Posts Tagged ‘Marin County’

Pfft…yeah, right.

As if a rock guitarist could explain the essence of the greatest guitar chord book ever written.

Then again, some would argue it’s one of the worst books written because of wildly unstructured layout. I mean, if I’d written an all encompassing book like this, I might have started with power chords, working my way into the jazz genius.

Man, the nerve of this blogger–thinking he knows how a chord BIBLE should be written!

I bought this book back in college. Let’s not mention dates, but I had hair back then. I got it because my teacher recommended it and seeing that I was logging in 4-6 hours of practice each day, why not invest some of that time into something besides Satriani solos?*

I think I skipped the first six sections (chord formulas? Polytonal chords?) and hit on Section 7: Essential Chords because with a title like that I had to take it seriously. But if you’ve seen those two pages you know what you’re in for; something involving lots of aspirin.

But I plowed through that list over several months, forgot most of it, but picked up some cool voicings that I use to this day. Then over the next five years I spent unhealthy hours pouring over all this chemistry, writing notes in the margins, writing progressions of my own to see if I understood the information. Many years later, I still find those papers in my drawers, and they don’t make a darn bit of sense!

I finally burned out on trying to make sense of Ted’s genius. I wasn’t qualified to handle it. I moved on to lessons in guitar magazines, “easier” books, exploring on my own.

At some point, long after college, I opened up a page of progressions in Chord Chemistry and played through them. Back in college these chords were just weird shapes I tried to memorize unsuccessfully. They sounded cool, but I was annoyed that I couldn’t unlock the secret as to why they sounded cool. But in this moment they suddenly made sense. The voice leading, substitutions, inversions–I GOT IT!

Well, not always to the point where I could be certified as a chord chemist, but I saw the connections between what Ted was teaching versus the “easy” stuff I’d picked up previously. Puzzle pieces came together so compositional riddles could be solved.

I have a few pointers for tackling the information in this crazy text. What makes me qualified to do so? Teaching guitar for twenty years, for starters. I probably lost students trying to force this material on them prematurely, so I learned what they should tackle FIRST before digging into Chord Chemistry.

  • Power Chords: Yes, the ones that let you play Green Day songs. If you can’t rock out and hold solid grooves with power chords you’ll have more fun licking dirty guitar strings** than reading Chord Chemistry.
  • Open Major/Minor Chords: Because…if I have to explain why you’re better off practicing on a couple rubber bands!
  • Bar Chords: Often called the Caged System. Learn these shapes in major, minor, major 7, dominant 7 and minor 7 FIRST!*** Get those down and all the crazy 13ths, #5/b9 chords will make WAY more sense.
  • Triads: Major and minor shapes all over the neck are a must. I’m tempted to say you should learn these before the bar chords, but greener players tend to get frustrated with such thin sounding chords, not to mention liking the freedom of hitting more strings that bar chords offers.

Hey, all this info is on my poster, getting the shameless plug out of the way. It’s also covered in Ted’s Essential Chord List, though buried with all the inversions you probably won’t need for awhile. So…practice this up to your threshold, then move on to non-Ted stuff so your brain can process it.

What’s valuable to you in Chord Chemistry varies on experience levels. Personally, I found Section 15: Triads to be mind blowing. I’d already been playing bar chords for many years, so learning how to create diatonic chord scales on the p.82 shapes opened my mind up to all sorts of ideas.

I also absorbed Section 10: Moving Chords a 4th early on. Something about being able to take a shape I knew on one set of strings and create the same chord on another group helped me come up with ideas faster than just memorizing a bunch of chord boxes.

Section 18: Blues Progressions should be closer to the front of the book, IMHO. For rock guys like myself, at least. Seeing how all these crazy chords can be used in a I-IV-V context is a lifetime of new doors opening. If you have a basic grasp of diatonic harmony concepts you’ll find another year or two of practice just absorbing the turnarounds on p.99. bIIIM7–bVIM7–iim7b5–V7??? I know…but it sounds awesome!

I could write at least a blog a month on new things I’ve learned from this book, but I’ll leave it with this: My biggest mistake when I first bought Chord Chemistry was approaching it like a method book to study front-to-back. Frustrating! Study the sections that make sense to YOU and inspire you to practice. If you’re confused by the concepts on a page move on to something else. Come back to the confusing chapter a few months (or even a few years) later and you’ll be surprised that it suddenly makes sense.

