Sunday, July 27, 2008

Risks

In our course there is becoming an overwhelming elephant in the room of where we will go from here.
We are driving on the avenue and side streets start to appear, is it really where we want to go or do?
Will we be stuck forever in this one way street if we take this path?

There is always fear with any choices as you constantly read about regrets and missed opportunities. In the latest TV Guide, stars comment on their regrets, namely turning down a part on a successful film or series.
I was struck by Henry Winkler's tale. He said he regretted not taking the part of Danny in Grease. He didn't want to be typecast after Happy Days but was unaware that he already was.
John Travolta went on to make big movies and he just went home.

I wonder what is worse thing you could become if you strayed from the professional journalism path. Your reputation could be a hack, a dark sided PR vampire or even an ex-journalist in 10 years time but is this industry so callous that you are forever tainted?

There are endless ways to become 'stuck' and still peddling the same trash in the future, but right now we have our fresh near-graduate status on our side. We have to strike while the iron is hot (love cliches) and try and make it sooner rather than later.

I've already thought and experienced all this doubt in a previous tech life. What is the point in worrying about mistakes you might make in the future.
You make decisions as the person you are today not what you could be 10 years from now.

Monday, July 14, 2008

Corporate Identity

Another day and another product is released. The latest is the iPhone, dripping with contract strings and add-on costs.

In line at the Queen Street Vodafone store is Jonny Gladwell, typical student camped out for 60 hours to be the first in the world to buy one.
Media coverage was overkill due to the lack of political blunders and overseas disasters.

We could all celebrate or relate to this guy then it turns out he's been paid to do it, wearing sponsored clothing and is the latest in sheep in wolves clothing marketing plant.

What a surprise that blatant logo placement is not reaching consumers so now honesty and creditability are for sale in this urban wasteland.
You can sell your soul on trademe, pretend to have a disability to sell airbags, make a "homemade" video on your cellphone of your workmates and be the latest video diarist on utube.

It does take the gloss off when everything is a hoax and set up by corporate identities. Though outraged, we can't kid ourselves that we would never sell what was truly important to us.

Bribery is the daily bread of corporates and we are only a twig in a storm.
Is it possible to fight the corporate machine and maintain individuality in modern culture.
Or are we so far gone that when a branded t-shirt is offered, we actually believe we are buying popularity and acceptance.

We are but branded calves in the herd.

Wednesday, July 9, 2008

Virtual Cities

Its freezing and winter is only just beginning.

So instead of slipping on the grit on the footpath, I have become a blog hunter on the web. Virtually travelling through blog communities began at the recommended blog section.

Its like the recommended section at the music store or wine store. Someone recommended it so why not take it seriously. There are always ways out (i.e links) that are side streets on your journey.

With my training wheels on and some spare holiday time, suddenly I found myself in the Brooklyn blogging epicentre.

Millions of people live there so why not name your blog after your street. You could click around forever looking at albums, observations and stroller mums but then you hit a brick wall (i.e no links). I'm a bit of hypocrite without my own links, so maybe I'll take this as a friendly suggestion.

I've found completely random unconnected blogs linked but it adds to the blog because you are bound to get bored and want to move down for a mocha at another sidewalk blog.

Long live the recommended sections and blogs of note, how else would we know these people exist.
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