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Tuesday, November 25, 2014

For the Greater Good



This is a story about the time a distributor sampling his products in-store misunderstood something I said and I wrestled with whether or not to correct him and re-explain myself and it haunted me all the way home and even an hour later and then I decided to blog about it a month later.

Understand this: absolutely nothing negative came from this misunderstanding. I was looking closely at the product labels and, when he remarked on this, I said that I was in advertising—that this is what I do. I meant that I, well, make labels for products. What he thought was that I was turning all of his products to be forward facing for a better product presentation. He even got to tell a charming little chesnut about his second fridge at home and how every label is forward facing.

This was a completely positive interaction with a stranger—a real win for me, frankly. But the need to get to the deeper truth of the matter was almost unbearable.

But Why???

What is this imagined truth?

In the end I said nothing and shrugged it off. And it's not like I'm still thinking about it a month later or anything. Oh, wait...

There are very few truths in this world; the rest is all on a spectrum of grays, and practically none of them are worth wasting breath over.

Here are things that aren't worth proving yourself right over:
  • What color that wall was
  • Which way is the faster way to cook noodles
  • Which actor said that one line
  • The exact order of events in an anecdotal tidbit
  • Most other stuff and things
So what if the next time we felt the urgent need to correct someone or to interject someone's narrative with our more-factual gospel, we just paused and asked ourselves, “Why is it important that I speak up in this instant? What would do or be the greater good?” 

Now, I double dare you all to correct my thinking.

Thursday, November 20, 2014

Hey, Wait a Second


Well, I'll start with this: these are not Celebrity Love Connections. What you're looking at is my online generated list of Celebrity Face Matches.

Your eyes do not deceive you: What you're seeing are the faces of five men, the youngest of whom is Fred Durst, born 1970—12 years before me—followed by next-youngest, Bruce Willis—born 1955. The eldest sir, Oscar de la Renta, clocks in at a good-for-him 82 years of age (exactly 50 years and 3 days older than me).

Good thing the click of a blue bar offered me additional celebrity matches!


It's not that I wasn't thrilled to see Cate Blanchett show up as my face match. I just really, really wanted more women to show up. So I tried some more photos of myself—as if I was going to find a more “feminine” photo of myself than that one where I had a skinny face for, like, three days.


Hmmm. Well at least this time two classically handsome actors showed up?

But my desperation was increasing. I dug deeper into the archives of photographic evidence of my existence. 


A woman! In the first row!!! But I wanted more. I dug even deeper.


I mean I always liked to believe that I looked like Shalom Harlow or some other lady alien gazelle. But the internet never lies, even when mirrors do. Right?

Thursday, October 30, 2014

Office Creep

Today is a full day in the office. There happens to be a dog costume contest, so there are at least 10 dogs in the office. There was also a chili cook-off contest, in addition to some pretty extensive construction happening about 15 feet from my office door.

As you might imagine, I'm not exactly deeply engrossed in my work. But the surprising part is, as delightful as the three costumed dachshunds that just inspected my office may have been, what really pulled me in was this 10-minute spectacle of a construction worker calmly untangling about 30 feet of elaborately tangled cables and wires.

I was entranced.

Then it occurred to me what a creep I was being. So I captured a bit of my voyeurism on film.


Office Construction from Summer Grimes on Vimeo.

Tuesday, October 7, 2014

When Consumer Research Turns to Cultural Research

In an effort to counteract a recent bout of consumer-itis I'm battling, I turned to Google to see whether or not my life would improve if I finally purchased the KitchenAid mixer I've been unreasonably coveting since my early 20s. I say “unreasonably” because, well, I guess I don't really actually know what to do with a mixer. I do know, however, that it is different than a blender.

I consulted Google. Because it's 2014. 




I didn't make it further than this because now all of the sudden I realize how much I want a crown. 

So, readers, here's the deal: don't you dare come commenting on my blog and bursting my bubble and telling me this is any other type of crown than the one I am daydreaming of


Tuesday, September 2, 2014

Links for Lazy Writers Like Me



Pictured here is Edie in her new back-to-school sweatshirt

Maps maps maps maps maps.

Perfect for my morbid voyeurism: A collection of posts all about how people spend money.

So maybe some of these are just a little bit sad, but I love them so so so much.

Okay, these dumb hippies are almost too much. Or probably that's just my jealousy speaking.

Miranda July is a cool, weird filmmaker/project doer. She's now released an app that could get pretty cool if enough people get involved.


Thursday, August 14, 2014

‘Til You Use Me Up

If you can successfully emotionally manipulate me, I say good on you. Well done. 

Like, if you're a couple, and you're 78 and 83 years old, and you're walking past me on the street holding hands and then you—the wife-half of this eternally dedicated partnership—turn to wipe a smidge of strawberry preserves from the snow-white whiskers of the husband-half of this eternally dedicated loyal forever coupling? I salute you. You have not tugged these strings in vain. 

However, if you are the director of the Sarah McLachlan animal cruelty video—or, for that matter, the producer of a Sarah McLachlan song: for shame. You are a monster, and you have made a mockery of my compa$$ion.  

And if you fall somewhere in between that spectrum, I think what I can offer you is a shrug and pat on the back.

Because I love and hate this so much that I think I've spun the pendulum back to love:

Because it's not coy or clever. Not even a little bit. It is blatantly manipulative—but its flagrance somehow counteracts any shame- or guilt-inducement. And frankly I just respect it.

And you better believe I tried to adopt that 2.5-lb. chihuahua, Wesley. I had already renamed him Atwood. Or maybe I was gonna keep the name Wesley.

Either way, I salute you, manipulator. Or maybe I just wanted that freakin dog.

NOW:

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