Daily Sessions

I work with small and medium-sized businesses to clarify and refine their brand identity, then compose a core brand narrative to drive their key message, and evoke customer engagement.

What does that mean?

Simply: Every brand has a story. 

It is my job to find, refine and deliver it for maximum response and engagement.

I put nearly 20 years of my life - learning from and collaborating with the very best in the business - working on globally recognized F500 brands like Disney, Hard Rock Cafe, Google, Sony and Intel. But the past three years have been the most personally enriching and fulfilling, as I’ve had the opportunity to work with smaller companies and startups, collaborating directly with Founders and CEOs on crafting the strategy and messaging for their growing brands. 

Those smaller businesses and teams seem to more readily match the level of passion and excitement that I bring to my work every day, and that’s just a whole lot of fun. I love what I do, and the best part is when I can help a committed team see their own brand story in a fresh, new way… Typically it’s a matter of distilling their brand down to its very essence, then artfully communicating that back to the team in a way that reflects what they already knew and believed but hadn’t yet codified. 

I am continually impressed and amazed by the power and impact of a clear and cogent core brand narrative, and its exponential improvement on marketing ROI.

Clients with brands both large and small have found me via LinkedIn, and LinkedIn ProFinder specifically, and both are essential elements for the ongoing growth and success of my small business. The LinkedIn network exposes me to many thousands of people I may not have found otherwise, and ProFinder filters potential clients in need of my services directly to my inbox. I can offer quick-turn services for urgent needs, or longer-term engagements for larger objectives, and ProFinder delivers a nice mix of both. The best part might be that most ProFinder requests are by smart, capable folks who know what they need, and are ready to get started. That combination enables the biggest added value, and overall efficiency with everyone’s time. 

I never played chess growing up. My Dad, despite being a prominent D.C. attorney, skilled in the art of strategy with matters weighty enough for the highest courts, had no interest in that particular test of strategic thinking. We always had a board in the house, but it was checkers-only. No matter how much I pushed or prodded, he had some kind of hard line on this point: no chess.

Cut to last Fall, and I was successfully pushed and prodded to start playing chess by an old friend. We have much in common, known each other for over 25 years, and he was convinced I would love it. He was right, I’m hooked.

With a few months of play under my belt, and my rating nearing (a still paltry) 1000, the thought process required to be successful - let’s call it chess thinking - is creeping into my personal approach to life.

Chess thinking boiled down to its essence is one simple thing: Plan and consider your strategy several moves in advance. Think and plan ahead. 

Seems so simple, but for someone who never played the game during formative years, it’s a brand new experience. Not to say that I never planned ahead before, of course I have, and do, but the patient and careful consideration of each future move, and its ramifications, is on a different level. It’s hard. It’s mentally taxing, and the type of mental tax where it feels way too easy and comfortable to just dismiss and forego it vs. doing the work to get through it. But once I broke the seal, once I plodded through the first several (hundred?) series of difficult choices on the chess board, it was like a flood. Now I can’t help but apply the same approach to life in general. Each fresh new choice or decision that presents itself gets the chess thinking treatment. 

So now that chess thinking is part of my new-normal way of processing life in a very real, day to day, minute to minute kind of way, it hit me... there’s a conflict.

I have spent well over a decade with a Buddhist-based mindfulness and meditation practice. This was a strategy employed to seize domain over my own thoughts and feelings, after a young life spent as slave to the monkey mind. 

To boil this down to its essence, the likely familiar: Be here now. 

I prefer my personal variation on that concept: There Is Only Now, or TION. I use that as a reminder that all we truly ever have as human beings is this present moment. The past is history, the future is fiction, there is only now. That simple idea forms the adamantium core of my mindfulness practice, and they call it practice because that’s what it takes: dedication and practice.

The conflict, of sorts, is when the left-brained chess thinking rams up against the more right-brained concepts around presence and mindfulness. 

A Buddhist monk, for example, would caution that the thinking and processing involved in thinking several moves ahead - planning for a future that may never happen - is pretty much the definition of suffering. Monkey-mind, as it’s sometimes called, is the neverending churn of thinking that our brains are naturally inclined to do. To calm that monkey mind, a meditation practice can be a bit of a silver bullet, but the real challenge is maintaining that calm mind once the meditation session is over, minute to minute, day to day.

Can these two seemingly opposed philosophical approaches to thinking somehow peacefully co-exist?

Can I maintain a calm sense of presence in the moment, while still thinking several moves ahead?

Such is the challenge that lies before me… Just like everything else in life, balance is key, and that’s the aim, of course. The obvious answer is that not every situation requires such deep thinking or strategy, it’s a case-by-case basis. The trick is most likely to get clear and focus on which types of situations lend themselves to that deeper level of processing, then exclude the rest. Easy to say, but over time I think that will be the aim.

I (relatively) recently embarked on an extended east coast trip, and as per usual, Yelp came through like a champ...

The collective wisdom of the crowd helps to determine reasonable expectations for any particular business, especially bars and restaurants. Instead of having to rely on information coming from an establishment’s marketing department, we can hear unvarnished opinions — both positive and negative — and find common threads leading to a certain level of truth. However, I wish I could say the same about Tinder… 

So here’s the trouble with Tinder: Lack of context. 

The app catering to the swipe-happy dating world offers a great way to meet locals in the area, no doubt. Yes, it’s shallow and superficial, revolving around knee-jerk reactions to a few profile pictures. I imagine that for the Millennial crowd it’s great for finding hookups based almost solely on physical attraction. Cool, no problem. But once you reach a certain age (ahem), there are so many other qualities and characteristics that must be present to make us want to spend precious free time with someone new. In other words, Tinder is probably best for throwaway relationships, one-offs. 

Mari (not her real name) is a great example of how Tinder can result in wasted time due to lack of context. 

I swiped right, the phone buzzed, and “it’s a match!” I send her a note, and we begin a healthy back and forth over the course of a day, gradually getting flirtier until a plan materializes. She invites me to join her and her friends at a club downtown. I have not been a ‘club guy’ for many years now, and I’m pretty firm in my stance about never wanting to be the old guy at the club. Beyond that, I’m into real conversation right off the bat when meeting someone new. The more stimulating the conversation, the more interested (and attracted) I become. Sapiosexual is a relatively recent term that is meant to describe being sexually attracted to intelligence. That’s one way to describe my point here. 

Here comes the lack of context… 

So after some further persuasion, and promises of “if you come, you won’t regret it,” and some Yelp confirmation that the location is a high-end place on a rooftop, I decide to give it a whirl. I must have gone back to check out her pictures 5 or 10 more times, looking for any chance that maybe it’s not worth the trouble, but damn. This girl (woman) was seriously gorgeous, head to toe. I definitely found it odd that she had nothing written in her profile, but as I said, she’s incredibly beautiful with a gym-toned body and dark olive skin. I was certain the physical attraction was there, and rolled the dice on her mind.

