My two cents on the whole exploding kids environmental ad:

Everyone knows that bad publicity is publicity all the same. Richard Curtis, a prolific director, couldn't unintentionally stumble into tastelessness. Advertisement is the art of effectiveness. Effectiveness is a function of a goal and its fulfillment. In this case, those lines aren't easy to follow. In fact they're intentionally blurred.

The ad isn't effective as a progressive argument and it's not supposed to be. It's effective in challenging apathy. I must assume that its goal is the same. In an industry founded upon giving voice through media, sometimes an unspoken motive is often the most easily satisfied. In all communication, it is as valuable a skill to conceal as it is to convey. I'm not saying the work is good, though; in fact, I'm not a fan of the gimmick.

The casual way in which the advertisements' button-pushers address violence is a blind caricature of the perceivedly unheeding public and their carelessly-committed sins. It's supposed to come across as subtle, even subliminal, and vilify authorities at all levels of society who refuse to compromise on their stance (whether it is status quo or status nova). This would at least make sense if the people they were nonchalantly eviscerating seemed oppressed, or even innocent. Instead, they are portrayed as empty-eyed, peevish dopes.

Even more confusing are the innocent underlings that witness in momentary horror. They seem voiceless, powerless, and somewhat unfeeling. Which one of these groups do we relate to? What depicted behavior is advocated? None of them. There is no side to sympathize with in the message— it threatens everyone. By embodying all of the targeted vice without providing an alternative virtue, this advertisement pushes the viewer further away from the message.

I don't want to leave my point in uncertain terms. In effect, this short film will hurt more than it helps. Hurts who? Everyone. No matter what the film is, it looks and sounds like desperation. This desperation is a polarizing thing— it mistakenly misrepresents those who believe in 10:10's cause as bloodthirsty, even terroristic. Instead of appealing to an apathetic public, it will push both sides of debate further away from each other, ultimately forcing the issue out of reasonable, appropriate discussion.

Reds and blues —if not on the street or in their PTA meetings, then through TV, youtube, and the like— will be riding the waves coming from this misstep for a while. Let's put politics aside in the interest of an objective conclusion on this one. The truth is: With the hopes of forcefully saying something worthwhile, this advertisement fails to do anything but speak loudly. Like shouting incomprehensibly in the supermarket, the campaign is childish in its bid for attention. I will not abide such logically bankrupt work.

Strivance's Defense

I’m actually going to live from now on.

My new goals, since Red told me "get busy living or get busy dying":

Fail Miserably at least once a week—set yourself up for failure. Be in control of your own failure and fail all the time. Ask girls you've never met to go on dates with you, talk to everyone you feel like talking to. Stop people if you have to. Be above whatever constraints hold you back from doing what you want.

Make things to give away for free. Give them away for free. They can be simple, but make sure they're not stupid. Give away all those stupid Butterfinger coupons you have. Not everyone will want one, but some people will.

Write your compliment cards, you forgetful bastard. A good compliment doesn't have to be not-awkward, but it totally can be that way. Make someone's day, even if you've got to lie to do it. Just make sure they can't tell that you're lying.

Throw a soundhacking party—watch a movie without the sound turned on, substituting your own foley artistry for whatever is happening onscreen. Cue up iPod soundtracks before the show and change the song with every scene. Record the whole thing digitally, and if it's worth it, sync it up when you're done.

Fast for a day or so. Going without food makes the mind sharp, creative. Hitting bottom isn't a weekend retreat it's a goddamn seminar. Not that you want to hit bottom, but you want to at least look down and see what there is. Don't get sick, just don't eat. Feel your mortality.

Carry around a little notepad for ideas. A small pocket-sized spiral would be good. Read the ideas at the end of the day. Perhaps have different pages for different types of ideas. Select the best ideas out of the book and compile a list. Type this list up and use it. If you have a great idea, you shouldn't lose it.

Honestly, you're 19. Wear whatever you want to. Dressing like people expect you will is boring. Sure, fitting into a role is fine when you know people, but why not get these strangers guessing? There's an Asian kid nearby that dresses crazy. I wonder about who he really is. Spray paint your old shoes.

Donate plasma at the clinic. You're always complaining about how you have no money. Even if you have to get up early to do it (your least favourite thing, I know), just go as often as you can. They pay $25 per visit. You've made $30 last for three months before. I'm pretty sure it's time to enjoy yourself.