*Which I couldn’t play, anyway. I mean, I could play them, but not in any way a fan would recognize.

**Your own dirty strings, not someone else’s. That’s just unhygienic!

***But don’t beat yourself up if you learn a ninth chord before doing this. You’re supposed to be having fun!


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I posted this everywhere else, but forgot to share it on the blog!

Green post today. I know, it’s not music or movies, but I did this infographic project in Marin while interning for World Centric, a company in Petaluma, so I’m thinking that’s close enough.

Still doing the music, freelancing in game sound design, but I’ve also been pursuing the marketing and web classes because hey, I want to support the creative habit better! Got enough starving musicians working as baristas and salesmen.

Anyway, my former boss at World Centric gave me the chance to lead an infographic project. Reading all this stuff about the Pacific Garbage Patch and the evils of plastic got me depressed. Yeah, I’m not giving up all the benefits plastic has given me, but you start doing a little reading and the depth of the problem grabs you by the boo-boo. But rather than shrug and say “Oh well…” I thought about giving up plastic drinking straws. Yeah, yeah…the planet still has problems even if we eliminate straws, he who simply likes to argue for the sake of arguing.

But cutting back on single-use plastic straws is something anyone can do without the burden of, say, giving up their game consoles. Then I started playing with math based on our straw consumption and realized some CRAZY stuff, which is detailed in the infograph below.

Quick shout-out to Oni Cortez, the awesome designer who brought visuals to my words.

Original link to the infographic.

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Hey, what do you know…this blog ain’t dead after all! Well, yes it is. Hard to find time to write about guitar stuff when I got the school and employment stuff happening. But ain’t no one taking me away from the music, so I got a cool electronic-rock thing with a bit of jazz cooked up…

Bad Mood

I posted this on Soundcloud. I used to hate posting my songs on all those band sites, a holdover from the MP3.com/Garageband days where every site was promising the best following as they cashed in on all the content being sent to them for free. And who has time to monitor all those pages? But if you wanna hit that like/heart button on the bottom of the tune so I can attract some groupies I’d be obliged.*

This song took me 18 months to finish. Pathetic, no? I didn’t actually struggle for for 540-some-odd days. More like I worked up a few minutes of sweetness, gave up on it for a few months, listened again realized I liked it enough to continue…then sat on it for months more…repeat cycle until I realized it’s time to COMMIT!

I love the guitar tone of the main riff, cooked up with Logic’s Space Designer and one of the Rammfire patches in Guitar Rig. Along with my beat up Ibanez Jem = CRUNCH! Probably a bit much–and I don’t know how I’ll pull that tone off live. Whatever…I ain’t gunning for awards here.

Terry Bozzio handled most of the acoustic drums here, aside from the intro and bridge. Yeah, seriously! But jeez, if you’re gonna nitpick that it’s actually his drum sample library and wreck my fantasy. Hey, fun TRUE fact…I actually hired Bozzio’s brother-in-law to play on my OOOG! EP years back. Vince Littleton, great drummer, versatile! I gotta his smoking drums on my “One Thing Leads to Another” back into the Interwebs. Point is, in my twisted universe I have family connections…

*Does my wife read this blog? 🙂

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In moment of Google curiosity I looked up one of the more horrible bullies from my childhood. His skills of aggression were so effective that our single encounter the summer of fourth grade still feels fresh in my mind today, over thirty years later.

Well, not that fresh…more like a can nearing its expiration date. But it’s still in the cupboard.

My friends and I went to a video arcade in a pizza parlor where he and his buddy were losing their tempers over their performances in some of the games. I remember the star bully of this story getting particularly angry with his game of Dig Dug, actually rocking the machine back and forth, pulling the its joystick hard after losing another life.

In retrospect, we should have totally left the arcade, gone home to play more Atari 2600 games. There was no way we were going to walk into that kind of aggressive heat and not get burned. But it was my first time seeing Dig Dug–I wanted to play it! So we carefully pretended these predators didn’t exist.

