Monthly Archives: December 2004

Fix your life: Quit your job

Leave a comment | Posted by Patrick Calder on in design

“At 28, John Doyle was an overworked New York investment banker on the fast track. By most measures, he was a success. But he was also miserable. So during a semiannual review 2 1/2 years into the job, he simply quit. ‘Almost immediately I lost 35 pounds,’ says Doyle. For four months, he did little more than relax, rollerblade through Central Park, and read books. ‘Honestly, it was one of the happiest times in my life,’ he says.”

— Ways to fix your life: Quit your job

Please keep in mind that this post is more than 6 years old. Who the hell knows what I was thinking back then?! Damn kids... get off my lawn!

Club, club, club

Leave a comment | Posted by Patrick Calder on in friends

I should be too old for this. But I don’t care. I’m having fun, despite myself.
By 10:30 tonight, I was ready to go to bed. But that’s when Kier called to let me know they were headed for the Black Cat. Aaron was celebrating his birthday with a crawl down 14th Street, finishing the fun at the club during their Brit-pop night.
It’s obviously going to be a good night when you walk in the room and see your friends surrounded by beautiful girls.
And sugar. Lots and lots of sugar tonight. Candy on the tables. Cheap sodas at the bar.
God help me… even though I’m a skinny white boy with no rhythm, I danced for the first time since college. Danced terribly, no doubt. Probably the person people nudge their friends to look at. But it was fun, and who cares what people say about you when you’re having fun.
Got my ass pinched twice, too. Never saw exactly who did it, but I’m fairly certain it was guys both times. You know… no one has pinched my ass since I was in Puerto Rico.
That’s this week.
Last Saturday, a really fucking-cold night… we were at Chiaroscuro; a one night Goth club down in Southeast. Didn’t dance, so it wasn’t as blood-pumping. But I was surrounded by hot chicks in fetish wear; so it had it’s benefits. Cool clothing shop on the premises, where nothing is over $20. But the best attraction was probably the really hot, freaky lesbians making out in the back. Straight out of really cheesy porn.
If only I didn’t reek of cigarettes when I got home. Not even cigarette smoke… just cigarettes. Tobacco… filter… paper.

Please keep in mind that this post is more than 6 years old. Who the hell knows what I was thinking back then?! Damn kids... get off my lawn!

beautiful content

Leave a comment | Posted by Patrick Calder on in photo

The author of Airbag Industries is cranky again:

“But unlike the Kinkos copied zines of old …. the cousin to the zine, the blog, has in general has become rather stagnant and complacent in it’s form of post and comment, two-column centered with a drop shadow. I don’t consider any blog-based site free from this trap…”

— Greg Storey
It’s not the evil ’blog ruining the world. Blog software comes with default templates. You can’t have it any other way. If MovableType has been downloaded a hundred million times, you can be sure ninety-eight million of those people couldn’t create their own template if their laptop depended on it. And at least ninety-six million of those people don’t care what their journal looks like. You can’t really complain about the design aesthetic of those websites, since the don’t exist as designed objects. It’s like trying to convince me that my blue-jeans and t-shirts will never get me on the cover of Vogue.
Dozen’s of navigational interfaces have had their day. On this website alone, I have tried probably 20 or 30. A single, side-straddling navigational menu is the natural evolution. The single point of navigation, no matter where it is, is a result of the “least-common-denominator” effect. “People” can’t handle having part of the navigation here and part of it there. Having it run down one side or the other has some minor support from theories of user-interface, but is largely the result of the technical limitations of HTML and CSS, even today.
In the early days, I could get away with freaky interfaces, because people brave enough to go online expected to think a little about what they were seeing. But “online” is now a normal. A usual. A thing-that-everbody-is-doing. So while on my own website, everything is up for grabs, when I design for a client, they get what “everyone” expects. To give “everyone” something that they don’t know how to use it to be “doing it wrong”, because… you know… everyone says so. Mainstream clients need mainstream solutions. I have no intention of “getting funky” while I’m trying to teach people how not to die of AIDS.
(God knows I encourage people to “do it wrong”, ’cause what the hell is the point of going through life knowing what to expect?. But everything in it’s place.)
But frankly, the web has always been a matter of content over form. If you’re lucky, you find a way to make the form of the content attractive… but you’re always trying to convey content. The earliest sites were just people saying “this is me, and this is what I like”. Then people started elaborating on what they like, and creating fan sites. (My earliest website had a page devoted to Janis Joplin). Then people put up portfolios and resumes. And so on. And so on. The evolution of the web has always been a matter of finding ways to share more content, in terms of technical capability and sheer quantity.
You give me a beautiful, innovative, awe-inspiring website that only has naked pictures of Dick Cheney… and I ain’t having anything to do with it. But if you have nothing but blank pages with pictures of Angelina Jolie… I am so there.

