This Blog Is Relocating

If you're a reader or subscriber of this blog, first of all, thank you. Secondly, if you'd like to keep receiving updates, please follow me over on my new site & blog.

Years ago, I started Cafe Witness as an outlet for my casual observations. (I've always considered myself to be an armchair sociologist who just happens to make a living producing media.) But since my "personal brand" (if we must use that term) includes all aspects of my personality -- including the cynical, sarcastic and idiosyncratic side most often on display here -- I feel comfortable merging this POV with my allegedly more "professional" side.

(Also, many wise people tell me it's good SEO to merge my two sites, and I prefer to merge them into the domain I own, rather than this one that's owned by Goooooogle.)

So please, follow me here (and update your RSS subscriptions accordingly). I can't say Cafe Witness will never be updated again, but for now, let's consolidate our efforts and see where that gets us.

Must the Show Go On?

Now that I'm moving to Baltimore, I'm faced with a very tough decision: what to do about Something to Be Desired, the web series I've been producing here in Pittsburgh since 2003.

If you've never seen STBD, you're not alone -- although we're the web's longest-running sitcom, we're also one of the smallest, due mostly to my own inability to properly promote the show WHILE producing it (WHILE also making a living). Because our extensive (and talented) cast all work for free, our only actual expenses for the show are equipment, hosting and time; otherwise -- and if we didn't enjoy it -- we never would have lasted 6+ years.

Now, since the cast can't relocate to Baltimore with me, continued production of STBD becomes nearly impossible without major restructuring. As I see it, I really only have three options:

* Keep producing the show in SOME format, which would require lots of advance planning, remote scheduling and copious amounts of driving (or flying) time -- which obviously inflates the cost of production.

* Let the cast (and whomever else would like to volunteer their camera services) continue to produce the show themselves, and I could advise / assist (within reason) from a distance.

* Cancel the show.

Still Ready for Their Close-Ups?

So far, most of the cast members I've heard from have fallen into 2 categories:

* The veteran cast members would like to see the show continue, but they don't particularly mind if it shuts down either. After 5 or 6 years, they can accept that this particular creative outlet may have reached its end. They would just prefer to see the show end on a high note, rather than as a mass of jumbled loose ends.

* The newer cast members are more vocal about wanting the show to continue, since they've only begun exploring the experience (and their characters). Then again, they also tend to be the cast members who are most actively pursuing stage and film work in Pittsburgh, so they admit this makes them even harder to schedule -- especially from a distance.

Ironically...

... this question of the show's future comes at a time when things have been going quite well for us.

* The fashionistas at Pittsburgh-based ModCloth have offered to outfit some of our cast members for next season's episodes.

* Last year, we were nominated as one of the Top Web Series on Yahoo's annual web video awards. (We lost to The Guild, but that's okay -- so did everyone else.)

* YouTube had begun promoting last season's episodes on the front page of their Entertainment section, resulting in thousands of new views we wouldn't have enjoyed otherwise.

* Web video press like TubeFilter and TilzyTV gave us some ink (or pixels, if you're a purist).

We'd even begun filming some scenes for Season 7 in HD, which would be a big format change for us (and would hopefully help highlight those new ModCloth outfits).

And Yet, in the End...

... it all comes down to me. Over the years, I've struggled annually with the decision of whether or not to keep the show going. Some days (or years) have been harder than others, but the fact that I was collaborating with a talented cast of actors to create something WE controlled was always enough to power me through the down times.

And now, just when it seems like the show may be finding its footing, all signs point toward how logical it would be to shut it down and start anew with something fresh in Baltimore. (Which I'm sure I'll explore regardless of the future of STBD -- there's something to be said for a local creative outlet.)

I know that as long as I have at least one actor and at least one viewer, I have at least one reason to keep producing STBD. And as long as I'm still interested in telling the ongoing story of this cast of characters -- and I am -- I also have a personal reason to continue.

The question I have to ask myself now is: Is it worth it?

Baltimore Bound

Last Friday, Ann and I went to Baltimore. She had a job interview that morning.

On the way home, they emailed to offer her the position.

Suddenly, I've gone from a champion of Pittsburgh to a soon-to-be transplant to Baltimore. What a whirlwind one email makes.

Since I freelance for a living, nothing I do professionally will change despite my new address. (In fact, since most of my current work comes from the New York area, I'll actually be closer to NYC in Baltimore -- maybe I can cut down on the car-destroying road trips.)

Nor will my cultural identity change drastically. To wit:

Pittsburgh is a wonderful, historic, affordable and underrated city with an identity crisis and an ongoing youth population drain.

Baltimore -- from everything I've read so far -- seems to be a wonderful, historic, affordable and underrated city with an identity crisis (namely, its "kid brother" proximity to Washington, DC) and an equally debilitating population drain.

So far, so similar.

The big change will happen in my own personal fishbowl. I've been fortunate to meet dozens of great people here in Pittsburgh whom I consider my friends, acquaintances or the regularly interesting extras in my life. I'm sure those same personalities exist in Baltimore, but our shared Pittsburgh experience won't be in place to help break the ice.

