Getting A Top Ten Ranking On Google

I got an email today offering to sell me tips to help me get a top 10 ranking in Google searches.

I find it kind of funny, because I get a spot near the top all the time. So here are my rules for getting a high ranking with Google.

1. Lots of content: Google likes it when things are fresh. What returns my page in the top spot or two today may not show my page in the top 100 a few weeks from now.

2. Unique key words: some examples of search terms that have led people to this blog lately are... "givenchy indecent" (I came up at #1), "youtube malmstein" (#7), "graffiti mnb" (#3... granted, this one looks a little more targeted, unless MNB has some other meaning I don't know about), and of course "yellow couch" and my name. You never know what people are looking for.

3. Use a Google-owned avenue of communication. Is it coincidental that Google points people to their own blogging site? I don't think so. They like to keep it all in-house...

There you are. You are now on your way to internet glory at absolutely no charge. You can thank me later.

Naked

[SPOILER]

There aren't any pictures of me naked here. It's just the title. You can scroll down in confidence.

[END SPOILER]



Well, it's happened. I didn't take my camera with me when I walked to work today (intentionally... I knew I didn't have time to stop and take any pictures either on the way there or coming home) and I really felt like something was missing. Half of me wanted to close my eyes and try to find my way back without seeing anything, in case some amazing shot appeared before me and I died from the agony of not being able to get it. The other half of me wanted to look everywhere, convinced that Murphy would be at work and, if I couldn't shoot whatever it incredible thing it turned out to be, at least I could see it.

As it was, nothing miraculous happened. No fires, no riots, no supermodel protest marches... so I'm safe for another day. Tomorrow I'm taking it, though...

Creativity

I got this quote from a friend, and I like it a lot, so I thought I'd put it here:

“Somehow,” notes Os Guinness, “we human beings are never happier than when we are expressing the deepest gifts that are truly us.” Now, some children are gifted toward science, and others are born athletes. But whatever their specialty, all children are inherently creative. Give them a barrel of Legos and a free afternoon and my boys will produce an endless variety of spaceships and fortresses and who knows what. It comes naturally to children; it’s in their nature, their design as little image bearers. A pack of boys let loose in a wood soon becomes a major Civil War reenactment. A chorus of girls, upon discovering a trunk of skirts and dresses, will burst into the Nutcracker Suite. The right opportunity reveals the creative nature.

This is precisely what happens when God shares with mankind his own artistic capacity and then sets us down in a paradise of unlimited potential. It is an act of creative invitation, like providing Monet with a studio for the summer, stocked full of brushes and oils and empty canvases. Or like setting Martha Stewart loose in a gourmet kitchen on a snowy winter weekend, just before the holidays. You needn’t provide instructions or motivation; all you have to do is release them to be who
they are, and remarkable things will result. As the poet Hopkins wrote, “What I do is me: for that I came.”

Oh, how we long for this—for a great endeavor that draws upon our every faculty, a great “life’s work” that we could throw ourselves into. “God has created us and our gifts for a place of his choosing,” says Guinness, “and we will only be ourselves when we are finally there.” Our creative nature is essential to who we are as human beings—as image bearers—and it brings us great joy to live it out with freedom and skill. Even if it’s a simple act like working on your photo albums or puttering in the garden—these, too, are how we have a taste of what was meant to rule over
a small part of God’s great kingdom.

(John Eldredge, The Journey of Desire , 152–54)

I read this and realized how much I have to be thankful for. God knows I'm not perfect: I could come up with a list of proposed changes pretty quickly. But I think of times when the greatest dilemma in my life seems to be that I want to write, to create music, and to make beautiful pictures, and I just can't decide which one to throw myself into at that moment. For a time I do one, then the other, then switch back before hungering again for the third. What a problem to have... too many outlets ready to accept whatever creative energy I have.

It makes me look back to a time in my life when there was very little of that... I was listless, aimless, and living in black and white. What a difference! How alive I feel, now... I can get out and walk for 8 hours seeing the amazing variety and beauty and also the dark side of nature, of people, and of what we have created without even thinking about the time. I can sit at my mixing desk until 3 AM aching just to record one more part, to see a song moving from a whisper to a roar. I can close my eyes and sing my heart out and reach for that high note without holding back. And I see that my creative life and my spiritual life go hand in hand... the more I exercise my creativity, the more I am reminded of how and why I am the way I am. And the more I draw close to God, the more value and beauty and purpose I find in the things my hands naturally seek out.

