I Look East Redux - New Beginnings with Airbnb

When I arrived back in the states in 2009, I deplaned and went to Venice Beach with my family and closest friends. Over iced tea we discussed the year I had abroad: teaching in Japan, exploring the Mekong and Luang Prabang and riding elephants and trading with hill tribe people in the Golden Triangle. While thumbing through the extra pages in my passport, I promised myself that I would fill those pages before the 2015 expiration date – that I would find a way to get back into the world that had so impacted me. It was late May.

Now, nearly three years later, I have been given the opportunity to give back to the industry that has given me so much and I will be joining Airbnb – a trusted community where you can list, share and book a place to stay: anything from a couch to a castle. This incredible idea is already taking root all over the world and changing the way we travel and interact with each other – and since this is a topic very close to my heart, I am honored and excited to join the team.

Like any PR pro worth their salt, I like to get my hands dirty with a product and experience things first hand, so this weekend I set off to celebrate my new gig by booking a last minute getaway with my mother and sister through Airbnb. I was working on a quick turn-around leaving me five hours to find a place to stay, communicate with the host and finalize our end destination in Monterery. Luckily, I found an amazing listing: a 32 foot sailboat in Monterey Bay’s Breakwater Cove Marina operated by host, Captain Dutch who responded to my query in less than 20 minutes. After a couple quick conversations and payment through the site, we were set up and whizzed down south, through the winding, wooded roads around Santa Cruz and picking up fresh cherries in Gilroy on our way to Monterey.

We arrived at the marina to the shore divers finished up their exploration of the kelp forests, trudging toward their trucks under the weight of their gear. Salmon fishermen docked their boats after hours on the crystal blue sea catching their trade. I wound my way down the docks and met up with Captain Dutch who introduced me to my temporary abode: The Pegasus. Serendipity has many shapes, but tonight she came as a boat that embodied the librating image of a gleaming white, winged horse I had learned about through my travels and obsession with Greek literature. My sister Laura, however, had a much more direct connection to the name Pegasus. Only two days ago, her best friend’s mother went into surgery for pancreatic cancer and the family has been heavy on her mind. Pegasus is the name of their boat, named for this amazing matriarch.

Needless to say, the three of us were overjoyed with our booking and as we sat on the deck drinking pinot noir and eating cheese and crackers, seals began to spring up and circle the boat. Their bodies were sleek with water and in their jaws were massive salmon they tossed in the air to tear apart. Across the waterway, another boat named The Other Office The sun began to set and a storm set in, but my family cuddled around a laptop watching the Twilight Zone until we fell asleep to the light rocking of the boat.

Soundtrack My Childhood

Beatles sing-a-longs not withstanding, my first musical memory was probably either singing MC Hammer at a water park or going to see the New Kids on the Block in New Orleans when I was five. Needless to say, the 80s impacted me growing up, but not in the zany Cindy Lauper kind of way- more like the cheesy Vanilla Ice kind of way. By the time I got to middle school, however, my sister started dating an artsy guy who listened to The Cure and Alice in Chains, so I got a little better in the 90s.  It took a little while for me to start buying records that didn't completely suck- the learning curve is pretty steep when you're from Baton Rouge and music blogs haven't been invented yet. Two things saved me from the the suburban palate of bland: soundtracks and MTV. Granted, they represent a limited segment of the color wheel (maybe 3 primary colors at best) but soundtracks were the blogs of the 90s- professional mixed tapes, musical tastes customized from the music industry elite.

Soundtracks that sculpted my early musical taste include: Reality Bites, Singles and Good Morning Vietnam.

Reality Bites:
In 6th grade, I got hold of the soundtrack for Reality Bites. I'm still not sure how I managed to smuggle Juliana Hatfield's 'she's such a sucker, he don't wanna fuck her' lyric past my mother (who, for the record, burned Footloose because it glorified premarital sex), never mind Alanis Morisette who's still referred to as 'The Chicken-shit Lady.' The song on this record that stands out the most is still Turnip Farm by Dinosaur Jr. Probably my first exposure to dissonant rock, where the guitar overpowers the simplified lyrics.  It's a great mix of grunge, acoustic and (wait for it) Peter Frampton, with a little bit of revival thrown in there for diversity. 