This move also has direct implications for my involvement in PodCamp Pittsburgh (i.e., not much involvement at all) and the future of Something to Be Desired, the web series I've been producing here in Pittsburgh since 2003. I haven't yet decided what that future will be, so I'll consider it over the next several weeks of apartment hunting, U-Haul packing and the waving of goodbyes.

And thus, this is the beginning of my hat tip to Pittsburgh -- a place I'll always consider to be some part of "home," no matter where I live -- and my opening bow toward Baltimore, which will become my home for the next chapter in this occasionally surprising book I'm reading called "life."

I wonder if Baltimore has pierogies...

Photo by stevehdc.

Suddenly, I Need a Car

Last night, I was driving home to Pittsburgh from the Business Smart Tools conference in Connecticut. I was driving uphill, in the rain, and I heard a rattle in my engine. Since my heat shield has been loose numerous times in the life of my car -- a 2000 Honda Civic with 152,000 miles -- I figured I'd need to get it tightened when I got home.

Then, something shot out from underneath my car. Sparking, smoke, a THRUB THRUB THRUB noise coming from the engine...

I decided to pull over.

So, at around 9:30 on a rainy Wednesday night in the middle of I-80, my 2000 Honda Civic came to its final stop. The tow truck driver explained that I'd shot a rod through my engine block, which (if I understand correctly) means a piston escaped from the motor by way of the motor casing. That means the motor has to be replaced, which would involve disassembling (and then reassembling) the entire engine -- around a $1000 to $2000 repair for a car that's worth, at best, $1500.

Side note: I'd introduced Scott Monty from Ford at the BST Conference just a day before. At this rate, I hope I never have to introduce a heart surgeon...

So: Anyone have any car-buying advice for a guy with strictly average credit and a very slim rainy day fund?

Your Customer Is Not Your Problem

Two very different experiences this past week have taught me a lot about the value of positive customer service -- and the need to create a workplace environment that encourages and sustains it.

When Good Road Signs Go Bad

A week ago, I noticed that the five-way stoplight at the Forward and Murray Avenues intersection of Pittsburgh's Squirrel Hill neighborhood was broken. One of the light's cycles -- the side that faces traffic coming off the I-376 exit -- was lasting at least 2-3 times longer than it normally does. This is odd because that's usually NOT a high-traffic approach; it also extends the wait time for those on Murray Avenue, which results in 8-block traffic jams during rush hour.

So I contacted PennDOT, informed them of the problem (via email form), and someone wrote me back within a day to explain that traffic lights are the concern of the municipality, rather than the state. They also said they'd forward my email to the Pittsburgh traffic office -- which, I'll admit, is where I thought this story would end.

Today, I received the following email from Amanda Broadwater, P.E., Municipal Traffic Engineer for the City of Pittsburgh's Department of Public Works - Bureau of Transportation and Engineering:

Dear Mr. Kownacki,

Within the State of Pennsylvania, traffic signals are the jurisdiction of the City. Therefore, the Pennsylvania Department of Transportation forwarded your comment to us regarding the intersection of Forward and Murray in the Squirrel Hill neighborhood.

The City of Pittsburgh has identified [that] loop detectors are malfunctioning at the intersection. This type of problem happens often during wet weather. When this occurs, the maximum time allotted to the approach with the bad loop is displayed during each cycle, rather than the green time being traffic responsive. Obviously this creates greater delays on the other approaches of the intersection.

The electricians will be back on site today to try and remedy the problem. However, it may be necessary to completely replace the loop detectors. If this is the case, a timing change will be needed to ease congestion during preparation of the work. If a timing change is needed, it should be in place by mid week.

I wanted to highlight Amanda's response for two reasons:

* What speedy turnaround time from a pair of agencies that probably receives dozens (if not hundreds) of similar reports every day.

* What a thorough and understandable explanation! I would have expected a form letter saying "thanks, we'll get to it." Instead, Amanda went to the trouble of explaining the issue to me in layman's terms and then suggested a date by which the work should be completed.

On the Other Hand...

Last week, I stopped at a Wendy's just off the Hazleton, PA, exit on I-80. I've been to this Wendy's half a dozen times over the past year, because that exit is a regular pit stop on my business trips between Pittsburgh and Connecticut.

This time, I was one of the only customers in the place, and the staff of 5 or 6 seemed frustrated. Maybe it was because I was disrupting their side work, or because of something their manager may have said moments earlier. Maybe they were just having a bad day.

But when the kid gave me my order and I said "Thanks," and he just grunted at me with the body language that let me know I was his problem, not his customer, it clarified two things for me:

* There's a reason front-end workers in fast food and retail only get paid a minimum wage, and

* I need to stop eating at the Wendy's in Hazleton.

Conversely, although I disagree with their politics, I enjoy the experience of ordering food at Chick-fil-a. Why? Because their employees (at least in Pittsburgh's Waterfront location) are perpetually in good moods. Not the kind of fake smile most employee handbooks insist their cashiers sport, but the kind of jovial attitude that lets me know they enjoy working there -- and that they're happy I'm spending my money with them.

