Life Is but an (Augmented) Dream

Imagine you go to a party. On the way in, you put on a pair of “smart glasses”: a self-contained, cordless computer. Once the glasses are on, you experience the party, guests and environment as you would normally, while simultaneously experiencing an augmented reality. One wherein you see great works of art, regularly housed in museums and private collections, but tonight, it’s available for you to study from every angle and beyond barriers. Except it’s an illusion; a hologram.

The above scenario was described to me by my stylist. It turns out one of her clients works for Microsoft. As one of many developers, he’s currently engrossed with the production of HoloLens, a platform marketed as a level beyond virtual reality because of its blending of holograms with one’s real time environment. As my stylist talked about the technology, I imagined the film Vanilla Sky, and the swanky bachelor pad Tom Cruise’s character used to entertain guests with holograms of John Coltrane playing music. The juxtaposed reality in the film shook me up when I first saw it years ago. The fictional 2001 film vs. a real product in present time was particularly overwhelming to ponder while waiting for a fresh coat of hair dye to take root.

Party décor use was just one of HoloLens’ astounding, seemingly infinite potential applications. Beyond home entertainment and gaming, demos of the “holographic computing platform” show users teaching, learning, communicating and designing. Whether working, playing or connecting, HoloLens can impact every area of life. The seamless integration of the real world with that of an alternate reality offers users the ability to create (whether it be for fantasy or reality) without physically leaving the room they’re in.

Death doesn’t stop John Coltrane from performing as a hologram in the film Vanilla Sky.

In many ways, this seems like a logical, natural next step in technological progress and advancement. Between Bluetooth devices emanating familiar voices in our ears, Skype and other video chatting services displaying loved ones right in front of us – even from states or countries away, the internet readily accessible to give us a preview of menus before stepping foot into a restaurant, trackers to help us find the quickest methods and routes to take alongside GPS navigating us to our destinations, weather updates so we need not peek out the window to know we’ll need an umbrella, sunglasses, or jacket, instant messaging and texts cropping up in rapid fire succession to keep us connected, and music, movies, books and other streaming media washing over our senses at all times – well… suffice it to say, we already exist in a self-contained technological bubble. At the moment, all our apps and devices are ones that are separate from our beings. Though we rarely do, we can still put down our phones, disconnect while at work or visiting. With the incorporation of HoloLens technology, are we losing ourselves to augmented reality?

As explored repeatedly in this blog, technology connects us, bringing us closer together, but it also alienates and pushes us further apart from one another. Will technology such as HoloLens bring us one step closer to completely cutting ourselves off from direct contact with each other? I worry about the lines continuing to blur; the distinction of real life and dream becoming indistinguishable.

Demo for HoloLens.

Then again, I think of the learning curve, adjustments and integration of society’s technological history. For instance, look at the advent of radio. A 1938 broadcast of an adaptation of the classic H.G. Wells The War of the Worlds led to panic and confusion for listeners that didn’t realize warnings of an alien invasion were not real. Upon first seeing moving images of trains in film and on TV, audiences were reported to have jumped out of their seats to avoid what was an illusion of sudden death. Presuming HoloLens takes off, it could represent the next piece of technology to initially astound, but then become incorporated into our routines in a marginal way. After all, the novelty and mystery of innovation wears off. How often are we wowed today by brewing ourselves a cup of coffee? Or driving around town?

My head felt heavy as a brick after researching HoloLens. I closed my tablet once I’d had enough, and looked up at the world around me. Outside my window, Seattle was doing its thing. A torrential downpour soaked the grounds after the sky opened up a short while before. Yet at that moment, the precipitation had passed, and the dandelion glow of the sun mixed with another batch of menacing clouds on the horizon. Then I looked over at my cat, who was snoozing on the loveseat. I smirked and walked toward the couch. The simple perception of real life unfolding in real time was a poignant reminder of what’s really meaningful: to turn off, put away, and disconnect from technological reliances. To look up, out, and around to take note of what is. What truly is.