At one point this bully’s friend threatened my pal when he growled, “Don’t touch me!” as they passed by each other. My friend, legally blind with limited eyesite, hadn’t done anything intentional to provoke him, but details like that don’t matter in such youth interactions. As my friend tried to plead innocence, the asshole got more in his face until I stepped up, demanding he be left alone.

The problem with me doing an action like this at the time is I had the balls to stand up for my friends, but when these two thugs-in-training turned their energies towards ME my balls shrunk into the size of Chia seeds.

I start off trying to talk them out of their bullshit, but they keep shoving me, eager for a reaction. At some point my friends convince me to leave with them and as I walk out the door I make the second mistake of flipping them off. I just realized typing that that I’ve never publicly flipped anyone off in anger ever since that incident, the consequences of actions in your childhood having that great an effect on me. Ya see, my action provoked them to charge outside after me.

My bike was locked to a telephone pole, so I couldn’t just run away. They corner me with a bunch of threats and more shoving. After 30 years it’s a bit of a blur recalling exact details, but I know I was provoked into finally throwing a punch at one and maybe even throwing another to the ground. Anyone who knows me beyond that moment to the present might have trouble believing it happened, as I simply don’t have the fighting personality–but I did for that instant. And my friends…they were too shocked to do anything besides watch. And what were they supposed to do?

The bullies pounced on me, obviously satisfied that I’d given them a reason to retaliate with full justification. I remember specifically getting an epic blow to the side of the head that was almost stunning. An employee from the pizza joint stuck his head out the door and ordered us to break up–and specifically for the thugs to beat it. I think the employee knew these two kids (one of their Dads may have owned the restaurant), as he told THEM to get lost and asked me if I was OK. I was already on my bike, taking off.

Because the other two had already gone to the side of the building to get their own bikes and pursue me.

I pedaled my ass off to my house, which was two minutes away, but it was pointless, as these guys followed me all the way my driveway. At this point I was scared to go for my house key hidden in the back yard because I was afraid I’d be extra screwed if they’d gotten into my house. Kid logic entertains all worst-case scenarios as plausible. So I spent what felt like an hour having one POS ram his bike into me (the one who sucked at Dig Dug) while the other one made all sorts of threats about how he should rob my house, beat me to dust, etc. I may have been struck a few more times, and I recall making some sort of apology for flipping them off, begging to make peace and be friends, all which fueled their superiority. It’s easy to armchair quarterback moments like this years later. Where the hell did my spine go? These fools weren’t marginally bigger than myself. Perhaps if I’d fought relentlessly like a rabid dog they’d have split, thinking I was too crazy to deal with. But no, they eventually left because they’d simply gotten bored harassing a scared kid with tears in his eyes who’d given up fighting back. I ran into the house and threw a paper bag over my head to regain control of my hyperventilated breathing.

Then there’s the incident where this same punk attacked another friend in middle school a few years later because he walked into a door my pal opened, not seeing that he was coming. But I’ll let that friend detail it in his own blog.

You hear the occasional feel-good story or see a movie where the victim stands up to a bully and gets him to back down, the moral being that standing up for yourself always brings about the feelgood Hollywood ending. That might be true if the victim succeeds in putting the bully into the hospital, but the more common reality is that standing up for yourself reinforces the target on your back. Bullies thrive on the energy you give them, be it crying, screaming, pushing back. Standing up for yourself gives them something to look forward to at the next encounter. Who wants to harass someone who laughs them off or goes to the cops? And if by chance you do bruise their egos they only come at you harder, perhaps getting their friends to join them.

So now that I’ve detailed this trauma in a public forum, let’s get back to the Google search. I find an article about Dig Dug Bully in the Marin Independent Journal, dated last year. Turns out he has been the football coach for a highly-regarded team in Marin County. Yeah, go figure, right?

Then the article turns to his battle against cancer. Seems he had a serious battle going on, illness, surgery, a prolonged period of feeling the lowest of low, along with a current clean bill of health for the past few years.