Singles:
Admittedly, I heard most of this record on repeat through my sister's wall, but exposure to 90s Seattle gunge was a huge deal in the sheltered South.  My virgin ears learned Soundgarden, Alice in Chains and Pearl Jam -- doubtless some of the best bands of my formative years.  In fact, when recently polled on my favorite records of all time it was *very* difficult not to include Jar of Flies in this mix.  Another huge favorite (though not from Seattle) from this record was The Smashing Pumpkins - still one of my all-time favorite bands (Mayonnaise kills me).  And though I didn't learn about Jimi until my dad busted him out on a road trip much later in life, Hendrix's "May This Be Love" made its way on to the record.

Good Morning Vietnam:
Way before Forrest Gump was even an idea, Adrian Conauer taught me about the 60s with some great tunes and really dirty jokes (which I can quote to this day).  A lot of these bands are past my time, so this soundtrack spark a musical adventure, but it did function as a complete piece of art that encapsulated the energy and pain of the Vietnam war.  "Nowhere to Run To" by Martha and the Vandellas - yes!" and the Supremes, "You Just Keep Me Hangin' On" are great favorites - with their brassy ladies leading the charge with tambourines and sparkles to back them up.  The Beach Boys got hooked up with three songs here, including "I Get Around" and who could forget Louis Armstrong closing the record with "What a Wonderful World" which is played as Saigon takes on gunfire.

Honorable Mention -- Dangerous Minds:
It would be hyperbolic to call this whole soundtrack earth-shattering, but Gangta's Paradise really was.  Beyond my dance team picking up an edited version for our half time performance (true story), this soundtrack opened up rap and hip-hop in my school.  Master P, C Murder, Mystikal and the 504 Boyz quickly popped up as we all tried to rebel against the status quo with really bad Gangsta Rap.

The Housewife and The Hipster: BR vs. NOLA

I've been meaning to get back to Louisiana for quite some time, but there's something that makes me procrastinate the pilgrimage. Part of me in undeniably proud of my culture. We have the best food in the country and the warmest hearts, great music, Cyprus drenched wetlands and iconic self-expression that includes words like, "DIN" (pronounced, daa-gn, as in Boudin).

But for me, there is an incredible schism between what exists between New Orleans and Baton Rouge- and it's a lot more than 60 miles and a few feet of elevation. Baton Rouge. No matter how far I travel or where I go, it's a word that I can't escape because - though I feel a sharp sense of self-loathing at admitting this - it was and is a huge part of me. It's not that I'm ashamed of who I came from- as my grandparents are the most amazing people on the planet- it's regret that I put up with the city for so long. They are the types of things that are hard to explain unless you've been there...It's that right in front of the Budweiser distribution center, there are 3 massive crosses that stand 10 stories tall. It's the gigantic outdoor store and the concrete shopping center after concrete shopping center that stretch across the entire 'city.' It's that there's next to nothing going on, unless you're into football...and if you're not into football, there must be something wrong with you.

But, as long as it's been, I still know the short cuts to avoid traffic and I still know where to go to see the best view of the LSU lakes. The most redeeming quality Baton Rouge has is that in houses 3 of my favorite humans in the world. My maternal grandmother, Beverly, and my paternal grandparents, Bebee and Will. Bebee's house is straight out of the 40s- it's not dwarfishly small ceilings and a upstairs that feels like you're living in Barbie's house. She and Will both have their designated sitting chairs, though they'll give you the honor of sitting in the chair of your choice when you're their guest. Will shuffles to the door from his chair, pulls his glasses down to the string around his neck and says, "Hello, Em-ly. God bless you" and gives you a tight hug and kiss.

There's something about the smell of their house that used to unnerve me, but now it feels like the safest place on earth.  Perhaps it's the Civil War swords mounted on the wall or the way they carry orange juice on a tray to serve you with their shuffling steps. Looking at them and their complete devotion to each other makes me think I might be able to love someone if I could stop dissecting everyone and everything for 15 minutes.

It's literally gotten to the point where I feel nervous about returning home and facing all of the emotions that have taken me a lifetime to sort through - or pretend to sort through. The religious presence is stronger than ever, positioned alongside the daunting social class stratification it's hard to believe that I came from there.  From the skyscraper-tall white crosses that portal you into the city -- the ones that we've joked about painting in rainbow colors -- to the insistence that we pray at every meal, religion is the South.  It's a beacon that they don't even see or notice, the proverbial elephant in the room. 

And yet, to all that Baton Rouge is -- it's rules and simplicity, camoflauge and football games -- New Orleans is its stepsister.  Both beautiful females, one is a docile home-maker and one is a renegade hipster running on 4 nights sleep a week. 

