I love freedom. But when freedom costs me something that could be easily avoided, I pause.
For people living in the US, depending on your state, you can ride a motorcycle with out a helmet. It’s super enjoyable to zoom along with the wind in your hair.
But then that driver doesn’t see you, he turns into your lane — and your dreams of motorcycling disappear into years of surgeries, physical therapy and pain.
This is not theoretical — a good friend of mine experienced that. And he was wearing a helmet.
So here’s the selfish part of the equation… when the helmet-less rider ends up in the hospital with years of medical appointments ahead, it costs me. My insurance premiums rise.
The same holds true for bicycle riding.
I have to admit that I am not super rigid on that — sometimes when I go for a quick ride to the corner store on my (slow) mountain bike, I don’t put on a helmet. And yes, I know that most accidents happen closest to home.
So I leave it up to you where you draw the line between your freedom and your responsibility to society.
The photo is Creative Commons licensed by Sara y Tzunki (Cecilia e Francesco) and was taken in Phnom Penh.
Art is very subjective. One person’s favorite is another’s hated reject.
But when art meets commerce — what used to be called, “commercial art,” there is another standard. It must communicate.
The artists behind the signage of the new Littleton Village, a residential and commercial development near my home, crossed the edge a little too far:
1. At each edge of the main corner’s signage area, there are two obelisks that look like something from a science fiction movie.
2. During the day, shadows hinder readability of the development’s name.
3. What’s with those white vertical stripes? Before the development name went up, I thought they were giant adhesive strips to adhere the development’s name. No. They are not lighted, either. And then there are a bunch of holes that look like ventilation for an underground chamber.
Why not make things better than what real life offers?
That’s the idea Andy Hildebrand applied to sound when he was working for Exxon. His technology has been applied to alter the sound of a tune so that the pitch is always perfect. But like many good things, it can be overdone. A tune can be altered to sound like a robot is singing.
Many popular musicians love this technology. When applied minimally, it can improve a musician’s ability to hit a note properly. When applied to the maximum, it will produce that robot effect.
And I get to hear robots every day. The building I work in has a Muzak music subscription service, and they chose the Auto-Tune channel to play all the time — in the halls and in the bathrooms.
Thankfully, Auto-Tune does not intrude into my office. Never shall it pass those doors.
(And I’ve written about this before. It’s a subject that is near and dear to my heart.)
I love spotting the shiny bits — the things that pass most people by — the details.
(And that’s why I love hanging out with, living with and working with those who see the big picture. Contrast is healthy for our souls.)
In Fort Collins a few weeks ago, I spotted the back of this Honda. You’ll note it says “Fit” on the left and “Jazz” on the right.
In America, the smallest Honda is the Fit. It’s called the Jazz in the rest of the world. The owner of this car appreciated that fact enough to find a badge from both places.
I love it!!
(And I love Fits. We have one.)