So my prayer for tonight is not just, "thank you, God, for music", but "thank you, God, for the music in me". For not just one but many great endeavors at my feet. I'm blessed.

A Few Pictures

I've been updating my photo site, but, in case you haven't seen it, here are some recent shots I'm fond of.

Fancy

I had an interesting conversation with a German this week. And I mean interesting in the traditional English sense of the word (thought-provoking), not the Frenglish sense (weird). And let me state, for the record, that I have a few German friends, have probably spent more than a year in Germany, all told, have some German art hanging on my wall, and think they make great beer and can do things with pork that defy description.

But no one else can use "fancy" as a curse word quite like a German.

I like beautiful things. And some of the beautiful things I like are, indeed, fancy. I don't like something just because it's fancy; I also don't dislike it just because it's fancy. When I hear someone use the word, I am prone to think "ornate", but I'm pretty sure that, for a lot of Germans, a more accurate translation would be "frivolous".

One of the things that I love - and have loved - about living in Geneva is the chance to explore a much, much bigger world than I ever knew existed. Bigger in terms not of just geography, but in terms of ideas, of cultures, of passions and motivations and political views. To be able to have worked all over Europe, in the Middle East, and to really get to know people from so many different places has led me to love - and be fascinated by - people in a way that I couldn't really have imagined before. And it's changed me significantly. I think this example is a little funny because it's just so completely foreign to how I think, but mostly I just love that it exists.

Up with people, eh?

If You Came From DP Review

... and are looking for pictures, I'm sorry. I typed the wrong address, and I can't edit the post. You'll find them here, though: www.yellowcouch.zenfolio.com

Internet Searches, Part II

The couch still smells a little like that Givenchy perfume.

And I'm starting to like it.






Help.

Public Transit

I love the public transit we have here. I rarely drive... I tend to walk almost everywhere I go, or take a tram or bus if it's too far or I'm running behind. True, we have the slowest trams in Europe (since they share their space with cars and, more often than not, pedestrians. But it's not that bad.

In Lausanne, though, it seems to be another story. They have a strategy that, if I understand it correctly, more or less boils down to getting to the end of the line and waiting there for as long as possible before leaving. I think the drivers may have a little contest going.

Now, I was never a big fan of those "Billy leaves school heading 16° east, riding his bike at 8.2 Km/h. Sue leaves her house heading 42° west, skateboarding at 6.3 km/h. If the wind is from the SSW at 40 knots and the moon is in falling aries, who will get to Quick-e-mart first?". This one is easy (Billy will get there first since Sue will be in the hospital - chicks can't skate), but I didn't usually find them that compelling, as far as narrative goes.

I can't help but think, though, that having a bus or metro sitting at a stop for 10 minutes instead of moving only helps me if I arrive late. And, if you know me at all, you know how I feel about arriving late. Even then, shouldn't there be a point at which another one should be coming? If the route takes 20 minutes and the bus waits 10 minutes at each end, maybe we could just let him drive and put another bus on, too. They could even be smaller.

It could be worse, I guess. I tried taking a bus in Calgary and had to wait over an hour for it. Oh well.

More Girly Stuff

Well, tonight it was Pink, Who Knew.

I've never been a huge fan of hers... she has seemed just a little too much in the past, with the tough-girl image and the whole "I'm a pop star who's not a pop star" thing, but I was in the mood to play this one tonight, and it just hauled. The verses are a bit plain and the bridge is actually disturbingly weak, but that chorus....

Wow.

And especially in the last one when she kicks it up a notch and goes high... I got outvoted for whether or not this tune suits having male backing vocals, but I'm just going to have to push the mic aside and sing my heart out - there's no way to let that chorus go by on its own. And really - I couldn't care less if no one else can hear me.

And it makes me just ache to play my acoustic kit... to have those high hats open and creating this wall of sound, huge and resonant... the kick drum feeling like a punch in the stomach... my piccolo snare ringing out and cutting through the rest of the music like a bell... wow, I miss it.

I'm not a guy who's really prone to aggression I don't usually like loud noises. But there is something about laying into a snare drum until it feels like it's going to rip your face off that just can't be compared to anything else. If you ever get the chance, I highly suggest that you try it. Of course, not everyone may have the same reaction I do to it, but who knows? Maybe you will.