Without fail, every time I'm in New Orleans it feels like I've eaten a vitamin filled with all the nutrients I could need for my spirit.  All of the things I miss when I'm away -- everything is music, dancing is unencumbered, smiles are unbridled and creative inspiration is like the humid air taken into the lungs, to the arteries, to the very cells in my body.  This is the very fiber of what matters in life - it is something to cherish and to protect.

As I leave the city, on less that two hours sleep, hungover in last night's makeup on the longest one hour drive known to man to a ladies brunch at my grandmother's posh town house in Baton Rouge, I'm reminded that I am both of these worlds and I am neither. 

Purple Lights, Pointe Shoes and Cupcake Dresses

After the Gala last year, I knew that I wouldn't miss another kick-off of the SF Ballet season.  While I'm normally a low-maintenance type of girl, there's something about this environment that turns me into a total priss.  Put me in a gown with a train, add a spectacular updo (by Lindsay at Acme) and the next thing you know, I turn into a princess.  The "hold your train and wait in the car for the dude to open your door" type.  Hopefully Dan & Andrew - cause the lady needs two escorts - didn't mind too much.

The program was beautiful.  Last year, the program consisted of 3 distinct pieces with a theme that was beautifully conveyed through the music and choreography.  It included the entire range - from the company to the soloists - without breaking the continuity of the pieces.  The downside of this is if you're not into the theme, but when it's great it's *great*  Last year, I heard/saw "Within the Golden Hour" and I started crying within the first section of the piece.  It was like the moment I first heard Max Richter, such surreal beauty that you think you could die with fulfillment.

I've gone to quite a few ballets since that night (and before) and I will say that the way the SF Ballet chose to organize this year's program catered to the short attention span of the SF startupper.  While you're not commitment to a piece that wasn't quite doing it, you also miss the chance to fall in love with the stuff that's really working.  There were 6 pieces that really stood out last night, bu it's not as clear because there wasn't enough time for me to get attached to each section.

I am so proud SF Ballet community!  If you haven't yet seen them perform, get a taste on YouTube and come out for the season.  It's magical.  If you don't have time, you can also check out amazing photos like the one above, taken by a rising star in the company and stunning photographer, Quinn Wharton.

a tribute to beck, jurassic park and houston texas

my musical preferences were transferred through the wall i shared with my sister. the first time i heard beck might have been on the radio, but it was that wall that taught me all the words to 'beercan' and made me envy her CD of the month club membership (the one that she was technically too young to apply for, so they never had a binding agreement so she never paid for any of the CDs she got- including that first Oasis record.)

those were the days when i made a mixtape of all of my sister's CDs and finally got bjork on my walkman. i took her and beck and the soundtrack from flashdance on a walk through the woods to the snowball stand. it was really hot, mosquitoes attacked me because i tasted like wedding cake syrup. i came home with over 50 bites on my shoulders and legs that afternoon.

i decided that i should venture into less hostile woods, where dens of mosquitoes weren't pent up to attack their next saccharine infused victim, so carly dwyer and i trekked out to the woods around episcopal prep school. when i say trek, it's more like a casual meander, but everything feels far when you're an 11 year old suburbanite. i had just finished reading jurassic park, so that i could go see the movie for my cousin coco's birthday without spoiling anything, so i narrated the plot to carly while skipping over branches and puddles, working my way through the paths where the older kids came out to smoke cigarettes and get felt up.

i took that mixtape on the bus to houston with my 7th grade class, on a field trip to astroworld. while my peers stuck pringles in their mouths so they looked like duck bills or peered over fashion mags, naming all of the models, i was boomboxing like it was 1987- dancing up and down the aisles to 'beercan' and alanis morissette.

i remember almost all of the lyrics from the songs of those days.  someone recently told me that i must have been the coolest kid in the 6th grade because i remember all the lyrics to roi from the breeders (and here and now by letters to cleo & smells like teenspirit by nirvana).  it's true, the 90s has shaped my musical taste.  to this day, beck is one of my favorites and i have mad respect for dinosaur jr.  i just hope kids growing up now have a sliver of the experience i had then, but i guess that's what fanatics of the beatles and the stones say about me.

My Cat is Insane: Certifiably

Charlotte the cat- misunderstood and loathed by most, particularly my roommates. It's true, Charlotte the cat is a fucking handful.  She's never satisfied and in constant need of attention, yet when you show her any affection she goes tearing down the hall in the other direction.  Ah, cats.  So much like Cosmo Girls.