Technology offers ceaseless wonder that can take our breaths away, but what’s most stunning and wondrous is what’s authentic. At least, that is my belief. As I curled up on the couch, listening to passing rain followed by chirping birds being lured out by the sun, I laughed at my cat who was crawling all over me and drooling (he thinks he’s a dog). He finally got comfortable and we nestled into each other. As he purred, I smiled. There was nowhere else in the world I would have wanted to be. No augmented reality could have heightened the happiness or satisfaction I felt. That is my reality, in the here and now.

Old-fashioned Challenge: Live real life to its fullest.

© Tia Gargiulo, 2015

Living from the Crotch & Butt

These days, I have to admit that I’m impressed with the amount of engaging, funny and entertaining television programs. Shows like: Secrets and Lies, Forever, American Crime, Shark Tank and Modern Family have inspired me to tune in. It’s been nice to wind down the day, but increased exposure to TV has meant increased exposure to commercials. During a commercial break last week, I felt accosted by products related to, or for, the crotch and butt. First, there was an ad for prescription vaginal cream aimed at post-menopausal women. Then there was an absolutely disgusting commercial from Cottonelle suggesting that by using their toilet paper, folks will feel so clean that they can “go commando.” As if undergarments only act as a safety net for those who haven’t quite mastered the fine art of wiping thoroughly. Yet it was the third commercial of this single break that shocked me with its patronizing tone. In Depend’s “Drop your pants for underwareness” ad, people are seen proudly walking down the street wearing everything but pants.

In America, an average of 8 minutes of ads are aired during a 30 minute program, while 14-16 minutes of ad time is devoted to 60 minute shows. Commercials that run during each program are from the sponsor, which is interested in targeting the key viewing demographic. Therefore, toy commercials air during Saturday morning cartoons, and athletic gear commercials air during sports games. With the exception of family shows Shark Tank and to a lesser extent, Modern Family, the majority of programs I watch come on later in the evening, and appeal mostly to the adult and older adult demographic. Consequently, it stands to reason that there will be commercials addressing a variety of south of the stomach hemisphere wants and needs. Still, must we tolerate such overexposure of all things crotch and ass related?

Long gone are the times when topics such as menstruation were considered inappropriate for TV. In the past, for instance, products like over-the-counter pills for PMS were advertised by hinting and insinuation. In fact, standards for acceptability on television and advertising have transitioned rapidly. The first contraception commercials didn’t air until the 1980’s. Contrast that with a flippant ad that ran only a few years ago for oral contraceptive pills wherein young women browse a store for life goals, such as a career, house, mate, and, oh yeah, eventually a baby. I’m grateful we live in a time when the changes our bodies experience with age are no longer taboo, something to be discussed in whispers and hushed tones, or side-stepped by parents sending away for brochures to give their children. On the other hand, with the ads of today often treating these topics in a crude, blatant, tactless and tasteless manner, has our society gone too far in the opposite direction?

After tallying a non-exhaustive list of C&B products, I lumped them into one of four categories: 1. Bathroom Health and Hygiene, 2./3. Female and Male Hygiene, and, 4. Sexual/Family Planning. The first category includes products for cleanliness or healthy waste management, such as toilet paper, wet wipes, laxatives, stool softeners, upset stomach/diarrhea relief, as well as products for incontinence such as briefs, guards, shields and prescriptions for “overactive bladders.” Female and male hygiene commercials include products relating to OTC and prescription pills for PMS/period relief, products for menstrual cycles (pads, tampons, panty liners), yeast infections, vaginal cleanliness (deodorizers, washes, wipes) and the ever charming female and male itch creams (Vagasil and Gold Bond). The fourth category is the largest, with items for every stage of one’s sexual life from contraception (pills, condoms), to products for family planning (pregnancy and ovulation tests), to products for intimate play such as gels, lubricants, adult-themed costume and toy stores, male “enhancement” products and pills and, finally, products for an older generation: prescription pills for low testosterone or estrogen, erectile dysfunction pills, and post-menopausal creams. That’s roughly 30 commercials for products I thought of off the top of my head (you know, the region north of the crotch)!

