Project: Selfie has taken off on a level that I didn't expect. Friends, family and complete strangers have blogged, reposted, tweeted and Facebooked this video more than anything else I've ever created. Apparently people are seeing something in the message that "it's okay to *NOT be perfect". However, while I'm not receiving hundreds of photos, I have amassed more "1st thing in the morning" pictures than I expected. I presumed just a few friends would participate, and I'd call it a day, but I've managed to get a few notable people on board, not to mention many others willing to be vulnerable in front of a camera phone. This experience has opened my eyes to how the internet, nay, the world should work and it reminds me a little of college.
In my college days, my brethren and I would get bored and inevitably come up with some project or performance to help us out of our boredom. These projects didn't get created in a vacuum, it took the participation of others to get things moving along. I never noticed it at the time, because things just got done, but it was the work of a community that created these amazing art projects. That was true then, and it's even more apt to life now. We are a community, riding a giant blue spaceship through the universe and it takes working together to insure real acts of change, whether it be for a silly internet video or for legislation. These things begin with an idea, and a simple request for participation. Wow, I never though asking for people's selfies would result in a philosophical awakening, but there you go.
I have most of my Christmas shopping done today, whether or not it arrives by the holiday is in the hands of God, fate or the flying spaghetti monster (if that's your thing). But money exchanged hands and I clicked on the JPEGs of things I wanted to purchase, so I'm assuming this future way of shopping will be enough to complete my holiday commerce. Fingers crossed.
Last night, my company had a Christmas party at a Laser Tag Arena and I had a blast. My wife, however, did not enjoy herself in the high risk game of "future justice". She quickly grew tired of getting repeatedly murdered by people she could neither see nor hear. The "free for all" aspect of the game, paired with the abandonment of shoot and run etiquette * was too much for her and she has since informed me that if she returns, she wants to play a smaller more tactical game, instead of the laser themed murder-fest she experienced. She did however enjoy the ropes course and the accompanying meal of barbecue, so I think overall, the experience was a good one. I learned a few things about myself as well, I'm a terrible rock climber, scraping up my hands and exhausting myself in a vain attempt to prove my athletic prowess by scrambling up a fake rock wall to ring a gong. I did eventually succeed when I switched to the easiest climbing section, but the victory was a bitter one. I'm not usually given to shame over meaningless feats of strength, this apathy was developed keenly during my years in the Hayden school system**, but last night I found myself irked by my lack of success. Oh well, in the words of Wesley from The Princess Bride: "Get used to disappointment."
Upon returning home, Denise took her frustrations out on the endless walking corpses in Left 4 Dead and I, ego bruised more than my body, nursed my bloody fingers with soap, water and hydrogen peroxide. I can't be sure, but I think that images of elusive victory were still playing out in our heads as we fell asleep. Occasionally we still need to be reminded that it's okay to *NOT* be perfect.
*An unspoken rule that states that if you shoot someone, you both leave each other alone to fight another day. This rule is usually the first to go in the laser tag arena. Instead giving way to following one's prey and gunning them down repeatedly, providing no time for recovery. The latter is common practice among males 8 to 30.
**I realized early that my talents lay elsewhere rather than the "muscle" end of the spectrum. My wit gave me an edge many did not have, and I was therefore left alone by upperclassmen who liked my sense of humor. I may have been the Tyrion Lannister of Hayden High school now that I think on it.