75) Up In The Air 3:00 PM

As you're reading this, I'm up in the air (above...bah dum, tishhh) somewhere between Philadelphia and Barcelona. I'm most likely curled up awkwardly against the window, hoodie up and (hopefully) sound asleep. I'm not a huge fan of flying, so I've trained my body to shut down upon take off. Armed with saltines, Mint Milanos and Sour Patch Kids, I've been nibbling, sipping, but mostly sleeping my way across the country, and now over to Europe.

As cliché as it sounds, airports are great people watching hubs. There's something very poetic about the whole idea of airports being these connected networks where people's paths briefly cross. I like watching people say goodbye right before security, trying to guess the relationships, creating back stories in my head. The loads of people coming and going always make me feel small and insignificant, like seeing a picture of the universe but on a much smaller scale.

So begins my one month stint in Barcelona. If I play my cards right, I'll be set up to write the July 1st entry from my apartment, and there won't be any break in posts. If you haven't already guessed, I'm writing today's (well, tomorrow's) post the night before (tonight), seeing as I'll be in the air all day (tricksy Natalie!). I know my time in Spain will fly by, and I'm excited to see what kind of writing (and new life direction?) comes of it. I'll be sure to sprinkle in photos and stories amongst the posts. ¡hasta luego!

74) Leggings Are Not Pants 7:36 PM

Eric and I used to make a little game out of pointing out leggings (or god forbid, tights) being worn as pants in public. You'd be surprised how many ladies out there feel comfortable (empowered?) enough to wear what is essentially a second skin out on the town. I can't put my finger on the possible appeal, other than it being super comfortable to wear. Because if it's shapely, attractive legs these girls are after, the mark has been missed. Somehow leggings as pants don't translate as sexy the way a tightly fitting mini skirt might. They're just so...graphic. Blogger Chelsea Bauch said it best:

If you’re sitting there shaking your head and pretending that your Pilates-toned legs are the exception, then think again. No one likes to see the crevices of a stranger’s lady bits while walking down the street. No one likes to see the inevitable shake of an unharnessed booty (well, most don’t) while at the grocery store. No one likes having to awkwardly avert his or her eyes at the sight of an uncomfortable-looking camel toe on the horizon. It’s simple, people: No one likes seeing someone else’s nether regions during normal, day-to-day interactions.

Awhile ago, Eric had proposed a blog dedicated to examples of leggings being inappropriately worn as pants. It's been written down on my to-research list for awhile, but it wasn't until this afternoon that I started snooping around. Back in 2009, fashion bloggers were up in arms against the trend. (Google "leggings are not pants" to see for yourself) And as expected, a blog of reader-submitted photos called Those Aren't Pants does already exist (though I was a bit underwhelmed). There's also the appropriately named Facebook group, Leggings Are Not Pants, So Cover Your Ass.

What's interesting about the leggings as pants trend is its longevity despite the vocal outcry by fashion bloggers. Sure, fashion is subjective, but with so many opponents, you'd think it would have died out by now. And what of its origin? From what I can tell, it's one of those 80's resurgence trends that was picked up by celebs like Lindsay Lohan and Kim Kardashian. I've been looking for examples of leggings as pants on the big dog runways, but nothing yet. While that doesn't mean they don't exist, I'd venture to say that this is a trend sprung from pop culture, and not from fashion design.

73) Paychecks 3:30 PM

After ten days of unemployment, I've come to realize the importance of self-sufficiency. Don't get me wrong - the time off has been amazing. But having started working immediately after I graduated, I've taken for granted the stability that a regular paycheck provides. This might sound like an obvious point, but it's not so much that I loved making money, and it's not as if I'm borderline broke now that I'm not working. However, I've discovered that without a steady paycheck, spending any amount of money kills me.

I know that the money spent to study in Spain for a month is an investment in the experience. But sometimes, it's difficult not to see it as everything I'd saved from my two years at goodness flying out the door at once. Obviously, what I gained from goodness is far greater than just a chunk of change. The people, the connections, the resume-building experience. Ultimately, all that is much more valuable than money in the bank. Unfortunately, it's that money in the bank that's getting me to Spain.

People I've consulted have told me not to worry so much, especially if I'm not splurging. But isn't a month of travel abroad splurging in itself? Won't there be countless restaurants to try, museums to see, day trips on which to embark? Will my carpe Spain attitude get the best of my personal finance habits?

I hope I don't come off as ungrateful, or god forbid, whiny - I'm aware that not everyone has the financial opportunity to travel. And yes, unemployment is temporary. I guess I just never realized how comforting - financially and psychologically - a regular paycheck can be.

(Note - today's image by Natalie Dee has absolutely nothing to do with the post. I know there's a perfectly relevant Dilbert comic that has to do with paychecks out there, but I wasn't able to find it.)

72) Former Selves 2:18 PM

Today I got to thinking about Diablo Cody. (The exact train of thought was that I watched Milk last night, and writer Dustin Lance Black somehow made me think of Diablo Cody.) Aside from her witty and well-received writing in Juno and United States of Tara, Cody's fame can also be attributed to the fact that she is a former stripper. Some might even suggest that her rise to fame is made even more compelling by her past.