Like PennDOT and Pittsburgh's Department of Public Works, I'm not Chick-fil-a's problem. I'm their customer - and they'd like me to stay that way.

Photo by lawgeek.

I Have Seen the Future, and It Is Me

I was profiled in a KDKA TV News feature about Pittsburgh's young entrepreneurs. Reporter Andy Sheehan talked to several local innovators about the ways our businesses differ from the norm -- my tendency to work from cafes while producing STBD, for example, or the wisdom of converting a home into the (multi-employee) office for local design firm Blue Tomato.

As always, most news items about young people in Pittsburgh tend to focus on two themes: whether we'll save the city by reinventing it, or whether the city will empower us to make our dreams come true. This particular clip does a bit of both -- which is typical of the city's identity crisis. As the region with the second-oldest population in the country (behind only Miami), Pittsburgh is forever torn between the need to redefine itself and the presumption that it doesn't have to.

If I were a casual viewer, I'd probably think every one of us featured in this video -- including Nick Pinkston and Kellee Maize -- are naive young crackpots who need a real 9-to-5 job to drive some reality down our throats. But, on the off chance that one of us succeeds, that same casual viewer can take pride in the fact that we didn't listen to their conventional wisdom after all.

If YOU'RE Not the Boss of Me... Who Is?

Last week, blogger Joyce Dierschke asked a not-quite hypothetical question: Do you censor yourself online? Her example, of whether or not she should have re-posted a link to a (biased) political video that she personally found amusing, encapsulates a question we all ask ourselves on a regular basis:

When I'm online, am I allowed to be me?

The answers to the question are (if you ask me) far too complicated, because they can only be revealed by first determining who you are AND what you believe.

Some Things to Consider About Who "You" Are:

Are you a person or an employee?

Are you a brand or an individual?

Are you more concerned about being authentic or about getting paying work?

If a potential client decided they didn't want to work with you because of something you said or did online -- essentially, because of who you are (and the judgment they believe you display) -- would you regret the action in question?

Are you using the internet for communication or self-promotion?

Is your belief system permanent, or does it evolve over time?

Would the person you are today be embarrassed or ashamed of anything you did 10, 5 or even 2 years ago?

Are you steadily advancing toward a specific goal, or are you exploring for the sake of experience?

Do you expect greater integrity from others than you do from yourself?

Does transparency trump ethics?

Forget Big Brother -- EVERYONE'S Watching

Every decision we make online is a personal decision, undertaken privately (or so it seems) yet available publicly to anyone who knows how to look for it. Classic concepts of privacy, identity and "the self" are in flux now due to the web's multiple layers of "personal branding" and anonymity. And while Jonah may have believed that God could see him even when he was inside the whale, Jonah also never had to deal with recruiters scouring his friends' Facebook accounts for all his potentially incriminating kegstand photos.

So before you start censoring (or uncensoring) yourself online, perhaps you should first figure out who YOU are... and who you answer to.

Image by amanky.

I'm a Fag

Not really, but that's beside the point, because that title was decided for me last week. [NOTE: Update at the end of this post.]

I was walking the two blocks from my apartment to the grocery store when two of the neighborhood kids -- girls between the ages of 8 and 12, I'd guess -- noticed that I was:

* wearing a light red (to them, pink) hoodie,
* carrying a recyclable grocery bag (to them, a purse) over my shoulder, and
* bouncing when I walk (which is a happy family trait)

Thus, in their eyes, I was a fag. And they let me know it.

On my way home, the older girl called out to me, and when I looked over, she -- in all the slow-motion magnitude that cinematographers use to signify a watershed moment in one's life -- flipped me off.

I decided to shrug it off, since kids are kids. But I filed it away, knowing that it would boomerang back around again, since kids are also pack animals. And it did.

Yesterday, I was walking Rufus and a gaggle of neighborhood kids -- all of them white and lower-middle-class -- were playing one someone's lawn. When I walked past, they let me know my new name ("Fag Peter") and hurled insults at me and my dog for a full two blocks, loud enough that I (and, certainly, anyone else in the neighborhood) could hear quite clearly. Again, I chose to ingore it, but it does pose a number of interesting problems:

* I now brace myself every time I leave my house, expecting to be venomously insulted by children.

* Since these kids likely know where I live (and what I drive), property damage or vandalism is not out of the question.

* Presuming that everyone else on the block heard these insults and has thus far decided to say nothing about it, I presume they don't mind the neighborhood kids slurring anyone else who walks through.

I'm Wondering How Best to Handle This

If we were all kids (or adults), I could react in an appropriate way (fistfights, reasoned discourse or litigation). If I was a kid and they were adults, I could tell my parents and get the police involved.

But as an adult being harassed by children, my options seem starkly limited. As mentioned above, their parents and neighbors don't seem to think that insulting someone is a reprimandable offense. And even if I did approach their parents, I suspect one of the following things would happen:

* It would let the kids know they were getting to me, thus fueling their desire to further harass me

* It might get the kids in trouble, thus legitimizing their anger toward me, or

* The parents might not see anything wrong with it, and accuse me of either provoking the kids or otherwise causing a needless problem.

