How to promote your blog using an innovative DIY bookmark flip book

Make your own bookmark flip book!We all want to drive more traffic to our sites, but we need to get creative when “come read my blog” is the internet equivalent of a stranger in line at Starbucks flipping open his wallet to show you pictures of his cat. This new flip book method is a way to engage people through animation, individual choice, and a take home object with real-world use to anyone who loves the smell and feel of books too much to fully convert to their eReaders.

How to promote your blog with a bookmark flip book:
“Check this out,” you say, leaning close to your target like you’re letting him/her in on a special secret – which of course you are. Holding your stack of bookmarks firmly near the midpoint, use your thumb to quickly flip through your images (each varied slightly), thus creating a lively animation of your blog’s theme. In the sample shown above I’ve used Blank Canvas Living’s mascot: Mitch the insatiable human itch. Lastly, invite your target to choose his/her favorite bookmark to take home.

How to make your own DIY blog bookmark flip book:
Copy/paste your website address and tagline down the left margin of any word processing (or graphics/draw) program, leaving suitable space between. Choose a simple, repeatable image that captures the theme of your blog. Note: the genitalia shown is optional, although I do think it adds a certain je ne sais quoi to any invitation. Copy/paste your graphic down the opposite margin, remembering to vary each one. You can also use repeating sets to save yourself some time/effort. Note: I’ve hand drawn the samples above, because an hour spent drawing a few dozen penises is almost as fun as an hour spent… Print out your bookmarks on card stock and cut/X-acto them apart. Flip!

Get more fans with this fan!

The Versatile Blogger Award goes Greek when a ‘good-girl-bad-girl’ reveals all!

good girl bad girlBefore Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle, there were Anaximander’s opposites (hot/cold, good/evil, wet/dry), which where brought into unity by Heraclitus: “The road up and the road down are the same thing.” Being awarded The Versatile Blogger Award (many thanks to ToKillAHammingBird for the nomination!!) requires me to tell you 7 things about myself. versatileblogger111But there are so many versions of ‘self’ that 7 things can be strategically used to describe. Who do I want to be to you? But no, that’s too easy. I’ve always been a woman of extremes, no nebulous middle ground, and I’m going to allow you to know me at my most honest – and therefore by my opposites: Good Girl …versus… Bad Girl. The Greeks were fearless of ideas. This freedom has been their greatest gift to history. And when you are fearless in who you are, your own history begins to make a lot more sense.

1) Requisite ‘good girl’ volunteering, plus earned full scholarships and A++ ave in high school & university …versus… Dropped out to play (briefly) in the _ _ _  industry and to work (permanently) as a Thinker/Writer/Designer

2) Won fashion (and industrial) design awards, commissions, and designed and hand-stitched my wedding dress …versus… Last ten years could be defined as a tragic series of ugly hand-me-down pants

3) Have accessorized said pants with running shoes, baseball cap, and ponytail 23/7 …versus… Harley Davidson boots other 1/7, with all manner of debauchery above my thigh-high fishnets

4) Match all my man’s socks as soon as they come out of the drier …versus… Have resorted to buying paper plates and plastic cutlery after ignoring the dishes for weeks (ok… so once it was a whole month)

5) Work diligently 9 to 5 rolling paper (don’t ask) and doing academic research on ‘the evolution of ideas’ …versus… My infamous 3 am ‘field testing’

6) Have a deeply Christian faith (with new philosophical proof that would leave Aquinas shaking in his sandals) …versus… Once wrote an essay on cheese being the highest expression of human spirituality

7) If you break my heart you won’t shake my faith in love …versus… But I will have to kill you.