Indeed, one of Cody's first recognized forays into writing came in form of Pussy Ranch, a blog about her year as a stripper. According to Wikipedia, "At the age of 24, Cody wrote her memoir Candy Girl: A Year in the Life of an Unlikely Stripper. The memoir began after Mason Novick, who would soon become Cody's manager, showed interest in Cody's acerbic wit. Based on the popularity Pussy Ranch had received, he was able to secure her a publishing contract with Gotham Books." Though the infamous original blog has since been taken down, its very concept piqued my curiosity. How many blogs out there are written by current or former strippers? Has the number of said blogs spiked relative to Cody's success? How many aspiring writers who are also strippers have taken up the proverbial pen in the hopes of being the next discovered talent? (Google search at your own risk.)

The concept of our "former" selves helping to define our "current" selves is also interesting. Cody's story instantly hooks us - a former stripper turned Academy Award winning film writer. The seemingly more polar the two professions are, the more compelling - like a former garbage man turned fashion designer. Our fascination underlies the basic stereotypes we apply to these positions - that strippers aren't smart, let alone witty, or that garbage men aren't fashionable. So in the rare instance that someone disproves the stereotype, we are fascinated.

71) Yellow Pages 8:41 PM

Over the past few months I've received four different Yellow Pages (YP) bricks on my doorstep. So far, they've remained in their plastic wrapping, a generous stack that sometimes serves as a doorstop. The YP are such an institution - no matter where you live, they show up without fail once a year. One hesitates to question their existence, as an up-to-date directory used to be a must-have for every residence. While tidying up this afternoon, I finally removed the YP from their bags. They've been spread out on the floor, staring up at me in all their wasteful and useless glory every since.

First, each book is made up of well over 1,000 8.5" x 11" pages. One of the four had reduced their page size by about 75% in an effort to be more manageable, and perhaps distinguish itself from the rest (new "eco-friendly" size). However, this only resulted in a directory an extra couple inches thicker, reminiscent of impossibly squat copies of War and Peace. Then there is the fact that there are four of them. Two from Verizon Wireless (one being an extension of the first), one from AT&T, and one from Yellowbook, each claiming more legitimacy over the next (the real Yellow Pages). What kills me is that each book is essentially a replica of the next.

This huge use of paper (recycled, yes, but what of the people who don't recycle their books?) may have been justified in the time before the Internet. Now it's just plain wasteful. Even the YP are online now with their own virtual directories. So why not kill the book version?

The thinking is probably two fold. First, there are still people out there who don't have access to the Internet. For this group, the YP still serve an important purpose. Second, brands must still profit by advertising through the YP. Flipping through the "money saving coupons" in the back reveal a highly localized group, probably benefiting from the aforementioned non-Internet users. Because chances are the rest of us won't even open the book.

While there's already a YP opt-out system, it's clear that YP distributors want to make people jump through hoops before their doorstep is YP-free. On top of that, the effort isn't well publicized. We easily opt-in to receive bills and bank statements online, so why should the YP be any different?

70) Haircuts 10:32 PM

Whenever I get a haircut, I get conflicted when it comes to conversing with my stylist. I'd like to think that I'm fairly proficient in the art of chit chat. But when I sit down in that swivel chair in front of a mirror, I generally prefer to keep my mouth shut. It's not a matter of entitlement, of being serviced, or not being interested in building a relationship with the person who cuts my hair. The reason is that there is something so deliciously self-indulgent in even the simplest of haircuts. In my muteness I am silently savoring every second.

The scalp is a veritable smorgasbord of nerve endings (remember the Tingler head massager?). Short of a professional head massage, there is no other scenario in which someone pays that much attention to your head. Pulling up sections of hair, combing it over your face to trim bangs, ruffling fingers through to make layers fall just so. And don't even get me started on shampooing.

When I was little, my friends and I went through a "hair salon" make believe phase. Essentially, we'd take turns braiding and combing each other's hair - a barrette here, maybe a scrunchie there. I couldn't have known it at the time, but the main appeal was that it felt good. Much like kids innocently playing "doctor," the game sent feel-good signals through us - the unintended pseudo-sexual by-product of a completely non-sexual situation.

The same idea holds true during haircuts - by the end, I'm practically buzzing. Hopefully my stylist (Jesse at Floyds 99 in Venice - he's fantastic) doesn't think I'm simply rude. There is some conversation that takes place - that is, I don't sit in stone silence while he tries to engage me. But sometimes I wonder if I should explain my lack of loquacity. Would it weird him out? I'd like to think I'm not alone in my enjoyment of haircuts. Putting it out there - is it just me? It seems like something so tied to nerve endings would be felt universally.

69) The Pop-Up 6:42 PM

Oh, the pop-up. That glorious retail trend that's been sweeping in and out of abandoned spaces since 2004. We've all seen or heard of them. Target's ingenious designer pop-ups in New York. The oh so popular Where the Wild Things Are pop-up at Space 15 Twenty in LA. And tonight, my friend Jesse and I are going to a pop-up ramen restaurant.