As I See It, I Have Four Options:

* Walk Rufus on other streets, and avoid my own neighboring block at all costs (thus living as a prisoner in my own neighborhood)

* Walk everywhere with Ann (which might at least momentarily confuse the kids long enough to Google the term "fag hag")

* Confront their parents, or

* Confront the kids

Also, I should point one bit of clarification:

* Although I'm not gay, it's not the "fag" insult that bothers me. They could just as easily (and nonsensically) be calling me a cripple or a nigger. What frustrates me is that these kids are evidently growing up in a neighborhood where judging someone based on outward appearances, and then slurring them in the streets, isn't deterred.

Granted, I'm sure each of these kids will learn a lesson someday, when they display their prejudices against someone their own age -- or, as adults, against someone who doesn't mind beating the shit out of them -- but for now, I feel unnecessarily cast as the moral protagonist in some afterschool special, in which I know have to reach deep inside and find some pearl of wisdom that will make this all worthwhile for everyone involved, when really I just want to buy groceries and walk my dog in the neighborhood where I'm paying to live.

Thoughts?

3:21 PM UPDATE: While walking Rufus this afternoon, I passed by the homes where some of the kids live, and two of their parents were at work (on laptops) on their porch. I introduced myself and explained the situation to them, and we had a fruitful (I think) discussion about it.

They were upset, apologetic and, I think, embarrassed that any of this happened. One of the moms admitted that she'd heard the kids yelling something yesterday, but since their voices all blend together when they're in a pack, she couldn't make out what they were saying. They each said they'd talk with their kids, both individually and as a group, because they said their kids know that kind of behavior is wrong and they want to make sure it doesn't happen again.

Here's hoping this works out, and that we can all move forward as a neighborhood, rather than seeing an escalation in petty insults.

10 Things People Don't Seem to Get About the Watchmen

As a devoted fan of the graphic novel, I'll admit that I approached Zack Snyder's Watchmen adaptation with some serious doubts. I didn't think anyone could pack the full breadth of the story Time magazine has called one of the 100 Best Novels into a linear theatrical experience.

I was (mostly) wrong. Snyder's film is slavishly reverential to the book -- sometimes debillitatingly so -- but no one can say that Snyder didn't get it right. Of course, in this case, "it" means "translating the comic to the big screen, panel-for-panel," which is part of the reason why it's seeing so many negative reviews from people who've never read the book.

And thus, in the interest of being an apologist for the entire Watchmen experience, I bring you 10 Things People Don't Seem to Get About the Watchmen:

1. This isn't a film, it's an homage. Snyder knew this movie would be violently dissected by legions of rabid fanboys who consider Watchmen to be an untouchable, unadaptable work that legitimizes the entire genre of sequential art. So instead of applying his own vision to the project, Snyder realized that his only recourse was to literally translate the comic book directly to the big screen, panel by panel.

As such, there's very little negative commentary that any fan of the book can level at this film, because what does AND doesn't work on the screen has been lifted almost completely from the comic itself. To criticize the film is, fundamentally, to criticize the book -- or, more awkwardly, to criticize the fanboys themselves, who may now be realizing that the book needed to be given a life of its own if it was expected to stand alone as a film.

Which, of course, it wasn't. The Snyder version will be remembered as a near-literal translation from page to screen. Whatever version comes next, 20 or 30 years from now, will finally be able to depart drastically from the strictures of the book because now everyone knows what the thing would look like on the big screen, and the bigger question will be, "What could it look like?"

2. The film was destined to be a commercial failure. There's no way to adapt Watchmen to the big screen without spending obscene amounts of money. And there's no way to recoup that cost without promoting the film to look like an action-packed blockbuster, so unassuming audiences will flood the multiplex. But the book is really a drama / mystery, so populist audiences are bound to be disappointed, because...

3. Watchmen is not a superhero movie. Nearly every criticism I've heard of the movie is that it was boring. Considering that Watchmen is a story of life, love, death, politics, time, reality, sanity, physics, fantasy, sex, violence and the meaning of life, it's safe to say that the people who bought into the stereotypical rhythm of the trailer a) didn't bother reading the book, and b) were grossly disappointed to not see a 3-hour action sequence.

4. The wooden dialogue was never meant to be spoken aloud. Snyder decided to stick with the actual dialogue from the book at nearly every turn, and that's a mistake. What's written in a word balloon is written for the eyes, not the ears. If the dialogue sounded stilted -- or, worse, if the emotional impact of the statements was blunted by their hitchy delivery -- that's because it only worked on the page.

5. Watchmen is rated R. "R" means Restricted -- in this case, due to violence, nudity, sex, language and adult themes. People who complain that Watchmen isn't a "safe" popcorn movie that they could take their kids to clearly weren't paying attention to the whole ad. (And people who lament that this kind of sex and violence undermines the story miss the point that this is the point.)

6. Watchmen is political. So much so, in fact, that whole political diatribes are being written about it. But it isn't specifically conservative or liberal, because every character operates according to his or her own morality and personally-defined ethics. EVERY aspect of modern society (and politics) is coldly evaluated throughout the course of the film, and the final interpretation is up to each member of the audience.