Please keep in mind that this post is more than 6 years old. Who the hell knows what I was thinking back then?! Damn kids... get off my lawn!

Cash Money

Leave a comment | Posted by Patrick Calder on in design

I had another thought today.
*insert your own joke her*
It’s actually another thesis project, to go along with my previous possibilities. I was in Border’s reading the back cover blurb of the Illuminatus Trilogy. It promises to confront various issues, including the pyramid that shows up on the dollar bill.
Well… ignoring the conspiratorial overtones of that particular novel, it made me think about the appearance of money. Being a designer, and a lonely, lonely person, I spend most of my time thinking about the appearance of things. Initially I thought that it could be interesting to redo the paper cash of the US. Clean it up. Make it more in line with modern culture, rather than a collection of antiquated symbolism and archaic security features. Who doesn’t see the anachronism of paying for your re-writable compact discs with a piece of flaccid paper covered in imagery that hasn’t been contemporary since before FedEx was powered by the Pony Express?
But just as quickly as that thought came to me, I realized it wouldn’t work. It would be a pointless exercise, doomed to a miserable failure in even the most basic of focus groups or peer review. Cash–cold, harsh greenbacks–are one of those rare physical items that people consciously trust in the image of more than in the physical nature. It’s a comfort item… a security blanket. In a vain culture, this ugly, little, wrinkled thing inspires cult-like devotion.
So yeah… to cut the thought short, that was my thesis. To find out how and why people value the physical object that is a dollar bill. Why are people thrown into near revolt when a pale wash of color is added to the $20 bill. Why does a bigger picture of the president cause people to declare it to be play money?
Anyway… I call it a thesis project because I specifically don’t want to get into it here.

Please keep in mind that this post is more than 6 years old. Who the hell knows what I was thinking back then?! Damn kids... get off my lawn!

Money, money, money

Leave a comment | Posted by Patrick Calder on in design

Oh yeah…
I decided to get a copy of Quickbooks.
While I am known among former coworkers as more than a bit obsessed and dare-I-say talented at being organized, it doesn’t seem to be helping much with billing.
Up until now, I have been using Quark to write up estimates and invoices manually. And the bank account is kept track of in Quicken.
But Quicken isn’t built to handle business. It cannot generate invoices. It cannot keep a database of clients. It cannot tell you which invoices haven’t been paid yet. It cannot handle tax issues for you. Quicken is essentially a notebook with a really good calculator.
But Quickbooks actually handles the business aspect and the account maintenance.
And right now, Amazon has an amazing deal on it… ends up being half price.

Please keep in mind that this post is more than 6 years old. Who the hell knows what I was thinking back then?! Damn kids... get off my lawn!

Handshakes?

Leave a comment | Posted by Patrick Calder on in design

Have you ever had someone stick their hand out in such a way that you weren’t sure wether they expected a handshake or a high-5, (well… low-5 actually)? It’s all the more difficult to tell when it’s over the shoulder. And coming from a person who would seem comfortable with either.
And I didn’t really think of any of these things until afterwards.
So, yes, I am a paranoid freak, why do you ask?
In some businesses and positions, it would be easy to say that you should always default to the handshake, as the least likely to be offensive. But… you know… not really. Because building up a casual relationship with your clients is incredibly important.

Please keep in mind that this post is more than 6 years old. Who the hell knows what I was thinking back then?! Damn kids... get off my lawn!