The flyer above is perfect, really. 1) An image of chopsticks and "Yatai" in an Asian-looking font. (Mini aside - I am so fascinated by fonts that can be categorized by race. What makes a font look Asian? The fonts that look like calligraphy brush strokes, or the ones that look like they've been written in katana slashes?) 2) "Gourmet street food." Embrace the oxymoron. 3) "A pop-up experience," and "A pop-up event." One vague word starting with "e" wasn't enough to describe this pop-up. 4) "RAMEN TWIST." Clearly, this isn't your ordinary ramen, though they do serve the standard shio, shoyu and miso varieties. 5) A set range of days and times when this edgy ramen is available - the very definition of pop-up. 6) "RSV.P" Simply making a reservation won't do. Répondez s'il vous plaît if you'd like to slurp noodles for a limited time only.

The pop-up is a genius concept. Its ability to create demand, to make an event out of the ordinary deserves to be recognized. I may come off as sarcastic in my analysis above, but I have no doubt that my ramen will be tasty tonight. The point is that knowing that it won't be around in a month will make it taste even better.

68) Decisions 11:13 PM

A good friend of mine from college recently enlightened me on his new philosophy on life. In a nutshell, the philosophy is that one should be confident in one's life decisions, because some good will always come from either choice. The stress over making the "right" choice versus the "wrong" one is eliminated. The resultant good may not make itself known right away, but one thing will lead to another, and somewhere along the way, something positive will rear its head.

This can be as subtle as having an interesting conversation with someone because you chose to take the bus instead of your car. On a larger scale, a choice to pursue a certain career path may make you realize that you want nothing to do with said career. But at least you know now. We are faced with so many decisions, from the minuscule day to day choices to the big life changing ones. It's not to say that thought and consideration should fall by the wayside, or that our decisions are insignificant. But keeping tabs on the positives and not treating choices as do-or-die situations may help us lessen the stress.

67) Super Fandom 9:24 PM

On Sunday night, my parents took Dylan and I to see Wicked at the Orpheum in San Francisco. I had already seen it twice in LA, but jumped at the chance to see it again. Combine the fact that I watched The Wizard of Oz a hundred times as a child, and that I have a not so secret love of musicals, and you've got one hardcore Wicked fan. Or so I thought.

We took our seats in the Orchestra section, the closest I've ever been to the stage. Five minutes later, enter Wicked super fan stage right. Her short red hair is festooned with bright green feathers, which through the miracle of stage glue or sheer fan will stay put throughout the show. Long green earrings ending in little metal witch hats graze her shoulders. Her shirt, of course, is Kermit the Frog green. Before sitting down directly in front of us, she turns around to survey the rest of the theater. She turns to her friend, disgusted and says, "Only four people are wearing green in here."

As one of the 19,996 that didn't wear green that evening, I kept my eye on Ms. Super Fan. She proceeded to explain the entire (fictional) map that hung down before the curtain went up to her companion. "We can listen to the CD on the way back," she propositioned, before quickly changing her mind. "Maybe not. The songs will still be fresh from the show, and I'll want to hear them in my head." It was clear from the way she talked that this wasn't her first Wicked rodeo. It was more like her ninth.

What is the ingredient that makes someone a super fan? There's enthusiasm borne of pure love and enjoyment, but I'd venture to say that there's something additional at work. I for one, do not have the super fan bone in me. There's nothing I would stand in line for more than two hours to get or see. And though I adore Wicked, I'm only willing to see it again if someone else is paying for the (expensive!) tickets.

But clearly, there's a culture of super fans out there. The Gleeks, the Twi-hards(Team Jacob!), and the thousands of wouldbe wizards in Hogwarts robes waiting for opening night (see above). So what makes me different from a super fan? Have I simply not encountered anything in life that is worthy of super fandom? Is the diehard fan in me lying dormant, just waiting? Cracking this super fan code - who is inclined to be a super fan vs. those who will never go out of their way - would be a powerful tool for brands. As usual, more questions, few answers.

66) Family Portrait 10:03 PM

This afternoon, my family (minus Max who is studying/frolicking in Korea for the summer) drove to an obscure part of San Francisco to meet with a photographer at his studio. My parents had won a free session with him at some charity auction, so he asked us to come by so he could "get to know us."

The first sign of trouble was the photographer's booklet (all black and white) that my parents had received upon winning. On the first two pages, cooing babies lie naked on their sides facing the camera, the backgrounds softly blurred. Next comes the angelic toddlers, embracing each other while smiling ear to ear, or captured mid-hoist. Think Anne Geddes meets the Lion King opening sequence. Once we got inside the studio, it was more of the same - parents nibbling toes, sisters caught having a tea party, and snuggled-up family portraits as far as the eye could see.

Don't get me wrong - they were gorgeous pictures. The disconnect is that Max, Dylan and I are 19, 20 and 24 respectively. Gone are the days of the dogpile of siblings (plus, we already have one of those portraits sitting on the piano), of the three of us draping casually in a tree. Thus, my suggestion at our meet and greet was that these photos be a little more artsy and a little less sentimental.

