Rojo Caliente me hace enfermo

Rumour has it this 18-year-old Lohan-in-training was given $1 MILLION on her birthday from daddy dearest to do with it what she will. Shopping spree? New wheels? Jewellery? Maybe a few investments? Of course not…why not record a song and make a fab music video? Rojo caliente, meaning “red hot” in Spanish, is supposed to be her statement of individuality–based on having a head of unique red hair. For sure, no better way to leave a mark on the world than flood the already flooded music market with F-grade content.

“Children starving in the streets….that’s rojo caliente. Flash my bling, as I ride on by….that’s rojo caliente. Coulda fed a million peeps….that’s rojo caliente. Instead I have, this killer vid…that’s rojo caliente.”

A Little More Than Spell-Check Please…

Web writing. Web errors. For this particular copy-editor-in-training, it can sometimes drive me nuts. But being completely different from print, where an error made is an error stayed, the web can be quickly edited if a mistake is found. It is clearly a different medium than print, and thus requires a different process for editing and proof-reading. The development of a better editing process for web writing would benefit the internet as a whole–give it more credibility and staying power.

Guide to writing for the web.

The Great Divide

Print vs. Web

Print and Web

Web and Print

When I began this term in the Book and Magazine Program, I was completey of the mindset that any web component of a magazine was merely a nice little gimmick–more or less unnecessary in the larger scheme of things.

However, as I spent more time in the computer lab, listening to talk and examining samples of various tools on the net, I began to see my assumptions were based in ignorance. The web based portion of the magazines were a great way to view the magazine as a whole–both print and web–with articles, blogs, links and more that spoke volumes about the philosophy of the publication, perhaps even more than the print, because of how it talks directly to the reader and involves them as a user. The publication online may give their readers the benefit of the doubt, assuming they are already web-savy, and not include explanations of social bookmarking, RSS Feeds, or make their navigation more complicated than a standard organization. Or, they may take the reader by the hand and lead them through the website, with plenty of quick links, multiple search points, key words and clearly marked, separate sections (like the Toronto Life website)

But nothing made the importance of the web component more clear, than when my magazine editing group had to research a specfic magazine. We chose Faze magazine, because it was one the class would be less familiar with–a unique blend teen pop-culture with an emphasis on the real issues they face everyday. Refreshing right down to the hip editor Lorraine YipHoi (now Zander). Their website looked okay in the beginning, but after trying to email several of the contacts stated on the site with no response and calling the office number listed to discover it was no longer in existence–confusion and panic set in. Why would a magazine not update its website when it was so clearly a source for people to learn about the magazine and be drawn into it? And what were we going to do for our presentation when we needed primary sources???

Not only were the contacts incorrect, but the press information, media coverage, and invitations to the readers for their input were all outdated. We ended up having to go to other websites for indirect references, and contacts through other people. But our efforts were necessary to pass the assignment. What would keep a reader/potential advertiser/interested future employee searching other sites for information that should have been directly on their own site?

Eventually, I was able to make contact with the president of the company (who was Charm himself), and he told me that they were launching a whole new website within the next month, so the situation will soon be resolved. But how many people will be lost from their readership in the mean time? It was sad to think about–because the magazine has such amazing potential.

However, the situation did make me realize, even on a basic level, how important the web is to the magazine as a whole: for bringing readers in, and for keeping them. People, ESPECIALLY teens, want instant information–nothing much past the initial google search–that will show them what they are looking for.

Hopefully this new website that is going to revealed soon will be the Web 2.0 kind of place where a teen and pre-teen can feel at home….even if it has to incorporate Facebook.

Facebook Faux Pas

Facebook. It’s a noun, it’s a verb, it’s annoying.

However, most people, between the ages of 12 and 50 have found themselves completely addicted to the social networking tool, without even knowing why. Most don’t go more than a day without logging on to check something out, whether it is the news feed (AKA gossip channel), pictures (AKA a tabloid of average people) or to answer the question, “What are you doing right now?” (AKA voyeurism to an extreme).

And I am not going to pretend that I’m exempt from the above descriptions. Guilty as charged. But recent investigations into user rights and privacy policies, as well as a general wearing down of the humdrum, not so interactive or intellectually stimulating content, that has me taking a tentative step backwards.

Beyond the fading fad of facebook’s tool is that fact that reports are coming out about those who have had contact with administrative people behind facebook–and it hasn’t been friendly. People are mad about the treatment they have received for doing, in their opinion, nothing more than using the social network, just like everyone else. Complaints include everything from the organization simply shutting down user’s accounts without notice, to banning from the network, to threatened legal action. So, is facebook trying to clean up things because users have abused the system or is facebook over-stepping its boundaries, trampling on the rights of some users in order to set an example so others fall in line?

Mrvnmouse has posted a blog on his website, blaming the fact that facebook no longer restricts their users to those registered under a specific university email address, which it originally used in order to have people register. The argument is that university students have the kind of maturity that wouldn’t allow them to flood the network with useless junk, fake names etc. He poses that facebook is going down in flames, and we need to see another networking rising up that restricts people who can register.