Mother Cat and Too Many People

2 Replies | Posted by Patrick Calder on in pixel

You know… I may get kicked out of the He-man Woman Haters Club for saying so, but I love my kitty. And I’m starting to believe that she may see me as more than a walking food dispenser.
Pixel To set the scene… for the last couple weeks, Pixel has been sleeping on the far corner of the bed… most of the day. And once she’s comfortable, she won’t move for anything short of a flock of seagulls swooping through the apartment. Day or night you can find her on the far corner of the bed.
I woke up about 7 this morning feeling like absolute shit. Pixel was, of course, at the far corner of the bed. I sort of hobbled into the bathroom and sat doubled over for a few minutes. I finally collected myself and went to wash my hands, and found her sitting on the sink waiting for me. It’s all sweet and nice, of course, but I still felt terrible. So I wandered back and collapsed on the bed, determined to sleep it off. About ten seconds later, Pixel hopped up next to me and curled up against my chest. At the top of the bed.
I woke up late this morning feeling fine. She has returned to the normal cat mode of ignoring and abusing me.
Anyway…
I am not the most sociable person in the world. (If you know me, you may need to stop now and compose yourself before continuing to read.) But somehow I know what seems to me to be an inordinately large number of people.
I’ve always had people in my hometown who remember our childhood together better than me, (my recollection usually being: not at all). It hurts when they’re cute women.
College was college, and a seemingly never-ending stream of people flow through your life. Just recently, there was a girl’s name I couldn’t remember, right up until I started writing just now. (Sally… though I knew her as Odie).
The Internet has only made this problem more severe. People who are bad at names should avoid at all costs an addiction to IRC. You will form interesting relationships with dozens of people, none of which is likely to last longer than 2 or 3 months, (the average productive lifespan of a channel). But these people will keep popping up. I know I know them. I’ve talked with them for hours. I have their pictures. But damned if it isn’t all sort of a blur. (The fact that most of it took place at 2 or 3 in the morning may be a possible cause for the distortion).
Well… I’ve also now been working professionally for seven or eight years. God help me when they call up telling me how wonderful our previous project went and they can’t wait to work together again. (When they bring up the project, I’m fine. I could tell you the details and evolution of every piece of art I’ve ever touched.)

Please keep in mind that this post is more than 6 years old. Who the hell knows what I was thinking back then?! Damn kids... get off my lawn!

Comic Book Day with Buddhist Monks

2 Replies | Posted by Patrick Calder on in art

We’re now on day two-and-a-half of the throbbing shoulder thing. I’ve narrowed down at least one inflammatory item: whenever I drink a can of Diet Coke. No idea why that makes sense. It can’t be the sugar, because … well… there is none. I’ve been lifting heavier objects all day long, so I don’t think it’s the weight of the can. It could be just the right weight at just the right posture. But then, this pain started suddenly while I was sleeping, so it’s probably not a repetitive stress injury.
When I burp, it eases up. But that doesn’t make me feel better. To me, that says something in my shoulder is being compressed. And… you know… that’s never a good thing.
Yeah… today, being Wednesday, is of course Comic Book Day. Not much that the poorer me could afford. (Though you realize if I got rid of my website, I would save like $15 a month?!?! Thats like… 5 more comic books! … yeah. No.) The last issue of Demo is out. Overall it’s been a good series. I think it wavered to a few ludicrous extremes occasionally. On the superpower end, they had an Carrie-style issue with an abused young boy raising dead pets and slaughtering the neighbors. You know… goofy shit that even Vertigo wouldn’t touch. Then they have issues such as Mix Tape and the one with the stock-boys, which are essentially superpower free. Frankly that seems flakey too for a collection of stories that was sold as ‘real people who just happen to have powers’. I don’t think any issue did as well at balancing this as the first issue. There was a major display of superpowers, but aside from the cool wide-screen shot of the effects, they were soooo beside the point. The superpowers were an aspect of the persons life, not the definition of it.
yadda, yadda, yadda.
Speaking of comics, and being let down: Mad Yak Press. Just days after I posted my review of their stuff at the Small Press Expo, they email me with an offer of many free books in exchange for reviews. Mentioned all this before. So where the fuck are the books? I could understand a little delay… 3 of 4 weeks even. People are busy and business is business. And considering it’s free… who am I to complain? But it’s two months later now, and I’ve never heard from them again. Not an explanation, not an acknowledgment, not even a kiss-off when they discover this might not be the kind of website they wanted. And no issue 4 of Black Eyed Susan. Are you still in business? Are you still in this hemisphere?
No I am not happy with you right now. vox populi, vox dei.
Do you ever have that feeling of clarity and peace when you wake up from a short nap? You weren’t really in a deep sleep, so your mind isn’t fuzzy. But the million and one things you were simultaneously contemplating before have all been brushed aside. That’s kind of the moment I imagine Buddhist monks living in. I could so be happy there.
Reading material:
Suicide Girls – Interviews
Stuart Hughes

