Recently I have noticed a change in my dreams. As a child my worst nightmares were about falling off the railroad bridge in front of my kindergarten, the whirling witch who lived in the hall, and the unability to warn people of evil because I had lost my voice (analyze this!). The funny thing about the latter is that I still have dreams with the same content (no communication possible), but that instead of my silent screaming I find myself desperately texting on my cell phone, but I get all the letters and numbers wrong, there are no numbers at all, or the connection fails. To make a long dream short: I lose my digital voice. Interestingly enough those mashups also happen to me in the daytime. Where did I put the pressure cooker? My first thought is to give it a call and locate it by its ringtone. I subconsciously recognize a vibration - my cell phone? No, just a thunderstorm. Where is the book I just finished reading? My brain suggests searching the shelf with google. Is this scary? I don't think so. Actually I really, really need a strong search engine for my brain. Too many things are sitting in its dark and damp corners (like Latin, knitting or the recipe for lemon pie), inaccessible for the computing powers of my own mind. Unfortunately the buzz words "highly available", "on demand" or "scalability" don't apply to the cloud computing network that is my brain. I would love to get some support from Google here.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Could I grant Google access to my brain?
Recently I have noticed a change in my dreams. As a child my worst nightmares were about falling off the railroad bridge in front of my kindergarten, the whirling witch who lived in the hall, and the unability to warn people of evil because I had lost my voice (analyze this!). The funny thing about the latter is that I still have dreams with the same content (no communication possible), but that instead of my silent screaming I find myself desperately texting on my cell phone, but I get all the letters and numbers wrong, there are no numbers at all, or the connection fails. To make a long dream short: I lose my digital voice. Interestingly enough those mashups also happen to me in the daytime. Where did I put the pressure cooker? My first thought is to give it a call and locate it by its ringtone. I subconsciously recognize a vibration - my cell phone? No, just a thunderstorm. Where is the book I just finished reading? My brain suggests searching the shelf with google. Is this scary? I don't think so. Actually I really, really need a strong search engine for my brain. Too many things are sitting in its dark and damp corners (like Latin, knitting or the recipe for lemon pie), inaccessible for the computing powers of my own mind. Unfortunately the buzz words "highly available", "on demand" or "scalability" don't apply to the cloud computing network that is my brain. I would love to get some support from Google here.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Enjoy Labor Day demonstrations from the privacy of your own home.
Violent Labor Day demonstrations are an integral part of German festive culture. But whereas in previous years the opposing political groups were as easy to tell apart as soccer teams, left wing and right wing participants this season look more and more alike. Black sunglasses, black pants, black sweater, black balaclava seems to be the way to go. And since the police follows this style guide as well, it can be pretty hard to find the black block you politically identify with. I suggest you enjoy May Day from the privacy of your own home and build your personal one-man/one-woman black block. It might not be as much fun, but it sure is safer.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
My top five conspiracy theories about who is responsible for the outbreak of Swine Flu.
2. Twitter (Give them something to tweet about!)
3. The face mask industry (any questions?)
4. South Korean scientists (no, wait - they were the ones with the fluorescent puppies, right?)
5. Pigs (Harrharrharr! Look who’s laughing now!)
Keep your eyes and ears open. Don't let them fool you!
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Friday, April 24, 2009
What's wrong with the market? Mu!
When reading about the dynamics of „The Economic Crisis“, its impact and causes, I have the impression that most contributors to the debate miss a crucial point. There seems to be a great need for the identification of someone to blame, someone who is responsible for the collaps of the markets. Now, responsibility implies intention, and intention implies free will. From my experience as an advertising professional I know that free will is amazingly hard to find in big corporations. This doesn’t mean that executive managers don’t know what they’re doing. They know what they are doing, but they don’t know why. They don’t know because it doesn’t matter as long as they abide by the laws of their corporation – with corporations being subsystems in the bigger system that we call „the free market“ or even „capitalism“.
Humans acting within systems unfortunately tend to forget that these systems are man-made structures that serve no other purpose than their happiness. Instead of shaping these structures for their own best, people accept them as unalterable. Thus the system becomes autonomous. Suddenly it has its own rules and logic, its own symbols, meanings and mechanisms, it forgets about ist goals and becomes an end in itself. This makes it possible that people can be very successful within the system, i.e. the corporation, while at the same time their actions are extremely harmful to others. As soon as we forget that systems like the economy, the nation or religion are a mere framework for human relationships and not absolute, we lose ourselves again in the depths of self-incurred immaturity. Even fighting "the system" means believing in it and contributing to its continuing existence. But if we manage to see the current economic crisis as a chance to challenge our own beliefs of what is real and what is not, we can actually emerge stronger than ever. If we stop considering ourselves victims to the systems we constitute, these systems lose their power over us. If we realize that we have everything we need and that we actually own the world, we can finally stop trying to win it. Greed is for people who feel poor. Do executive managers have Buddha-nature or not? Mu!