*********

The Versatile Blogger Award also asks that I nominate 15 other bloggers for the next round:
Shoeism ~ HitchhikingColorado ~ TheMusicType ~ LivingDilbert ~ AFireworkInProgress ~ BlueHouseRecords ~ MagicAndMarvels ~ AdventuresAspirations”Aha”Moments ~ Sewbon ~ TheBlondeAlarmist ~ Bun81Bridge ~ BareKnuckleWriter ~ TheStoryShack ~ BalconyViews ~AdventuresInWiferyAndOther…

‘Shrunken head’ man-rescue breakfast oatmeal

healthy oatmeal breakfast recipesAs a follow-up to the ‘I want sex tonight’ steak sandwich, this testosterone boosting oatmeal breakfast recipe will give you the stamina and extended appetite satisfaction to take on whatever – and whoever! – the day throws your way. Freud’s head shrinking was on point about one thing… it always comes back to sex! (Nutrients that increase testosterone listed in brackets)

2 servings (approx 1 cup) oatmeal (avenacosides, arginine)
1 sliced banana (potassium, B vitamins, bromelain)
1/4 cup pumpkin seeds (leucine, magnesium, omega-6, zinc)
breakfast oatmeal ingredients1/4 cup raisins (magnesium, boron)
1/4 dried cranberries
1 tsp cinnamon
1 1/2 cups water
milk (vitamin D, calcium)
honey (chrysin)

Prepare oatmeal according to package (stovetop method and large flake oats recommended, but microwave and quick oats are fine). Halfway through cooking time add cinnamon, sliced banana, pumpkin seeds, raisins, and cranberries. Continue cooking until oats are tender and dried fruit ‘shrunken heads’ are plump, juicy, and engorged. Top with honey and milk as desired. Gorge yourself. Then read the inspiration story below…shrunken head man
I lead the waiting oddity of a man down the hall to the office I used with my first Blank Canvas Living creative counselling client, the fire-breathing redhead, but he won’t follow me through its green glass door.

“No offense, Miss,” he says, with a strange mixture of natural shyness and forced (or trained) instant intimacy, “but I’m sick of little rooms and getting my head shrunk. I already start too many mornings with my psychoanalyst. I just want you to give me another recipe like that sandwich. My wife’s been making it for me twice a week for the last month, and I was thinking maybe we could add a Saturday bonus to the repertoire?”

“So you’re married to the redhead, eh?” My memory of her abusive attitude is still painfully fresh. “Happy to hear the sandwich is working.” I wink and invite him to sit with me on the tiled hallway floor. He looks confused, but sits down obligingly with his back to the door. I’m not surprised. He’d have to be used to taking orders by now, especially from women.

“She told me it’s her prescription,” he says, “but to be honest, it’s been so long since she did anything nice for me that she could serve me Kraft Dinner and I’d be just as pumped. I’ve been feeling like shit for so long and all my psychoanalyst ever wants to talk about is how I got messed up as a kid when my father took off. But I gotta tell you, that sandwich makes me feel so much better than all that talking ever does… better about everything.”

Maybe it’s the unreality of the scene, but I can’t resist plunging straight in: “Look, I’m going to go out on a limb here. This isn’t hard science or anything, and this might come off a bit harsh, but we really do tend to marry our parents. I know I did. If your mom was anything like your… um… ‘passionate’ wife, not many men could handle it. And to blame your dad for the fact you’ve gone and got yourself stuck in the exact same situation doesn’t make any sense. Now you’re some raisin headed depressive spending a fortune just to give all your power away to the past. You say you start your mornings getting your head shrunk? I bet you don’t even have breakfast and give yourself half a chance at a decent day.”

He doesn’t say anything. Nothing. The dead air is suffocating. Why the hell did I go on like that?? I hardly have any training and now I’m digging my fingers into some poor guy’s brain like I’m some sort of oracle of marital wisdom!!? All he wanted was a f&**king weekend sex recipe. Shit.

“You know,” he says… finally (I take a deep breath and brace for the worst), “I think you might be right.”

“About the breakfast thing?”

“About everything.”

This is too easy. He’s either faking insight just to humour me, or his malleability is inherent and would make psychoanalysis that much more dangerous to his particular brain.