While The Nielsen Company reported Procter & Gamble as the top spender in 2014’s TV ads with a 1.7 billion dollar investment, and Pfizer in 8th place at $960 million, neither company’s crotch products appeared in a poll of 2014’s top TV and video advertisers. This leads me to a few conclusions: 1. In a culture that is oversaturated with all things sex and genitalia related, perhaps the topic no longer elicits the same level of shock, or even attention that it used to. 2. In one capacity or another, products for our nether regions are a necessity. Whether it’s a matter of cleanliness, health, or physical (and even emotional) wellbeing, these items can improve the quality of life. 3. Just because these products represent needs and wants, we shouldn’t be belittled by advertisers treating what can be sensitive topics in an insensitive way, or as the butt of a joke (pun intended).

Neither the products nor the commercials for crotch gear are going away any time soon. Yet, we the viewers have the power to take a stand (even while sitting on the couch). I don’t plan on suffering through these frontal assaults. The next time an offensive commercial threatens my Zen, I’ll channel surf, head to the kitchen for a drink or snack, or take a bathroom break. Anything is a better alternative to seeing people come out of a booth with their used underwear in a bag while discussing their wiping experience, or being forced to witness the “oops, I crapped my pants” parade. Passola!

Old-fashioned Challenge: In addition to having the final say in TV viewership, we also have the final word as consumers. Put your money where your mouth is by not purchasing products whose commercials offend your sensibilities.

© Tia Gargiulo, 2015

Signal Lost

Last weekend, Dad and I rented a car and drove to La Toscana Winery in Cashmere, Washington. In celebration of Dad’s birthday, I’d booked their bed and breakfast right on the grounds of the winery. Cashmere is located towards central Washington, at the foot of the Cascade Mountains, within forests, and on the banks of the Wenatchee River. In other words, the area is remote. To prepare for the trip, I’d printed up step by step directions from Google Maps.

Leaving Seattle, we took I-90, which is a well tread highway that snakes across the country. Yet, as the three hour drive continued, we ventured onto increasingly rural, one lane roads which went around the mountains, and through ice and snow. At the final leg of the trip, a sign noted we were 35 miles away from Cashmere. That was the last road sign we saw regarding the city. The land became isolated, with only occasional shacks or fruit stands (closed for the season) dotting the way.

After what seemed like well over 35 miles, Dad and I failed to see any indications that we were reaching our destination. We drove on, hoping we’d come across a gas station or local store where we could stop to confirm we were still heading the right way. Instead, nothing but open road, mountains and snow surrounded us in every direction. Because of the elevation and location, I had no GPS signal on my phone. We finally decided to turn around and stop by a lodge I’d noticed several miles back.

We should have taken in the clues of no cars parked on the property and several inches of snow covering the lot, but with no other choice, we pulled in gently and shut off the car. From a distance, I could see someone looking out the doorway, but as we approached, I saw it was just a cardboard cut-out. A sign said to ring the doorbell, yet through the window, it was dark, dusty and empty inside. Even more ominous, a pay phone remnant stood skeletal with the phone itself having been pulled from the socket, and useless cords fraying in every direction. There we were, at an abandoned lodge, wondering how we’d wandered onto the set of a horror film.

I happily accepted the roaming data charges to call La Toscana after getting back in the car. It turns out we were only a few miles away from the winery, a gas station, and a roadside restaurant. After one final hurdle of driving out of the thick snow at the lodge and back onto the road, within a short distance, we made it, and were ready for a well deserved glass of wine and a most relaxing retreat.

The view from our balcony on the day we arrived at La Toscana.

As Dad and I warmed up by the roaring fireplace in our suite and sighed with relief, I reflected on my ignorance in planning for the trip. Outside of the directions and generic map I’d printed out, I hadn’t considered buying a road map or map of Washington, just in case. Whereas payphones used to be in every public place and along roads and highways, today there are less than 500,000 payphones total across America. Growing up, I’d been taught to always carry enough change to be able to make an emergency call from a payphone. Then as cell phones became affordable and accessible, folks carried them as a precaution. It’s a distant cry from today’s all-in-one capabilities mobile phones boast.

