A Rain of Frogs

In much the same way some animals can sense an oncoming storm, I’ve had this nagging feeling, deep in the back of my mind. Like a subtle itch I can’t scratch. I sometimes feel this is the result of having run my course in my current career, like I’ve grown as much as I can in this arena, and that maybe its time to move on.

It’s hard to know for sure. Professionally, I’ve done nothing else but web development – for ten years now. Many of my peers have written books, had speaking engagements, or started companies of their own doing the things they’re passionate about. I’m very passionate about the work I do too, but not to the same extent as others.

It’s not an issue of success. I consider myself very successful. Without meaning to sound arrogant, I am one of the best at what I do. This in itself might be the problem, but I don’t think so.

The web has become a fairly mature medium, and what was once new and exciting has become commonplace and mundane. I am not good with the commonplace – a character flaw I readily admit. It’s not the status quo I have problems with, it’s that there’s nothing but the status quo.

This isn’t to say the web has reached a point in which no more development will occur. I highly doubt that. New and enterprising minds will bend and torture the technology just as I and my peers have done for the last ten years, but I think for us, the originals, that evolution is over.

I also feel that the web has become so overburdened with research- and marketing-driven targeted assaults on buying power, that the “average user” (a non-existant idea if ever there was one) has become as disillusioned with the ‘net as they have with television. Add the constant struggle to keep evildoers and the hordes of viruses, trojans and worms out of the systems, and the Internet becomes something that is a bother to use. I suspect for purchase research and general information gathering, the Internet will remain the medium of choice, but for anything else – including recreation, I suspect the ‘net has passed its peak. Television, at least, requires no active participation.

I could, if I were so inclined, tackle these issues, and make the Internet a better place, but I don’t think I have it in me anymore. I want to do creative things, that appeal to all levels of my mind. I want to work to live. I’m tired of living to work. I’m no Type A, and I’d rather be sailing.

Maybe we all wear ourselves down on the leading edge eventually. A friend of mine, in the same industry, tells me that the way I feel (and he feels much the same) is situational, and I am inclined to believe him. I just can’t help but wonder if there isn’t a happier medium.

There are no role models. There are no teachers. Knowledge has become so easy to access that it has lost both context and meaning.

I am the first to admit I am very unforgiving when it comes to obesity. It is terrible of me to look at someone who is morbidly obese and have to fight my first instinct to judge them as weak of character and lacking in personal pride. I admit this is the case. It is perhaps a weakness of my own character, and something I believe I should strive to change.

I should be less judgmental.

I have recently developed a little more sympathy for the morbidly obese. Things I have been reading are slowly beginning to chip away at my wall of opinion, leaving me more open to ideas I wouldn’t previously have considered. Maybe its just old age – senility kicking in.

I still place the majority of blame for most cases of obesity firmly in the court of those afflicted though I now recognize that a war is being waged against these same people, in much the same way drug dealers take advantage of people and push their wares on the troubled. They’re called pushers for a reason.

In the end, it is each individual who decides to put that next bite of food in their mouths, but psychology companies masquerading as marketing firms hired by chemical companies pretending to be food producers long ago launched an offensive on these people, targeting them with addictive substances in the guise of food – substances which fool the brain into thinking it needs more food.

The “food” companies win, because the obese buy more food with lower nutritional content to feed their addiction. The marketing companies win because they win bigger contracts for bigger markets from bigger food companies. The health companies win, selling more medication to deal with ORCA (Obesity Related Complexes and Afflictions – rather poignant, isn’t it). Everybody wins, but the people. The rich get richer, the poor get sicker.

So, its time to put the garbage food down and start educating the public. People need to understand how their bodies work, and what processed food is doing to them. Companies need to understand that pursuit of the dollar must take second priority to the health and welfare of their customers. Governments need to realize that the electorate is the ONLY reason politicians have jobs.

The sooner we get the fat out of our heads, the sooner we can get it off the thighs of the public. Letes have governments with conscience. Lets have businesses with hearts.

Lets have consumers with brains.

A friend pointed out to me an interesting post on Design Observer. More than just interesting, in fact. Positively fascinating.

The author may have missed one fundamental point about the knockoff trade. Its not that Crust toothpaste and its packaging is being produced in a factory somewhere, it’s that Crust toothpaste and its packaging are being produced in the same factory as Crest toothpaste. Further, Proctor & Gamble, by choosing to have its product fabricated in China, has bankrolled both the production costs and the marketing of the knockoff product.

One of the reasons it is cheaper to produce things in China is because American factories are accountable to their client for intellectual property violations. As with all apparent mysteries, one need only follow the money to be able to separate the fact and the fiction.

The chinese factory that charges 1/10th of the price of an American (or Canadian) factory makes up the other 9/10ths selling trade secrets to Chinese national companies which then produce the exact same product with a fraction of the development cost. Because the Chinese national company has a head start in the positively massive chinese market over the American competitor, the Chinese national makes much more money selling the knockoff product than the original company ever will.

The American company wins, increasing its short-term profits. The Chinese factory wins, making much more money doing building something they were building anyway. The Chinese national wins, having a leading-edge product without having to pay research and development costs for its product, instead funneling those funds into different and better research. The Chinese people win, getting to support local businesses at a fraction of the cost without sacrificing on the product.

China has learned well from the west. Who would ever have guessed that toothpaste and hubris would taste so much alike.

The show on Saturday night was wicked.

The opening duo, August, were fantastic – a pair of beautiful ladies making beautiful music. To say I was fascinated with the combined sound of an acoustic guitar and a double bass would be an understatement. Go to their site. Go see them live. Go buy their CD. They’re good. They’re great.

They’re a lot more gentle than us too. Shaun made a passing comment that us going on after them was going to be something akin to “kneeling on the audience’s nuts.” Not being in the audience, I am unable to comment with any sort of accuracy. My sister, who has been to many shows I’ve done, says it was a pretty wide spectrum shift, but she also said she thought the contrast of the two styles ended up working out for the better.

My mom and dad were there. They’ve heard me perform before, but only on piano, never bass, and never as part of a band. The smile on my dad’s face was mighty gratifying, and the way my cousin Mark plied my mother with beer was almost as memorable as seeing her on the dance floor when a perfect stranger asked her to dance and she said yes.

With the recent passing of my cousin Steve, and subsequent revelation that nobody really knew he was a performing musician who had played with dozens of artists, it was particularly nice that my parents were there to see the show. I think it meant a lot to my mom. I know it meant a lot to me. My dad told me my grandfather would have been proud.

Again, thanks to August for setting the bar on stage very high. I hope we lived up to the expectations your talent and music created.

We have a floor mix which will come my way at some point. Hopefully I will be able to post a bit or two here.