So now I’m thinking…son of a bitch! I’ve wished for that sort of pain and suffering on this guy since our fated meeting in 1983–and he gets it??? What kind of asshole am I to be carrying a grudge through childhood, turning it into my own emotional toxicity well into middle-age? I mean, it’s not like I think about that incident every day, swimming in a pity party. That pool was filled by plenty of other incidents of my own doing! But as I’ve dealt with uncontrollable anxiety in recent years, letting doctors use me as a guinea pig for questionable medications, exploring therapy, acupuncture, journals, the occasional shot of something higher proof so I could get to sleep, I couldn’t help referring to moments like that day with Dig Dug. It was one of those transitional moments in childhood where you learn that not only is the world imperfect; it was actually quite cruel.

There’s no moral here, is there? I’m not taking joy in his suffering, but honestly, I have trouble feeling sympathetic. And I know how much I’ve changed since the day I absorbed all of Dig Dug’s hostility, learning how to function in society, dealing with people. It would be ignorant on my part to assume that football coach is the same vicious bully who rammed the front wheel of his bike into my head 30 years ago.

Can I interpret this as karma? Or does he get to interpret it as one of the greatest lessons of his life?

Somehow I’m still angry, reading his story. I should have gone for the hundredth punch that day, should have gone to the cops, should have broken his neck against his locker door during one of the days we crossed paths in middle school. It annoys me that he’s a revered high school football coach, and it worries me that he’s imparting his thug wisdom upon young minds that don’t know any better.

But now I’m just being hyperbolic.

I seriously doubt the guy has put a single thought into our encounter since that day. Maybe it was merely a youthful act of aggression that was worked out when he got into sports, which ultimately made him a better person. Hell, maybe he’s helping those kids not become the asshole he was when he was their age. Beating cancer is a life-changer, I’m told. He probably has a newly positive outlook few get the chance to experience. That’s the type of person you want in your life when you’re feeling sorry for yourself and your mundane problems.

So I push for a new catharsis by way of this blog post, and get on with the present that is way more important. Truth be told, I actually haven’t thought about this guy in years.

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I’m in Hawaii a few weeks back, the Big Island. First couple days are great, dining in Kona, a little boogie boarding, getting yelled at by the Safeway clerk for trying to buy a single bottle of Kona beer from one of the six packs*. But then Monday rolls around and I get this freaky-ass pain in the side of my chest, next to my heart, so I spend the rest of the week wondering if I’m on the verge of having a heart attack. But sometimes the pain goes away and I enjoy my vacation for awhile…until it comes back, but by then it’s dinner time and I’m downing a Mai Tai on an empty stomach.

Why didn’t I go to the emergency room or one of the scattered urgent care centers on the island? Because last time I did that (see my kidney stone post in the archives) I was out $4000, guilted into being grateful that it wasn’t the $16,000 billed to my insurance. Despite all the anxiety the chest pain caused (and the resulting symptoms that too much anxiety cause) I knew in my–ahem–heart that my breathing was fine and this was obviously the paranoid part of my brain throwing firecrackers at the rational part. Not to mention the symptoms were never actually getting worse; they were simply coming and going at various intensities no worse than, say, a four on a 1-10 scale. So I drank more alcohol than usual to calm the anxiety (not a recommended lifestyle remedy, but it works on vacation), determined to enjoy my vacation!

I got home, saw my doctor the next morning, so I’d only have to pay $30 office visit. I just saw him two weeks earlier for a checkup on some blood work, as I’ve got some high blood sugar and underactive thyroid needing monitoring. I was prescribed pravastatin for high cholesterol (95%+ vegan…go figure) and an upgraded dosage of levothyroxine for my alleged thyroid problem. The doc puts a stethoscope to my heart, determines my ticker is fine, says it’s probably a muscular/skeletal issue and to relax, so I saved $300-2000 bucks by not having this checked in Hawaii. Yay me.

But my chest is still aching, and the whole time I’ve been avoiding any mention of the…bathroom issue that causes bowel movements to turn into…liquid. I’ve crossed over 40 and I still can’t say diarrhea? WHAT’S GOING ON???

Someone smarter than me in these issues suggests looking up side effects to pravastatin and levothyroxine. And what do you know, chest pains, anxiety, skitters, and a bunch of other symptoms I’ve felt in the three weeks consuming these pills! Would have been nice if my doctor had connected the chest pain to the pills HE’D JUST PRESCRIBED, but hey, I don’t think discomfort counts as malpractice. It’s nice to nail down the answers.