When cell phones began to offer features beyond calling and texting, I was disdainful of too many extraneous bells and whistles. While living in Chicago, I dared to get a new phone when my old one crapped out.
“I don’t need anything fancy,” I cautioned the salesperson. “I only use my cell to text and make phone calls. That’s it.”
“Do you take public transportation to commute to work?” The sales woman asked.
“Yes…” I reluctantly responded.
“Well you simply must see this phone over here,” She walked towards the high-end models. “On this phone, you can watch full episodes of your favorite TV shows.”
I sighed deeply, “Could you just point to the section where you keep your basic models?”

A few years later, after moving to Seattle, it was time to invest in my first cell phone with internet and app capabilities. This was, more or less, for the sole motivation of accessing bus trackers. After seeing I’d only downloaded the one app, a good friend tried to show me what I was missing.
“There are countless fun and useful apps. You’re wasting your phone. What do you like?”
“…I think farts are funny…” I offered.
“Farts?” My friend laughed. “OK, well I’m positive there’s an app for that.”
Sure enough, he downloaded an app with a “pull my finger” game and a fart piano my family used that year to sing me “Happy Birthday.”

The next morning, the winery was blanketed in snow.

As of July, 2014, Android users can choose from over a staggering 1.3 million apps, while Apple users can access nearly as many with 1.2 million. Cell apps can seemingly do anything and everything. There are apps for social media, dating, hooking up, fitness and dieting, maps, directions, GPS, games, gambling, and countless more for streaming television, music, movies and entertainment.

With so many apps at our fingertips, there’s little point in asking: What can’t apps do? Rather, we need to begin asking ourselves: What are we still capable of doing without apps? With our magic wand, in a few taps we can: calculate tips, find the nearest café, tune musical instruments, even discover home remedies for the common cold. It’s no wonder our sense of co-dependence on mobile devices often becomes technological addiction. What’s more unsettling (although not surprising): our phones can be used to help us reduce overuse of the device thanks to apps that track and cap how often users check their phones, or how much time is spent on it.

There’s no question how powerful and useful our phones and apps can be, but the danger lies in how we leverage this power. It is undeniably easy, convenient and efficient to use our phones daily for any number of practical and entertainment purposes, but we must be sure to learn for ourselves that which our phones can do for us, then we must retain that knowledge. It is the only way we’ll guarantee our intellectual and even physical survival during technological blackouts or disconnects.

Having technology is no excuse to dismiss common sense. On my next road trip, regardless of where I go, I will most definitely be investing in a good road map. That way, even if my GPS signal is lost, my brain’s signal will still be strong enough to help guide the way.

Old-fashioned Challenge: For every app you download, learn how to accomplish the task yourself, without the app.

© Tia Gargiulo, 2015

Crap

Let me preface this post by stressing how much I detest my MS Surface RT. I purchased the tablet less than a year ago with the misguided expectation that it could replace my laptop’s functionality. With only 55.4 GB storage and the pre-loaded apps and updates eating up said memory, there’s little room for the portion of music and photos I’ve uploaded. Though Microsoft brags about the Surface’s all-in-one Office and entertainment features, I constantly struggle against the bouts of delays and freezing when more than one application runs concurrently. After carefully studying the physical design of the tablet, I believe its best use would be as a Frisbee to be flung off my balcony. It looks like it would get good torque, but then again, perhaps this would just be another area where the Surface disappoints.

In previous posts, I’ve considered how technology is shrinking the world of physical objects, like books and music, with devices such as e-readers and MP3 players. Yet the storage issues I’m currently experiencing with my tablet has me reconsidering the matter of accumulation and clutter. There are countless online backup and cloud based storage services available, each with their own cost, focus and benefits. Once a user’s prized files have been uploaded/synced/transferred, they’ll float around for the length of time the service exists and/or is accessible to the consumer. As our society continues to transition from physical space to gigaspace, and storage services range from those with ceilings to those with unlimited capacity, I wonder: even if our possessions are online – thus not taking up physical space – are we still burdening ourselves by the perpetuation of accumulation?