Old Friends

Not really old - they're younger than I am - but you know what I mean. I had the chance to reconnect with some old friends over the last couple of days, and it's been wonderful to relax, talk, eat, and play with the little chick together. It makes me realize that the challenge of dealing with people leaving (a real fact of life in Geneva) is maybe worth it when I consider the great people I know all over the world. Not a bad silver lining.

Oh, and my online photo album is getting closer. I think one more week and it will be caught up and in good shape. If you want to see the progress, you can take a peek here.

Wednesday Is Graffiti Day

I'm late, but I had trouble finding the shot I wanted. I found it now, though, and I'm happy, happy, happy. I don't know what you expect from graffiti, but subtlety is not usually high on that list for me.

This one is different.

Yes, there may be a very real possibility of me not understanding it. That's okay. I'm going way post-modern on this and have decided that what matters is not what the artist intended, but how I view it. And I view "morose" (if it's not a word you're familiar with, it means gloomy, melancholy, or sullen). And it's in pink.

I think this may be the world's subtlest graffiti. I love it. Enjoy, and have a happy weekend!

Internet Searches

I have had a few strange ones that have led people to my page, but today I got to try my own: "clean pen leather". Yes, the Yellow Couch just got a little more blue. So far, best of the bunch (but not 100%) is hairspray. Unless I can find some nail polish remover, cologne is next on the list...

Rats.

[EDIT] Perfume works better than hair spray. My house sure smells different than usual, though. Givenchy "Indecent". At least it's not floral.

Emptying Out The Attic

Sorry if you've been checking in and been greeted by a whole lot of nothing. Hopefully this will help to make up for it, at least a little.

This past Saturday I got a message from a friend asking if I was planning to go check out the annual festival when all of the Geneva wineries have tastings and tours and such, called "Caves Ouvertes" (Open Cellars), or "Vide Grenier" (Empty the Attic). I've done it before and it was fun, so we arranged a time and met up to take the bus.

Now, when you're doing wine-tasting, there are two ways to do it: you can taste and spit, or you can actually drink it. I guess both have their advantages... if you spit the wine out after you taste it, you can try a whole lot of different ones without having to worry about getting drunk or making your liver look like a Keith Richards reject. On the other hand, if you actually drink the wine you don't feel like an idiot who is spitting things out in a public place. I don't know about you, but that just doesn't sit well with me, so I'd prefer to try less but reduce the chance of dribbling on myself. I figure the time for that will come eventually, and I want to be able to savor it then.

So the bus was a winner on a couple of fronts. First of all, I had no idea where we were supposed to be going (a shock, I know). Second, I don't drink much, but I don't want to take any chances with driving when I shouldn't be. The downside is that, if you find one you really like, it's hard to bring much back on a bus. But I was willing to cross that bridge when I got to it.

The promotional materials were pristine in their simplicity: just take the "E" bus to Vesenaz, and then hop on the free shuttles set up just for this occasion and they would take you around from one winery to the next. What could be easier?

Well, it turns out that a few things could; building a nuclear reactor out of coconuts and pipe cleaners, for example.

We followed the instructions to the letter - got the right bus, going the right way, and got off at the right stop, along with a few other hopeful-looking people. At which point we all started looking around for some indication that this was, indeed, where the shuttle bus would come.

There was none. And for good reason, as it turns out.

We waited a while... the shuttle was supposed to run every 20 minutes. But it didn't come. A couple people went into a wine store next to the bus stop to ask. They came out and said that the guy there said that it would come right where we were - we just needed to wait.

So we waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

So here's the thing. It seemed pretty certain that this was not the right spot. But there was no way to guess where the right spot might be. No signs, no indications, no tour guides happily moving the bustling crowd of tourists into the vintners' waiting arms.

In fact, it was like almost every other public event I've ever attended in Switzerland. Things are rarely very widely advertised - you really need to keep an ear to the ground to find out about anything other than new hip-hop albums and Mr Latino contests (the only two things worthy of posters, it seems). But when you do find out, you're not that much ahead.

When people describe the Swiss as closed and and cold, I have to say that the Swiss people I know are really, really not like that - not at all. But maybe the culture is. I get the feeling that there is this implicit factor that they've done things the exact same way for, say, the last 800 years, and if you haven't figured it out, it's certainly not their problem.

