Let's face it. If the Olympic athletes need to Tweet and Facebook during the games, it's yet another sign that social media has become an inseparable part of us. Why? It's exciting to be able to hear the raw, unfiltered details of people's lives.

I'm sure everyone has reached a point where you just have nothing left. And as a designer or creative person, that's especially freaky.

I recently took a whole month off. Yes, an entire month. I had my wedding to plan and a lot of changes to prepare for. I wanted to enjoy this life change. I left feeling frazzled, overtired, thinking I would never feel a zest for the working life again. Ever.

But the refreshing outcome for me is this: After doing literally nothing design related for a month (except furniture rearranging), I am rejuvenated. Alive. Awake. Relaxed.

Sometimes it's so simple: Just stop for awhile. (Makes me think the europeans really are onto something with their extended holidays.)

Since I've been back (just on day 2) I've even been finding it easier to get inspired. During one of my hunts for inspiration I came across an inspiring quote, which subsequently led to a great blog post.



The blog: http://zenhabits.net/2009/09/how-simplicity-can-help-creativity-briefly/#more-4499

So take a look, I hope it inspires you, too. Remember to breathe, relax and enjoy your week! (And use some vacation time just for yourself).

A big "thanks" to Azul 7 for making my month off possible. It was amazingly unforgettable.

We were thrilled to have a small part in AIGA Portfolio 1-on-1. A group of students came in for a tour and presentation today (and cookies) as a part of the studio tours for the event. They had also visited the studio of Fame and were heading to Hartung Kemp after our tour. The studio tours are a great way for students to experience the working environments of many different studios in the area. A big thanks to the MN AIGA for involving us, it was fun.

I just started teaching a class at the College of Visual Arts (CVA) in St. Paul. The class is Graphic Imagery; a sophomore-level foundation class for graphic design and illustration students. I can hardly believe I qualify as old and experienced enough to be an instructor. Didn't I just get done with school? What? That was almost nine years ago? Gulp. The offer of the adjunct faculty position thrilled me. And scared me.

Buttons. They're everywhere. What started out as a physical, tactile object (did underwear really have buttons?) has even made it's way into the internet due to its functional purpose: push this, get that. You might be thinking, "So what?". Like me, until today you've rarely considered buttons. And why should you? They're just there. So obviously we take them for granted. Poor little buttons. I say it's about time we give the button its day in the sun, its 15 minutes of blog fame. 

It's primal. You feel it in your gut. Simply put, there are just some things that look freakin' good.

Welcome to As The Platform Fills, a series reporting on the latest sightings, observances, and events taking place right here — outside our office — in downtown Minneapolis overlooking the Nicollet Mall Light Rail Platform. The lives we observe are complex. The dramas we record are real. Things get weird. Stay tuned for more real platform action. #17: Diet Coke and Key, 50th Street / Minnehaha Falls Station, 9:02 AM It was a cool, brisk morning as I hurried to catch the train. I was late to work and feeling a bit like a loser, although glad that my lateness would save me fifty cents. Reveling in this small pleasure, I approached the platform's pay kiosk. Then I saw it. They sat as a pair at the base of the metal support beam, like some kind of mystery clue: an open can of Diet Coke and a very small silver key.  

My breath caught in the base of my throat. Not in fear, but excitement. Wonder. Confusion. Then, panic! Did I have my camera? No. But I had my trusty cell phone, a white Sanyo Katana. And while it's no iPhone (which I'm okay with) and sounds like a clicky makeup compact when you close it, it does have a built-in camera. I snuck it out of my black pleather purse — more of an oversized bag, really, $35 from Aldo — and flipped it open. A couple nonchalant button-pushes later and I've got it recorded. Relief. Now, what is this about? While the two objects are placed near each other, maybe they have nothing to do with each other. But they might have everything to do with each other. Or am I just paranoid? Knowing the Republican National Convention is in town has everyone on guard, so that might be the source of my suspicion. But others have agreed, this Diet Coke and key thing is just weird. The key is what really gets me. It's as if someone placed it there and wants us to figure out what it's for. Any ideas?

Welcome to As The Platform Fills, a series reporting on the latest sightings, observances, and events taking place right here — outside our office — in downtown Minneapolis overlooking the Nicollet Mall Light Rail Platform. The lives we observe are complex. The dramas we record are real. Things get weird. Stay tuned for more real platform action. This casual male in a wooden rocking chair was observed by a coworker at Azul 7. I was out of the office one morning, and upon my return I heard murmurings of an interesting platform sighting. I was thrilled to hear someone took a snapshot of the occurance — a young guy, apparently waiting for a train — in a rocking chair. "Hmm… weird!", I thought, as questions and theories started gathering in my mind, as I'm sure they are yours. Where do I begin?                                             First off, the obvious: Why would one bring a rocking chair to the train platform? Just as this question is quite obvious, it could also have rather obvious and boring explanation. Like: He bought it and had to bring it home. Period.