Thinking back, I hope I didn't offend him by implying that his pictures aren't artsy. And what are family portraits, if not sentimental? My point is this. Posed photography - the very notion of a "portrait" - implies a stagedness. This flies with babies and young children who don't know better. But what about a family of adults? A portrait should capture not only what we all looked like, but also the nuances of our relationships with one another. That's what's so interesting about families as they age. As the children become fully formed adults, relationships move beyond familial ties - friend, confidant, guardian, competitor, etc.

I'm not really sure what I want these photos to look like, but I have a feeling it will push this photographer out of his comfort zone.

65) Dads Day 11:08 AM

In honor of Father's Day, a little something about Dads.*

It's hard to generalize Dads. Just as we are all individuals, each Dad is an individual parent with his own definition of what it means to be a father. There are stay at home Dads, live across the world Dads, lax Dads, strict Dads, uninvolved Dads, too involved Dads - you get the picture.

The only way to comment on Dads in a universal way is to examine our expectations for a Dad. In the traditional sense, we expect him to be male, though this too can't be a blanket statement, what with the growing prevalence of same-sex parents. We expect him (or her) to be a provider - not necesssarily just the monetary sort, but also of love and emotional support. We expect him to teach us something, to help form us as human beings whether positively or negatively. We expect protection and guidance in a "Dad knows best," way.

Whether or not your Dad meets some or all expectations, fathers are significant figures. From the small microcosm of immediate family to the ubiquitous themes of abandonment issues and paternal approval, Dads (and lack of Dads) are undeniably impactful.

Today, in addition to the brunches/dinners, cards and gifts, take a minute to appreciate the significance of your Dad - the ugly, the bad, the good and the great. Happy Father's Day.

*Ahhh, I don't have a good picture of me and my Dad on this computer, so I'll have to upload one later. No visual today.

64) Online Identity 5:58 PM

Back in March, I began emailing back and forth with someone I'd met through my Tumblr blog (the very neglected nataliefoundit.tumblr.com). He sent a particularly insightful response to one of my more personal posts, and we became pen pals shortly after. After a few weeks of life-story/current-situation correspondences, I mentioned my new Internet friend to my mom. Her first response was, "You've never met him...are you sure he is who he says he is?"

The Internet is notorious in its anonymity. Pedophiles posing as tweens in chat rooms, scammers emailing as the Nigerian lottery or posting an apartment on Craigslist owned by a suddenly abroad landlord. The separation between real life and one's online persona can make it difficult to tell who's who.

But with the advent of social media, one's on/offline identity has gained more transparency. My pen pal is on Facebook, has a good number of Facebook friends, and participates regularly with status updates and new photos. This, to me, is proof enough that he is who he says he is. (Above: Me holding a print of his that he sent me - more proof!)

So what of scams via social media? About a year ago, a Facebook friend who I'd gone to middle school with messaged me through Facebook chat. Frantically, he wrote that he was studying abroad in London, but that his bags had been stolen from his dorm. He was wondering if I could wire him some money so he could fly home. Writing the yarn out here makes it sound obvious that it was a total scam, but whoever was feeding me this story at the time was doing a fantastic job at coming across as genuinely in trouble. He was responding to my replies accordingly - this wasn't one of those automated bots that says, "Can you repeat that?" when you type in an expletive. The only reason I knew it was a scam was because I hadn't talked to this kid since 8th grade graduation. Of all his Facebook friends, I would probably be the second to last person he would contact for money. But if it had been one of my closest friends, I would've had trouble distinguishing it as a scheme.

Thankfully, not many masterminds have the time or wherewithall to concoct an elaborate social media con. I'm surprised (and relieved) that things like this, this, and this don't happen more often. It seems that it's not the common crooks you have to worry about - it's the social media enthusiasts who know the ins and outs of the outlet.

63) Last Day 1:01 AM

Almost exactly two years ago, I had just graduated from UCLA. I only knew two things: 1) I wanted to work in advertising and 2) I wanted to stay in LA. I set about reaching out to agencies through acquaintances and job postings. After turning down a couple offers (I had the audacity to be choosy back then- I got in right before the job market went down the you know what), I accepted a job at a digital ad agency that specialized in SEM campaigns. But about a week before my start date, my aunt told me about a small ad agency that her employee's boyfriend had started in Venice.

goodness Mfg. was my dream first job. Its size exposed me to every facet of an agency, and allowed me unthinkable access to some of the greatest creatives in the business. And not simply access - we became like a family working out of that little house on Zeno Place. These past two years have been an accelerated course in account management, in project management, in production. I could not have asked for a better first job out of school. I'm so thankful (and sometimes, I still have to pinch myself) that they saw something in me, guided me, and embraced me as part of family.

Today was my last day at goodness. It's time to explore other avenues, and Spain is a big part of that. Maybe I'll end up trying to get a job in planning at another agency, or maybe I'll look into something completely different. Either way, I'll always look back on goodness fondly. The people I met, the projects I worked on, the good times, the bad - there's so much to reflect on, and this may or may not be the place to do so. This is definitely one of those ends of a chapter in the proverbial and oh-so-cliche book of life.

Mini aside - They took my (the company's) laptop away, so I jumped on an abandoned intern desktop. Thankfully I'm flying home tomorrow morning where I'll somehow obtain a laptop. Posts will continue! Hopefully they'll get back to being more observant and analytical, as it's gotten quite personal as of late. Thanks to everyone who checks in - your support has meant a lot to me!

