Strange is the Beast

Anyone else got the bad habit of watching TV and being online at the same time?

Guilty as charged. I do it all the time, my iPad sits pride of place, like a tame cat, on the arm of my red leather sofa. 

My excuse? Apart from the obvious addictive element, it has become an extension of my world. In an instant, I note down ideas, surf to interesting programme-related websites, interact on social media and monitor my emails. A multi-tasking delight, or is it?

Sometimes, however, I forget to close app windows when I am busy with something else, which shows me as online. On one such occasion, a contact from a well known social media site popped up professing to be bored. Always willing to help and have a chat - I engaged. Smart move or not, this interaction led to a conversation with a very strange mutation:

W: "Fecking bored."

A: "Really, why?"

W: "Should be working.'

W: "Can't inspire myself to."

A: "At this time - it's the witching hour?"

W: "Indeed."

A: "Why not do something totally the opposite - sometimes it helps."

W: "Like do something else beginning with w you mean?"

A: "Any letter will do. If you are writing, go count the stars for ten minutes, or something."

W: "I'd rather get naked."

A: "Well go do that then."

W: "Talking you through it?"

A: "?"

W: "The process from clothed to unclothed."

A: "Ha ha ha!"

W: "Glasses of."

W: "Off."

A: "Nothing like a bit of [edit] porn!"

W: "Socks off.

Belt off.

Jeans off.

Shirt off."

[ I suppose I could have anticipated that there would be no saving the conversation from here on. Surreal as it was - I decided to remain to see the outcome . . . ]

A: "Make a good blog post this."

W: "Pants off.

Birthday suit on . . .

it's the perfect fit.

What to do now?"

A: "Write."

W: "Not the other 'w' verb?"

A: "You're on your own there!"

W: "I'm sure you could lend a helping hand."

A: "I doubt it."

W: "Try."

A: "No-oooo!"

W: "Why not?"

A: "You need to ask?"

W: "Yep."

W: "You encouraged me to strip, so now I need some encouragement."

A: "No, I suggested you count the stars."

W: "Well go do that then."

W: "To quote."

A: "1, 2, 3 . . .

W: "What?"

A: . . . counting."

W: "You are?"

A: "4, 5, 6, 7 . . .

W: "Why not just get naked?"

A: . . . 8, 9, 10, 11, 12 . . .

W: "Right, night."

A: . . . 13, 14, 15, 16."

W: "Maybe you'll fall asleep like counting sheep."

A: "Night. Good luck with the inspiration. :) "

Of course my sister and I had a laugh at the absurdity of the exchange, when I recounted it to her the next day, in hushed tones over the phone from my kitchen. We even discussed the plausibility of this not being my contact at all, but an imposter from the Heartbleed virus clan, who had hacked into his profile.

It has become a blog post, as I said it would, because I wanted to highlight a few points that continue to niggle me. Using this interaction as an example, at what point do you draw the line and shout enough? Although I would class this discourse as mild in nature, I feel it does venture into the grey area, commonly referred to as the 'thin end of the wedge'. Some may accuse me of making a mountain out of a molehill, whereas I find it a classic case of the hazy definition that still exists when determining the boundaries of decency. Add this to the fact that society - in the 21 century - continues to sit on the fence, when it comes to objectifying women for pleasure and I think you get my point.

OK. I'm not that poe-faced that I can't take a joke - I did laugh - but in retrospect, why does it feel wrong on so many levels? Apart from my previous thoughts, is my reaction so because this social media contact is an acquaintance and one that I don't know awfully well? Was it made easier because we have never actually met? Did he for one minute consider that it might be inappropriate? How would I have felt if it had been a friend instead? And what's wrong with a normal conversation anyway?

The Internet has changed the way we interact with each other. In many ways it is amazing, giving us access to people, places and opportunities we might never have come across. On the flip side, however, the often faceless contact we have all come to readily accept comes with a price tag. We have unwittingly redefined our boundaries and privacy settings too. In many cases, we have forgone face-to-face contact, reading facial expressions and anticipating actions for shallow estimations of the other. In this way, it is possible to open up a right royal can of misinterpretations!

So, is a case like this acceptable or sexual harassment? I'm pretty sure it would never have happened in real time. What do you think, dear reader?

Final thought, it's never a bright idea to put things on the Internet that could come back to bite you in the derrière one day.