But other details lead me to think the situation was a little more interesting than that. So my next question is: Why would a young gentleman such as this want a wooden rocking chair? My observation of his rather "street" attire makes me believe this guy wouldn't usually be caught dead in this chair. He and the chair just don't fit. They're from different planets, different eras. Yet, it appears he's quite at ease, and has fully and happily embraced his new seat while awaiting the train.

My coworker AJ and I were discussing this over free sandwiches this afternoon. Her theory: He found the chair in an alley and is kindly bringing it home to his mother or grandma. And since he's waiting for the train anyway, why not have a seat in the chair he's found? A nice, warm and fuzzy theory, albeit a bit dull.

My theory? He's not doing anyone a favor. He doesn't care about his mom or granny. He's waiting for the train home because he's been fired. Fired for being lazy. And taking too long on breaks. He hated the job anyway, to him it was just a paycheck. On the way out of his place of former employment, he grabbed the only thing that meant anything to him: the wooden rocker he used to sit and smoke in on breaks. It made him feel good to take that rocker. He felt alive. As he sat in the chair that fateful morning, he smiled and rocked. He got the last laugh.

Welcome to As The Platform Fills, a weekly series reporting on the latest sightings, observances, and events taking place right here — outside our office — in downtown Minneapolis overlooking the Nicollet Mall Light Rail Platform. The lives we observe are complex. The dramas we record are real. Things get weird. Stay tuned each week for more real platform action. It was just another morning at the office. I was clicking, dragging and typing when I heard muffled gasps down the hall from one my coworker's offices. Then a shriek. Then a "Holy shit!" and some shocked, cackling type of laughter (Must've been Joe). Soon footsteps pattered in my direction, and I was instructed that I needed to look out the window at the platform. Excited, as I always am at these moments of platform drama, I popped up eagerly to look out the window. "What the!", I exclaimed. This couldn't be real. But it was very real. Someone had actually driven about 50 feet onto the train track. Not only that, but they had managed to get half the car up on two wheels onto the platform, which is about 2 feet above street level. We all stood gawking, jaws open. Many questions entered my mind… What were they doing in their car? Were they an out-of-towner? I'll be the first to admit the tracks running through downtown have thrown me off once or twice. And I've driven down a one-way before, and in a bus lane. I'm far from perfect behind the wheel. But this; this was beyond just a little slip-up. Once this driver realized he/she had driven on the tracks, was he/she thinking they might actually get up and over the platform to the street? Or were they drinking coffee, texting, and behaving in a very non-appropriate driving manner?

Welcome to As The Platform Fills, a weekly series reporting on the latest sightings, observances, and events taking place right here — outside our office — in downtown Minneapolis overlooking the Nicollet Mall Light Rail Platform. The lives we observe are complex. The dramas we record are real. Things get weird. Stay tuned each week for more real platform action. #79: Orange Liquid, 50th Street / Minnehaha Falls Station, 8:13 AM Mysterious. As I approached the ticket kiosk one cloudy morning — my GoTo card out and ready to swipe, wind whipping my freshly blow-dried hair into a nasty tangle — a white shape to my lower left caught my eye. I looked down. It was a white, Styrofoam cup — not your usual 12 oz size, but a bit larger, perhaps 16 oz. It sat there, perfectly centered at the base of a steel support beam, containing a small amount of an unknown orange liquid. My brow furrowed, I was puzzled. I casually leaned in a bit more and looked down again, there was something more. Writing on the cup: "10 - 9 pm" it read. Perplexing. But not wanting to act too surprised or arouse any suspicion, I proceeded to swipe my card and the machine beeped it's acceptance of my card. I looked to my left, then to my right. Nobody else noticed this cup, or noticed me noticing the cup. "How could nobody else wonder about this? This is weird!", I thought. I looked up at the digital clock on the platform as I reached into my backpack… there was time. I could do this. I took out my camera and silently and (with as little movement as possible) took a picture of the cup described here. I got on the train moments later trying to maintain my composed facade but knowing full well something weird just happened. Since gathering this evidence, not a single sensible conclusion has arisen as to its reason for being. What does it mean? Who put it there?