Here are a few things she's done to date:

• This is Lazer. Charlotte aimed to prove who wore the pants in her household, so she attacked this dog.  A perfectly timed attack, she literally sat in the hall waiting until he had to pass her and his guard was down when she kitty punched him, claws drawn and hissing, sending him yelping and cowering down the hall.  Yes, she instilled a lasting fear in poor lazer. #fierce.
  
  
  
  
  
• Charlotte has an advanced palate for a kitty. She's been known to eat spinach, raw ground beef (that she steals when your back is turned while cooking) and raw pasta,
  
  
• Charlotte is always desperate for attention, but refuses to be picked up and held. I discussed this problem with a co-worker to sent me this link, which got me thinking about spanking the cat. I've always thought of cats as snugly creatures, but Charlotte's weird, so I tried it. I shouldn't be surprised- she's a lot like a character from a Dostoevsky novel.

She can be cute sometimes, though.  Not to sound like a cat lady, but she does this roll when she wants your attention that just kills me.  She also has amazing taste in music - she loves The Beatles White Album and The Shout Out Louds.

Mixed Tapes + Mixed Media

Some of us communicate with Tweets or blog posts. Others through phone calls or coffee meetings. For me, music has always been the catalyst for emotion, enlightenment and understanding, so there's no greater gift than a mixed tape. I used to think it was the collection of old memories associated with the songs that made the mix so powerful. My buddy Alvaro used to make mixes chock full of Phish songs and obscure Latin music that made me laugh. They reminded me of dancing in the streets during El Primero de Agosto in Nicaragua and his river home in the hills of Birmingham. Those were humid porch nights, playing drums and listening to the bugs hit the screen, attracted to the lights.

Mixed tapes are stories - audible memory books of silicon and shine.

Over the years, I've discovered that playlists are actually messages themselves. Talented mixologists- have the uncanny ability to speak through the music they put together. It's beat and lyrics, the memory of the past tied with your present state of mind. Looking back, a couple mix tapes stand out as the best among many because these mixers have something to say and it's translated with lucidity through the music.

"Bread & Circuses" is an election mix created by a fantastic underground DJ and above-ground high school Civics teacher: Matthew Owen Reininger aka DJ CNTRL. This piece is a raw critique of our failed government and the consumer culture that enslaves and blinds us from justice. CNTRL was one of the most artistic and innovative DJs on the Miami scene, but his music was a complete work of art that didn't fit into the scene of Yeah Yeah Yeahs and Peter Bjorn & John fans. I sincerely hope he's still making him music. It's bold and tangible and I am looking for a link.

UPDATE: 1/20 -- CNTRL has just sent me a link where you can download Bread & Circuses for free.  It's a MediaFire link, so it's likely to expire.  In the meantime, Go crazy, kids!

My next shout out is to the guy who gave me Frightened Rabbit, The Raveonettes and Andrew Bird through his weekly Academik podcast. Andrew Kippen is an inspirational human- a quick witted, snappy dresser who's the master of all types of facial hair. As my office mate and dear friend, Kipp taught me about Lala, Hype Machine and wireless networking. Of all of his podcasts, two have made my time in San Francisco. The September Electro Mix got me running in the panhandle every morning when I first moved and The The Mix got me addicted to The Kills. Now that Kip's working for boxee.tv, podcasts come out less frequently, but you can check out the whole list here: http://feeds.feedburner.com/Academik.

My newest mixer may have the most experienced palate of anyone I've ever met- DJs, Musicians and music analysts beware of Matt Graves aka mgrooves. Matt has over three thousand CDs and a weekly routine of scanning the stacks at Ameoba to see what's new. Matt has an uncanny ability to playlist on the go, as if he's conversing with you through his iPod. He rarely repeats songs- with a massive archive that's to be expected. Unlike novice playlisters, Matt's got epic mix skills from his years of being the voice of what was imeem. Matt's playlists went offline when MySpace pulled the plug on imeem (and put up ringtone ads on people's websites where the playlist used to be), so I can't share mgrooves with you here. I will say that listening to Matt's most recent playlist- a seamless 75 song, 5 hour long giant- is like looking at a 15 foot tall collage of pictures that, when you step back, form a greater piece than the sum of its gorgeous parts.