So you go to a race, and you know which town to head to since that's the name of the race. And there will probably be someone directing the parking efforts because if there is one thing the Swiss are quite concerned about, it's where you park. But after that you're on your own. "Where do I register?" What kind of question is that? "Where is the start?" Well, if you can't even figure that out, I don't know what chance you think you have of being able to run! You head to a music festival or concert - or ski resort, for that matter - and it's the same thing. "If you can't figure it out, we're certainly not going to tell you". It's like Darwinism for tourism. Wildly successful, as you can imagine.

The shop-keeper's attitude was a common one, as well. Most people in stores here are barely concerned with what's inside their shop... the outside world may as well not exist. When he said the bus goes by "right there", he meant that the bus would not actually be coming into the shop itself. The bus stop, the winery, Turkey and the CN Tower are all more or less at the same spot to him: not in the store. That's as much precision as he deemed necessary. I was in a store once in Calgary trying to buy a big cooler, but they didn't have any. "Do you have any idea if anyone else around here might carry them?" I asked. The lady paused for a moment, then said, "Well, there's another place in the mall that might have some. Would you like me to call them for you?". Unfortunately, after having lived with Swiss service for several years by that point I became quite overwhelmed and kissed her, a gesture which she apparently misinterpreted. But I digress. The fact is, you're lucky in Geneva if a store owner will actually direct you to anything in their shop - outside? Not a chance.

We did eventually see a bus... a couple blocks away, pulling to a stop that would never, ever go by our current location. Thanks, Mr. Store Guy. Would love to buy something, but it looks like now I have to run to catch a bus instead.

So, feeling triumphant that we had actually found the shuttle bus, we perhaps let down our guard a little too far. We got off at the next stop, eager to see what the locals had to offer.

Picture this with me, if you will. It may be easier if you imagine a grainy, seventies kind of movie feel. A bus stops on a lonely country road, and two weary travelers get off. As they gather themselves up, the bus pulls away, leaving them a little disoriented. And next to them is... nothing but a sign that the bus stops here. No "Wine Here!" signs with a helpful arrow. No leaflets. No map with the wonderful red "you are here" marking.

Nothing.

Maybe I shouldn't be so negative. At least the bus stop was marked. Unfortunately, I can't help but think that when you've gone to the trouble of setting up an event-specific shuttle bus route, you may want it to actually go, say, to where the event is taking place. But not in Switzerland.

So we looked around for the nearest building, and headed in that direction. It turned out to be a farm that offered tours, with no mention of making wine, let alone having any tastings. But they did seem to have a shop, so, faced with the prospect of wandering back to the side of the little highway and waiting for the next bus or going in to see what quaint but overpriced goods could be had, we opted for the store. After spending several minutes examining organic bread, various jars of oil and preserves, vegetables that looked remarkably similar to vegetables in the supermarket, the woman behind the counter asked if we were familiar with the Open Cellars. Shocked, all thoughts of trying a honey and fresh carrot sandwich were quickly banished. She pointed to a doorway leading from another little room behind the counter from the shop. "We're doing a tasting in there" she said.

So this is how well it's organized. We take a bus to find no shuttle in evidence. We find a shuttle and get off at a stop with no wineries advertised. We manage, somehow, to locate a winery but don't see any wine, until some woman decides we've probably had enough and takes pity on us.

And much of the day went on like that. It was fun - don't get me wrong - but very, very Swiss.

Oh, and we met the world's friendliest man.

He started chatting to us on the bus. "Do you speak French?" he asked. "Only a little," I said, "... sorry." Not deterred, he continued, "How about Spanish?" "Not at all," I replied, "what about English?" "No," he said, "I don't' speak English."

So he decided that French would be the official language of our communications and stayed with us for the rest of the afternoon. He told stories about the world war and the Olympic museum (as far as I could tell), talked about his sons, all living in France, how his wife had died from cancer. He brought wine for us when we did manage to find a tasting. And he posed for a picture with me:

I liked him, but I don't think I've ever met anyone who could talk quite so much with so little to go on. I'm sure that I only understood about 10% of what he was saying, but he seemed happy, so we just rolled with it. And, before our last stop of the day, he gave me a map he had picked up somewhere that had all the wineries in the region listed on it.

A map.

Who knew?

