing station and the washrooms. The table faced the front window and was a great way to see both the entire coffeeshop as well as the bus station outside. The excitement is palpable. I stayed in that spot for about an hour and a half. Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world I got up, went to the rented Ford Edge and drove down Cambie to the airport. I remember having the new Wolf Parade on and I was singing the words "I was asleep in a hammock, I was dreaming that I was a web, I was a dreamcatcher hanging in the window of a mini-van, I'd say that I was all alone..."
At one point I accidentally ran a red light. I can only assume I was hitting the line "You will never be born as a scorpion" and just got carried away. I never received a ticket so I guess there was no camera.
At the Airport I discovered that the Ford Edge I had rented the day before was actually $100 dollars more than what I had been told 18 hours earlier. This was where I first decided that when it comes to money I would just accept defeat. Since then I've paid out at least $2000 in various government bills including $500 in ambulance fees that I just paid last Friday. If you're wondering about the ambulance... ask someone else. I don't share that story.
The flight was uneventful. I used to love flying and now it's quite possibly the worst procedure I can endure. I suppose it has to do with the fact that all my frequent flights have been alone, bored and cramped, kind of like sleeping in the back of a rented Ford Edge.
Now to the present.
I've been building out the first of about 5 websites I'd like to have in my updated portfolio for May. Web design is fun in a very frustrating way. The front end visual aspect is easy, almost second nature to me. I understand, html css javascript and PHP but being able to read it and being able to write it are two very different things. The nice part is that this first site for my friend Adam is by far the most intricate. I'm pretty proud of it and I can't wait to show it off. He's a wedding photographer out of London. His stuff is amazing and I know that a sweet custom built site will bring him some bones. Bones are the junk your muscles don't use.
I'm also finishing off my After Effects and Maya training. By the end of spring I will have mastered graphic, print, web, multimedia and 3D design. All of this by the way is to try and get an entry level position while I continue to plan my cafe. I prefer to know everything.
Song of the day is:
Promises by Morning Benders
Oh and Happy Birthday.
My last evening living in Vancouver was spent sleeping in the back of a rented Ford Edge. I folded the back seats down, put on my headphones and slept for about three hours outside of Alison's house. I ended up getting the remaining hours on her pull-out sofa and then slipped out in the early morning hours leaving behind the army cot I had called my bed once. That Ford Edge was an amazing vehicle. It was rather large and showy but it also had a god damn touch screen and iPod controls on the steering wheel.
My actual final hours spent in the city and not counting the airport was in the Blendz I had grown fond of. It was situated between a London Drugs and the main Lululemon store front and offices. The Lululemon has a large wall of glass that lets you watch the seamstresses at work sewing future camel toes and muffin-top containers. The London Drugs on the other side also had a coffee shop chain called Artisiano I believe. When I was a different person I remember going to the Artisiano across from the Vancouver Art Gallery. I remember it, that doesn't mean it actually happened. The London Drugs at this location was the most expensive of the main three I shopped in. For those of us east of the "Thunder Bay Chain Store Line" London Drugs will probably need some explaining. London Drugs is a massive chain of "pharmacy-esque" stores that are all over the western provinces. The best way to describe a London Drugs to fellow Ontarians would be to imagine that a Shopper's Drug Mart pooped a FutureShop.
The Blendz in the middle was very narrow. I looked up the history of the Blendz Coffeehouse Chain and found out that it is indeed a Vancouver chain. In the 90's they started to open locations in Asia and it began to spread like Chlamydia. The big draw for me, besides the wifi, was the massive Rice Krispy Squares and "Nature Bars". The Nature bars I discussed often last summer and tried to recreate back in autumn with limited success. The Rice Krispy Squares though were the real mother-fuck! They would regularly reach sizes of 5"x5"x3". I would often have them as my breakfast and also dinner. Looking back now they must have been about 800 or 900 calories a pop.
They were also open 24 hours a day. This was great during my final hours because it was 4:00 am-ish when I pushed Alison's house keys back through the mail slot. I remember feeling calm and focused and tried hard to download a movie to watch on the plane. I sat at the back wall between the fixing station and the washrooms. The table faced the front window and was a great way to see both the entire coffeeshop as well as the bus station outside. The excitement is palpable. I stayed in that spot for about an hour and a half. Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world I got up, went to the rented Ford Edge and drove down Cambie to the airport. I remember having the new Wolf Parade on and I was singing the words "I was asleep in a hammock, I was dreaming that I was a web, I was a dreamcatcher hanging in the window of a mini-van, I'd say that I was all alone..."
At one point I accidentally ran a red light. I can only assume I was hitting the line "You will never be born as a scorpion" and just got carried away. I never received a ticket so I guess there was no camera.
At the Airport I discovered that the Ford Edge I had rented the day before was actually $100 dollars more than what I had been told 18 hours earlier. This was where I first decided that when it comes to money I would just accept defeat. Since then I've paid out at least $2000 in various government bills including $500 in ambulance fees that I just paid last Friday. If you're wondering about the ambulance... ask someone else. I don't share that story.