Humans acting within systems unfortunately tend to forget that these systems are man-made structures that serve no other purpose than their happiness. Instead of shaping these structures for their own best, people accept them as unalterable. Thus the system becomes autonomous. Suddenly it has its own rules and logic, its own symbols, meanings and mechanisms, it forgets about ist goals and becomes an end in itself. This makes it possible that people can be very successful within the system, i.e. the corporation, while at the same time their actions are extremely harmful to others. As soon as we forget that systems like the economy, the nation or religion are a mere framework for human relationships and not absolute, we lose ourselves again in the depths of self-incurred immaturity. Even fighting "the system" means believing in it and contributing to its continuing existence. But if we manage to see the current economic crisis as a chance to challenge our own beliefs of what is real and what is not, we can actually emerge stronger than ever. If we stop considering ourselves victims to the systems we constitute, these systems lose their power over us. If we realize that we have everything we need and that we actually own the world, we can finally stop trying to win it. Greed is for people who feel poor. Do executive managers have Buddha-nature or not? Mu!
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
New on my list of things I never knew existed: the cheese fetish.
O là là, look at Camembertine and how she melts lewdly on the wooden cutting board...
Ah, oui... C'est si bon... Fromagette obviously loves playing with her strawberries.
Don't get me wrong: I am a lover of cheese. But... on a more platonic level. I was pretty surprised today to learn that there actually is something like a cheese fetish. Would that still be a carnal desire? Anyway, I'm not judgemental. If people like to make love to an aged Gruyere that's perfectly okay. I just wonder about a couple of things:
1. How do they date? Do they pick their sweethearts from the store down the street for a one night stand?
2. Do they tell their partners? What do you say when your husband finds a Gorgonzola stain on the sheets?
3. Do they do sex tourism? Are the streets of Alkmaar filled with people who secretely lust for intimacies with the juicy yellow beauties?
Please, if you have answers, let me know. Maybe there is a market for cheese porn. And I really have to make some money now.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
You know that you are traveling a lot, ...
... when the "welcome back" balloon you got after your last trip still looks good when you are leaving for the next one.
Friday, April 3, 2009
No girl is an island.
Lillian was an island girl. She loved the sea and its temper, its mood swings in spring, and how it changed color with the approaching storm. Every afternoon she walked down to her favorite spot on the dock and watched the sun set. Lillian was happy. Until one day she wasn't happy anymore. And since she was not only an island girl, but also the only girl on the island - and more precisely: the only person on this deserted, godforsaken piece of rock amidst the waves - she had the freedom to make a quick decision. She would leave. No discussion.
Lillian was a hands-on girl. The very next morning she built a boat from a coconut shell and a mangrove root and sailed out to sea. This afternoon she wouldn't watch the sunset from the dock.
Lillian was venturous, but not always lucky. Before night fell, her boat started taking on water. Within an hour it was gone. Again Lillian was alone with the sea.
Lillian was drifting on the open ocean. For days and days and nights. For the first time in her life she felt absolutely helpless, completely at the mercy of the sea. For the first time in her life there was nothing she could do. She had to surrender. On the third day she started liking it.
Lillian was washed up on a beach after two weeks. She was too weak to get up. All she could do was lift her head a little, so she could see the sun set over the ocean. She smiled and coughed up a gallon of salt water. Then she fell asleep for a night and a day.
Lillian woke up in the afternoon. Although she still felt dizzy, she realized that somebody was watching her. Lillian looked up. In one of the palm trees there sat a girl.
Leilani was an island girl. She loved the sea and the wind and the pattern of the palmetto shadows on the sand. When she saw that the strange dead girl on the beach had opened her eyes, she slowly climbed down her tree. It couldn't hurt to sit with her for a while.
Lillian was a hands-on girl. The very next morning she built a boat from a coconut shell and a mangrove root and sailed out to sea. This afternoon she wouldn't watch the sunset from the dock. 
Lillian was venturous, but not always lucky. Before night fell, her boat started taking on water. Within an hour it was gone. Again Lillian was alone with the sea.
Lillian was drifting on the open ocean. For days and days and nights. For the first time in her life she felt absolutely helpless, completely at the mercy of the sea. For the first time in her life there was nothing she could do. She had to surrender. On the third day she started liking it. 
Lillian was washed up on a beach after two weeks. She was too weak to get up. All she could do was lift her head a little, so she could see the sun set over the ocean. She smiled and coughed up a gallon of salt water. Then she fell asleep for a night and a day.
Lillian woke up in the afternoon. Although she still felt dizzy, she realized that somebody was watching her. Lillian looked up. In one of the palm trees there sat a girl. 
Leilani was an island girl. She loved the sea and the wind and the pattern of the palmetto shadows on the sand. When she saw that the strange dead girl on the beach had opened her eyes, she slowly climbed down her tree. It couldn't hurt to sit with her for a while. 
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Home is where the dock is
Now that we finally found a place that is warm and safe enough to stay, I have to leave. But not without seeing the Keys first! Maybe I can manage to lose my passport and ticket within the next two days...
Friday, March 27, 2009
If you bless me, I'll bless you. – No, no, you first!
I'm getting confused. Can I bless God? Or does he have to bless me? Does he bless America? And what if he doesn't? Would I even notice? Can I recall my blessing? And if he doesn't want to be blessed by me, will he ever tell me? Does God read bumper stickers? Is he the guy who passes me in the right lane at 100 mph? Does he ever run out of gas? Is fuel a gift from God? Hummm. I'll have to think about this more.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Franchise opportunity: The Ugly Waiting Room™
Sometimes locations are so real it hurts. Today we found the textbook example of the ugly waiting room. Every detail was incredibly perfect: from the black and yellow tape on the linoleum floor to the scary old bear on the scary old tv on the scary old sideboard to the pallet in the corner and the missing panel in the ceiling. I wonder if they have a patent on this, if not I'd really like to create a franchise selling the design.
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