“Do you have kids with your wife?” I ask. He nods. “Ok, this is what you’re going to do. You’re going to take three weeks off therapy and I’m going to give you a breakfast recipe to maximize your man-strength. And you’re going to spend that therapy time doing high intensity excercise. This is your official prescription. You’ve got to be at your best to take on that woman of yours – in life and in bed! You’re not going to be your dad and cop-out. You’re going to get your testosterone up, your brain healthy, and you’re going to show your family what it means to be a f*&king man!”

He nods. Hope, yes, I can see a glimmer of it deep in the wrinkled sockets of his sunken eyes. And as I watch, his shriveled head begins to swell.

This is a Story Thread post – Click to read more…

New hunter/gatherer theory on why men love watching playoff sports

jonathan quick la kings
Kopitar’s got the puck, passes to Carter for a sweet little one-timer – Elliott never had a chance – Kings score!!

The man beside me explodes off the couch with a terrifying “YAAAAAAA” Viking battle cry of testosterone madness that shoots me straight into an adrenaline panic. Fight – give him hell for freaking me out? Or flight – escape to the kitchen and (relative) safety of doing the dishes? Or try a new game this playoff season and turn this moment into an impromptu anthropological study…

Note: I love sports… PLAYING THEM! Don’t let my blonde ponytail and figure skates fool you, I’m competitive as hell and I’ll battle you into the boards until I get the puck or until one – or both of us – is bleeding. But men seem to get the same high from just watching tiny figures frolicking around on a screen. Ya, I know there are some women who get off on it too, just like there are some women with gigantic natural tits who authentically enjoy the taste of beer, but those genetic hybrid freaks should stop reading this and go out and mate with the head honcho at the local pub and leave the rest of us to our jolly gender generalizing.

Ok, so for men to get so passionate about playoff sports, two things must be happening in the brain:
1) Ongoing sensory engagement
2) Ongoing emotional involvement

hockey brain notesI get out my notebook (once a nerd always a nerd…sigh, and to take a picture of said nerdiness is, I suppose, taking it to a whole new, almost scary, level) and ask my male specimen some very scientific questions about his hockey viewing experience – on the commercials of course! In contrast to my own ever shifting tunnel vision, he describes being able process the entire screen’s on-ice action as a whole, while keeping track of who’s who and what they might do in present/upcoming plays. He also has the rules and play history on automatic recall. Hmmm.
watching sportsIt’s generally accepted (because what’s any theory without some good healthy generalizing) that for hundreds of thousands of years humans lived in small groups, with men mostly chiefing, warring, and hunting for meat, while the women gathered edible vegetation, reared the children, and maintained the social structure of the tribe. Starting with this evolutionary background, let’s identify the commonalities across three similar planes of ‘man reference’ that could produce the two brain prerequisites noted above and account for our test subject’s (ok, my test subject because I’m sure not sharing him, not even for science!) qualitative viewing experience: the plains of Africa, a medieval battlefield, and the LA Kings slaughtering the St. Louis Blues in game five…

Man reference plane commonalities:
1) Ability to track herd/army/team as an entirety while picking out weak links and anticipating individual/group behaviours
2) Sustained sensory/emotional involvement to maintain motivation towards final kill/win/goal
3) Death (or death of team’s season by elimination) must be risked for brain to warrant such high caliber emotional/attentional involvement/payoff
4) Strong allegiance to specific tribe/king/team through shared history and/or ancestry – loyalty engages emotion and motivates risk taking
5) Auto recall memory for history of success and specific rules of the hunt/battlefield/game help ensure repeat kill/victory/win
6) Short term goals (emotionally and physically) important to overall victory: multiple spearings lead to enough prey to feed tribe, multiple skirmishes/battles lead to overall war victory, multiple goals lead to ‘best out of 7’ and next playoff round

Reality TV face-offThus, the mystery is solved. Men love watching the playoffs because they are men, evolutionarily speaking. We can now apply a similar formula to explain to my horrified man specimen, why, as a woman, I’m helplessly unable to change the channel whenever I ‘accidentally’ click myself into The Real Housewives of Vancouver.