I'd like to end this with a shout of to my friend Ryan Humm, a videographer I met when I lived in Japan. He composed this mix of visuals from his experience in Hong Kong, IndoChina and Japan and layered on top of M83's We Own the Sky, it is breath-taking.

m83 - we own the sky from YouHadMeAtASL on Vimeo.
There is so much talent seeded in the people around us. I hope this post encourages you to find the Matthews, Andrews, Matts & Ryans around you and thank them for sharing the gifts that matter the most.

the last thing i have to say about myspace...ever

it's been a LONG time coming but i finally deleted my MySpace account. i've been calling MySpace detroit for a couple years not, so it shouldn't come as a huge surprise but up until this week, i haven't had a serious problem with them...they just sucked.

this week, MySpace officially bought parts of imeem (read: the technology, the users and the 4 C-level execs) and then sent a nuke to the rest of the company. without telling the 16 million imeem users and developers who use the platform, MySpace shut down the service and took away all of the playlists and community messages that had lived on the site.

when i was asked to choose a reason why i was leaving, i chose 'too much drama' - an option they provided - as the reason. here's my letter to them:

the way your company conducts business is pathetic. you purchased 16 million imeem users and then couldn't be bothered to effectively communicate with them about the changes you were making to their service. you have continually taken the big business approach, when the product you're trying to sell is a social tool for dialogue and building relationships.

if you want to compete with facebook, then you have to start thinking about your users and listening to them. winning on the music front is not going to sustain your business long term- especially considering the poor quality of your music player and all of the ads plastering your pages. i would rather pay a subscription fee to stream whatever music i want than click on your music pages. i no longer want to have anything to do with your company...and i'm not the only one.

The Future of Online Music

when i was in high school, my parents had shitty computers. i sank endless hours into the old school dial-up trying desperately to connect with my nicaraguan boyfriend, so when it came to music discovery, i was a mess. columbia records got me started with some bjork, beck and the reality bites soundtrack, but napster was a far cry from anything we could pull off at home.

in college things got better (mainly bc i was in close proximity to kids with music). then there was iTunes and the iPod, making everything portable and easy(er) - but we became obsessed with our friend's libraries so we could have the latest and greatest. i've been to 'ripping parties' where a bunch of people shared DRM free tunes, but hell if i remember what i took. with so much music, there's not that sentiment attached to a mixed tape or the thrill that comes with buying a new record. the lack of cover art is just the beginning- we don't have time to organize all of the information we're getting. it's all stuffed into folders and archives that live on our hard drives, but when do we actually dip into it?

there's freedom in a subscription service like rhapsody - you don't have to spend money on a record with only 3 good songs. hype machine gave love to the mashup darlings, making stars of dudes like atrak and fred falke, while pandora revolutionized music discovery. then lala came on the scene with ties to hip music blogs and lets you listen to any song once, before paying for a web stream or download. today, a new player is entering the scene who i believe combines the best aspects of all current music services into one service that's affordable and super fun.

mog.com is a network of music blogs- they pull together the best stories from their network and push it out in a weekly newsletter. every week, i get a newsletter from mog about new top albums, songs and stories from their community- which is a pretty cool alternative to pitchfork's way hipster approach to music. today, mog launched a new music player that gives you "all you can eat music" for 5 dollars a month. you can build and share playlists with your "real" friends AND connect with other users who have similar taste to discover new music.

i've spent the past few weeks testing out the mog player and i love it. it has the best of rhapsody and pandora in one player- you listen to an artist "radio" station, sliding a ruler to set how heavy you want that artist in rotation. this lets you choose whether or not you're in discovery mode and also gives you the option to queue an entire album or search for playlists that have your favorite artists.

i have high hopes for this baby. seeing that i spend way too much time married to my computer, it can only make my day more fun and less productive. maybe if they come up with a mobile app, i can actually get out the house more regularly.

The Wedding Spree: Part 1

the wedding spree- we all go through the point when your vacation time is chucked up to weddings all over the place. i'm told it's an age thing, a la "oh, you're at the age where everyone starts getting married. just wait until they all start having babies!" christ.

last night was the wedding of my neighbor from the miami dorms to one spyder rosenthal. he's an awesome guy and their story is a magical ball of romantic goodness that would make Richard Dawkins believe in destiny, but throughout the whole ceremony i couldn't help but wonder what the hell his parents were thinking. i can't begin to imagine what the playground taunts were like and there's no way to say, "i kara, take you spyder forever and ever" without losing it. it's a good thing they're the type of couple that loves to laugh so it wasn't a big deal. they actually helped the groomsmen trick a guy into believing it was a beach boy/ hawaiian shirt themed wedding. the poor guy showed up to a pretty posh wedding at the adamson house loggia in malibu decked out in chucks and a lei.

