The Layers of Us

Taking a cab ride home from a friend's Christmas party, my friend Nadia and I took some time to chat about the nature of our selves. Nadia wondered to me that perhaps we have preconceived notions of ourselves that we cling to, many years after we've formed them. Are those notions of self still valid, or more delicately, useful, so many years after they were constructed?

I posited thus: every day, our experiences put a new coat of paint upon us. Layer, over layer, over layer. Each day, we look a little bit different than we did the day before, but the old layers of paint – going all the way back to the very first coat – are still there. It's just a matter of how deep underneath they are. When we look inward, and truly examine ourselves, it's like we can cut into those layers, and see all the different strata – both harm and beauty – that makes up us; our complete selves.

I'm not sure she was entirely convinced. Nadia put it to me that, in high school, people like us self-identified as "freaks", but that doesn't really represent how she thinks of herself currently. Surely, that identity isn't relevant anymore?

Perhaps it isn't, I shrugged. But part of that identity is still there, again thanks to layering. When you're in high school, that difference – being a freak or a nerd – is this microtrauma; a representation of your poor treatment at the hands of others. But as time rolls on, you polish that trauma. You paint over top of it and make it into something precious that you're proud of: it becomes cool to be one of the freaks or geeks. Eventually it's intrinsic to your identity, scarcely recognizable as a thing that could have harmed you. Just like an oyster coats over an irritating pebble until it become a pearl.

We arrived at Nadia's place and said our goodnights. She got out and I rolled on with the cabbie for another few blocks. He spoke up, "I really liked your analogy about each day being a layer of paint. What do you do? You should be a writer."

Thanks random cabbie. Merry Christmas. 😄


Photo: paint fragment from Belmont Art Park by Cassidy Curtis - cc

DON'T Call Me "Ginger"

So today, after being called at on the street by a stranger, I've finally hit my breaking point on the word "ginger".

I have typically been quite hesitant to write about my experiences as a redhead. The biggest reason is because, as a normative-presenting white male, I've lived a life of extraordinary privilege. I feared that discussing a subject which, almost necessarily, might use some of the modern language we employ to discuss prejudice and even oppression, would not only be inappropriate and disrespectful to many groups (who suffer much worse and more frequent injustices) but also wouldn't be received well by my peers, many of whom keenly follow issues of social justice.

That said, one of the things I've been working on lately is finding my own voice, and not feeling like my aforementioned privilege is a reason I shouldn't stand up for myself when I feel I'm being wronged. What follows is my experience, from my shoes as someone with red hair. I don't presume to compare my experience to that of anyone from a different marginalized group, though I would argue that my experience does inform my sense of empathy on certain matters.

With that baggage stowed, let's begin.

Ensemble… and Trumpets

Sometimes, in a quiet moment, I’ll try to deconstruct all the influences which helped to form my socio-political views on how society should endeavour to function. My mother’s progressive outlook during the Mulroney years was one of those influences. Star Trek was a huge one - the United Federation of Planets permanently cementing into my mind the ideals of a sharing, multicultural, pluralistic, civil society. The friends I have had growing up, and continuing into adulthood, both in terms of their own political outlooks and their diverse natures. But there is one thing that, only recently, I have realized had a huge influence, one that you might not expect.

Band class.

#0000FF or Lament of the Print Designer Who Loves Blue

Ah, #0000FF.

It's known to most of you as "blue", but that designation doesn't nail it. After all, people say that the sky is "blue", or that their pale, bluish business shirt is "blue", or that navy uniforms are "blue". So there's no point in me saying "blue", because you won't get what I really mean. What I mean is #0000FF.

For those of you who don't know, "#0000FF" is a way of expressing colour on a computer, using the RGB colour space. Your computer monitor has pixels with red, green, and blue components (hence, RGB). A pixel can add RGB in equal, maximal amounts to create white, expressed as "#FFFFFF". Without going into too much detail, "FF" is 255 in the hexadecimal number system, used frequently in computer programming. The six digits represent the red, green, and blue attributes respectively. Thus, #FF0000 is pure red, #00FF00 is pure green, #0000FF is pure blue, and "#000000" (the absence of any colour value) is black.

#0000FF is an amazing colour. It's the colour of the classic cobalt blue pigment used by painters and glassmakers. It smacks of polished lapis lazuli. It's rich and deep, simultaneously inflaming and calming the senses. Some statistics show that "blue", broadly, is the favourite colour of a majority of people. Well, #0000FF is my favourite colour, by far.

Unfortunately, there's a problem: You can't print #0000FF... not really.

At this point a lot of people will be scratching their heads in confusion and disbelief: "Huh? Of course you can print blue!" Meanwhile, the designers in the audience will be rolling their eyes: "Oh, here we go, another rant about the CMYK gamut range". You are correct, designers. Go have a coffee while I explain this to the muggles.