Thanks For Playing

Hey, thanks for reading along, as my friend's dad used to say. And I want to say this without being facetious at all: I really appreciate the comments. When I started, I used to lie awake at night, wondering (like a DJ on the 2-5 AM shift) if there was anybody actually out there. Well, not really, but still - it means a lot to me that you not only take the time to check in and see what I have to say, but that you say something, too.

So, thanks.

Oh, and I can tell a few of the "Anonymous"-es apart by what they say and how they write. But if I get you mixed up with someone else on occasion or fail to recognize that you're new, I'm sorry. No hard feelings?

Block Voting, And The Winner

As we expected:
Montenegro, Bosnia & Herzegovina, Croatia, Macedonia, and Slovenia voted for Serbia
Belarus voted for Russia
Ukraine and Russia voted for Belarus
Denmark and Norway voted for Sweden; Sweden returned the favor for Finland
Greece voted for anyone other than Turkey, but Germany voted for Turkey
Turkey voted for anyone other than Greece, but Cyprus voted for Greece

I'm still not convinced that Moldova is a country.

The Swiss commentators only mentioned DJ Bobo four times, as far as I heard, which is about 20 times less than I was expecting.

And, in the end, the winner is Serbia. I was hoping that the Ukraine would pull through in the end (the Serbian song was boring almost beyond imagination) but it was not to be...

See you next year...

Eurovision - The FInal

It's in real time, baby... the voting has ended, but the tallies haven't started yet. In the meantime we're watching Apocolyptica... ah, it brings back memories of Alice Cooper last year. They've lost a member, but acquired a guy who can swallow a fluorescent light tube. See - you should have come to watch it with me.

Anyway, here are my notes so far...

FYR Macedonia - She was wearing a skort. And why, "Former Yugoslavian Republic of..."? Are there a lot of other Macedonias that they are worried about being confused with?
Ireland - like The Corrs, but really, really flat. Ouch.
Spain's first boy band - or "boys' band" as the Swiss TV guys called them. So near, and yet so far.
Slovenia - Opera techno. Hold me, I'm scared.
Hungary - a blues tune, of course, but the winner of Hungarian Idol
Finland - Evenescence. In Finish, though.
Lithuania - wow, this is boring. No dancing. Next!
Greece - Ricky Martin wanna-be. Terrible song, he can't sing, can't dance, but that's why he has the back-up dancers. As Troy said, the rhythmic gymnastic influence of the choreography makes it a sure-fire winner. They have my vote. Here are the lyrics:

First off, she's a lady,
THis is a lady's world
She does drive me crazy,
Dancing like a cheeky girl

And a little bit of his promo video... no dancers, though. I'm sorry.



Sweden - Boy George meets The Darkness with a lot of Queen. They played going on up to the Spirit in the Sky with different words and a slightly different tune. Finished with the singer losing his jacket. How can they not win?
France - like all French music, full of pathos, just lacking a melody. What a shame. Thanks for coming out, boys.
Latvia - the four tenors. It's a terrible, terrible idea, even without the top-hats. White tie and jeans? Come on, guys. That's not fusion. It's just tacky.
Russia - very, very Russian. A little hot and bothered. School-girl outfits. Janet-Jacksonesque dance break in the middle. Couldn't really sing, and all three girls sang melody 95% of the time. It's only a matter of time until they're on MTV.
Germany - last year was country. This year is a lounge act. Progress? I guess how many times do you have a chance to wear a white fedora?
Serbia - KD Lang, but with a worse haircut. Maybe it would be really moving if I spoke Serbian. As it is, it just kind feels kind of serious, and has the slowest dancing in the world.
Ukraine - very shiny, cross-dressing, singing in German, accordians and techno/polka mix. Houston, we have a problem. The Swiss commetnators loved it.
England - well, it's better than last year. They were trying to be suggestive, I think, but it was hard to know because everyone kept laughing and I found it a little distracting.
Romania - not to self - never, ever go to Romania. Any country that still thinks music that gets progressively faster and has most of the lines ending with "hey!" is not a place where I will feel safe. Not safe at all.
Bulgaria - cool drums. Shame about the singing.
Turkey - once again, it would have been so much better with just the dancers. Almost no melody, but he somehow still managed to butcher it.
Armenia - just trying way, way too hard.
Muldova - is this even a country? That chick had the lowest-riding pants I think I've ever seen. I don't know how the kept them up. Maybe it's one of those tivee tricks. In any case, the chick has pipes - she hit some tough notes and didn't go flat.