[ Exits *counting stars* : "1, 2, 3 . . . " ]

Alison Day Designs

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The Look of Less

"I'd like my name taken off your mailing list - I didn't order the catalogue."

"Are you a client of ours?"

"No"

"What's the number above the name and address printed on the magazine?"

"There isn't one."

"Not a six cijfer one?"

"No"

I spell out my name and address and there is a concentrated silence as my details are entered.

"OK. I've put your details in the system for removal from our mailing list. It will take six weeks, so you may get one more before it stops completely."

I mentioned that it too would be filed in the re-cycling and how an unwanted catalogue is a waste of resources and environmentally unfriendly.

"So, how did you get my details in the first place?"

"Probably from one of our sister companies."

A snippet from this morning's conversation with a mail-order company, requesting they take my name off their mailing list. Not only had I not requested a copy of their catalogue, they had managed to produce 133 pages printed in full colour, of a really unappealing line of clothes and one I can only describe as: Oh Dear.

 

Even the models in the magazine found it hard to pull off the experience as a good one. The clothes were definitely not ones they would choose to wear in their free time and that could be seen by their forced smiles and on occasion, gritted teeth. The smile of one particular model, in a taupe pleated t-shirt - from a series of cream, turquoise, purple and screaming coral - looked like the Joker from Batman. Another in a 'flattering' paisley-look blouse had the subdued expression of someone obviously running through her 'to do' list of the day. Turn the page and an attractive twenty-something has been put in a characterless tartan on one page and an unfashionable crochet the other, thereby ageing her considerably. The list goes on: unstylish, bad design, technicolour sick pattern, cheap curtain material.

 

Who designs this stuff?

The thing that really gets my goat is not just the fact that my details are being bandied around, but the purchase of my address allows the darn catalogue to be posted through my letterbox. The fact that I have a sticker on it, especially for mail like this saying: 'no unsolicited mail,' then becomes worthless.

For the inconvenience there is no apology. I then have to waste my time and money to cancel what I didn't order in the first place. It's addition, means I have to add it to my already bulging bag of unwanted paper for re-cycle, which I find irritating too. The explanation that my details came to them from 'one of our sister companies,' is not only unacceptable, but I don't find very sisterly behaviour!

Of course I realise that these days business is done in any way possible, but sending me a catalogue that I am not going to look at and which is destined for immediate re-cycle, is not only a waste of resources it is environmentally unfriendly.

Then we have the fact that it takes six weeks to implement my wish, during which I may receive yet another undesired catalogue. It's mind boggling in an age of computers how backward some things remain. It's not rocket science to remove a name from a list! Are they are hoping that a second example may seduce me into making an order? Well, dream on!

Who's the company, I hear you ask? With a little edit on the possessive adjective to avoid liable, but without diminishing its amusement value, they're called: 'My Look for Less' - hmmm, I think that says it all.

Alison Day Designs

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Roman Racer

Recently, whilst browsing the over-priced trinkets in the Ferrari shop in Rome, I came across this little red number!

Although I'm not a great fan of a 'sport' which I consider to be a waste of our diminishing planetary resources and an event which sounds little more than a swarm of angry bees... it was a rather splendid looking machine.

© Alison Day Designs

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The Story Behind 9 Women

   

A short film about my series of artworks: '9 Women' - As they hang now on my living room wall in the way I had envisioned.

Film is not my forte, but in this short representation you will hear the story behind them plus get an idea of how they look from closeup 

© Alison Day Designs

Blue Train Mural

Below is a short (amateur) film of a hand-painted mural (1 x 1 metre), I created for the wall of a young boy's bedroom. When asked what he wanted, he said: a blue train, with ten carriages, filled with animals and him driving the engine.

Although the mural no longer exists, I’ve written and published the story to the mural accompanied by a series of illustrations, which will soon be self-published as a children's storybook.

© Alison Day Designs

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Around the World

Here's my take on a fun way to not only raise up a plant in a tall glass vase, but at the same time re-cycle a redundant globe lamp. - Stylish, funky, light and airy solution with none of the potential block-feel that an upturned flower pot would give!

©Alison Day Designs

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New Wave Entrepreneur

Maya Penn is 13 and already making her mark in this world. A great source of inspiration she is an active - young entrepreneur, cartoonist, designer and activist. Her clothing and jewellery business she set up at the age of 8 and now sells all over the world.