62) Bad Service 11:38 PM

When it comes to dining out, there's nothing worse than bad service. I'm not talking a mildly negligent waiter, or tomatoes on your salad when you said no tomatoes. I'm referring to forgotten orders, and 45 excruciating minute waits for food. It's the worst feeling, isn't it? A combination of impatience borne from a sense of expectation (I've come to a restaurant to be served my food), exacerbated by hunger.

The only thing worse than the communal wait is the individual one. You know the feeling. Everyone in your party has received their food. They look expectantly at the empty area in front of you, shifting their utensils in preparation. You obligingly urge them to start without you, warning them of their impending cold food. As they all dig in, there's a terrible, left-out feeling that comes over you. And is there anything more awkward than watching other people eat while you sit idle? Finally, when your plate does show up, everyone (relieved that the awkwardness is over) makes a big deal about it.

61) Hodge-Podge 11:01 PM

Random observation of the day.

In every well-rounded kitchen you have your cup cabinet, your stacks of dishes, your pots and pans storage, your drawer of utensils in one of those plastic organizers. Everything has its place with its brethren. But in every kitchen there is also one drawer for the odd objects out. The measuring cups, the whisk, the can and bottle opener, the peeler. Sometimes toothpicks, skewers, muffin tin liner cups, a meat thermometer. All thrown together because of their incongruous shapes and categorical ambiguity. These tools, while entirely necessary and important in the kitchen, become their own miscellaneous hodge-podge category.

That's all today.

60) Bomb Scare 9:26 PM

I was in the throes of another busy work day when someone casually pointed out that the police had cordoned off the streets surrounding our building. We went to the window and watched the classic yellow caution tape oscillate up and down gently in the wind. Hollywood provides plenty of reasons for caution tape, so no one was surprised. Until word made its way to the 6th floor that there was a suspicious package left at the bank on the first floor of the building, and that no one was allowed in or out.

This being my first experience with a bomb scare, I tried to be very cognizant of everything. As I looked down onto the sidewalk at the people angrily trying to navigate around the blockade, I couldn't help but picture what an explosion would look like below me. What it would feel like - the floor shaking, material flying up at us, heat? Would it be a small bomb, reserving damage to the first floor? Or would it be big enough to take down the whole building?

At the same time, it was unnerving knowing there was a potential danger below, and no seeming evacuation plan. What started as, "We can evacuate if we want," later became, "Everybody out." We collected our things and took the stairs down to the basement level. Outside, everyone was milling around (now that much closer to the maybe-bomb), looks of confusion on their faces. On top of that, they wouldn't let us get our cars out of the parking garage.

Eventually, the bomb squad came and dispelled the scare. No news outlet has picked it up (are bomb scares common in LA?) other than the Weho Daily, who pointed out that Michelle Obama and the daughters Obama were in the area playing LA tourists for the day.

Who knows if it was an actual bomb (they cut the blue wire and disarmed it!), or if it was simply someone's careless leave behind. Either way, it was a little surreal to imagine what could happen worst case scenario and to simultaneously observe how the situation was handled. There was certainly a disconnect.

59) Pop Collaboration 7:05 PM

It seems today that behind every fresh-faced male pop star is a hip-hop/R&B/rapper willing to lose a little street cred. Our several. Case in point - the notoriously adorable Justin Bieber has released tracks featuring Ludacris, Sean Kingston (above), Usher and Lil Wayne. Somehow the combination of Bieber's pre-pubescent voice (said without judgment - that kid can sing, and it will be interesting to see what happens when his voice drops) and the raspy lyrical stylings of the hip-hop world's elite work in tandem. Not to mention the irony of some of the filthiest mouths in the biz crooning and rapping about monogamous first loves, while surrounded by just-wholesome-enough partying tweens.

See also - Jesse McCartney featuring T Pain, Aaron Carter featuring Flo Rida, and of course, Justin Timberlake featuring Timbaland and TI.

It seems like a synergistic collaboration. The young, often baby-faced pop star gains instant industry ups by associating with a well-known artist, and also earns himself some street cred. While the hip-hop star may sacrifice some of his own believability as a hardcore, don't-fux-with-us type, he is able to stay relevant with the ever-fickle tween music fan, maybe even picking up some of the screaming girl spillover. Even the audience benefits. Those ashamed to secretly know all the lyrics to a Justin Bieber song can justify it by citing the featured artist. Win-win-win.

58) Is it Rigged? 9:04 PM

One of my coworkers is convinced that the NBA finals are rigged. It's a fairly common debate surrounding any big professional sport that is broadcast. The rose-colored glass view is that teams in the finals are so well-matched, each striving, pushing to win, that they inevitably will play the full seven games. The cynic reminds us of the millions of dollars pouring in from advertisers and arenas.

From a network's perspective it makes sense. They rely on a certain number of eyeballs, or ratings to keep advertisers happy. For the big-buck spending brands who've invested millions in sponsorships and commercials, what a let down if one team sweeps the first four games.