Best sign I spotted in the audience - "Where is Andorra?"
Good question, really.

And the best interview - "What does music mean to you?"
Answer: "More."

The results will be up soon....

Call Me Stan

So, it looks like the best way to advance to the Eurovision finals is to be from a country with "stan" in the name. Or at least Eastern European. But definitely not from a country with a French heritage or language.

At least, that's what the guys on Swiss TV figured. The other media agreed.

Switzerland didn't make it. Belgium didn't make it. Andorra didn't make it. Under other circumstances, I would have said that perhaps the reason that they didn't qualify in a phone-in vote music contest was because maybe their songs sucked.

Well, they did, but that's hardly a determining factor here. I mean, out of 40 or so entries, I can count on one hand the number of tunes I'd actually want to listen to again.

Things I noticed this year - there is a refreshing absence of ska (just a hint from Israel, which is clearly part of Europe), Evenescence seems to have had a hand in more than half of the entries. It continues to move from the Eurovision Song Contest to the Eurovision Dance Contest, but I'm okay with that. As long as DJ Bobo isn't there, I'll be happy to watch...

See you Saturday for the finals!

Eurovision

Semi-finals. Tonight. My place. 21:00. See you there.

Wednesday Is Graffiti Day

Well, I can't find the one I wanted to post today. But at least I remembered.



Next week will be extra good, I promise.

Prayer, Part II... and a half

We continued our study on prayer last night at YAGS, talking about how to get ready to pray. Should be simple, right? Well, it hasn't been for me.

I have spent years trying to figure this out... mostly the stupid way - trying unsuccessfully and getting frustrated, but not enough to actually seek out help. When I came to the point of needing to pray in the same way that I need air or food, I started to learn a bit more, and, far more importantly, to be changed by it. As I've studied it, I've learned more still.

I think there are two things that have really helped me.

First, as I've understood more and more of what prayer is supposed to be, I've been able both to pray in a way that is oriented to that and to recognize when it is what it should be. Before, it was like the first time someone gave me a kite as a little kid. I tried to play with it, but it was too big to really handle easily, like my other toys. I tried to throw it in the air like a paper airplane, but it just crashed down again. "This is the stupidest toy, ever" I thought. But when I saw it fly for the first time, I understood... I hadn't known how to interact with it, and certainly had no idea that THAT was what it was for. Learning what it really was and how it worked made all the difference.

Second, and much more personally, I've seen that God wants me without reservation. He wants me to seek him with all I am and have. He wants me to submit without holding anything back. And when I do, he moves me. He works in me and around me. He comforts me, and he answers my prayers. And when I don't, it's a lot like sitting in my room talking to my ceiling.

I wish it wasn't like this. I wish I could do what I want and have God cater to me. But that's not the way it works. And that's what makes this whole thing something that is impossible to do - or even really consider - intellectually.

I saw someone on the train recently reading a book about how to ride a horse. He was on the "Galloping" chapter. I've seen it in other places, too... reading about mixing music, about seeing the world in a creative way as a photographer. I've felt it pretty acutely when trying to learn to golf or ski. There are some things you can learn by reading about them, and there are some that you can't. You can read all you want, but until you've been on the back of a horse that has its head and wants to go, you don't know what galloping is. And until you decide, for the moment you are in, to live in complete and total submission, you will never know what prayer really is, either.

The notes for the second part are here. (The ones from the first part are here in case you missed them). You can find the other related posts by following the link on the "prayer" topic. So let me know what you think. And I'll see you in a couple of weeks at Sam and Michelle's.

I Smell Like Soap

Soap-scented perfume.

Who thought this was a good idea? And what are the odds of so many things going wrong in the precise sequence needed to bring this idea to fruition?

1. Someone says, "hey, we should make perfume that smells like soap!" They don't just say this to themselves, but actually let other people hear them.
   
2. Someone else has the chance to say "you're fired" and, instead, says, "that's a great idea!". Something a little fishy going on there? I think we both know the answer to that one.
3. Some guys in the lab not only agree to the project, but put in the hours needed to create a "just like a nurse's hands" kind of vibe
4. A focus group somehow gives off the impression that, should a product like this be made available on the market, they would be sure to buy it - regularly, and in the largest sizes available
5. A finance committee believes that the fiscal security of their company would be well protected by more people smelling like soap
6. A marketing team finds a way to make it seem like a good idea ("everyone will think you're clean, even when you're not!")
7. No court, at civic, state, federal, or international level sees fit to side with justice
8. Perfume shop managers decide to clear some shelf space ("say, Emmet - maybe if we get rid of that stock of soap that we had that just hasn't been moving, we can make space for this hot new brand that smells like... soap!" - "Killer idea, Dean. High five!")