We eventually connect out by the bar on the rooftop, and she is simply stunning in a black cocktail dress and nicely chosen accessories. This girl, physically, is a 10. Straight dime-piece. We agree that we both match our pictures, and the physical chemistry is electric. It’s quite obvious we are both quite stoked to meet each other, and that all expectations in that realm have been met or exceeded. Nice. I learn about her Colombian background, and the combination of her subtle accent, sparkling hazel eyes, and light flowery scent is totally intoxicating. She runs her own small business so she can have time with her son on her own schedule. Very cool. She’s independent and ambitious, I’m really liking this girl. Then she drops the God-bomb...   

To be clear, I have no issues with religious people, assuming they are not attempting to convince or persuade me toward their personal beliefs. I think religion, like many other things in life, can be a source of strength and grounding for certain people, especially when dealing with difficult circumstances like addiction or death in the family. But if “God” is the determinant force in your decisions, and your life as a whole, we probably won’t be best friends. 

The idea that such a beautiful, seemingly intelligent, and fiercely independent woman would say things like, 

“Whatever happens, I just go to my knees” (for prayer, that is), 

is totally counterintuitive to me. She went into a detailed and passionate monologue about how she finds “answers to any concern or problem” in the Bible. “Really? Hm, interesting.” I was careful not to challenge her on any of this, as I could tell how central it was to her very being, but the physical attraction was evaporating faster with every sentence.

Context. There were plenty of profiles on Tinder where “God” was mentioned, plenty. But not hers. No mention at all. 

How or why would someone who is so very seriously committed to religion not mention that in their dating profile? Religion, politics, money, these are all very core personal issues that more often than not amount to dealbreakers for one or both people involved in a new relationship scenario, right? 

It’s sweet to think that “love” is so powerful that it can push past those sorts of differences and bring people together, but it’s unrealistic. Without context, you can easily spend hours of your life setting up a meeting with a beautiful stranger whose character is repellant in person. 

So what’s the big deal? 

Simply this: Tinder with care, and a dash of scrutiny.

Only 9 more days and I can order my Apple Watch. But I find myself quite torn...

Over a decade ago, once I was carrying a clock-enabled cel phone in my pocket everywhere I went, watches were expelled from my wardrobe. Deemed a convention no longer necessary - what a burden for my poor wrist! - I was quite happy to have one less thing to manage and carry. In fact, I adopted a bit of a knowing sneer, particularly when confronted with a pager-sized, diamond-encrusted monstrosity on the wrist of a besuited, self-identified master-of-the-universe.

“What a waste of money… Do you really need attention that badly? Did your Daddy not hug you enough?”

But here comes Apple, purveying yet another drool-worthy object of my desire. 

I’ve gone on record as a die-hard fan of - not the brand, necessarily - but the immaculately thoughtful design that abounds in and from Cupertino. That thoughtfulness - care and consideration, truly, for the users of their products - is what, for me, is the ultimate distinction between Apple and everyone else. Often imitated, never duplicated. And the Watch seems to be no different.

Full disclosure: I work, write, and spend a huge amount of my time in the digital space. This includes interfacing with anything and everything that deals in pixels. Not only must I stay abreast of all new developments, but to be truly effective I make sure to develop a much deeper personal familiarity with most of it. 

On a daily basis I’m either dreaming up new ways to leverage technology to best deliver a client’s message, or advising clients on best practices for messaging in the digital realm.

This means, like it or not, I’ll be wearing a Watch again come late-April. This is for three simple reasons, none of which are, “because fanboy.”

1. Apple’s ecosystem is cleaner, tighter, smoother and more reliable than any other currently available, and I’m a satisfied citizen within it.

2. My 6+ is awesome, but I do pull it in and out of my pocket easily 50+ times/day, and “glanceable interactions” are a very appealing way to smooth the interaction cycles.

3. To inform my perspective, and fertilize the brainpan for innovative applications of this new interface touchpoint.

So, who’s with me? 

I’m looking for fellow "Watch-ers” interested in setting up an informal user group to experiment with and within this new subset of the Apple ecosystem. 

“I don’t watch TV.”

Since childhood, I can remember a fascination with television. Not only the programming that blasted forth from cathode ray tubing, but all of it. How did the programs get made? What’s inside the box itself? How do the shows get to my TV in the first place? Endless questions that would eventually get answers, slowly (no internet!), over the following years and decades.

First it was Sesame Street and The Electric Company, assisting Mom with my preoccupation while she tended to adult matters and concerns. As I grew, my hard-working single Mama would still be earning the money to support us by the time I arrived home from school each day. After my list of daily chores was complete, Woody Woodpecker and Tom & Jerry were often my buddies until Mom got home. Then Dukes of Hazzard, CHiPs, Mork and Mindy, among others, would join us in the living room to entertain our evenings.

Somewhere along the way, I learned that the actual purpose of TV, beyond entertainment, was to sell us things.

The commercials that interrupted the shows were carefully constructed messages designed to incite desire and longing. All built on the idea that the viewer’s life is filled with problems, and that products and services held the answer to all those concerns.

Too fat? Oily skin? Split ends? Sweaty pits? Buy, buy, buy.

All that said, the programming — the entertainment — was the reason to endure those commercial messages. Like a ninja, I trained my senses to dim and mute the junk that came between chunks of my favorite shows. I learned to time bathroom/kitchen trips to fit the “2 and 2” model of 2:02 commercial breaks. Those expanded to three, then four-minute breaks, then… TiVo!

“Hallelujah!” said every TV viewer, ever. Now we were in control of which messages, if any, we chose to consume (read: have thrust into our head holes). Now the programming could take its rightful place as the sole focus, without forced distractions from the funders of the production. That was over a decade ago.

It is now 2015 and we still love to sh*t all over “TV”.

“I don’t watch TV.”

“I don’t own a television.”

“I hate TV.”

“TV is for idiots.”

The list goes on… But I’m here to ask, in 2015:

What is TV, really? Does it even exist anymore?

I loved Breaking Bad. It’s hard to find a media critic who doesn’t laud that team for producing one of the best, most compelling dramatic shows ever created. The writing, the character development, the pacing, the plot constructions, and the deft employment of what I termed the “twist-hanger” — a mashup of cliffhanger and major plot twist, all serving to make the next episode lustworthy.

That show aired on AMC of course, which has been making a name for itself in this new age of, for lack of a better term, television. But that group is exploding with similar contenders including massive tech players like Amazon, and Google (via YouTube), as well as lots of other little networks and creative consortiums, all making groundbreaking original content, in video form. Does this make them “TV studios?” Hardly. Content Producers might be the easiest label to apply, broad enough to include all manner of sub-genres within video content offerings, both existing and future.

