I, too, enjoyed Mr. Rusesabagina's address at the BYU forum. Perhaps the most interesting part of the experience for me, however, occurred on the walk back to class afterward: Engulfed in a crowd of milling students crossing the street, I found myself puzzling over half a dozen remarkably similar conversations hanging in the frigid air. They all went something like this:

After weeks of leaning across aisles to whisper to classmates; "can you read that!?" months of feeling like a dolt because I couldn't seem to figure out the street number intervals in Provo, and years of going to bed with a splitting headache any time I watched a movie, I finally went in for an eye exam.

The ophthalmologist [gotta love that silent "l"] made sure I still knew the alphabet, flicked dozens of corrections in front of my face for several minutes--changing everything from the aspect ratio to the contrast, resolution, angle and skew of my world [made me a little loopy, actually] and then, with obvious relish, led me to a big bay window overlooking the South face of Mount Timponogos. "This is what you've been missing."

Several days earlier, I was talking with some classmates at the Wednesday department "soup kitchen," and voiced my enthusiasm for said perfect gift. Imagine my surprise when, instead of the delighted-if somewhat jealous-exclamations I anticipated, my enthusiasm was met with dumbfounded-if not pitying-stares and the awed pronouncement; "Wow, you really ARE a nerd."

It's been more than 6 months since I've posted here, and nearly as long since I've written anything apart from casual personal correspondence. At first, of course, I was just busy. [ I think it had something to do with a 300-page book put together in just under 3 weeks :) ] But those weeks turned into months, [as they usually do] my schedule quieted, [as it usually does] and still I didn't post.

"Write a blog post" has been [near the bottom] on my personal task list for several weeks now, but only after some gentle prodding from a friend did I consider WHY it wasn't getting done.

I was afraid.

The experience reaffirmed my conviction in the rejuvenating, re-invigorating, even resuscitating power of beauty--and the importance, therefore, of keeping it literally always within arm's reach.

It's the writer (my latest favorite example being Sue Monk Kidd--I've read "The Secret Life of Bees" twice in the past 9 months for just this reason) who can begin a sentence with a phrase so tired I can't help but roll my eyes, then turn it on its ear with such unexpected brilliance I burst into giggles.

It's the designer who creates a mark from the first icon that comes to mind for a company (needle and thread for a tailor, hammer for construction, etc.) and yet I'm forced to admit I've never seen anything like it--and it's perfect.

It's the musician whose song is so formulaic I can sing along the first time I hear it, yet when I find it on repeat in the back of my mind that afternoon, I don't mind.

And finally, this weekend, I can say it's me...

Receiving my very own (long overdue) toolbox for my birthday this year has rendered me both nostalgic and metaphorical...

Here are a few of the tools, old and new, in my Branding Toolbox:

But flipping through a magazine on the flight home (from LA, not Kaua'i--spent that one crashed out across a whole row of empty seats) enjoying the ramblings of my internal ad critic, I realized that particular voice sounded oddly unfamiliar. Scanning back in wonderment over the preceding 6 days, I realized I couldn't recall a single piece of paid advertising from the entire trip.

Reminiscence aside, the gist of the phrase is if you have to do something unpleasant; eating crow, for example, best to do it right away because chances are it will only get more unpleasant with time.

As it has been nearly two months since my last post here--or anywhere for that matter--I figure I've got a little crow on the menu.