Here's the thing: computer monitors add RGB light together - and the aggregate makes white; but when you're printing, you add cyan, magenta, yellow, and black (aka CMYK) inks together - and the aggregate makes black. We call RGB additive (more colours means lighter), whereas process CMYK is subtractive (more colours means darker).

The difficulty with a subtractive colour scheme is that it's inherently more restrictive than just adding different kinds of light together. You can make a colour lighter by simply adding less ink (since the paper is already white - this is called half-toning) but it's never perfect. The reasons for this are complex and have to do with a myriad of factors, including how the inks reflect and absorb various wavelengths of light (and provide the end colour that you observe) and the physical absorption of the inks into the printing medium (usually paper stock).

We call the range of colours that can be produced by any given colour schema its "gamut". Like CMYK, RGB also has a limited gamut compared to "real-life" colour, but for most practical purposes, RGB is capable of producing the vast majority of colours that most humans can see. CMYK... not so much.

The component inks of CMYK have been formulated to be able to cover many, but not all, colours. CMYK is not super great at reproducing #FF0000 red. It's kinda bad at #00FF00 green. But the worst, by far, is the coverage of #0000FF blue. Just take a look at this RGB to CMYK conversion simulation by Wikipedia:

Okay, I'll just convert to CMYK and YYEEEUUCCCHHHH

The CMYK spectrum looks different here and there, but blue in particular looks washed out and grey-ish. It's almost like the CMYK colour-space (first conceived of in 1906, and later codified by colour-matching-juggernaut Pantone in the 1950s) was designed by people for whom pure blue and purple represented only fear and sadness.

Life is meaningless

I disagree: Blue is Joy (or at least Joy's hair).

But wait, there's hope! You see, mixing cyan, magenta, yellow, and black inks isn't the only way to print. We also have what are called spot colours. A spot colour is a premixed ink - in contrast to blending CMYK inks on paper using halftones. The aforementioned company Pantone is best known for the eponymous colour swatches which list various colours that can be pre-mixed by printing companies for precise colour results. Spot colours are important when you're printing large areas of single, flat colours (eg: white text on a solid orange background), because the halftoning dots of CMYK process become a lot more obvious. Spot colours can also be used to make certain colours (like #0000FF) "pop" more, especially when they don't look good in the CMYK gamut range.

Unfortunately, there's another problem:

One of the best inks for producing (something close to) #0000FF is known in the Pantone scheme as Reflex Blue. It's not perfect, but it's saturated and has a vitality that the CMYK equivalent lacks... and many printers HATE it. Naturally, every colour is created using different chemical pigments, and the pigments in Reflex Blue take twice as long to dry as anything out there. Many printers say that it needs to be coated with special treatments because it never fully dries. I can attest from experience that blue projects tend to come back from the printers feeling a bit tacky, and they smear and stain surfaces more readily.

When desktop publishing first started rolling in the 80's and 90's, designers were generally much more aware of the CMYK gamut restrictions. In today's world you're less likely to have print ads, brochures, and promotional folios, and more likely to be focused on in-browser ads, websites, and promotional PDFs. The prominence of digital media means that designers can often design in RGB. It also means the amateurs are more likely to be shocked when their designs fall (chromatically) flat in print.

Professional designers and printers have been dealing with this for a long time and have come up with lots of tricks for working around gamut limitations. But when it comes down to the nitty-gritty, using #0000FF in complex designs is considered a no-no. We could come up with a new, better process scheme by adding additional inks (as some have tried), but it seems unlikely that any new scheme will enter the common usage.

However, as we increasingly move towards a paperless - and thus inkless - world, I'm filled with hope. So I will continue to design with #0000FF blue. It's a beautiful colour, unfairly slighted by the process gamut. Raise a cobalt-blue glass with me and toast: to #0000FF, the best colour of them all.


Top Image Composed of:
Wow by LTerraC, Creative Commons 2.0
Blue as in Blue by Alan Levine, Creative Commons 2.0
Polished Lapis Lazuli by MarcelClemens, Shutterstock

My Polo

I do declare this day that I reclaim the POLO shirt from the domain of the DOUCHE.

My polo is not a Ralph Lauren. Nor is it Tommy Hilfiger, Lacoste, or HUGO BOSS. It is not a PGA officially-licensed product. It did not cost $125, plus tax.

My polo comes from American Eagle or Old Navy. Occasionally, it's a no-name brand from a department store. It cost $30 AT MOST, presuming I didn't buy it during a "3 for 1" sale.

I do not wear two different coloured polos at once, one over top of the other (Just use a God-damned undershirt, douchebags).

Parable of the Violin... and also Star Trek

One of the greats...

A stage - empty but for a spotlight and a stradivarius violin: one of the world's finest.

Onto that stage walks Joshua Bell, arguably one of the world's finest violinists. He picks up the instrument, and begins to play...

Over the next five minutes, he draws out a heart-rending lyrical melody, angry and passionate fireworks, perfect chromatic scales that leave other musicians agog. Bell brings the music to a dynamic, tonal, and emotional crescendo. The climax of the music is palpable.