7. Alan Moore is not God. His fans may say he is, and Moore himself may believe he is, but the truth is, Moore is just a very good writer in a genre without many talented peers, so he towers above the rest. This overinflates his ego to the point of absurdity, and makes him do silly things like condemning any adaptation of his work as an atrocity. Watchmen may the be Sistine Chapel of comic books, but the greater implication here is that there are so few Notre Dames to challenge it, which allows Moore the architect to get away with petulant murder.

8. Watchmen was published in 1986. Since then, a quarter-century has passed, in which time most of what was genre-shattering about Watchmen at the time has now been assimilated into pop culture. The concepts of superheroes as "real people," traitors operating under noble pretenses, hyper-violence as an art form and anti-heroes as protagonists have become the norm in pop culture, rather than the breaths of fresh air they were when Moore first introduced them to the comics world. Even the idea of pop music lyrics riding shotgun within a comic page was revolutionary then; now, using those same songs in a soundtrack gets it labeled obnoxious. In order to fully appreciate Watchmen, it has to be viewed within the context of its own influence.

9. It's not all about the big blue penis. Let the record show that when you hand an American audience a story about philosophy, psychology, politics and personal responsibility, all they'll be able to talk about is the big blue penis. (So maybe the world still isn't ready for a Watchmen movie...)

10. No, there will not be a sequel.

Social Media + Job Hunting (1 of 3): Defending Your Online Reputation

Yesterday, I spoke at The Art Institute of Pittsburgh (my alma mater) about the ups and downs of managing your online reputation in this era of Internet job searches.

Also speaking with me was Norm Huelsman (Assistant Director of PR at AIP), who discussed the importance of converting online networking into offline relationships, and why you need to own your work (and your brand).



Tony Corasaniti (VP/Director of Career Services at AIP) spoke third in the lineup -- I'll get his video up soon.

(Note: there are very few visuals in these presentations, so you may be better served by listening to them.)

If you'd like me to speak about social media at your event, you can contact me on LinkedIn or Twitter.

The Comments Ate My Baby

Some blog posts elicit more comments than others, and when the occasional "hot button" post (or anything on Scobleizer) attracts massive amounts of comments, it gets me thinking...

How many comments is TOO many?

As a Blog Writer...

... I would say "there's no such thing as too many comments," because the more people take the time to respond to something I've made, the more I know I've connected with my audience. (Minus all those people who post comments that add zero value to the conversation and simply act as a free ad for their own URL).

I also enjoy hearing people's differing opinions, or seeing them make additional suggestions that are relevant to the topic at hand. One author can't nail a topic from every angle, so it's great when interested commenters can add depth and breadth to the conversation.

As a Blog Reader...

... I rarely read beyond the first 10 comments on a given post, because so much of it is either empty congratulations or a stock battalion of "yes, but" arguments.

That said, when a topic DOES spur a healthy (or heated) debate, I'll read much further down the comment stream, usually until the sentiments begin rapidly duplicating themselves.

And, as a Commenter...

... I'm more likely to leave a comment on a post if I'm either among the first responders to that post (and, thus, more likely to have my comment read by others) *OR* if I have something to add that I believe is both valid and as-yet unsaid by anyone who's commented before me.

In my opinion, there's no sense in adding yet another voice to a string of comments unless that voice extends the conversation beyond its existing borders. Which is ironic, because as a blog author, I don't mind redundancy in the comment stream; when I'm in that role, every comment carries with it the added value of validation.

So, how do YOU handle (or leave) comments?

Image by lammy.

Pennsylvania Encourages Car Accidents

Ann was driving to work a few weeks ago when she encountered an old station wagon filled with lumber, driving slowly in the lefthand lane. She tried to pass it on the right, and while she was doing so, the station wagon veered into the right lane and hit her.

Since they were on a bridge, there were no other witnesses who'd stopped. The driver -- an older man -- got out (of the station wagon that had no damage), inspected the two dents he'd made on Ann's front fender, and proclaimed that she could get them pounded out for $15, so there was no need to call the police. Just to be safe, Ann got his license and phone number, and continued on to work.

There, she noticed that her driver's side headlight had also been dislodged, which would seem to increase the total cost of damages. Both I and her boss suggested she file a police report. Ann called the police, who came down, looked at her car, and said, "Why did you call us? You're wasting our time."

Apparently, with no witnesses and minimal damage, there was no need for Ann to have called the police. (I wonder what level of damage is required for the police to be necessary.)

The cop suggested Ann report the incident to her insurance company. (He also ran the other driver's license plate and found that it didn't exist in the system, but that's because the guy turned out to be driving on a temporary license / registration.) Ann called the other driver to get his insurance info, but when he learned the cops were involved, he became so belligerent that the cop had to get on the phone and tell the guy to calm down and co-operate. That was when the guy started insisting that Ann hit him -- which, if you looked at the damage done (or not done) to the two vehicles, would have been a physical impossibility.