In terms of access, I can watch almost any piece of programming (video content) I choose from many different devices. I can still use a plain old “TV” to watch many things. With a “Smart TV” I add access to other channels and outlets, many of them online-exclusive via the desktop, or an external device of some kind, like a Roku. But by and large, I can watch anything I want to see, instantly, on no less than three different screened-devices, not including a television.

So if I’m watching Mozart in the Jungle (a very good recent offering from Amazon btw, with Gael García Bernal) on my iPad, what is that called? iPadvision? Now I watch Game of Thrones on my laptop. Is that lapvision? What if I’m watching episodes of No Reservations on Netflix, on my smartphone?

A bit of silliness there, to try to make the larger point: We named the content type based on the delivery device, way back, nearly 100 years ago. You can hate that box-with-a-screen all you want, but if you’re not careful, you risk condemning creative content in general.

Thoughts and attitudes evolved around television, but the separation of the device from the content was never made. They were one and the same, just “TV”. But as we hurtle forth into this fully-mobile, still-nascent century, isn’t it time we find a new way to reference short-form content consumed in moving picture form? Is the latent stench of judgment and superiority applied toward “television” really still relevant to our modern age?

It occurred to me recently that the American version of a riot, despite any higher-minded intentions at the start, is a fire-enabled shopping spree…

Burning things to get objects, that is most often the substance of a riot in the United States. Somehow the acquisition of material goods, perceived to have been withheld by an unfair system, serves to ease anger and outrage. As though shopping itself is the act of belonging, regardless of the mechanism used to pursue it. You shop, thus you belong.

Sublime has a classic song titled “April 29, 1992” which details the band members’ purported activities during the LA riots, in response to the infamous beating of Rodney King by LA police officers. They “filled up the van until it was full” and “since that day [their] living room’s been much more comfortable.” Despite being white men, they declare the riot rationale was not racial, “… it wasn’t about Rodney King. It’s this fucked-up situation and these fucked-up police.” A reaction to overreach and abuse by Los Angeles police, in a longstanding and worsening pattern.

So what was the tangible reaction and effective approach to justice? Shopping, of course. The fact that money and material goods were not readily available to the types of people that were most susceptible to violence and unfair treatment from the Police — the establishment — made this a natural, visceral, instinctual reaction. "Push us too far, and we’re coming for your stuff", they seemed to say.

Outrage, pain, fear and disillusionment materialized as a frenzy of consumerism, enabled by violence and willful destruction. The only immediately tangible analgesic for societal imbalance was to get stuff, without the requisite payment or exchange of services. As if a new TV might be salve to the psychic wounds caused by decades of repression and discrimination.

Did all those material acquisitions, enabled by fire, bring any meaningful change to the circumstances of the acquirers? Likely not. But I can imagine at least a vaguely perceptible sense of reassurance that in every crisis there is in fact opportunity, regardless of the means to that end.

I’ve just returned from an extended trip to the east coast, where all my family is located. The purpose of the trip was to reconnect and spend time with them, as my trips east have been infrequent since I moved out west well over a decade ago.

It’s a different type of “recharging” that comes from extended periods of time spent with family, when living so far away. Unplugging is one thing, but that family love and energy is the ultimate power source, leaving me refreshed and rejuvenated. That said, every available minute is precious, and I was well reminded of the conscious and concerted effort required to not disappear, digitally, even for a moment.

Imagine now you’re sharing space with someone. You are physically present in the same time and place as they are. Whether you realize it in the moment or not — likely not — it takes a certain level of conscious energy and effort to be there, present, in that space. Your mind may drift, either during a lull in conversation, or even while someone is speaking to you. This is human nature — the nature of the mind — and that same concept is the core challenge for any meditation practice.

To “practice" meditation is to target calming of the “monkey-mind” that actively seeks to move from one thought to the next in rapid succession. Acknowledging those thoughts, then coming back to the present moment is the whole cloth of meditation — always returning to the present moment, regardless of what distraction your mind may serve up. This is the simple idea around “being present” or “in the now.” That’s it, just being here (or there, as it were) now (er, then).

So where does the mind go in those cognitive departures from the present moment, and company?

Inside itself is one way to put it. We go into our heads almost literally, lost in thought, and certainly not present in the space where our body resides at that moment. Considering only the most accomplished yogis can remain consciously present for any extended period, it’s clear that this is a significant challenge that we all face as social creatures.

To truly connect, and be connected, to other humans hinges on our ability to remain consciously present in the moment.

We go out of our over-scheduled ways to plan, schedule and arrive for shared time/space with those we care about. Yet we carry on our persons the most distracting invention ever created, and without realizing it we are on a path toward the permanent degradation of what it means to be human, and connect in physical space.

Recent studies have shown that even “just a quick check” of our email, facebook, twitter, instagram, etc. is enough to give us a small dose of oxytocin: the neurochemical equivalent of a warm, fuzzy feeling. But how does that compare to a warm embrace? A kiss? A thoughtful conversation with lots of eye contact and deep feelings communicated? It doesn’t compare, it just doesn’t. Chemically they may have a small similarity, but experientially I would contend they are miles apart.

Disappearing digitally, is any moment — even a few seconds — where you are checking your device while in the shared space with others.

Crowded bus? Whatever. That could be seen as conscious escape, quite literally, from the surrounding chaos. But at a table with friends? At dinner with your significant other? At your kid’s parent/teacher meeting? You’ve removed your very being from the situation.

No matter how hard you try to convince yourself that you’re “multitasking”, the human brain can only concentrate — focus — on one thing at a time, period.

If you’re looking at your device, you have left the room.

You have transferred your consciousness — your focused mind and presence — into a digital space that does not physically exist. Despite the lack of physical manifestation, the effect on your physical body is the same. You are no longer present.

Is this a crazy, anachronistic, anti-technology rant? Hardly. I’ve been an advocate — coach, even — for and with digital technology for two decades now, which puts me in the hot seat for setting a good example. Thereby, my intention is simple: Whenever sharing physical space with anyone whom I’m intending to share it with, I will keep my device in my pocket. I will take full advantage of the time and space available with said person(s) and engage with them on a human level, seeking meaningful connection.

Does this mean I’ll lock eyes and never look away, in some perverted form of a modern-day staring contest? Definitely not (I was never much good at those anyway). But it does mean that I will remain engaged with you, even if the conversation lulls. Even if my phone buzzes during one of those lulls.

Of course there are exceptions, and those call for a conscious approach — excusing myself for a moment if necessary. But by and large, recognizing the impact of those palm-ways glances, and making an effort to remain consciously present is the challenge I put forth to you.