The flight was uneventful. I used to love flying and now it's quite possibly the worst procedure I can endure. I suppose it has to do with the fact that all my frequent flights have been alone, bored and cramped, kind of like sleeping in the back of a rented Ford Edge.
Now to the present.
I've been building out the first of about 5 websites I'd like to have in my updated portfolio for May. Web design is fun in a very frustrating way. The front end visual aspect is easy, almost second nature to me. I understand, html css javascript and PHP but being able to read it and being able to write it are two very different things. The nice part is that this first site for my friend Adam is by far the most intricate. I'm pretty proud of it and I can't wait to show it off. He's a wedding photographer out of London. His stuff is amazing and I know that a sweet custom built site will bring him some bones. Bones are the junk your muscles don't use.
I'm also finishing off my After Effects and Maya training. By the end of spring I will have mastered graphic, print, web, multimedia and 3D design. All of this by the way is to try and get an entry level position while I continue to plan my cafe. I prefer to know everything.
Song of the day is:
Promises by Morning Benders
Oh and Happy Birthday.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Shake It Orp
Mary says my face is starting to sink in. Not like a mentally challenged person though, more like a homeless man. When I step out of the shower and I see my reflection in the mirror I feel like that scene in The Simpson's where Mr. Burns is getting out of the tub. As soon as I get into my room to dress, I feel overweight again.
A few months ago I started doing sets of push-ups during the day in order to create a more masculine, less methamphetamine look. I was going really strong until I began to work again. This was about a month ago. In that month I broke all of my daily regiments until one afternoon following a sleepless 30 hour logothon I quit. If I add up the totals in how much I should have made this month it's about 6 or 7 grand. Of that total I have, and will more than likely see, $0. I'm not really that upset about it either. In a way it's my own fault. I took on too much and quit in a semi unprofessional way.
The system I worked was based on a per-project basis. The projects included the initial conceptualization, presentation to the client, revisions, final files, stationary, and final stationary files. It's a ton of work and very time consuming. In my last week I was into the stationary periods for most of the initial projects I had started at the beginning. This combined with the volume of new projects meant that my work days were at least 18 hours. Also in the last week I began to see a few clients canceling their projects, often with some abusive comments about how a five year old could do better than my work and that the company needs a more competent designer. It was after I read that my logo samples looked as though they had been picked at random out of the yellowpages that I realized I had forgotten to ask how payment works when a project is canceled. It turns out that I would get nothing on canceled projects, projects that I had spent of average 6 - 7 hours creating and presenting.
In the graphic design world this is called "Spec work". It's like a contest of work. The potential client has the designer create a series of concepts and then if the client likes them he pays. It sounds reasonable on the surface until you begin to understand it.
When the client see's their initial concepts, these concepts are done. The work has been completed. In cases where the work is the level of a 5 year old, I wouldn't pay either. But my work isn't that of a five year old. It's not just random clip-art pulled from a cd. I read over the content they provide including the specifics about the kind of company image they'd like to brand. I research what kinds of symbolism, colors and layouts are easily associated and recognizable within the industry and then combine that with the personal tastes of the client. For the most part the client's are clueless. If they were serious about their companies image they would approach an actual firm who specializes in branding. But I try my best to make due with the information provided and create samples with the same effort as I would were I working at a more upscale company. The point is that even if the client hates my samples, they are not sub-par in quality. I don't like Steely Dan, but I recognize that they know how to play.
So, when I declared that I was done I apologized to my boss and explained that if I was going to be paid on what is essentially a gamble, it wasn't worth the effort. Being deprived of sleep for almost three days I also said that I couldn't complete the projects that were in revisions and that I am willing to take whatever my boss thinks is fair. I figured that his in-house designers could easily finish my projects and take a cut of what I would have made had I completed them myself. Maybe I'm wrong but that seems reasonable to me. Apparently though the volume of work I have completed over the last month, sacrificing my precious push-up regiment, studies and other projects was worth nothing. Perhaps I will indeed get something tomorrow, but I'm not holding my breath.
I won't fight it, ask or beg. I told him I would accept whatever he thinks would be fair. If that equals nothing than so be it. There is a catch though...
You see, if I don't get paid for the samples I create while working it means that they have not actually bought the services I provided. That means that whatever I created, I still own. Now, most of my projects (around 30) have either been finalized or are in the stages of being finalized. That means that these companies are using logos that they don't own. They paid for them, they believe they own them, but they didn't actually buy anything.
So you're a business. You have your stationary printed and your website up and running. Maybe even custom signage and brochures on the way. What would you do if you all of a sudden you found out that the logo you put on everything was illegal and done without permission of the creator and owner. You would probably be drafting a letter to the company you bought that logo from and demand a refund and possible legal action. But beyond that, you now have this logo on everything. Thousands were spent printing and marketing and you can either scrap it all or pay me, the owner for the logo.