Yes…university students sit in classrooms, write essays, have to produce their own “work ethic” and self-discipline in order to graduate–affirmative. But mature? Having just exited that domain, I am not sure mature is the all-encompassing word I would choose to describe them. When I was woken up at 3 or 4am by my fellow “mature” academic students peeing on the side of my house…I reserve the right to suggest university does not equal maturity.

So, aside from such a debate of maturity in academics vs. an extended high school phase, is it the fault of the users, flooding the system or what have you, like the aforementioned blogger suggests?

Think what you will I suppose, but with the premise of Web 2.0 being that the users are just as important, if not more, than those who are behind all the computer code because it is about INTERACTION (which is not one-sided, like here’s a program a just use it, according to OUR rules), I would suggest that facebook is the one abusing its clients by not opening up the possibilities of its program to include an emphasis on the user.

So, is solution a new social networking tool? Twitter? LinkedIn? Something yet to be created?

Look out facebook…it’s on the way, and you may be forced get into ship shape or to faceBOOK it out of here.

TTC–As Strange As It Can Be

Public transporation is an avenue by which so many of us travel, and yet, there seems to be something about the service that brings out the strange in people. Is it a result of the change in air pressure, being down so low, underneath the city or some other phenomenon of the masses that means folks just don’t seem to be acting normal?

Everyone has there strange subway stories it seems, and after moving to Toronto in September, and encountering the everyday subway ride, I am no different. In October, I saw a man wearing normal clothing and a full zorro mask get arrested on one of the trains. In December, a man stood behind me (and I mean directly behind me, his coat touching my own) on a fairly deserted stop in the Danforth area and keep nudging me, gesturing with two fingers to his mouth that he wanted a cigarette (at least, I hope that’s what the gesture was….eww….now I am reliving a whole different world of strange). And just this week, I was walking to the stairs when I heard a shrill shriek behind me, and when I turned around, there was a woman standing frozen, unmoving, in the middle of the stop with a winter toque rolled down over her entire face. Shaking my head in confusion, I proceeded up the stairs, only to pass a young girl who had piercings through (what would have been) the cute, little dimples on either side of her cheeks.

Is it just me, or are things on the subway only getting stranger?

Post your strange subway stories!

What is your journey from Plato’s Cave?

Small town to Big city.

Summer flings to Serious relationships.

Simply dating to Just married.

Happily married to Bitterly Divorced.

High school to Large university.

University classes to Real life.

Sweet Naivety to Blinding Truth.

Plato’s Cave. One small step for a human being–one giant leap out into the burning sunshine of the real world, and outside of the cave that once held your mind in a prison of limited knowledge. The ethical question is whether or not you should take the time to go back and teach those left behind in the cave by dragging them out to get a tan. Pale and pastey, we are comforted by the darkness of our ignorance. Blue pill, red pill. Hopping white rabbit or hibernating five-toed sloth. Neo or Cypher.

The Philosopher King is supposed to be the one who drags others, kicking and screaming and grabbing at the walls of the darkness we know so well. But does such a being exist anymore? Is anyone willing to take the abuse, the curses and the scratches and bruises incurred by the violent ignorant–even the violent ignorant we love–in order to show them the hard lessons and brilliant revelations learned through sometimes painful experiences? Or is it all too easy to avoid that sense of community and outreach, lather up the tanning oil and forget those who suffer unknowingly from a lack of vitamin D? Because in this maze of caves, we might perish before ever reaching the real sunlight, the real truth, because we are too stubborn to reach out…and take the uphill journey together.

Remembering Is Painful (RIP)

Kick the bucket. Meet your maker. Bite the dust. Pass away. All fancy expressions that say the same thing: death. We can make up phrases all we want to avoid saying “it,” but we can’t avoid its reality. Or can we? Perhaps the more obvious question of why we don’t like to think about dying and death (it’s scary as hell—no pun intended) should be replaced with a pondering of how we manage to avoid thinking about it.

Looking around, death is mentioned at every corner. You’ve got the news, with their daily death tolls in fires, floods and car crashes. There’s always a good flick of gory deaths and dismemberments playing at the movie theatre; and there’s never any shortage of television ads for wills, life insurance and charities that need your money to prevent another death at the hands of cancer. With so much focus on the topic, how do we manage to convince our brains not to think about it?

            Just recently I learned that an acquaintance from high school committed suicide. Although everyone I talked to seemed to agree he was a victim of tragedy, before too long he became more powerfully a victim of gossip. But I suppose that is to be expected, as it’s more or less our prime source of community news.

However, a more perturbing revelation came from the scattering of MSN names adding an “R.I.P.-we’ll miss you” phrase to their nick, when the day before it contained something to the effect of “man, I got so shit-faced last night…LOL.” Equating a person’s suicide with that oh-so hilarious night of intoxication put the two on the same level of trivialized, meaningless MSN topics of conversation.