Nonetheless, when all was said and done, Geico informed Ann that because the other driver disputed her claim, and because there were no witnesses, this would be termed a no-fault accident and, therefore, Geico would not be pursuing the nearly $300 extra Ann had to pay beyond her $500 deductible in order to complete the final repairs.

So, in essence, driving to work that morning cost Ann more than $700 because an old man who couldn't see out his windows because his car was overloaded with lumber veered into her lane and hit her, all because no one else stopped to claim witness.

The lesson? If no one else is around, drive as recklessly as possible, because they can't catch you.

This reminds me of an accident I had back in 1995, when I was turning left under a yellow light and a driver coming from the opposite direction sped up to beat the light and broadsided my car, forcing it onto a median. We had witnesses AND we had an admission of guilt from the driver directly to the police. And yet, in the end, it turns out that the accident was actually 75% MY fault because I was turning left. And in the state of Pennsylvania, the person turning left is always at fault.

Interestingly, that same driver who, at the scene, was apologizing profusely and telling everyone within earshot, "Oh my God, I hit you!" would later attempt to sue me for whiplash and other injuries suffered long after the accident. That case was later dropped, as far as I know.

(The lesson here? In Pennsylvania, you should always speed up and hit anyone making a lefthand turn, regardless of witnesses. It's not irresponsibility or road rage; it's called "a free upgrade" to your current outmoded vehicle.)

Perseverance (Or, Succeeding Because You're Too Stubborn to Quit)

NOTE: This blog post is my entry in the 2008 Heart Kids Tweetathon, organized by Dr. Mani to help raise money for children with heart defects. His theme for this year's event is "Passion, Purpose, Persistence."

When I quit my day job in 2005 to live the luxurious life of a freelancer, I never imagined how difficult a life I was volunteering for. Instead of the sanity (and health insurance) that comes with a steady paycheck, I was opting to live by my wits. I was stubborn (or cavalier) enough to think that I could make at least as good a living on my own as I could from all the clients my day job had worked so hard to bring in and keep happy.

In short, I was wrong.

Not about the money part, but about how easy I thought it would be. I took the security of my salary, and the ease with which work fell into my lap, for granted. I spent the better part of two years struggling to make ends meet, paying credit cards with credit cards, and dressing five layers deep in the winter to save on heating bills.

I was a mess.

But I was also stubborn. I refused to blame anyone other than myself for my inability to live a comfortable life. (Well, at least in the end, after I tried a bunch of excuses and realized none of them were legit.) More than anything, I knew that what was separating me from success was my own attitude and motivation, not some karmic conspiracy to keep me down.

So I kept at it. I made new connections, pursued new clients, took chances. And, most importantly, I had support - from friends, from family, and from people who refused to let me sink too far to recover. (Perhaps not coincidentally, all of the business I currently enjoy comes from clients who were either acquaintances of mine or who recommended me to their friends.)

I'm not quite living the life of luxury yet, but I've also held fast to my promise to myself, that I would find a way to avoid having to work a 9-to-5 job again. I hated not having control over my own destiny -- and even though it took me several lean years to figure out exactly what kind of responsibility comes with that control, it's a lesson I wouldn't trade. In fact, I highly suggest it. There's no better way to learn what's inside you than to put yourself through incredible difficulties simply because you refuse to change your course without achieving success.

Just make sure you bundle up in the winter.

Photo by Evan Prodromou

5 Things I Learned While Apartment Hunting in Pittsburgh

This week, I spent huge chunks of time tracking down a new apartment. Our lease is up at the end of July, and since Ann wants to get a dog, we're moving to a building that allows dogs. (That means we had to find one first -- and in Pittsburgh, that's no easy task.)

In doing so, I learned a lot about Pittsburgh, realtors, and myself. To wit:

5 Things I Learned While Apartment Hunting in Pittsburgh

1. Dogs Are Pariahs

As most of my Twitter friends heard this past week, owning a dog in Pittsburgh makes you the least desirable of all apartment renters, judged by prospective landlords to be slightly less savory than thieves, grave robbers and amateur yodelers. It seems the average landlord in Pittsburgh would rather rent an apartment to a convicted criminal or a scab-heavy leper than to someone who owns a dog. We don't even have a dog yet, but we did learn that the quickest way to cut a conversation with a realtor short is to ask, "So, what's your pet policy?"

Oddly enough, cats are far less problematic. Evidently, shedding and clawing is far preferable to shedding and barking.

2. Landlords Often Forget That EVERYTHING Is a People Business

Most of the landlords and realtors we encountered were decidedly chilly in their demeanor -- some even downright dismissive. (And these are the ones who allowed dogs.) Only 2 or 3 treated us like people, rather than names on a call sheet, and took the time to connect with us on a more-than-functional basis. Unsurprisingly, those are the ones whose apartments we seriously considered renting.

Note to landlords: If I'm about to pay you over $1500 and commit to living under your roof for at least the next year, you could treat me like a person from the time we first meet. (This includes phone contact.) You could make me feel like you care about my needs and well-being. You could stop making excuses for the less-than-perfect conditions of your properties. You could give me the impression that you'll be concerned if our power, water or heat go out in the middle of the winter. In short, you could put some effort into being a person, rather than a business owner or an employee.