So next time you see a table of friends, family, colleagues sharing a table, and one or several of them are looking down into their hands, as opposed to the faces in front of them, imagine each of the palm-starers as physically transparent. As if they’ve left the room.

Then the next time you are in a similar situation, imagine the same thing happens to you if/when you succumb to the siren song of your mobile device. Physical presence is the lowest common denominator, the easy part. It’s conscious presence that holds all the real value, and we must make an effort to bring and offer that to each meeting and encounter we are lucky enough to have... Just as we would want others to do for us.

For a significant portion of my time on earth, I was locked into a “go, go, go” approach toward life. 

I took that approach toward everything. It was like a combination of the constant search for greater quality and efficiency, with a materialistic mindset. It was just understood that everything should be bigger, better, faster, and new, always shiny and new.  I busted ass every day at a job that at its core was all about those same motivations, for a client’s benefit, i.e. profits and increased revenue. My prime directive was to take their allocated budget and turn it into a set of deliverables meeting clearly set expectations and exceeding in value.

“Better, faster, more efficient," the mantra constantly running just underneath my conscious thoughts.

On one hand, this was a driving force that propelled my ambition, and converted it into fat stacks of material goods. In the worst of times, the stress level was out of hand, with no signs of dropping until the deadlines were met. No escape. In those times I carrot-and-sticked myself through it, with the carrot being the stuff I could do and buy with all the cash I was earning. The stick was basically self-flagellation.  In that gogogo tunnel vision, there was no time to slow down and actually contemplate the big picture of how I was spending my time, energy and talent. The mentality didn’t allow it, nor did the crazy timelines or 60-hour weeks. This, my friends, is a recipe for burnout. I know because that’s exactly what happened to me. I hit a point where my health — both physical and mental — was suffering to the point it damaged my relationships and sapped the joy from my life. A turn of phrase, mot juste for that approach to life would be,

“Running to my grave."

Look, the money chase is so deeply ingrained in our American culture, it’s now easily spotted in kids as young as 5, maybe younger. Money and fame intertwined as some vague sole aspiration. 

One simple example is the upgrade mentality — a subgenre of gogogo specifically related to material goods. Xbox 360?! No way, that’s old. I need the Xbox One, Dad. More, better, newer, more.

Like it or not, I can’t see that ever going away… unless somehow all the money loses its value due to a massive system crash. Nah, not likely, right?

Instead of raging against the machine that is destined to survive, what if we took a more holistic approach to the way we teach, coach, and mentor the younger generations into adolescence and adulthood? The gorgeously awesome picture we paint of what a “great, happy life” looks like would focus less on how big the house is, or how many fast cars you have. The focus — the approach to defining the big long-term objective for kids coming up in the world — would look like this:

1. Figure out what makes you happiest… something you’re passionate and excited about. 2. Look into possible careers that involve that passion. 3. Plot a course of action that delivers you to the goal. 4. Get at it.

Sure, kids might identify their passion as “candy” or “video games.” That’s totally fine and good! Typically adults would laugh that off and go about convincing the kid that they need more “serious” pursuits.

“Well you can’t make a living eating candy.”

Or

“You can’t support yourself by playing video games all the time.”

But that is so myopic and close-minded.  The kid has given an honest response about what brings them pleasure and/or satisfaction. Why not go with it? Take that as a starting place, and you can be sure the kid will remain engaged for as long as you’re discussing that thing they said was so important to them. So what about the candy-fan? Well, that’s confectionary. That’s a real thing, an actual career path. Is there room for millions of confectioners in the world? Of course not, but the point is that you’re helping the child to learn a clear process for orchestrating their life toward true happiness. I think we can all agree that “true happiness” on a consistent and steady basis comes from making a living doing something you love.  If you’re spending five days a week pushing paper around because somebody told you attorneys make a ton of money, that is unlikely to bring you true happiness. You’re slogging through to get to the money, the spending — salve for the mental wounds caused by stress and unnatural circumstances (e.g. sitting in a chair all day). Conversely, if you’re spending five days a week making candy, and dreaming up new kinds of candy to make, think you’ll be happy? If you’re that candy-fan, for sure. And the video game nut? Hell, that’s one of the fastest-growing and most lucrative industries around. No shortage of great jobs designing video games, coding them, marketing them, there are even jobs that involve playing the games for an actual paycheck. Our 21st century digital world is one that offers new frontiers for all involved. Many of those entail disruption of existing (traditional) models and approaches, opening up new opportunities in the process. Many, if not most, of the underlying assumptions that pre-Millennial generations grew up with simply must be reconsidered. In general, the more we can reconsider old, ingrained ways of thinking, and being, in the world, the better able we’ll be to raise future generations of generally happy and fulfilled citizens. Consider for a moment:

Hey bro, spare some change for a Lollipop Hammer?

I’ll go ahead and assume you already know that Candy Crush Saga (CCS) is a popular digital game, and that if you haven’t played it, you definitely know someone who has. But to set the table for why you should care about the genius psychology behind its massive appeal, a few more facts and figures.

CCS:

Is free to download and play.

Players are 90% age 21+, and split approximately 50/50 male/female.

Reached 150 billion plays in less than a year after its 2012 launch.

Is currently played by 93 million people, more than 1 billion times/day.

In-app purchases currently average more than $875,000 per day.

Collectively, this makes CCS one of the top three grossing iOS games of all-time. So they’ve hit on a model that works, to the tune of nearly $1 million/day. Whether it’s sustainable, or if the game’s designer (King) can produce another hit game with similar success, is yet to be seen.

They had an IPO, and the performance was fair to middling. But the psychology behind the game mechanics is what I find particularly intriguing. A combination of factors produces an addictive experience, which I contend deserves the credit for the rapid, widespread, and prolonged success.

First there is the encouragement, i.e. reward system. Keise Izuma’s study, “Processing of Social and Monetary Rewards in the Human Striatum,” showed that audible reinforcement from a computer (e.g. “Good job!”) lit up the same regions of the brain as would a financial windfall of some kind. This is similar to the findings, enabled by fMRI technology, showing that our minds (and bodies) respond to physically perceived stimuli the same as if we closed our eyes and just envisioned those same stimuli. In other words, if you look at an apple, then close your eyes and imagine/visualize an apple, you're activating the same regions of your brain. Your mind/body do not know the difference between actual and imagined (or remembered) experience. This is why nightmares make you sweat or cry out, and why PTSD is so insidious - remembered experiences mentally surfaced and processed as though they are happening in real-time.

In the case of CCS, the reward system is pretty simple. With a minor accomplishment (i.e. a well-chosen move), the bass-baritone voice of the game encourages you, “Sweet!” A better move gets you a throaty, “Divine!” Those verbal kisses for your cognitive reward center, combined with bright musical sound effects result in subtle sensations of success. If you’re not paying conscious attention, absorbed in the game, all you know is you want to keep playing to get that feeling again.