I’m sure no harm was meant, and it was only their way of avoiding seriously internalizing the situation. They tucked it neatly into the closet, quietly shut the door and dead bolted it.  Passing the news subtly on to their friends, they did their part to encourage others to reach out (to their keyboards) and to personally express their love and sympathy (via the internet) to those grieving the loss.  Choosing the original and meaningful phrase “Rest In Peace” that carries with it so many heartwarming connotations, they made others feel almost guilty for not participating in such a public display of genuine concern.  Almost.

By downplaying the nearness of death, we can make it too simple and too insignificant to have any role in our lives or even in our trains of thought – until the bomb hits a target too close to ignore with the death of a loved one: father, sibling, best friend.  But by this time we have sheltered ourselves from death too much to actually be capable of dealing with its baggage.

The cliché “RIP” was a dead give away the gesture was all an act.  But this is how we steer clear of actually thinking about it.  We distance it from ourselves completely to avoid the frightening notion that death is also a part of life.  A part we have an obligation to consider. 

            A serious matter calls for serious deliberation, and I think we owe it to ourselves (and to our dearly departed) to realize that people may die for glory, fame or a good cause, but trust me, no dies for a place in the MSN hall of fame.

 **Originally appearing in The Cord

The All New Wedding Vows

‘Cause come on folks, let’s be realistic…

Groom:
In the name of God, I, (insert name), take you, (insert name), to be my first/second/fifth wife,
to have and to hold from this day until (insert presumed date of divorce)
for better or at least until something better comes along,

for richer or richerer, in sickness and in health…well, maybe not sickness, but for sure health, to love and to cherish when is most convenient,
until we are parted by disagreements, debt, and deceit,  . 
This is my solemn vow.

Bride:
In the name of God, I, (insert name), take you, (insert name), to be my husband,
to have, to hold and to take for granted from this day until (insert presumed date of internet/work/hired help affair),
for better or for better rest when I make you sleep on the couch,

for richer or….um, let’s skip this one,
in sickness, health and recovery from lipo/botox/plastic surgery,

to love and to cherish before the mortgage, job and home appliances become more important,
until we are parted by a mutual rejection of each other.
This is my solemn vow.

 OR… 

Alternative Vows…

I, [insert name], take you [insert name], to be my door mat, my partner in some parts of life and lucky number (insert number of marriage) of my true loves.
I will cherish our friendship and love you today,
maybe tomorrow, but probably not forever
I will distrust you, yet always pretend otherwise
I will laugh with you, but let you cry alone.
I will love you faithfully

Until I discover the true meaning of the word.
Through the best times and nothing more,
Through the difficult and then through the more difficult divorce.
For what may come I might be there.
As I have given you my hand to hold for now,
So I give you my life to keep for a few years
So help me God.

            Being the product of such modern views of marriage, as one can see, have made me a tad cynical.  “What right have you to judge?” most say, “You’ve never been in the position”.  True enough I suppose, but my judgment comes from the resulting pain and knowing I could never impose such anguish on my offspring.  How do you make a child feel like a solitary soul in the world?  Break the vows you declared before man and God.  Marriage has become this joke we see played as a game on television, that while entertaining us it unconsciously obliterates the idea of its sacredness in our minds.  We have become so desensitized by the low blows marriage has incurred that we are no longer in tune with the permanent damage that broken vows and broken hearts leave us with.  Quite frankly, I am disgusted with the majority of the human race for selfishly trading in faith, hope and love for the fast paced, high-tech, all consuming world of today.  It is a mentality we seem to not be able to escape.  Nothing lasts.  Cell phones die, fads and fashions fade, cars break down and we are always left wanting something bigger, better and more desirable.  Are we so out of touch with our true human nature that we apply these principles of modern society to holy oaths?  What really matters is lost in the debris of packaging from our multitude of gadgets and gizmos, and all hope is lost for the future generation.  “Our marriage is crumbling…but here’s the credit card number for that six foot plasma T.V. we need”.  So help me God…

So Much For Our Happy Endings

Which came first, tragic stories or tragic lives? Does art reflect what we have become or did it create the sad world we now know? It seems we are no longer satisfied with the happy endings of simpler times, but crave darker tales of isolation, abandonment, loss, even death, in order to make us feel—feel something, anything at all. I’m just left wondering whether it is because we forgot to be happy somewhere along the way. Not a day to day happiness, but a joy and contentment in the accomplishment of merely living. Is it this forgetting that caused a need for a powerful enough emotion like misery to replace what used to dwell within, which is just reflected in the stories we tell, or did the need for an expansion of literature drive our paths to mirror new tragic patterns? Whatever the cause, whatever the effect, I have a feeling our world is not as it once was. We are not what we once were. Only ghosts, lost within the shadows of sweet misery—wandering forever as its companion, and calling out to a past road we said goodbye to long ago.