No one can seem to provide a straight answer on this. While there's no lack of musings and accusations online, most are wrought with question marks. It's like one of those conspiracy theory movies where everyone is in on it except the oblivious public. It's gotten to the point where we may speculate, but lack of resolution one way or the other causes us to accept this possible (yet unproven) deception as the status quo, as just part of sports culture.

57) Literary Leaf 2:04 PM

Yesterday I finished the Richard Yates novel Revolutionary Road, which was made into a movie (Kate and Leo above). It was a deeply depressing look at a mid-life suburban couple's ennui with their life and each other. Towards the very end, there's a crunchy leaf that caught me off guard:

He found it so easy and so pleasant to cry that he didn't try to stop for a while, until he realized he was forcing his sobs a little, exaggerating their depth with unnecessary shudders.[...] The whole point of crying was to quit before you cornied it up. The whole point of grief itself was to cut it out while it was still honest, while it still meant something. Because the thing was so easily corrupted: let yourself go and you start embellishing your own sobs...

This crunchy leaf may skew female, given the generally accepted fact that men cry less than women, so male readers, bear with me. How true, I thought, as I read the paragraph. In an effort to let it all out, it's easy to take it too far and start to wallow in it.

I'd like to think that this is a crunchy leaf, and not just something that my inner drama queen does sometimes. That Yates included it in his novel is a good sign - I wonder if it resonates with other women (and men). It's a unique little nugget. It's not the type of thing you could find out via survey, as few would like to admit that they do something as self-indulgent as embellish their sobs. But the fact that something as personal, emotional and private as crying can be unified by a crunchy leaf makes the theory all the more powerful.

56) Craigslist Research 6:21 PM

I'm a huge proponent of using publicly available data as research material. Back in April, All Things Considered ran a story about using Craigslist as an economic measuring tool. Ted Egan, Chief Economist of the San Francisco Controller's Office, pointed out that Craigslist's basic structure lends itself nicely to such stats. It's organized by city, and sometimes even by sub-divisions of cities. Posts are only up for two weeks, ensuring that the data is timely. It is a highly searchable, booming, open marketplace.

Though less quantitative than Craigslist, I think blog comments on national news and opinion sites are worth a second look. More often than not, I get really annoyed when I read through them. But I think it'd be interesting to look at who is commenting, what they're saying, and to cross reference that info with the news outlet's readership profile. Example - If Wall Street Journal readers are highly educated, upper-middle class elite with HHIs of $X, why are the douchebags of that group the only ones commenting?

Mini aside - This deserves more concrete thought, and I got a little cheeky and facetious towards the end, but it's Friday. Happy weekend.

55) Virtual Currency 9:49 PM

I've been thinking about currency a lot lately. Namely, things that have no worth, but are given arbitrary worth. I guess that applies to all money - it's just pieces of paper and rounds of metal - but I'm talking about even less concrete things being assigned a price tag. Exhibit A, my post on emotional currency.

Exhibit B. A few days ago, I was driving down Venice Blvd, when I spotted a 7-11 billboard branded with Farmville characters that read, "FREE virtual gift with Iced Coffee Purchase." Free virtual gift? What could possibly be worth the cost of an Iced Coffee? Curious, I read up on the promotion. 7-11 teamed up with the how-is-this-so-popular Zynga game Farmville, co-branding their Slurpee and Iced Coffee cups with wide-eyed animals. Purchasers of said promotional beverages can unlock virtual, 7-11 branded items within the game.

Farmville is no stranger to promotional tie-ins that entice Farmville-fanatic consumers to trade real dollars for virtual ones. Earlier this year, they partnered with The Green Giant food company (a better fit with the farmers, if not with the tweens). The hook was that people who bought Green Giant frozen peas with Farmville packaging could redeem a code for FREE FARM CASH. Like I said, real dollars for virtual moolah.

The dollar amount of digital entities is so fascinating to me. When brands started offering promotional free music downloads, it seemed tame enough. An mp3 is something you can keep in your music library and listen to over and over. But farm cash? Of course, as a Farmville virgin, I can't speak to the importance of farm cash. But the idea of spending green in return for this virtual currency, which can then be used to buy virtual acreage - how mind-bendingly meta!

54) Dawn's a Winner 6:28 PM

The media continually reminds us that when it comes to the BP oil spill, no one is a winner. Clearly, BP itself is the very opposite of a winner. No matter what Obama and the government do, they're not winners. Their response is not preventative enough (after the fact...), not swift enough, not angry enough. And unfortunately, the Gulf Coast is not a winner.

No, the only winner emerging from this disaster is Dawn. The company has swooped to the rescue (much like they've done in the past) with their liquid dish soap. Their product is fortunate enough to fill the niche role of the liquid soap that's perfect for oil spill clean up efforts. It's a rare thing - a product whose basic formula places it above their competitors.

I find myself wondering what the scene in the Dawn corporate offices was, when news of the oil spill first broke. The optimist in me envisions the noble Dawn-ites springing to their feet with cries of, "How horrible! What a disaster!" They immediately contact the Coast Guard with reassurances - we're here to help, we're sending over as much free Dawn dish soap as you need immediately. My cynical side imagines all the little cash registers cha-chinging in their heads at the thought of Dawn's brand affinity shooting through the roof. The head of PR picks up the phone. "Release the oily animal commercial," he says in a controlled voice (actual spot above). Instantly, corresponding press releases get blasted into the PRsphere, so that every journalist makes sure to mention that Dawn liquid has been used over the "past three decades" in oil spill disasters.