But here’s where the real genius starts to surface. Beyond the friendly verbal cheerleader, with only two responses, there are other silent characters that populate your journey.

First, there is the douchey coach with terrible advice. I call it a “coach” as he/she/it is ostensibly offering you “help” if/when you get stuck, here defined as a long pause between moves. Once your pause is longer than average, this unseen helper highlights a particular move on the board with flashing pieces of candy. In the early stages/levels of the game, this “coach” (helper?) does in fact make some good suggestions. Based on those experiences, you build a certain level of trust. You assume that those hints are coming from a helpful resource.

What happens down the line at some point is the “hints” become tricks or traps. If you take the coach’s suggestion, it creates a chain reaction that either makes the board much more difficult to complete, or even ends your current life completely. This entity that you had always assumed was your buddy, is screwing you over. Sometimes the suggestions are good ones, but many times not. This “coach” is pretty much the worst kind of friend, totally unreliable. Total douche.

Then there is the dickhead chocolate. Sharing space on the game board with the hard candy pieces are squares of chocolate. Whereas our “coach” is revealed to be a flaky douchebag, similarly, otherwise delicious chocolate is personified as a terrible roommate.

First, it needs constant attention. If you don’t immediately attend to the chocolate (by using your moves to break up and remove it) it multiplies, setting you back further from your goal of clearing the board. When it does multiply (each time you don’t pay it attention), it erases the most valuable candies in its vicinity. Just like the classic bad roommate who eats your favorite cookies while you’re at class, the chocolate consumes the best stuff when you’re not looking.

Finally we have the musical and messaging components, the third and fourth members of the get-you-and-keep-you-addicted team. We talked about the positive reinforcement with sound effects in certain cases, but the music plays a different role. As you might have noticed, movie soundtracks function as emotional cue cards, subconsciously signaling how you’re meant to feel during any given scene. Similarly, as soon as you reach a failure point (i.e. loss of life), the musical sting is a familiar “wah-wah-wahhhh” in descending tones. Remember Debbie Downer? Like that, her bummer theme song. It’s a musical bummer. You feel let down, disappointed, frustrated even.

Now immediately you’re presented with two options: try again, or don’t. But the genius is in the framing and language. Would you prefer to,

“Play On!”

or

“Give Up”

So… are you a dirty low-down quitter, or are you tough enough to (pay and) continue playing? "Pay me, or quit,” That is the mentality of the messaging, and let’s admit it, it’s powerful. Nobody wants to be a quitter, right?

But now it really gets interesting (diabolical?) when you run out of lives. If you decided to “Give Up,” this translates as “try again,” if you have more lives to use. If you don’t, the failure message screen doesn’t remind you or mention that fact. Instead, you’re now presented with another message screen with only two options: “Retry” or, well that’s it. The other option is to tap the red ‘X’ close button on the message window.

If you choose “Retry,” i.e. I want to try again, now I’m confronted by a message screen with a giant frowning heart, weeping. An immediate visual bummer - Too bad, what you want you can't have. There is a countdown timer showing how long until your next life appears (approximately 30 minutes), along with two clear options:

Beg

or

Pay

You can either pay cash money to buy another life, or, you can beg your friends on Facebook. I’m sure you’ve seen them, those semi-pathetic pleas from the game, posted to your friend’s page on your behalf, with your face and a request to help. This is an age-old addict’s dilemma, right? To avoid the horror of running out of your drug of choice, you need to either earn-then-pay money to buy more, or you need to beg others for help.

Hello, my name is Chris, and I’m a Candy Crush addict.

Can you spare some change for a Lollipop Hammer?

And so I say to you, King Digital Entertainment plc, well-done sirs (and madams)! Through the use of counterbalanced entities residing within the mechanics of the User Interface, leveraging plenty of subconsciously-active visual and auditory cues, and a loan-shark/pimp/drug-dealer approach to incentives and monetization, you’ve created one of the most addictive game experiences ever created in the mobile digital space.

If you are under the age of 30, stop here and forward this link to your parents... Otherwise, please read on.

We all now spend significant amounts of time on the interwebs, but too few really understand what goes into the making of an effective and useful website. This is a public service announcement. :)

Clichés suck.

To earn the term, the phrase must be tired and trite. It’s based on the past participle of a mid-19th-century French word, “clicher” meaning “to stereotype.” Stereotypes suck too, as they are over-generalizations and assumptions made about a group of things, or people.

cli - ché: noun a phrase or opinion that is overused and betrays a lack of original thought.

That’s the crux of the matter, lack of original thought. It’s too easy… Lazy, even. But there are plenty of common phrases in English that maintain relevance, and avoid the cliché stigma. A common thread among them would likely be original thought.

My term of choice for those phrases is “mot juste.” Again from French (damn, their language is beautiful), the literal translation is “true word” or “right word.” That is precisely the perfect name, as a phrase earning the term is that perfect utterance for the moment or situation at hand. It’s not always, or even frequently, appropriate and thus has a much lower usage rate. This is another protection from the cliché graveyard… where mot juste’s (mots juste?) go to die.

An example of a mot juste is “the cat’s out of the bag.” It’s visual, it’s odd, it conjures a strange image, but it’s the perfect way of saying that a particular fact (secret) was revealed to a person or people who were unaware.

“Johnny wasn’t going to tell his Mom about the ‘D’ on his English exam, but the teacher called the house, so I guess the cat’s out of the bag.”

Some fact or piece of information meant to be hidden or obscured for some reason, has been revealed, for better or worse. I like it because there is no inherently positive or negative connotation. It’s a term that is not too “loaded” with preconceived requirements about its deeper meaning in any particular situation.

With all that said, I’d like to hereby offer up my own permutation of “cat’s out of the bag” for a more specific type of situation where it might apply.

Let’s say that Jim and Sally work together at a tech company. They aren’t on the same project team, but the company is not huge, so they see each other around the office often. Everyone knows that Jim is married, and Sally is single.

At some point, Rachel starts noticing some odd behavior from Jim and Sally that intrigues her. Upon further observation, she’s got a hunch they might be hooking up. Sure enough, on a random Tuesday she catches a glimpse of Sally going into the copy room right after Jim did. A little further snooping and she knew for sure they were sleeping together.

Rachel likes and respects both Jim and Sally, and does not know Jim’s wife. She decides to keep it to herself and avoid feeding the office gossip mill. If this information becomes public it will be catastrophic for all involved. Rachel carries her secret for weeks.