Finish writing something. Being realistic, you don't have to write every night, but you should write at least 3 times a week. You're up late doing nothing all the time, and it's about time you convert all that monotonous browsing and trivia into actual productivity. Set word count goals and achieve them.

You have questions that you are slowly answering over time—how to survive a boring and broke college life, how to save yourself from social drowning, living fully—remember the answers to about those. They're invaluable and make for just the sort of thing you wish other people would give you. Share.

Complete and record at least one song. You have musical ability and lyrical potency. Why not force yourself to sit down and actually create something. Have something to show for whatever amount of life you've lived. Make it fun. Maybe even sing it for someone if you discover someone worthwhile.

Forgive your parents. They, like you, are simply acting upon what they believe. As easy as it would be to be bitter about the situation you're in, as easy as it would be to pin the blame on them, don't. It's a fact of life that there will be challenges and conflicts to overcome. It is petty to fault others without reason.

Sleep outside. The stars are wonderful here due to the lack of a nearby city or, hell, really big civilization of any ilk. A rooftop wouldn't be the worst place ever. You have an extra blanket and you could totally get away with it. Extra points for bringing a star map and doing some gazing. The universe is amazing.

Workout more. I won't quantify this, because you hate numbers and schedules, but you should be losing weight and gaining muscle. At least get some nice pectorals. Learn how to do windmills for breakdancing. Gain endurance and fitness over the next few months. Don't be a sedentary blob.

Get things done before they're actually due. Force yourself to complete schoolwork before the assignment has hit its deadline. Strive for perfection as far as actual completion of assignments goes. Don't settle for skipping classes or small tasks. Get everything done in a prompt, efficient fashion.

Find podcasts, blogs, forums and people to follow. Partake of their updates and knowledge. Don't pass up the opportunity to benefit from the vast information the internet has to offer. But make sure that you are not allowing trivia to dilute your learning. Learn a language, or at least something concentrated.

Get what you need. Cologne, better quality hygiene products, etc. Get the materials for your new bag and make it! Get things you need before you get things you want. Or at least prioritize things of benefit. A new can of Axe will last longer than another case of IBC cherry limeade sodas, though they are delish.

Listen to music all the time. You freaking love music and it makes no sense that you haven't listened to and discovered more. Think about people from whom you get a lot of your favourite music. They know so much about it just because they listen to it all the time. Download tons and shuffle through it all.

Do stupid little things. Scratch yourself—even if you don't have an itch, wherever you want to. It feels good. Cut your own hair. Read the newspaper. Find something free on Craigslist. Make out because you're young. Do backflips. Exist as much as you can at any given moment. Be caught up in living.

Lines mark where bullets hit people in a firefight. Shows complexity and prejudices of targeting.

Places I’ve Half Been

There are places I've half-been,

Dimly lit in the valleys of my memory,

As I see them from the vague hills of imagination.

Gray-green spanish moss hangs from the trees there,

Over shaded lanes that, at night, are filled with

The night sounds: mating frogs and crickets, croaking and chirping,

Their percussive syncopation piercing walls that stand

Where they have stood for lifetimes before me.

This was the only place they didn't burn during the war.

It's residents are conscripted, unwittingly, as its faithful curators

Until death. We sleep in bouts, casting off our sheets

Then pulling them back on when we get cold again.

There are places I've half-been,

Where paint peels from the windows of neglected storefronts

that have always housed the same products, leftovers from the fifties,

Switchblade combs, an excess of lace and incandescence.

All of the colors here are muted, understated hues,

Just a stroke beyond warm, monotonous sepia.

The street signs are proprietors of distant meanings,

Abercorn and Victory, things incomprehensible to a new strain.

In these places, the sun is setting on a hazy afternoon

Always. Someone gentle might offer a room in which

to spend a night that will take eons to fall and pass.

Yes, there are places I've half been,

In your heart and in your arms, in your favor,

In the future I saw, where we're inseparable

And free to live however we see fit.

These are places that exist in nostalgic reverie,

Storage for dreams, a fool's paradise.

These half-places are always just half-past

possibility, half-through and half-onward to fulfillment--

to places where I never have to sleep alone,

Where, of the two of us, each loves the other

Beyond what either of us imagined possible.

But these are places I've only half been.

Intro with evolution. Mortar burst=first bass hit gunshot ricochet=cymbal. Record scratches are helicopters?

Contrapuntal music, starkly contrasting what is shown.