Popular TV Shows Reverse Decision to Cancel NBC

This piece was originally posted as a Facebook note in April of 2015

UNIVERSAL CITY, CA - Several popular TV shows announced today that they have decided to give broadcast network NBC another chance to stave off cancellation, tentatively reversing a decision made by the group earlier this spring.

Actor Joel McHale, speaking on behalf of the Consortium of Popular Shows (CPS), had this to say when asked for comment:

“What we’ve seen over the past month is an outpouring of support from dedicated fans of NBC, many of whom favour the traditional broadcast TV network model to newer streaming services.”

“We’re working hard to give the appearance of working hard to save this network. As such, we’ve decided to renew NBC for a limited season, and then review their performance based on an archaic ratings system which has long been outmoded by more modern technologies.”

Steve Burke, CEO of NBC, was visibly nervous during the press conference, but nonetheless made this brief statement:

“We’re super grateful to our fans, and to CPS for having faith in us. We’re staying positive about the future of our network!”

Moira Philler, a grandmother from Concord, NH, organized a letter-writing campaign to save NBC after hearing about the cancellation plans:

“It’s just awful. NBC is a mainstay of television, an iconic brand. People tell me that these newfangled streaming services are more convenient with more content. Well I say to them: what’s more convenient than simply turning on your TV and letting whatever channel you’re on decide what you’re going to watch at any given hour? Besides, streaming happens over the internet, and the internet is scary.”

Others have been more critical of the network.

“They have a cult following,” remarked John Maines of Denver, CO, “But if you ask me, a handful of weirdos and old people aren’t enough to support a TV network.”

Pressed for comment, Reed Hastings, CEO of Netflix, simply laughed balefully for several minutes until our reporter awkwardly absconded. 

The new season of NBC is scheduled to begin April 30th.

The Hongerwinter - or Why I Can't Rip Wrapping Paper

This piece was originally posted as a Facebook note in December of 2013

The other day, our office building's property manager arrived with a Christmas gift basket. If you work in an office building, this is one of those little perks that come with your tenancy. As my co-workers and I begin to pick the basket apart, I eagerly pull out a small box of chocolates, wrapped in red paper. That's the point where I get weird.

I freeze. My hand hovers over the box, seemingly immobilized by an unseen force. I hear myself say, "This paper is too nice to rip," and out of the corner of my eye I see my co-worker give me a pointedly odd look. I step back to my desk, grab my utility knife from my tools drawer, and return to the front desk. I proceed to carefully and delicately slice each piece of scotch tape on the package until I can unwrap it without tearing the paper at all.

The Luxury SUV

This piece was originally posted as a Facebook note in July of 2015

Dear Luxury SUV,

I write you to apologize. This afternoon, as you flew through the barren wasteland of East Vancouver, you were about to blitz freely through that two-way stop, when I, a lowly pedestrian, approached the intersection to cross, thus forcing you to come to a screeching and inconvenient halt.

Wretched I was - tired from work, laden both with my laptop and two full bags of groceries, and worst of all, tainted with the foulness of PUBLIC TRANSIT. Forth I shuffled, like a dung beetle, under the blazing sun.

You were magnificent. Shining, gleaming white. Resplendent in your design. What was your purpose? Town car? Off-roader? Ah, but what hubris and ignorance I show: for your purpose is simply TO BE; TO GO. You move forward, your glorious halogens lighting up this undeserving world. Your V8 heart beating brightly, 15 miles to the gallon... crushing all opposition beneath your grandiose wheels with traction control, all in the perfect comfort of dual-zone climate control. The world, WE are your road. Blessed are we to be so.

As you crept mid-way through the intersection, I sensed your impatience, and hurried along, encumbered as I was by my earthly luggage. As I neared the opposite curb, you raced past just behind me, your magnificent valves emitting a beastly roar to signify your displeasure; Your distaste at my very existence for having cost you these precious seconds from your divine passage through this plane.

I shed a single tear, ashamed for my transgression. As I turned in reverence, I caught a glimpse of your majestic form as it departed. A pictogram of figures graced your rear window: FAMILY.

I could never understand.

Forgive me.

On Drowning

This piece was originally posted as a Facebook note in March of 2014


Did you know that I almost drowned once?

I may have mentioned it to some of you. Perhaps I needed to explain a certain awkwardness I had around water. Perhaps I was simply grasping for something to talk about in a group setting; tapping a traumatic memory to relay a personal touch to the current topic of conversation, thus proving I have something to contribute.

What did you think about just now when I said I almost drowned? Perhaps you concocted some narrative in which I swim too far out during a day at the ocean: I misjudge my abilities and my mortality, forcing a local lifeguard to make a dramatic rescue. Or perhaps I fell out of a raft on white water, scrambling to keep afloat whilst dodging rocks. How very dramatic that would be.