Whatever the reality (probably a bit of both - ah, the moral anguish!), Dawn continues to enjoy a unique position in oil spill lore. It would be interesting to note how much of a bump Dawn sales get as a result of a particular oil spill. Variables could include the extent of the damage, and the transparency of Dawn's agenda in relation to the amount of communication it puts out there.

53) Kim Jong Drama 6:02 PM

Major movie and TV series script writers - if you're looking for the ultimate family drama, look no further than that of Kim Jong Il. I take that back. You can't write a more epic family drama - all you have to do is pull some headlines straight from the news.

First, the setting. A family living in a highly charged political climate, the head of a nation ever-teetering on the brink of war and destruction. Set amongst a bleak backdrop of poverty is the relatively lavish "Residence No. 55," the official abode of the Kim family (Residence No. 55! I told you you couldn't write it better...).

Next, the characters. I won't even get into the massive amounts of character development that the Dear Leader would require (two words: that hair). His three sons - Kim Jong Nam, Kim Jong Chul and Kim Jong Un. And lastly, the rotating cast of wives, semi-wives and mistresses.

Finally the drama itself. Kim Jong Il has named his youngest son, Kim Jong Un (pictured at age 11 above on the right) as his successor. His hotly debated decision to pass over his two elder sons is rife with family conflict. Eldest (possibly illegitimate) son Kim Jong Nam (pictured ridin' dirty above on left) is the gambling, Louis Vuitton toting party animal, who infamously tried to enter Japan with a forged Dominican Republic passport, supposedly to visit Disneyland. And poor Kim Jong Chul (pictured above in middle) is considered "too effeminate" by his father to run the country.

Oh the jealousy! The baby of the family, Daddy's favorite, getting handed all the power. Imagine the approval middle child Kim Jong Chul must have sought, only to be called a little girl by his father. And of course, the threat of nuclear war and complete family destruction lurking in the background. In short, all the makings of the next hit family drama.

News 10:23 PM

I've been alluding to some big news lately, and after enough stalling, here it is. A few weeks ago, I stumbled across a one month summer program in Barcelona. The course, Coolhunting and Fashion Trends, is skewed towards fashion, but covers topics like research methodologies, consumer insights, branding - all things that would be relevant to a planner in any field. Intrigued, I applied. A week and a half later, I got in.

So come July (soon!) I'll be in Barcelona. Though I've traveled around Europe, I've never been to Spain. I'll be part of an English-taught class of 25 students. The program is through the Istituto Europeo di Design (IED), an international school of design, fashion, visual arts and communication. It's the kind of place I never dared picture myself at, but somehow it's all happening.

There's internet access in the student housing I'll be staying in, so I fully intend to keep up with The Plan. No doubt the class and the city will provide plenty of material.

Spain is just the tip of the iceberg, but I'll leave you with that for now. I'm incredibly excited, and feel so lucky to be able to not only travel, but to spend time studying something that truly interests me. A sincere thank you to everyone who has been so supportive through this whole transition stage.

-Natalie

52) News Fatigue 7:09 PM

It's inescapable. Every day we are bombarded with news stories on the BP oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico. And rightly so - as the most gargantuan spill in US history, it deserves it's time in the spotlight. Environmental groups, fisherman, the government, everyone (you and me) - we are all furious. As oil continues to gush into the ocean, damaging a yet-to-be-determined amount of wildlife, people and landscape, we demand answers, solutions and swift justice for the guilty party.

But as the days pass, and the oil has yet to be contained (much less cleaned up), we begin to experience news fatigue. How many videos of oil pluming from that pipe can we watch, how many pictures of oil-covered animals can we see, and how many articles about the current state of the Gulf can we read until we begin to glaze over? And it's a fine line. Too little news would be a gross oversight, but too much news for too long can lead to apathy and acclimation. We get used to the status quo of a seemingly insurmountable spill.

This is not a suggestion for the media to start filing out of the Gulf Coast. It's important that this event is documented, broadcast, and archived, so that we might learn something from it. But with reports that total clean up could take months, and full restoration of the Gulf Coast could take years, we will have to steel ourselves against the onset of news fatigue.

51) Emotional Currency Part 2 11:07 AM

People often talk about the worth of a blog based on the number of readers, or the number of hits per day. That's well and fine, but is there something to be said about the amount of emotion a blogger can elicit from his/her readers? While news/fact based blogs are great for information, having the power to make people feel something is a whole other story.

What if there was a way to measure the emotional currency of a blog? Could we put a price on it?

Yesterday's post was very last minute and rushed, but I think the subject warrants a little more love and attention. Marketers always talk about establishing an emotional connection with their consumers. Market saturation has long made it impossible to rely on product attributes and claims alone. Thus, brands now play off emotional drivers - our need for this, our nostalgia over that, etc. The strength of a brand is often measured by brand affinity, or other equivalent rulers of associated emotion.