Please keep in mind that this post is more than 6 years old. Who the hell knows what I was thinking back then?! Damn kids... get off my lawn!

Disturbing people professionally for over 10 years

Leave a comment | Posted by Patrick Calder on in memory

I forwarded my family a knitting pattern, today, since so many of them are craft freaks. A pattern for a knitted uterus. My aunt’s response was a “That’s interesting!” that you could almost see being said to the 8-year-old that brings in the dead squirrel.
That kinda shit makes my day.
My shoulder hurts like a sunnuvabitch. and there’s still not much you can really do in the way of diagnosing yourself. (The last time I tried to find any medical diagnosis online was when I was mugged and wondered if I had a concussion.) I thought maybe I just pulled a muscle in my sleep last night. But it’s not really a particular action-related thing, so much as a dull pain that fades in and out.
But since Sara decided to make fun of me, I’ve promised to haunt her if I die from this.
But unless the pain has been building up over a long time, or I recently shoulder-checked an Izuzu, I must be imagining it. Or so they say.
It would really suck to die before I had a chance to become senile and finally have an excuse for my actions.
You know…
There’s this image of “a dark and dreary night”, summoned up by an after hours rainfall. And yeah, I can see why in rural areas, where a nighttime sky normally filled with thousands of stars and a huge moon are suddenly obscured.* But every time the water falls from the sky, this five-lane road in below my window becomes a sort-of black mirror, casting a colorless brightness. When everything dries up, the asphalt becomes a black hole, just sucking up all the light you can throw at.
* Picture it: ten years ago (fuck!). While working at Camp Seneca Lake, I escaped one night to go to a Aerosmith concert in Syracuse. Being on the kitchen staff, they really didn’t care what we did so long as the bodies were cleaned up before morning. But at 10, they did lock the gate at the top of the road leading to camp. Returning after the concert at about 1 in the morning, without a flashlight, on an overcast night, in the middle of dense woods. I’ve been walking in the woods after dark for decades, (double fuck!) but it must have taken me an hour, and an entire pack of matches, to find my way down the pitch black road. If anything so much as a squirrel had run across my path, I would have no doubt taken off and run face first into a tree. Not a pretty sight to find in the morning.
Okay… so maybe that’s only interesting to me.
I was very easy to amuse that summer. It was the worst job I ever had. Two years before there had been a child abuse scandal, so everyone was still overly cautious. Several members of the kitchen staff were in prison just few months later. We were considered slightly better than hostile vagrants by the directors, (who amazingly are still there) and their staff.
Still gotta love the day my friend from college showed up to take me away for the weekend. This was a very white, very rich, and very conservative camp. And I was sitting on the porch with the Director when a fresh-off-the-line, glaringly-white sports car pulls up, and a beautiful girl from Hong Kong steps out. (Audrey Shum, if you’re out there.) Talk about being out of place. Best of all, she didn’t even notice. So I just waved to the Director whose mind had hit a roadblock, and got the hell out of dodge.
No doubt anyone brave enough to start reading this entry has long ago given up. But… you know… when I look back over my 500 plus entries, these little personal things are what stand out, not the links to articles, or quotes, or whatnot. So I don’t know what you’re here for… but this is me.

Please keep in mind that this post is more than 6 years old. Who the hell knows what I was thinking back then?! Damn kids... get off my lawn!