And here, we have two divergent paths.

1. The first, only mildly frightening - someone decides to buy it without ever having smelled it, likely based on the pretty colors on the box and perhaps the slide whistle (as in, "clean as...") thrown in to make it a "gift set"
2. The second, much more insidious - someone smells it, realizes it smells like soap, and decides to buy it anyways ("you know, baby, it really gets me going when you smell like grandma")

And finally, someone gains ownership of a bottle of this perfume, by legitimate or illicit means, puts it on for the first time (or... no, I don't even want to think about that) and decides that it would still be a pretty good idea to go outside.

It's just too crazy. If I hadn't smelled it myself, I would never have believed it. Does someone have some insight for me, here?!?

Visitors And The MNB Plans Ahead

I have a lot of friends coming to visit in the next couple of months... most only for a couple of days, but, still - I'm really looking forward to it. I'm not going to make any kind of top-ten list for maintaining my long-distance friendships, I'm afraid, but there are a lot of people who are not in my day-to-day life but who I really care about. And it will be wonderful to see some of them this summer.

Also, it looks like the MNB (likely under a stage name) will be performing in September. I was kind of hoping it would be sooner for the people who will be gone as of summer, but a little more time to polish some of the tunes won't hurt. I can't wait! Best onesthat we practiced tonight were by Maroon5, I think. Really well-written, and man.... they just groove. She will be loved has a certain, shall we say, chordal similarity to "With Or Without You" (along with about a billion other songs) in the chorus, but the melody line is distinctive enough that I don't think it hurts it at all. I'm going to be singing all night...

Follow Up On The SoM Night

I had WAY too much fondue.

It was a wonderful time... great dinner, nice to be with some people I have known for ages, some I've known for a little while, and a few brand new ones. And the weather was cold, so it was the perfect night for a fondue. But I should have stopped a long time before I did.

I made it through most of the movie okay. How do you solve a problem like Maria, I am 16 going on 17, the puppet show, the drapes, wondering how old the baroness was... I was fine with all of that. But when the Nazis came into the picture, all that cheese started to get to me. I don't think I slept, but I did stretch out and rest my eyes a bit, which made the remainder of the movie even more pleasant. And, thanks to a kind friend on the way home, I had Christina Aguillera's "I Am Beautiful" to compete with "Do Re Mi" for the remainder of the night. How perfect!

Oh, and I had a friend ask this morning what costume I ended up going with. In the end, I choose the "guy who good-natured-ly mocks out Julie Andrews movies but is happy to be with friends and eating fondue". And it worked out well - I was able to stay in character all night.

Four sleeps until the Eurovision semi-finals!

Fine Art

I'm going to a Sound Of Music party tonight. I realize that half of you who are reading this are checking the url and wondering if you've somehow landed on the wrong page. But no, it's me, and I'm going. And I'm going to have fun.

It's gotten me thinking. How does one prepare for a SoM party? Are there Rocky Horror Picture show kinds of rituals that I should be prepared for? Should I wear the costume I got cheap on eBay from some guy called "Prnc_Hrry"? Break out the lederhosen? In any case, at the urging of my therapist, I've decided to leave all my firearms at home. And you know, I think she's right.

Eurovision is coming up in the next week, and I am super pumped about that. I don't think that the semi-finals on Thursday are going to be broadcast in English, but hopefully the finals on Saturday will be. By the way, when I find out what time they are, you're invited.

And finally, I've been in a total Klimt mood lately. Color, texture, hints of gothic masterpieces... this guy had it going on. Does anyone know of a museum with a decent collection?

Got to go. I need to make myself a suit out of my curtains.

May Day Pictures (Photojournalism Take II)

Here are some shots of the May Day demonstrations in Geneva. I'm still trying to figure out how to best link/display the pictures from zenfolio here, so for now I'll just include a link to the album...