This stuff along with the current REPUBLICAN shutdown** has gotten me doing more thinking about how to really deal with health care costs. Because regardless of Obamacare/AFA most of us know our health care system is still broken glass, a few of the pieces glues back together. I’ve spent years railing against insurance companies jacking up premiums yearly while footing me with huge portions of whatever bill I get. I’ve also put on boxing gloves against hospitals charging retarded (YES, retarded–mentally deficient) prices that cripple finances beyond reason. I get the basics of this madness. Hospitals make up these absurd costs, sucking excess cash from those who “can” pay to cover the costs of those who can’t, the insurance companies basically playing the same game on the surface, each passing the blame back and forth.

But the big question finally being addressed by the mainstream media is WHY health care is so expensive and the revelation that hospitals can charge wildly different fees for the same procedures. I’m making up numbers, but I’ve heard more than one source say something along the lines of one hospital billing $50,000 while another charges $20,000 for the same procedure. When we pitch single payer or universal health care those against it say that’s against capitalism and free market…

But is it really free market when I can’t find out how much a procedure costs before going to the hospital?

I only get to find out afterwards, when the bill has all ready been charged. Where can we go to price compare? I’ve found a few sites that have potential, but still speak in generalities. It would be cool if there were a Wikileaks-type of site where charge masters of various hospitals are posted. Some of that data has come out through some government databases, as this Huffpost article details. But how sweet would it be if there was a popular Wiki site where we could research prices by hospital, by insurance plan, etc.?

Get that kind of information out to the public then we’ll see some real competition in the market place. Might even get that Costco ER I’ve been dreaming about.

*Apparently I’m not allowed to do that in Kona, though my neighbor used to work at a Mill Valley Safeway and he said it’s cool, except they charge you more for the single bottle. But, man, the Kona clerk was PISSED when I did it. She started ranting about how the Japanese were the worst offenders of bottle separating. I guess therapy is more expensive in HI because there are fewer therapists because WHO CAN BE SO FREAKING MISERABLE AND ANGRY IN HAWAII???!

**Hey, the law passed. Why not let it go into effect and kick Democrats to the curb if it fails? Oh, because you’ve already been to our National Parks…

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(Sorry, no music or movies or Marin County in this post. Well, except for living in Marin.)

Sunday morning. Slept in, scored an extra couple hours of sleep.

Probably would have woken up before 9:30, but the cat insisted on breakfast at her usual 6:00am time. We’re trying to play the ignoring game in hopes of encouraging her to let us sleep in later, but after half an hour of steady purring (not nearly as cute at that hour) the wife gets up to feed her.

Anyway, this is one of those cool wake up slowly mornings where you strike bizarre zombie poses, wondering how else you could waste the day*. Decide to cuddle with the wife, who is engaged in her own zombie pose.

I start thinking about my extended past as a single guy. I’d dream about all aspects of dating…yes, the walks on the beach as well as the stuff now well illustrated on those grown up websites–that I had to use my imagination for at the time. Cuddling in bed on a Sunday morning…check!

Check! Checkity-check-check! FINALLY is what the twentysomething might have said.

Here we are, intertwined in this sweet, romantic moment. And my shoulder facing the bed is KILLING me! If I stretch it under her it gets compressed and goes numb. If I stretch it out between us it acts like an amputated third wheel. Maybe I could stretch it out behind me, but then I’m doing one of those bizarre yoga poses that make you question why you’re doing yoga in the first place.

Then there’s my dragon breath!**

How can you possibly get into that “Ah, this is such a romantic Sunday morning.” vibe when you’re worried about forcing your partner to breathe from her mouth? I twist my head so the breath is directed into her pillow which A. Heats up her pillow in the wrong way. B. Bounces off the pillow and strikes her anyway. C. Twists my neck into another yoga pose, the one that makes you think, “Based on my experience level I REALLY shouldn’t be attempting this!”

I don’t get why humans haven’t evolved into cuddling. It’s clear we’ve evolved to reproduce and have all those difference that distinguish men and women. Seems to me that men’s heads should have evolved to, say, the right side of their body, women’s to the left. Then when you’re in this cuddling situation the heads rest comfortably on each others’ shoulders, no?

But then that would only add fuel to the anti-same sex marriage activists arguments. “See? Gays can’t marry because their heads would be on the same side. They can’t cuddle!” 🙂

*Such as writing this blog post.