Whereas previous generations collected, traded and sold items like baseball cards, stamps, dolls and other memorabilia, younger generations’ purchasing habits and interests in collecting have shifted with the times. Since just about anything and everything is available for purchase online, the pastime of collecting has lost fiscal value. Yet the hobby of collecting is still alive and well. It’s merely evolved from a platform of singular ownership (such as the owner of a coin collection) to a communal, shared online platform, such as Instagram. Users can protect content on sites such as these by branding a watermark or copyright depending on the medium, but the content itself is still available for any and all to view.

One of my most prized possessions is a bar that used to sit in my grandparents basement. It was a silent family member who sat behind the dinner table our family would congregate around for so many meals, holidays and celebrations. The bar has traveled with me from Chicago to Seattle and is always a conversation piece. People are sometimes put off by the bar’s clearly dated appearance (it was assembled around the late 1960’s/early 1970’s), but once I explain the furniture’s history and significance, opinion softens immediately. Aside from the beautiful craftsmanship and timeless function of the piece, it acts as a family scrapbook.

My grandfather’s bar is cleverly designed with a wine rack, a cabinet in the front, wheels so a bar tender can slide behind the piece and more open storage in the back.

My grandfather, a former engineer, drafted and put together the bar. The countertop of the bar is composed of matchbooks my grandparents collected from places they traveled to (like many a casino in Las Vegas), restaurants they went to (like Mama Leone’s in New York), or ones my grandmother used to waitress at (like Chef Alberto’s in Chicago), and special events, like my parents’ wedding. Having the bar allows me to keep a piece of my grandparents alive and other family members close even in their absence.

While my grandfather’s bar maintains a permanent physical space at my home, other possessions, like my music collection, flow more liquidly with advancing technology. Back in junior high, I listened to one cassette in my Walkman, and was content to switch out the tape with one or two others I would carry in my backpack. In high school, I carried a slim booklet containing several CD’s with my Discman. Of course, I would always carry a spare pair of double A batteries in my backpack for those moments the cassette would slow or the CD would simply stop mid-song. When I finally made the transition to an i-pod in 2008, my mind was blown by how many albums the device itself could store for seamless album or song changes. To this day, I still marvel at the device’s ability to recharge on a cradle or when connected to a PC.

Matchbooks used to be given out at weddings and were commonplace freebies at hotels, restaurants and stores. I love to trace my fingers over the countertop of the bar, as if to touch the memories of the times, places and events each matchbook came from.

The physical library of my music collection still exists at home, but in a much more compact way than in previous years. I used to have a combination of CD towers, containers and other desk-like furniture that held drawers of CD’s. Today, the collection now comprises two book shelves worth of CD binders and spools of burned CD’s.

Ultimately, I believe it’s the meaning behind a possession that determines whether it’s worth holding on to – regardless of if the object is a soft or hard copy. Storing music on i-tunes, and storing the i-tunes library on a cloud has reduced the physical space my collection takes up, but the online collection still requires maintenance, organization and transferring the data. I view the time, effort and money spent on upkeep as an investment because music is a priority in my life. The social and fiscal currency of any collection (whether physical or data-driven) lies within its appeal. Just as stamp collecting appeals to a certain type of person, internet memes also are of interest to a specific demographic. Whether sharing the history of my grandfather’s bar to visiting friends or sharing a favorite song online, we make space for that which is important to us.

Old-fashioned Challenge: Be sure to de-clutter your online storage files. Like our physical space, our online space can get weighed down by duplicate files or by those we no longer need or want.

© Tia Gargiulo, 2014

Here We Are Now, Entertain Us (Endlessly)

While out on my daily powerwalk with a dear friend, we came across a sidewalk littered with broken pencils. Since we work across the street from a high school, we chuckled at the presumption that it had been the refuse of a zealous student, elated and celebrating the last day of classes. My friend and I sang Alice Cooper’s “School’s Out” while stepping over the debris and sighing at the recollection of our lost summer vacations. I look back with great fondness at memories of running outside barefoot and not returning home until my feet were as black as the night’s sky.