One Monday morning in the break room, she’s sitting with a few other colleagues talking about their weekends. Cynthia busts through the door and throws a single sheet of paper onto the large shared table in the center of the room. It’s a copy of a scandalous email from Jim to Sally, and her scandalous response. Immediately everyone comes to the same realization, and Sally announces,

“Well, I guess the cock’s out of the bag now!”

If there is a better way of describing a situation where two people have been outed for sleeping together, I’m not aware of it. If you ever find yourself in the presence of a similar situation, the mot juste is clear: “The cock’s out of the bag!”

There is one single exception. This would not work if the secret affair were lesbian in nature, since the equipment in question is not present. In that situation, “Cat’s out of the bag” seems more appropriate, with a subtly different meaning.

Of course I jest, but I’m quite proud of the new cock-infused version I’ve offered here. It is original, yet familiar. It’s appropriate without being gross or dirty — Use it with kids in the room! It’s just right. Mot juste.

Everyone can find a moment in their life they consider a turning point: A pivotal incident, action, or decision that changes the course of future events.

It could be the day your first-choice university accepted you, or the time you decided to skip the bike helmet and had a major accident. Some turning points are conscious and intentional, some accidental, and some are unconscious, driven by assumptions or ambitions.

It occurred to me recently that there are two specific examples of unconscious turning points that, while different, share the same motivation: Saving face.

The first example is in the corporate environment, at the highest levels. Any corporation’s primary directive is to shave costs and increase profit, in perpetuity. Realistically we know that this ambition is untenable. There is a certain point where those two opposing objectives deliver diminishing returns. You can only cut costs so low before the consequences impact profitability. For example, large cuts to manufacturing costs might produce a product of inferior quality to previous iterations. This could likely result in a decrease in total sales. Customers ditch your product for a competitor, and based on their negative experience won't return.

Then there are the unforeseeable events that bring potential loss of profits. A scandal, for example. The corporation’s instinctual (unconscious) reaction — based on that prime directive — is to do or say whatever is necessary to stop the bleeding. Their reputation, and thus the bottom line, is in danger, and the wagons circle to remove the threat at any cost.

The documentary Blackfish offers behind-the-scenes perspective on the operations of one of the larger theme park operations in the U.S., Sea World. There was an incident involving a killer whale biting and killing a whale trainer at the park. The corporate leadership went into panic mode — save face! — and decided to quickly release a story to the media. This was a smart move. An attempt to shape the narrative by being first in line with the coverage.

They could have been straightforward and explained that this type of thing was an unfortunate, yet somewhat natural result of working with these massive animals over a long period of time — A calculated risk on the part of the trainers and the park itself. Instead, their official statement said the trainer had slipped into the water, hit her head, and drowned as a result. The expectation was likely that the media would label the incident an accident, with no involvement of the animals that make up the core of the park’s image and marketing.

How could they think they would get away with a false account of the actual and tragic events? No idea, and this is to my point that the gut reaction when in trouble is to say and do whatever it takes to attempt to save face. Kind of like a drowning person kicking and clawing for the surface — anything for one more gulp of air.

I noticed a similar situation with contestants on reality TV competition shows, like Survivor or Big Brother, for example. At the outset, everyone starts on somewhat equal footing, each with an equal chance at winning. As the competition unfolds, over weeks and months, people get eliminated. The competition begins to take on a more aggressive undertone as the contestants begin to smell the finish line — and the grand prize — getting ever closer.

At some point, a particular contestant comes to the realization that they’re kinda screwed. For whatever reason(s) the circumstances have changed, and they can see that their days are numbered. Just like when Sea World realized that they had a massive PR nightmare on their hands, the contestant recognizes the fact that they will soon be a “loser” and released back into the real world. They go into overdrive, looking for any way possible to turn things around, but more importantly, to ensure that their image and perception winds up as positive as possible — save face! What’s the easiest way to do that? Attack the ones who are winning, and thus making you a “loser” by default, as a product of their own success. 

With any of those competitions, the well-known premise is that anything goes in the context of the game. The only real rule is to win. Everyone understands that the confines of the game environment are not the “real world.” Lying, cheating, stealing, whatever it takes is fair game. But when it comes time to save face on your way out, there seems to be only one approach: Pull the morality card.

With that in hand, it is now quite easy to paint the front-runners as “bad people.” Tears are usually involved, and it’s a sniveling monologue about how

“I just wouldn’t treat people that way.”

Or, “My parents didn’t raise me like that. I could never X, Y or Z.”

Those who seem to have the best chance at winning have almost certainly done some shady things to get them where they are. That usually involves some lying, or manipulating, and almost always a betrayal of some kind. Again, all fair game, but for the soon-to-be-loser it’s all ripe for disdain from a moral perspective.

They might start claiming that they have certain personal boundaries that they would never cross. They’ll get all teary-eyed and confront the offender with passive-aggressive language around the “kind of person” they thought they were vs. what they demonstrated. It’s guilt and shame inflicted on the innocent, intended to make themselves look better in comparison, and also besmirch the front-runners.

Once released, they can go back home and explain away their loss — often humiliating, e.g. blindsided by perceived allies — with excuses rooted in their high morality.

“Oh such and such would do anything to win. I just refused to X, Y or Z.”

They claim they would rather “stay true to their values” than win the game. Saving face, plain and simple. What’s funny is that it seems they don’t see the irony or the hypocrisy in their approach.

So in both situations the protagonists are doing whatever it takes to shape or reshape their image or perception in the public eye. With the corporate actors, to protect their precious profits. With the reality contestants, to protect their pride. It’s damage control, but the methods can be more damaging than the original incident(s).

In both cases, the turning point comes at the realization that they’re in trouble. The corporate solution is pretty much status quo. For better or worse, it’s just what you do when your corporation is in a mess, you make shit up and hope you aren’t further exposed. The personal solution is to tear others down to make yourself look better. Often that includes making shit up and hoping you aren’t found out. The behaviors are the same, but we accept one as normal, and the despise the other as lacking character.

Said another way, if corporations have all the legal rights of a human person — which they do — why are they not held accountable for their actions in the same way a person would be?

I don’t know what the takeaway is here… This is yet another practice session and I just started writing on that little nugget of an idea - Turning points, and damage control at any cost.

Ever been electrocuted? If you answered “yes,” then you’ve been a victim of the homogenization and dilution of our English language. It’s happening faster each year, and new examples turn up almost every day. With the advent of digital technology and its rapid intertwining with our daily lives, written language has become as malleable as the bits it consists of. Phrases and colloquial terms that were once codified in written texts for smooth transition from generation to generation now can change about as fast as a Snapchat disappears. “Electrocute” means “to kill [or be killed] by electric shock.”

So if you have ever been electrocuted, you’re most definitely not reading these words. What’s happened here is that somewhere along the way, the word “shock” started getting traded for “electrocute.”