But what if we also measured the emotional currency of media, the delivery method of the brand's message? The example I brought up yesterday was blogs. Advertisers seek out blogs that have the most readers, the most page views. Various analytics platforms make it very easy to see how many eyes one gets. But what if we could mete out the eyes seeking out information, and the eyes who come back for some emotional benefit? Some of the best blogs I've read are purely personal, honest and well-written. The question is, does their emotional pull carry any monetary weight? If so, how could it be measured?

50) Emotional Currency 11:56 PM

People often talk about the worth of a blog based on the number of readers, or the number of hits per day. That's well and fine, but is there something to be said about the amount of emotion a blogger can elicit from his/her readers? While news/fact based blogs are great for information, having the power to make people feel something is a whole other story.

What if there was a way to measure the emotional currency of a blog? Could we put a price on it?

(Mini aside - short post tonight - lots of life changes going on. Will fill you in on all that very soon.)

49) Synergy 11:02 PM

What is it about this video that just oozes cool? First, they chose celebrities who are known for their quiet, understated, quasi-fringe sense of cool - David Beckham, Daft Punk, Snoop Dogg, Franz Beckenbauer, Noel Gallagher, Ian Brown, Ciara, Jay Baruchel, and DJ Neil Armstrong. Then, they inserted them seamlessly into one of the most well-known scenes of a classic sci-fi. It's like vintage cool meets new-age cool.

adidas has done a fantastic job leveraging the synergy between fresh, street-wise culture and the timelessness of Star Wars. Suddenly, the mega-saga once relegated to the nerds is rebranded as an integral part of pop culture and fashion. And while Star Wars fans come in all shapes and sizes, one could argue that adidas has extended its fan base to a previously untapped group.

Observe as Star Wars sound effects and theme music are remixed to accompany a roof top party full of cool, hip people:

48) Fashion & Foursquare 9:14 PM

Mini aside: There's been a lot on my mind lately, and ironically, it's given me massive writer's block. Or maybe it's more thinker's block. The kind of distracted mental shut down that no amount of frantic Internet inspiration scouring can cure. After an hour of watching the cursor blink, I decided to just start writing and see where it takes me.

(More cursor blinking. Not good. Ok, here we go.)

A Mashable article today described how Cynthia Rowley partnered with Foursquare to launch her new line of bridesmaid dresses. With the coupling, Foursquare discounts - usually pennies off a morning coffee or donut - take a step into the previously uncharted high-end fashion world. Visitors who checked into today's kick-off event at Rowley's New York store were treated to a $25 gift certificate, plus 15% off bridal-related goods at dessy.com.

It seems appropriate that fashion would embrace social media, as it's an inherently fresh, always shifting, crowd-based industry. In fact, I'm surprised that this is the first example of a designer collaborating with Foursquare (according to Mashable). It'll be interesting to see if other designers follow suit, or if certain levels of fashion are above rewarding presence with discounts.

47) Email Acceptance 9:07 PM

Today we see more and more college acceptance letters being sent electronically. Traditionally, we wait eagerly for the mail to come, leafing through daily piles. We get our hands on the letter, trying to distinguish acceptance from rejection by its weight. The anticipation builds, and the letter is ripped open. Cue extreme jubilation (a favorite example above) or chest-fallen disappointment.

When I was accepted to UCLA, it wasn't even an email. I had to log into the admissions website on a certain date to see whether I had gotten in. Let's just say that some of the magic is lost in translation as you wait for your acceptance PDF to load. Likewise, an email rejection can't automatically be crumpled, ripped up, or tacked on a Rejection Wall.

Yes, electronic mail has changed the way we distribute and receive big, sometimes life changing news. As we march towards a digital future, what other formerly sacredly paper-based documents will become email attachments? Diplomas? Birth certificates?

46) Culture Manufacturing 9:43 PM

Before the agency I work for moved to Hollywood, it was run out of a little house near Venice Beach. We all worked in the garage, Bowie on repeat, door raised half-mast on sunny days. The shanty was not only the office, but also a second home. We had to restock our own toilet paper, wash our own dishes. Candles, matches and air freshener were continually stocked in an attempt to make the bathroom smell work-place appropriate. Everyone's bikes stood lined up against one wall, ready and waiting for impromptu afternoon rides around the block.

Each employee had a potted plant to call their own. The joke was that the owner of the first dead plant would be fired. When the mood struck and the work load was light(er-ish), we'd go on a grocery run and fire up the grill for an ad-lib barbecue lunch. On an intern's last day, it was ritual to shotgun a beer with one of the partners out on the sidewalk. We had earthquake/tsunami drills that ended at the designated safe zone meeting location (a local bar).

We looked out for each other. A buddy system made sure we were safe on nights when we parked a little too far for comfort. On rainy days we caught roof leaks in buckets on our desks, and stains of table rust on the tops of our knees. We dodged black widows hiding in the storage closet, and crazy Venice vagrants/neighbors on the street.

Office culture can't be manufactured. It arises organically from a combination of people, places and circumstances. It's the small, day to day occurrences that comprise culture, not the big, planned occasions.