As a child, summer was synonymous with movement: running, swimming, riding bikes, roller skating. Though the freedom of movement undulated with the ease, grace and magic of a firefly, time itself slowed with the heat of the season and one day unfolded peacefully, naturally, yawningly. Those days were a gift. Even within the movement, a certain stillness existed – the stillness of spirit and mind. I was unencumbered by the distractions technology can pose today. My time was my own, and thus, I experienced, I learned – I lived. I wonder (and worry) about how people, particularly the youth, utilize their free time today.

Growing up, I didn’t spend much time watching TV. Our family would occasionally rent a movie from the local Phar-Mor, but the selection was limited to what was available at that time and at that location. Today, with all of the methods and means available for viewing pleasure, there is no limit in terms of quantity and consumption. Thanks to online streaming platforms such as Netflix, Amazon Prime and Hulu, people can watch movies and TV shows on their PC’s, laptops, tablets and phones. In addition, there are video game consoles or other devices, like Roku, that allow users to stream online media through their television. Streaming has become, increasingly, the preferred method for entertainment with a whopping 7.6 million US households exclusively streaming instead of utilizing cable, satellite or broadcast TV.

Another popular entertainment option is DVR, or, Digital Video Recorders. Comcast Xfinity, via their X1 DVR service, boasts the ability to record four shows while watching a fifth. It also has the capacity to store hundreds of recorded shows. In the commercials for these services, consumers are portrayed as being relieved and wowed to no longer have to choose which show(s) to record, calling the system “inspiring.” Yet, I find this increase in available, accessible entertainment disconcerting. Who needs all this entertainment all the time?

The only thing more disconcerting than the seemingly endless selection/availability of entertainment: what is with the dead creature sitting on the narrator’s head and what’s with the earpiece? Is Big Brother coaching him, or is he just listening to Taylor Swift?

We’ve even reached a point where commercial television is a thing of the past and viewers can choose to skip ads, fast forward through them or, depending on the service, not have to bother with them at all. Although commercials are a nuisance, they at least offer a break from entertainment comas. There have been many occasions when I turned off my TV altogether when commercials came on because it snapped me out of my state of cruise control. I’d see the time and acknowledge the many other things I could and should be doing.

Stop to consider the following statistic: in 2013, 1.7 billion hours of media was streamed via Roku. 1.7 BILLION! And that’s just one company. “Binge watching” has become a common phenomenon with the sedentary habit being linked to serious health consequences. Are we truly just “passing time” in this life? More importantly, are we placating/sedating/entertaining ourselves to death?

They’re still out there! You just have to go outside and look.

On your deathbed, what are you going to look back on for a feeling of comfort, pride and satisfaction? What will your legacy be? The life you carved out for yourself – the one with adventures, travel, learning, family, friends, culture? Or are you going to whisper with the last ounce of your breath, “Can you believe Kristin shot J.R.?” Or, “I’m glad Ross and Rachel ended up together. That gave me the closure I needed.” Or even, “Do you think Jesse should have shot Walt?”

All good things in moderation. There are some moments when life is too much to process and in those moments, a break from oneself is vital. Those are the times when the 15 second gap in between Netflix episodes can happily be skipped for a heaping helping of seconds, thirds… Just don’t forget to look up and reconnect with the life in your own skin. After all, there are still fireflies to chase and the feel of soft, wet grass under bare feet, followed by the slap of pavement warmed from the sun. At the end of the day, I want my feet to be colored by all the places they’ve tread. I want my footprint to be visible (even if just for a moment) where I’ve been. I want the glory of the moments fireflies alight and their glow punctures through the slits of my fingers before I let go and watch them kiss the night’s sky with all their tiny might.

Old-fashioned Challenge: Go outside. Seriously. Shut down your device, get up off your ass and get out there.

© Tia Gargiulo 2014