Maybe it just sounds cooler, or more intense. But the fact remains that there is an actual definition of each of those words, and they are not at all the same thing. Conflating the two has now eliminated a single-word reference to death by electric shock. For example, to be sure we’re understood, we now need to add the modifier, “to death.”

Instead of the clearer and simpler version:

“He got electrocuted,” meaning he died by electric shock, now we have to clarify,

“He got electrocuted to death."

Or worse, "He got shocked to death," which could easily be a metaphorical reference to being greatly shocked by a statement or occurrence.

The whole mess is ripe for confusion. We now have to be more specific, since we throw around the word electrocution even in reference to harmless static electricity. I recently heard two young women talking on the BART and one squealed to the other, “Ohmigawd, I totally got electrocuted by yur swettur!" No, honey. That’s called a shock, and it definitely does not cause death. Nitpicky? Okay, I’ll accept that. But if the highest and best purpose of language is to clearly communicate thoughts and ideas, then it is still important to maintain the intrinsic value of a word’s true definition. It seems like we are watering down our English language — mainstreaming — to accommodate the lowest common denominator.

To stick with the water metaphor, it feels like — similar to Pascal’s Law — our language is seeking a level, and it’s dropping. The downward pressure from txt-speak, less reading, and the wiki-mind of the younger generations is leveling the peaks of the most beautiful parts of English — the shaded meanings and tones made possible by a larger vocabulary. We are leaving the nuance of language high and dry as the surface level drops deeper into thgs lk ths. The big question is whether anybody cares. Beyond English professors — professors in general — linguists, writers, and attorneys, is there any other group that can or will stand up for the integrity of the English language?

I saw a measurement of the most-used language worldwide on the internet, and English accounted for over 60%. We’re third in the world for total native speakers, behind Mandarin and Spanish. Doesn’t that translate as a huge need for its preservation, here at home? We are of course the standard-bearers. It is the American version of English that's the reference point for speakers worldwide. Even the UK’s version is seen as a bit obscure and colloquial (adding “u”s behind “o”s anyone?). No disrespect, mate! There are around 10,000 animal species that go extinct every year. If we define word extinction as the muddling of its meaning, or outright removal from active use, I wonder what the rate is today…

Maybe the bigger question is whether the upward pressure from linguists and language-lovers (self included) can withstand the downward pressure from the burgeoning younger populations.

We read more and more about how certain countries — including America — are trending downward in average age, as older folks die off, and the younger ones are more numerous, and living much longer. If the younger generations include a majority that is not interested in the integrity and beauty of our language, crafted and manicured over centuries, does that extrapolate to mean that English as we know it is an endangered species? I hope not.

I’m hopeful and optimistic about opportunities to turn the tide within our school systems to re-ignite a love — and appreciation — for language. But it will take an army of like-minded teachers, particularly in early education, to spark a love for words and meaning, as mine did way back in Montessori school. I know you’re out there…

People love to talk about the cheap labor in China, and “outsourcing” to foreign countries in general for the massive savings to the business. But what is truly the cheapest labor of all?

Imagine a group of people who are willing — excited, even — to work for free, do anything you ask, and have no laws or regulations to protect them from complications resulting from their employment.

Sounds crazy, right?

It isn’t far different from, say, Chinese workers piecing together our smartphones, but there is a key distinction. They get paid. Barring some horrifying circumstance that eludes exposure, those workers receive compensation for the time and energy expended toward their employer’s benefit. They may not have any other rights or protection from abuse, but at least they receive money for their efforts. Their employer is not able to extract value from their workers, and advance the interests of their business, without due compensation.

So where does this group of unpaid, neglected, and misfortunate individuals live? They’re right here in these United States, and their numbers are multiplying. Not only that, but once you’re a part of that group, it will follow you for the rest of your life…

It all started for Susan (not her real name) with a chance meeting on the street. A friendly face with a clipboard asked if she might have a few minutes to answer some questions. Susan, not in a rush, agreed and was ushered into the nearby restaurant to sit down and for the interview. A series of demographic questions ensued about age, marital status, children, etc. Then some specific questions:

> Do you own a home?

Yes, I do.

> Have you renovated or remodeled in the past 5 years?

No, but we sure could use it!

> Have you ever been on television?

No.

> Is that an idea that appeals to you?

Sure!

Susan was then given a short stack of forms to fill out, with all kinds of questions related to her personal life, background, and family history. There were plenty of left-field queries like, “Have you ever sued someone, or been sued in a court of law?” Hmm.

Then there were the waivers, about 22 pages worth. Even without any legal experience, it was clear to Susan that she was pretty much “signing her life away,” as they say. She waived every conceivable right you could imagine, including the perpetual use of her name and image, and those of her family. She gave up any right to pursue legal remedy of any kind, resulting from her participation, even though she still had no idea what she might be participating in.

Once complete, the interviewer congratulated her for being selected to move on to the second round.

“Great! Second round of what, exactly?”

They went on to explain that they were casting for a reality show, and there was a grand prize worth “a lot of money.” At the mention of money, and the chance to win some, Susan’s mind jumped to all the pressing financial obligations their family was up against, most of them currently unresolved. Any chance to pull her family out of their financial quagmire was a shining beacon she would instinctively follow, no matter what the circumstances... Perfect.

It’s fair to say that Susan’s experience was pretty typical for any eventual contestant/participant of a reality show. There are interviews, odd questions, vagary and secrecy around the details of the show. The promise of a prize or prizes is continually dangled, particularly when approaching some of the more uncomfortable aspects of the casting process. Casting agents behave sort of like an Ari Gold-type character, but much gentler. It’s all ego-stroking and wishful language, and endless reasons why participation in the show will be such an amazing experience. The unspoken incentive is “fame” — you’ll be famous!

They handle every step of the way as if the potential cast member is one step closer to the valuable prize. Cameras might show up at your house — Ed McMahon-style — and cause a big fuss in your neighborhood.

“Oooh, what’s going on at Susan’s house? Are those TV cameras?”

You’re awarded with your spot on the show as though you have already won, and that it’s all just fun and games from there. They usually fly you somewhere, maybe even an exotic, tropical locale, and put you up in a hotel. Then in most cases you move into a “mansion” where you're forced to share space with X number of total strangers, who may or may not share your reasons for being there.

What, I assume, must go unnoticed is that they pack the Production staff of any major reality show with smart people who are quite skilled at what they do. They are master manipulators — not necessarily in a negative sense, to be fair — and much of their role is to cast (and direct) the show in a way that will deliver the drama and intrigue that their viewers will want and expect. If it’s a dating show, there will be a person well-suited to you, but there might be some fatal flaw that you’ll only discover later in the timeline of the show — cue the drama.