despite the dj opening with billie jean (really- where do you go from there?), it was a gorgeous ceremony with the irish blessing and poems from rumi intermingled with their story from kindergarten and i'm not gonna lie- i cried a little. i know it's sappy but i cry at weddings. this is why i like outdoor weddings where i can hide my romanticism behind huge sunglasses.

romantic inspiration aside, this wedding was the complete opposite of wedding #1 of the season, the new orleans with oysters overflowing from their shells and a tiny recreation of the south rampart street parade. the reception was killer- put nicaraguans and columbians in the same room in new orleans and the bacanal is unstoppable- but the ceremony had me a little freaked out.

it was held at saint louis cathedral and since i'm not catholic, i had never been inside. cathedrals tear me up: the artistry (esp. when there's a choir) makes me want to kneel down in awe, but you think about all the dogma and guilt that built it- the families that were suckered into going without so the pope could reign supreme- and it kinda grosses me out.

i'm sitting in my pew, peering around this dominating structure when i notice crusader flags lining the congregational seating. i follow the flags to the mural above the alter and notice that it's a dude surrounded by guys with swords. sure enough, the caption in french says, 'st. louis announcing the 7th crusade.' in the paintings, in the stained glass- even held by statues- there are swords everywhere, proudly declaring the christian attack against islam and seeding the friction that caused the attack on the world trade center.

holy shit.

Free Charlotte Gainsbourg Teaser for IRM

I discovered Charlotte through her father, Serge Gainsbourg. While traveling in Osaka on Christmas Eve, Antoine Guidicelli gave me a complete compilation of Serge's wild, jazzy sensations complete with allusions to comic books. I fell for Charlotte before I realized she was the darling from Michel Godry's Science of Sleep.

Charlotte Gainsbourg has teamed up with Beck and released a new album. Dubbed 'IRM,' this album is inspired by the MRI tests endured to tackle a brain hemorrhage she suffered after a water skiing accident. It's clangy, mechanical percussion give the sensation of an assembly line of robots poking and drilling while lights and sparks flash in every which direction. Layered above, Charlotte's soothing voice walks you through the song like a nurse narrating the procedure.

To get a free download, check out her site: http://www.charlottegainsbourg.com/

Behind the Lines- Using Technology to Fight Oppression

The world is changing and for some it's turned into a fast paced, adrenaline rush of meaningless Twitter babble and adult ADD (guilty). For a while, I've been skeptical of the overall social benefit of technology. When you analyze how many Facebook friends people have vs. real-life friends, or how often we IM someone who's standing in close proximity it seems like we have a serious problem. But, this week I've been inspired by the pulse of social media and its ability to transcend oppression and empower the individual to speak out against injustice- and be heard.


We've all heard about the elections in Iran, so I'm not going to start there. This morning, I came across an article about a Chinese girl who stabbed a man to death when he tried to rape her. He was a Communist official and she was promptly thrown in jail. A blogger got wind of the story and rallied an "online outcry." Here's a snippet from the NYT article:

The case of Ms. Deng is only the most recent and prominent of several cases in which the Internet has cracked open a channel for citizens to voice mass displeasure with official conduct, demonstrating its potential as a catalyst for social change.

The government’s reactions have raised questions about how much power officials have to control what they call “online mass incidents.” China’s estimated 300 million Internet users, experts say, are awakening to the idea that, even in authoritarian China, they sometimes can fight City Hall.

It's pretty amazing that despite the closing of TV stations, shutting down the Internet and arresting protesters, the truth can still prevail. Deng's story reminds me that - despite how bleak and irrational the world can seem - people will fight for justice and truth.


Since the word broke out about Ahmadinejad's "victory" in the Iranian elections, something has caught fire in the Iranian people that has laid dormant for 3 decades and technology has been the catalyst. For this fight, there are few journalists on the ground- instead reports are coming from amateurs on the ground who leak rocky shots of protesters being beaten. After I stumbled across the Twitter #IranElection filter yesterday, my stream updated with 169 tweets in ONE seconds- many of which spoke of people on balconies watching the rallies, others which gave the world instructions on how to help. Inspired, I wrote an email to my dear friend (whose name I will not reveal, for her safety) and asked if she and her husband were okay. I would like to share her email with you, but first I'd like you to take a moment to think about this:

In this moment- I am sharing with you a letter from half-way across the world. I will embed this link into a number of social network profiles and broadcast the hell out of it. Within seconds, this post will be searchable, tangible and immortal for whoever chooses to seek it. This is the power of technology - and in this case, it's fighting oppression against the individual.