10 things I learned about being human watching Jurassic Park 3D with my 10 year old self

jurassic park t rex
1) Twenty years ago, I entered Jurassic Park with a child’s imagination. There was no separation between theater and jungle world. It looked real. It felt real. Two decades of memory and dreams recorded the story as a fully dimensioned sensory and emotional immersion. As an adult watching Steven Spielberg’s 3D redux, there is no flattening, no muting of the experience. This is time travel. This is magic, because I’m watching my favourite movie again for the very first time.

2) John Williams’ musical score sends me soaring with an emotional rise heightened by layers of memory… It’s 7:30AM at an Ottawa high school band practice, and I’m playing the flute part of the score. With sudden joy, I realize I’m learning to take myself, with my own hands, to the same peaks of pleasure I’d thought only others could carry me.

3) Malcolm’s musings, mere gibberish to my 10 year old self, now echo my own hard-won philosophical conclusions. Shit, taking him at his word could have saved me 20 years! But no, I’ve worked even harder to preserve (and integrate) Grant’s knee-weakening wonderment at seeing the brachiosaurus. Malcolm and his pessimism can stay in the Jeep. True wisdom can only be found off-road, when you follow your imagination into the fresh cool grass beyond.

4) Watching Nedry’s embryo shaving cream bottle buried in the preserving mud, my 10 year old self was ecstatic. The story wouldn’t end with the movie! Here was a way to more, and more, always more! And there was more, but like The Matrix, the two sequels blasphemed the original. I know now that life is a moment, one breath, one bag of popcorn – by the bottom you’re parched and your lips are chapped, and you wish wish wish you had savoured every kernel with the same exaltation of the first buttery bliss.

5) Muldoon and his knee socks will ever and always be one sexy beast.

6) Nestled in the theatre – like Grant, Lex, and Tim in their tree – with my own younger brother and hero father, I felt the same comfortable confidence in the safety of our eternity. I feel a pang of grief for my 10 year old self. She had find out that Lex was right, that sometimes our heroes leave us and fly to head new stories. And we must learn to rescue our own. Because, ultimately, ‘happily ever after’ is a dynamic state of being.

7) After watching Jurassic Park countless times and reading Michael Chrichton’s (masterpiece) book twice, enough time has gone by to corrupt source memory and the 3D version is a 3-dimensional conglamorate of present experience and two mixed/matched histories. The archtypal characters critizied in the first movie suddenly become fully fleshed internally/eternally contradicting human beings. Male/female (Lex/Tim) complexities and layers of interwoven alternate plot points transform the experience into a dream-like back and forth between conflicting realities. Like Malcolm, Carl Jung was a fool. Categories are butterflies pinned under a frame. “Life finds a way”, but only as undulating change through time.

8) I feel a certain envy for my 10 year old self. Her child’s brain easily gestalted over any breaks in continuity and plot/character inconsistencies. My adult brain, so trained and practiced in picking through patterns, finds suspended disbelief harder and harder, especially being a writer. I can’t help missing my ability to commit to flowing through a story purely by faith.

9) To my 10 year old self, Laura Dern’s Ellie was the epitamy of womanhood: intelligent, beautiful, funny, and kind. As I fell in love with my husband 10 years later, to Laura Dern’s husband Ben Harper’s song “When She Believes”, it was a reawakening of eternities. When my ideal woman’s love story fell apart with Harper, I was forced to give up another grasp at idealist innocence. But watching this movie reminded me of all I’ve gained. I may not have Dern’s legs, but I live, then and now, by Dr. Satler’s optimistic curiousity. I own the power to create my own stories and sustain them through time. I will never stop believing, in my loves, in my heroes, and in myself.

10) Ritual, by definition, strengthens through time. A movie theater, a bag of popcorn, my escape into another world for a full (if quantized) lifetime, gives as much pleasure to my 30 year self as it did when I was 10 years old. Though the intellectual experience has evolved, the emotions are as rich and savoury as ever. So get yourself a center seat, turn off your cellphone, and keep close your own most precious rituals. And don’t ever be afraid to give yourself over fully to their magic. Your inner child will thank you!

jurassic park colouring book pic