Susan was cast for a specific reason, though she definitely didn’t know it at the time. She was representing the ‘Mom’-like character in the shared house where they filmed the show. She was on the older end of the age range, she had kids and a house and a dog. She was a perfect match for the ‘All American Mom’ figure that they had written into the intended trajectory of the story that the Producers had plotted.

As the first episode aired, it was immediately clear: Susan was the old lady of the cast. There were competitions unsuited to her body type and physical abilities. The younger cast members treated her like an outsider, and this fed right into the plot line of the show… Which by the way, is “completely unscripted, and real” according to the network.

Susan’s example is one of the tamest I could find. Many of the examples involve an almost identical story, but post-show the cast member experienced a backlash in their personal life that will haunt them forever. Think “Teen Mom” on MTV. While not a competition, it illustrates my point. They joined the show to “be famous,” without any thought of what the exposure of the gritty details of their lives might produce. And we can be pretty sure that the Producers weren’t helping her to think ahead, or examine all the potential consequences that might come from letting America into your home, and your daily life. What seemed at first glamorous, immediately becomes embarrassing, or worse, once the show starts airing.

So the promise of a chance at a valuable prize, and the unspoken promise of “fame” seems to be more than enough to attract all manner of people to apply for, and take part in, reality shows. If you already have any modicum of fame or popularity, then you see the show as “great exposure” for whatever product or service you might be hawking in your personal life.

Of course there are reality shows that compensate the participants, but they only offer that to cast members who can demand payment due to existing fame or popularity (or niche audience) that they already have.

During filming, usually there are “rules” to the game, but almost every detail from start to finish can be, and often is, changed by the Producers without any notice or justification. For example, in Big Brother. If one player has somehow gained an advantage, and seems like they might cruise to an easy win, the Producers will stage and target a competition toward that person’s biggest weakness.

Of course they know everything about you, based on the infinitely detailed casting process, so they know exactly how to push your buttons in a very real sense. So let’s say the player is big, strong, and handsome. The competition to try to bring balance back to the competition (and thus be more entertaining) would likely be puzzle- or trivia-based. One of the underdog-types (e.g. the "nerd") wins. Now power shifts in the house and, Voila! Drama, the lifeblood of any reality show, whether admitted or not.

In the end, someone will win the prize… or not. There are some shows that don’t even award the prize at the end, due to no competitors meeting the requirements established for winning. Sometimes there might even be a much smaller second prize, but the vast majority of the cast — each of whom withstood the same level of pressure and consequences from being on the show — walk away empty-handed.

At best, they end up having a positive image and light shone on them as a result of the final edit of the show. At worst, for the rest of your life you’re known as the guy who ate a bucket full of bull penises, for nothing. Or worse still, some occurrence on the show ends up portraying you in a negative light — due to something you said or did, or even to no fault of your own — and you’re forever known for that mistake.

So each contestant does in fact:

Tell the Producers anything and everything about their personal lives.

Sign away all their rights and protections from potential negative consequences of their participation.

Do anything and everything the Producers tell them to do during filming.

On average probably 99% end up totally uncompensated. They did all that for free. Zero tangible benefit, and higher odds of negative than positive perception as a result of their appearance on the show.

What if there were no such thing as sin? What if pleasure, and pleasure-seeking, was seen as a natural and necessary — admirable, even — human need?  Maslow looked at need from an all-inclusive human standpoint, and there are several items in his pyramid that fall into the pleasure group. But it recently occurred to me that all pleasure might be broken down into four simple categories. I contend that from these four categories all pleasure is derived, and virtually all human aspirations develop. And I would love to see a conversation develop around the way we judge pleasure, and those who seek it, in our modern America. To paraphrase Michael Douglas’ infamous Gordon Gekko:  Pleasure, ladies and gentlemen, is good. Pleasure is right. Pleasure works. 

F*ck

Fight

Feed

Flee

I can’t believe they don’t pay me overtime. I ride the bus over an hour each way, every day, and I’m almost always on time. I don’t leave right at 5 like Jose and Robert, but the boss never seems to notice. I stay until my work is done, that’s just what my parents taught me.  If we work hard and do what’s right, our lives will be happy and peaceful. That’s what they told me from as far back as I can remember. But I’m really starting to wonder about that. Papi still breaks his body every day, slinging garbage in and out of the truck. He’s been doing that for over 30 years. But is his life happy and peaceful? Not really.  Mama’s been standing over a hot griddle for decades and for what? Her paycheck barely covers groceries, after all the money they take out of it for taxes and government things. We’ve been on food stamps all my life, but both me and my parents work full-time. Dad even has another job on the weekends and at night, but we still are scratching to make rent every month. I write in this journal whenever I’m feeling sad or hopeless or angry, and today I am all three.  I’m sad because I can’t make enough money so my parents can retire. I don’t even see that in the future. My construction job helps to pay the rent and some smaller bills and I have to work a second job so I can have some spending money. In my world, 20 bucks is something to get excited about.  I’m feeling hopeless because I don’t see any way out of this. I dropped out of high school like all my friends because I believed what everyone said. But they were wrong. So wrong. All that shit we had to learn in school? It definitely can be useful in the real world. When my boss starts talking about angles and measurements for cutting lumber and framing a house, I have to nod and pretend I understand. Then I ask whoever I can find to see if they know how to do what he just told me. Most times I end up faking it and just praying I don’t fuck things up. Even basic math is a pain in my ass. But those classes were so boring. All I wanted to do was get high in the parking lot with all the hot chicas and my bros. Why couldn’t they make that shit more interesting, man? It was just impossible to pay attention. Now I realize that without even a GED I’m stuck working shit jobs for the rest of my life. I ain’t got no money or time for school if I want to eat and have a roof. So I’m fucking angry. I’m angry about my situation. I’m angry that I don’t see any way out. I’m really fucking pissed that it’s too late for me to do anything to improve my future. What kind of life can I have when I know I’m making the most money I’ll ever make, and I still have to live with my parents to get by? A shitty life, that’s what kind. I’m doomed to go no farther than my parents have, to have no greater success than my Dad has, which is none. He got one promotion in all that time slinging trash, and that came with a raise. But is was only $1 an hour. That is fucked. I am fucked. I love my parents and I hate to say this but I’m really wishing I could have been born into a luckier situation. Like Sean. His parents are professional and rich. All he had to do was pay attention in school, not drop out, and now he’s making good money at one of those tech companies like Google. Shit, I don’t even know how to work a computer. All my friends said those were for maricons, pussies, the dudes that don’t get laid. Fuck. My friends are so fucking stupid.  So what the fuck do I do? What can I do? Not much. Rob a bank? All I know is I can’t live with my parents forever, and girlfriends require money. I’ve gotta find some way to make more cash so I can afford rent, and dates...