And here's something interesting: I've noticed that I get a lot of reaction by carrying a "big" camera (even though it's actually one of the most compact cameras available with interchangeable lenses). I have been asked to take pictures of people with my camera, asked to take pictures of people with their camera, waved away, picked up, given looks of very serious suspicion bordering on anger, and had other "camera people" stare openly to see what I'm using... I certainly was not expecting this. But the fun part was that, for the demonstration, I could take as many pictures as I wanted, standing on a barrier beside the road, and people just assumed that I was a photographer - of the sort who was supposed to be standing by the road taking pictures of a demonstration. Kind of handy...

[EDIT] A couple of those will make more sense if I explain them - the Palestinian one is in there because they are Geneva's most regular protest group. In the summer, they are out every Friday at Bel Air. I hadn't associated them with a power-to-the-worker march before, but wasn't really surprised to see them, either. And the guy with the cigarette and the cable was a DJ in the park, setting up to help the worker get down, I guess.

Wednesday Is Graffiti Day

Or was. Sorry - that's two weeks in a row *hides face in shame*

Here's one by the toughest gang in Lugano. To join, you have to be willing to cut off your own legs at the knee. They don't catch many people, but if they do get a hold of you, you're in deep trouble.

A New Most Interesting Seach Term

I'm always interested to see what searches have led people to my page. This may be the best so far:

"chocolate hot pepper gelato"

Wow. I wish I could have heard the conversation that led to someone looking up that on google. And I'm not sure what they were looking for, but I'm pretty sure that, although my page is the only one returned in the search results, they didn't find it here.

Oh, and I'm inclined to think that the person who followed "asking for discipline" also may have ended up with something a little different than they had anticipated...

Sports And Genetics And God

*Spoiler*

This isn't really about science as much as it sounds from the title. If you want science, you should probably keep on looking.

*End spoiler*

I'm watching snooker.

And here's the thing - I know who the guys are who are in it - when they show the last names, I know the first names. I can picture some of them. I know that the World Championship is called "The Crucible" because it's held in the Crucible Theater (or maybe the other way around - I'm not obsessed). And I'm sad that Stephen Hendry is out. He's my favorite snooker-er, perhaps because he kind of looks like a wolf when he's leaning over his cue to make a shot... VERY cool eyes. And, let's face it: when you're deciding which snooker-er to root for, how much like a wolf his eyes look is just as good a criterion as anything else.

Probably more of you than would like to are aware of how I feel about what is called a "sport" and what's included in the Olympic program (I'm building momentum - slowly - for a place on the IOC), and there is no way snooker is a sport. But it's really hard. The tables are huge, the pockets are small... I remember playing snooker with Brock a couple times on a normally-sized pool table with somewhat more generous pockets, and it was still tough. I can't do it. So I kind of like watching these guys who are absolute masters at it... they make it look so easy, and I wouldn't even know the difference if I hadn't tried it myself.

So that makes me think about things I've tried that have turned out to be far more difficult than I would have expected:

• Throwing pottery (though it would have helped if they would have told me the wheel went the other way for left-handed people on the first day)
• Golf (also not a sport)
• Math (what's up with that, anyway?!?)
• Keeping my daughter in the same country I'm in
• Speaking (include reading, writing, and understanding) French
• Finding decent prints of Flemish Primitives (yeah, it's a Wikipedia day)
• Or, on a related note, painting

Conversely, there are some things that have been much easier than it seems like they should have been. Not that I've mastered these, but I probably do better at them than I should, given my training and knowledge:

• Drumming (really - you just count to 4 over and over and try not to get faster)
• Public speaking (a lot like normal speaking, but hopefully more people are listening)
• Photography (though, as a friend mentioned a couple weeks ago when seeing the lens I was using, "oh, that's why your pictures look so good!")
• Writing (in English, thanks)
  

But here's the really odd part - prayer, for me, has been in both of these categories at one time or another. Much more often in the first one, unfortunately, but not always. And as I've been reading about it, and thinking about it, and studying it, and doing it to be able to speak coherently about it at YAGS, I've been mystified by how it can be, at the same time, the simplest and most mystical thing I do most days. As easy as breathing. As difficult as requiring God to die to make it possible. Sometimes involuntary, sometimes demanding an act of will that seems to go against everything inside me.

I'm tempted to concoct some thin analogy relating prayer to the snooker match that's on, but I need to go. Maguire is just finishing up a century, and I need to watch.