You, the company, are assuming that what you paid originally for the logo would be the same price I would accept. But the logo is my property. I can literally charge what ever I want. So let's just say I would like $20,000.00 for the rights to that logo. I wonder who you would demand pay that $20,000.00 in order to secure said logo?
At this point I would assume that my boss would then be trying to get me to sell him the exact same designs I had already created for him for but had never actually paid me for. You would think he could just pay me the original project price as I agreed to, and that very well may be.But even if I offer to let him have the logos for the original project payment, he would almost certainly have had to compensate the client's legal fees, refund them for the hassle and lose a ton of credibility.
I wonder if he's thought of that, when he decides what would be fair.
Another 10 pounds off and I will be happy then.
Song of the day is:
"Houses" as covered by Vetiver
A few months ago I started doing sets of push-ups during the day in order to create a more masculine, less methamphetamine look. I was going really strong until I began to work again. This was about a month ago. In that month I broke all of my daily regiments until one afternoon following a sleepless 30 hour logothon I quit. If I add up the totals in how much I should have made this month it's about 6 or 7 grand. Of that total I have, and will more than likely see, $0. I'm not really that upset about it either. In a way it's my own fault. I took on too much and quit in a semi unprofessional way.
The system I worked was based on a per-project basis. The projects included the initial conceptualization, presentation to the client, revisions, final files, stationary, and final stationary files. It's a ton of work and very time consuming. In my last week I was into the stationary periods for most of the initial projects I had started at the beginning. This combined with the volume of new projects meant that my work days were at least 18 hours. Also in the last week I began to see a few clients canceling their projects, often with some abusive comments about how a five year old could do better than my work and that the company needs a more competent designer. It was after I read that my logo samples looked as though they had been picked at random out of the yellowpages that I realized I had forgotten to ask how payment works when a project is canceled. It turns out that I would get nothing on canceled projects, projects that I had spent of average 6 - 7 hours creating and presenting.
In the graphic design world this is called "Spec work". It's like a contest of work. The potential client has the designer create a series of concepts and then if the client likes them he pays. It sounds reasonable on the surface until you begin to understand it.
When the client see's their initial concepts, these concepts are done. The work has been completed. In cases where the work is the level of a 5 year old, I wouldn't pay either. But my work isn't that of a five year old. It's not just random clip-art pulled from a cd. I read over the content they provide including the specifics about the kind of company image they'd like to brand. I research what kinds of symbolism, colors and layouts are easily associated and recognizable within the industry and then combine that with the personal tastes of the client. For the most part the client's are clueless. If they were serious about their companies image they would approach an actual firm who specializes in branding. But I try my best to make due with the information provided and create samples with the same effort as I would were I working at a more upscale company. The point is that even if the client hates my samples, they are not sub-par in quality. I don't like Steely Dan, but I recognize that they know how to play.
So, when I declared that I was done I apologized to my boss and explained that if I was going to be paid on what is essentially a gamble, it wasn't worth the effort. Being deprived of sleep for almost three days I also said that I couldn't complete the projects that were in revisions and that I am willing to take whatever my boss thinks is fair. I figured that his in-house designers could easily finish my projects and take a cut of what I would have made had I completed them myself. Maybe I'm wrong but that seems reasonable to me. Apparently though the volume of work I have completed over the last month, sacrificing my precious push-up regiment, studies and other projects was worth nothing. Perhaps I will indeed get something tomorrow, but I'm not holding my breath.
I won't fight it, ask or beg. I told him I would accept whatever he thinks would be fair. If that equals nothing than so be it. There is a catch though...
You see, if I don't get paid for the samples I create while working it means that they have not actually bought the services I provided. That means that whatever I created, I still own. Now, most of my projects (around 30) have either been finalized or are in the stages of being finalized. That means that these companies are using logos that they don't own. They paid for them, they believe they own them, but they didn't actually buy anything.
So you're a business. You have your stationary printed and your website up and running. Maybe even custom signage and brochures on the way. What would you do if you all of a sudden you found out that the logo you put on everything was illegal and done without permission of the creator and owner. You would probably be drafting a letter to the company you bought that logo from and demand a refund and possible legal action. But beyond that, you now have this logo on everything. Thousands were spent printing and marketing and you can either scrap it all or pay me, the owner for the logo.
You, the company, are assuming that what you paid originally for the logo would be the same price I would accept. But the logo is my property. I can literally charge what ever I want. So let's just say I would like $20,000.00 for the rights to that logo. I wonder who you would demand pay that $20,000.00 in order to secure said logo?
At this point I would assume that my boss would then be trying to get me to sell him the exact same designs I had already created for him for but had never actually paid me for. You would think he could just pay me the original project price as I agreed to, and that very well may be.But even if I offer to let him have the logos for the original project payment, he would almost certainly have had to compensate the client's legal fees, refund them for the hassle and lose a ton of credibility.
I wonder if he's thought of that, when he decides what would be fair.
Another 10 pounds off and I will be happy then.
Song of the day is:
"Houses" as covered by Vetiver
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)