3. I'm All Growns Up

Several places we looked at were in buildings obviously intended for grad students -- aka, not overly spacious or in the best shape, but centrally located and affordable.

As a single guy, I would have jumped at the chance to live in one or two of these places -- especially considering their proximity to the social locations I already frequent. After all, I wouldn't have viewed them as long-term living solutions, but more as temporary places to sleep between jobs, social events and other such gallivanting. (When you're single, your apartment is where you go when you're not doing something interesting.)

But as a 31 year-old man in a committed relationship, my (our) needs are different. For one thing, we have more stuff than I would if I were single (see below). For another, we tend to stay home more often. That makes space, and the *use* of space, more important to us than it was to Single Justin. We like to entertain guests, so we need a space that's suited to the needs of social adults, not beer pong-playing students. And since it's cheaper to cook dinner for two every night, rather than always eating on the run, we need a kitchen that we can *live* in, rather than a tiny one where I can microwave something for solo feeding.

4. Stuff vs. Things

When you're looking at an empty apartment, trying to imagine where all your possessions would go, you can usually approximate the big items. You know where your furniture (beds, dressers, couches) would go. You also know where your stuff *might* go -- all the vague items you know are in every room but can never quite articulate, like lamps, storage containers, filing cabinets, smaller chairs and computer equipment.

But what about all that crap? All the boxes, bins and seasonal items that you only think about when you can't find something you actually *want* -- like a toolbox or a photo album that you swear is in "this closet somewhere."

Ann and I have aggregated a LOT of crap over the years, so we had to look beyond the obvious space and consider the phantom space -- the closets and basements that don't seem important in your daily life until you realize you have zero space and must resort to storing your shoes on the dining room table...

Suffice it to say that we picked a place that allows us to expand, instead of something that's "just big enough" for who we are today.

5. Location, Location, Location... Kind Of

As a freelancer, I don't have to worry about the home-to-work driving distance -- but Ann does. As long as she's working in the Oakland / Shadyside area, we thought we should look for something nearby -- Friendship, Shadyside, Bloomfield, etc. -- so she doesn't waste time and money driving long distances twice a day.

We also identified the things we do and places we go on a regular basis -- grocery shopping, bookstores, banks, coffee shops that stay open 'til midnight -- and tried to look for apartments that would be near as many of those locations as possible. It didn't make sense to save money in one capacity -- like proximity to Ann's job -- if we'd only be driving further to everything else.

In the end, we found a place in an area of town -- Greenfield -- that we never would have thought to look in the first place. Not just because we hadn't realized it was closer to Ann's work than we thought, but because it's in an area that feels more like an actual neighborhood than the places I traditionally seek out. Instead of being surrounded by grad students and commuters, we'll be living among people who own their homes, who have families, and who take pride in their houses and yards. For someone who hasn't had a yard in nearly ten years, this will be a change of pace -- and, since ours is paved, it saves me from having to mow it.

I may be all growns up, but I'm still not ready for yard work...

I'm Up for a Yahoo Video Award!

Well, actually not *me*, but Something to Be Desired, the web sitcom I created and have been producing since 2003.

I learned yesterday that STBD is one of 5 finalists for "Best Series" in the 2008 Yahoo Video Awards. Very cool! We're up against 4 other talented contenders, and it looks like each of them alerted their supporters (aka, "blurbed their mailing lists") long before we did, so now we get to play catch-up.

It's an uphill battle, but we Pittsburghers know a thing or two about hills...

If you'd like to vote for us, you can check our little box and see the results here. (And if you do, thanks!)

And, if you've never seen the show, you can check it out on our homepage -- or, if you're in a Yahoo mood, watch it here.

Here's our most recent promo:

A Sobering Thought

As I was laying in bed yesterday, it occurred to me that, in all likelihood, I'll be dead in 60 years.

I'm 30 now, so -- at best -- that means I'm 1/3 of the way to my grave.

Not that it bothers me. But it does get me thinking...

When I go, will I have lived a life I can be proud of?

Will I have accomplished most of the goals I pursued?

Will I have seen and done things that made my life worthwhile?

I suppose the answer to those questions will be up to me, in my final hours. But I'm also aware that the fuel for those answers will be found over the next 60 years or so. That means every choice suddenly takes on a bit more weight.

Suddenly, "just getting by" doesn't seem worthwhile.

Suddenly, "living comfortably" doesn't seem good enough.

Instead, I'm well aware that I have a LOT to do on the road to a life I can remember with pleasure and contentment in my final hours, instead of frustration and regret.

Seasonal cliché? Possibly. But nonetheless relevant.

How are YOU doing on your road toward the Great Unknown?

What Does Success Mean to You?

I've been creating Something to Be Desired for four years now. I consider us to be "successful" in that we've kept the show online and interesting despite numerous hurdles.

And yet, whenever someone asks me what my goals are... I realize I can't articulate them, because I haven't defined them for myself.