Dear Emily

Thank you for your email and your attention. Nowadays we are fine, of course physically but spiritually, what can I say.....!!!

It is so nice that the world can hear our voice. This is the voice of real Iranians who are tired of hearing lies from the authorities. The result of presidency is a big mistake which makes us upset and aggressive. We think that this is our human right to choose our president by ourselves, but our votes were not their favorite so they changed it and it is not acceptable for us.

The situation is so taught . I myself try to follow all news minutes by minutes. In my life and in my country, I have never seen something like state. In all protests, people try to stay calm , but unfortunately the opposition side are so nervous and uncontrollable .

We want just to know that " WHERE ARE OUR VOTES ???"

Is it difficult to understand???

Hope one day, everyone lives in a peace and safe world .

again thank you

Big Hug .......VIVA

In our little Silicon Bubble of glossy icons and over-communication, it's truly inspiring to see technology give voice to those that are silenced by their governments. We're reaching an unprecedented era of accountability, where the people are informed and empowered to voice their opinions about the actions of their leadership. But, as we all know from Marvel comics, with great power comes great responsibility. We as individuals have to realize that our leaders- from Obama to Putin, Kim Yong II to Netanyahu reflect our voice and it's our job to exercise it.

* photos taken from the New York Times

beyond a reasonable doubt

It is not required that the state prove guilt beyond all possible doubt. The test is one of reasonable doubt. A reasonable doubt is a doubt based upon reason and common sense----the kind of doubt that would make a reasonable person hesitate to act. Proof beyond a reasonable doubt, therefore, must be proof of such a convincing character that a reasonable person would not hesitate to rely and act upon it.

a few weeks ago, i was in a bar listening to a young lawyer explain the logistics of her defense cases to me. after a deep line of questioning and the mental acrobatics that followed, one crystalline fact rose to the surface: our justice system has nothing to do with justice. it's a chess game of revealing certain facts and flashing them in front of the jury box like a red cape, hoping that they don't ask questions beyond that. indeed, to my knowledge, jurors aren't even allowed to ask questions to counsel.

then how do you quell reasonable doubt? if the base of our legal system is that people are innocent until proven guilty and attorneys must prove them guilty beyond a reasonable doubt, how can someone who takes their responsibility as a juror seriously be true to their conscience without bringing up the questions that are on their minds as individuals. in florida, a mistrial was called when 8 jurors used their cellular phones to research whether a defendant had illegally sold prescription drugs online. and why not? if the information is publicly available, isn't it simply researching common knowledge?

but this is where we get into the strategy of defense, what can and cannot be included as evidence based on how it was collected and so forth. the young lawyer that told me about her case was completely candid about what she knew and was keeping from the jury. if she was forced to give up all relevant information, which objective justice would require, there would be little strategy left to be had. but isn't that the fair way to do things? shouldn't law be about justice not about trickery?

Eduardo Galeano from 'Patas Arriba'

Does history repeat itself? Or might it be that it repeats itself only as a penance of those who are unable to listen to it? History is not mute. As much as they burn it, as much as the break it, as much as they lie about it, human history refuses to shut its mouth. The time that was continues to beat, alive, from within the time which is, even if this time (the present) doesn't want it to, or doesn't know. The right to remember doesn't figure among the human rights consecrated by
the UN, but today more than ever it's necessary to reinvigorate it and put it in practice: not to repeat the past, but to avoid repeating it; not so that we, the living, should be ventriloquists of the dead, but so that we may be able to speak with voices not condemned to the perpetual echo of stupidity and disgrace. When it is indeed alive, memory doesn't contemplate history, it invites us to make it. More than in the museums, where the poor man gets bored, memory is in the air we breath; and she, from the air, breathes us.

he's a keeper

my neighbor and i have a joke about building a dictionary for all the terms that our generation uses to abbreviate slang. clearly, sometimes 3 syllable words are so laborious to sound out that they are butchered into words like, obvi and totes. as an x- reading teacher this pretench way of speaking is so abhorrent to me that it borders on repugnant.

so today, i receive a text message from jeremy- who seemed normal enough when i met him at a party months ago, but i haven't seen or heard from him since. so oddly, he tries to open the door up again with the lamest attempt at spitting game i've ever seen. here's the message:

--
emily its jeremy. i saw ur nmber stl in phone. we dnced at cole st hourse party n i liked that. thght id let u knw i hve salad grns if u njoy that sort, holla.
--

beyond this shoddy attempt at rekindling what never, my distaste was further flared at the vague, possibly sexual innuendo that this text presented. what the hell does salad grns mean anyway? was young jeremy being cheeky and hoping i was down for salad? if he's referring to pot then he obviously doesn't know me. either way, this text representing one gigantic fail and needed to be addressed lest he think this kind of laziness was acceptable on any level. i responded with the following:

--
Fer srius? Salad grns need tossin? WTF? U Shld git ur shizzle togetha be4 u holla at a grl.
--

UPDATE...jeremy responds with the following:

--
... grns for eatin or use as culinary HerbS is what im sharin. keep that quik wit n byte cutie.
--

modern day ragnar...sort of

one of fannie mae's engineers planted malicious code that could have wiped out the servers and destroyed their data, had he not been caught. guess that's a good thing, since our government would probably give them bail-out money to fix their servers anyway.



"According to media reports, a federal grand jury in Maryland has indicted a 35-year-old man for planting a malicious script, designed to destroy data on the US financial giant's servers.

Rajendrasinh Babubhai Makwana, worked for three years as a software engineer contractor at Fannie Mae's offices in Maryland, where he is said to have had access to all of the company's 4000 servers.

...'Had this malicious script executed, engineers expect it would have caused millions of dollars of damage and reduced if not shutdown operations at Fannie Mae for at least one week," said FBI agent Jessica Nye in a sworn statement. "The total damage would include cleaning out and restoring all 4,000 servers, restoring and securing the automation of mortgages, and restoring all data that was erased.'"

http://www.sophos.com/blogs/gc/g/2009/01/29/fannie-mae-employee-accused-planting-malware-timebomb/

it's raining

the fog rolls in and it's raining.
the repetitive simplicity of the piano keys, one bright note lingering above a dark chord
like a kite attached to a gnarled tree.

a child stands under an umbrella, weathered brown boots in a puddle murky water and concrete. in her hands she holds a music box and turns the key. the gears churn and prick the tiny pieces of metal, causing the notes to sing from her tiny hands.

an airplane in the distance catches her eye, and she looks up toward it to see where it's going, where it's been. it's not bright, but she narrows her eyes, shields them with her hand as she watches the plane disappear into her imagination.

she pictures them going to france, or to tokyo- somewhere where it's still raining and still chilly, but somewhere where the cobblestones or the glitter make it seem glamorous and purposeful.

http://www.treehugger.com/files/2008/10/ugly-sneakers-generate-electricity.php

port ordford cedar

when i got out of a meeting today there was a package waiting for me on my desk. convinced that i had forgotten an online order, i brushed it off and returned to a meeting.

when curiosity got the best of me, i began to peel through the paper to the box. the scent seeped through and i began to detect the humble beginnings of a masterpiece. when i peeled the tape away, curled wood chips exploded from the box and euphoria shot through my nostrils.

i was instantly in nagoya, right after a run from my house to the train station. i was out of breath, hands on my hips and head down, walking it out. mrs. price- my middle school running coach- had always lectured, "breathe through your nose" and for once i was grateful for cross country. i had never seen a saw mill before, much less one inside a big city, much less one that slices planks of wood that smelled aromatic. i come from a place of oak trees and spanish moss, so i welcomed this new scent: a light, beautiful smell that makes you think of blonde children running through fresh meadows with kites. it makes factories with rusting saws and broken trucks seem like sanctuaries.

the box i opened that day was a gift from a guy i met, while sitting on a curb smoking a cigarette. he was an eccentric furniture maker, obsessed with his craft and the integrity of his medium. he told me about the sensation of carving a living thing into functional art, ambled through ranges of the texture and scents of various wood. what he sent me in that box was not just a block of port ordford cedar, but proof in the magical ability of scent to conjure up memory.

UNIQLO

oh the js and their robots! today uniqlo introduced wakamaru, your tiny, happy shopping friend that makes the racks at uniqlo even more apealing. yes, the js have coupled their favorite hobbies: shopping and robots in the most symbiotic relationship of all time. what wakamaru actually does to help you shop, i'm not quite sure. he's said to be able to make eye contact and help you shop using simple phrases, but until he starts holding my shit and saying, "nah, girl. that makes your ass look big," i'm gonna stick with fashion diva, roberto sosa as my guru. sumimasen wakamaru-san! gomenasai.