Things Are Changing

I've been having a lot of conversations lately with social media folks -- and reading a lot of blogs and Twitters -- that lead me to believe the bulk of the people in this space have a hard time defining what success means for them, and therefore understanding the steps they need to take in order to get there.

Last year, PodCamp Boston exceeded expectations because it had never been done. This year, although attendance was up, it was still about 50% of the registered total. Was that a "success"? It depends on whom you ask.

Most of the no-shows were people "outside the fishbowl" -- those interested parties who weren't yet creating content and therefore weren't 100% invested in having a conversation about it.

"How do we get those people involved?" was the question a lot of us have been asking for a long time, and there still aren't clear-cut answers.

Maybe that's because we're not demonstrating that social media is a "successful" investment of OUR time and resources yet, simply because so few of us know whether or not we ARE successful. It's hard to lead by example when you're not sure where you're headed.

What Constitutes Success For You?

Are you a creator? Does the thrill of making something from nothing give you an unequaled charge?

Are you a collaborator? Do you prefer working with others to make something greater than any of you could have done independently?

Are you seeking an audience? What kind of audience? Is it more important for you to have a wide, "mainstream" appeal in your work, or a smaller, highly-engaged readership / listenership / viewership?

Are you seeking investment? What kind of investment? How much money / resources? From whom? What would you do with it if you had it?

Are you seeking to make a living at what you're doing? To become profitable? What's your break-even point? Where will that money come from?

What do you want to be doing in a year? In three years?

Very few of us seem to know the answers to these questions, which therefore prevents us from being able to take the steps to accomplish them. As a result, I see a lot of rudderlessness throughout the medium. I see disinterest, worry, cynicism and frustration. (I should know - I'm the generator of a significant amount of it.)

So, if that's the case, why don't we refocus for a moment and ask ourselves, honestly: What does success mean to you?

And, to kick-start the conversation, I'll list my POV. To me, success would be:

* Being out of debt
* Making a comfortable living
* Having health insurance
* Working as a writer / director / producer
* Having STBD viewed by 10,000+ people per episode
* Earning enough money from STBD to pay the cast
* Seeing STBD become one of the top shows in modern media
* Collaborating with creative people from multiple fields
* Helping shepherd other people's ideas to fruition
* Investing in / growing other small businesses
* Being able to donate time / resources to charities
* Being able to travel

Yours?

People Are Nicer Than You Think

A few days ago, I mentioned it was impossible to work in stifling 90 degree conditions when your apartment feels like a heatbox.

Michael Bailey responded by creating the TwitterAir project, intending to raise money to buy me an air conditioner. I argued that the power of the people could be better focused on something truly useful, like helping people who are REALLY in need, instead of my pasty white self.

Apparently, Jim Shireman of Sportsocracy didn't get that memo. Today, he and his wife Amy tracked me down at the Quiet Storm cafe to give me a surprise -- a brand new air conditioner.

Thanks, Jim and Amy. Now it's time for me to pass it on. Good deeds shall not go unrewarded...

Meanwhile, what can we do to put the power of TwitterAir to more good use?

Twitsterbation

I just had a surreal moment in which I had to switch among my three (count 'em -- three) Twitter accounts to add new friends. This involved hopping between:

My personal account

The STBD account, and

The brand new PodCamp Pittsburgh account.

While in these accounts, I realized they weren't all "friends" with each other, so I added them (aka myself) as friends with one another (aka also myself).

I was then bombarded with half a dozen emails informing me that I was now friends with myself... over and over...

If I keep this up, I'll need to break out my hardcover Dungeonmaster manual (circa 1986) and curl up for a night of private reading...

Constructive Criticism?

My mom is writing a book. It might be a novel, or a novella, or a short story -- she's not sure. Neither am I. But she's done with the first draft, and she gave it to me to read -- with one request: be honest.

So I read it. Or, to be more precise, I read the first 43 pages. And then I stopped.

I called her and I gave her the news I'm sure she didn't want to hear: I think she needs a rewrite.

I think the characters are more "types" than individuals. I think the plot feels contrived, rather than organic. I think the way the narrator imparts information on the audience is confusing -- sometimes too much, sometimes too little, and sometimes completely unnecessary, given the thrust of the plot.

In summary, I think she has a bunch of raw elements that COULD become a compelling story, but they haven't coalesced yet. I think she's a few rewrites away.

In reviewing her, I started reviewing my own work, especially on Something to Be Desired. Ironically, we're in the story development stage for Season Five, which is the perfect time to apply this same level of scrutiny to my own work.

So what have I realized?

I've realized I have dozens of questions that I, as the writer and creator, can't answer. I also see structure and character holes that are screaming for attention. And there's a debilitating lack of plot that can only be due to my own lack of understanding of the characters (and their goals).

It's disheartening, in some ways, to realize I'm so far from where I'd like to be in the creation of the story. On the other hand, it's gratifying to know that I'm identifying the problem areas and taking positive steps to improve them, getting ever-closer to where I want to be. It helps me realize that a few minor setbacks aren't the end of the world -- they're actually a sign that I'm on the right track toward something I can really be proud of.

I hope my mom realizes that.