**And hers, but for the sake of my marriage let’s focus on why MINE is the problem. 😉

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I’m a virtually unknown musician, writer, sometimes even a filmmaker. If I had anything worthwhile to offer in how to network effectively wouldn’t my resume be far more accomplished? He’s won an Oscar, his talents are sought by Fortune 500 companies…when Keith offers advice in how to further your career you LISTEN!

Or I could approach it from a marketing angle, differentiate the credibility of my advice by saying it’s valuable not because of my accomplishments, but because I’m NOT on the A-list. There’s no comfort zone that allows me to wax poetic like Richard Branson, writing inspirational essays long on (inspiring) platitudes yet short on practical advice. Because I’ve been networking steadily for the past five years and seen the ups and downs of its’ benefits I can offer something practical about life in the Bay Area trenches—game and app development, in particular, along with some Bay Area filmmaker schmoozing.  As a creative artist trying to get someone to hire me I need to push myself a little bit harder. Computer programmers are always in demand at the events I go to because they’re in the minority, whereas creative types are usually given consideration—if any—somewhere near the end of the development process…or simply brushed aside in favor of canned sounds stolen from torrents.

Nope, I won’t claim any mastery of the networking arts because I feel like I’m still learning. On the other hand, I’ve gone from being virtually terrified of entering a crowd of a dozen people to comfortably walking into crowds of hundreds, striking up conversations and collecting business cards. I’ve wasted countless hours and also seen those labors pay off. I’m gonna share some experiences!

And I might sound a bit grouchy…

No business cards: Really??? You go to a mixer with hundreds of people and expect your charming personality will be enough that people will search you out on LinkedIn the next day? Fat chance, noob. Running out of cards early is forgivable; otherwise you’re wasting the time of people trying to build connections and need those cards to remember who you are, what you do and how to get in touch with you later—which might be to refer you to someone.

Idiot social skills: My God, I cringe at some of the stupid things I’ve said in social situations. But hey, I do my best to learn from mistakes and I find it forehead slapping when people say stuff like…

–Sorry, I don’t need your music services. My brother is a musician.

(This within the first minute of simply introducing myself.)

–I probably won’t remember you. I’ve met so many people today…

–“Steve.” The one word response when I introduced myself to a guy an event. The awkward pause was so…awkward…the guy refused to look at me or even offer a handshake. I could only continue walking.

I don’t kid myself about the nature demand for my work. Not many people at these events are actively seeking composers at the moment I meet them. Likewise, I’ve never had any use for the many monetization (companies who specialize in ads or money making ideas for your game) or localization (translating a game into different languages, culturally and literally) experts I’ve met at these functions. But you can be darn sure I’m taking their cards, looking up their websites and connecting online. If I meet someone looking to release his or her English game in Spain I’ve got a name I will happily recommend. Shouldn’t be too big a stretch for me to get the same courtesy. Right???

Or at least fake that courtesy. Because like a bad restaurant review I’ll go out of my way to tell more people you’re a jerk. Except for Steve because…I got nothing there!

Assholes who act like they’re too important to waste time on me because I’m just a sound guy: I guess there’s a level of subjectivity here. Maybe you ARE Steve Jobs and simply too busy to answer every email sent to you. Or perhaps it got lost in junk mail, you meant to write back but seriously—so many freakin’ things are happening you just don’t have time for me right now!!!

But should you blow off a contact completely? Here’s one scenario I’ve witness quite a few times. I meet someone running a startup, talk for a few minutes, get a business card. A week later I get around to checking out their webpage, maybe a preview of their app. It looks really cool, so I drop them a line repeating how it was cool meeting them and—by golly—their app looks really sweet! I tell them I’ve subscribed to their mailing list so I can keep updated on their company’s efforts…

And…no response. No thanks. Nothing.

Fine, I’m a big baby when I don’t get a thank you note. There’s something wrong with me! But you know what? There’s something wrong with YOU too if you got the message and chose to ignore it. It’s rude.

And I might talk smack about you later.

And I definitely won’t go out of my way to tell friends and new contacts about your game or app. Will it make a difference? Probably not…but don’t you want EVERYONE you can get in your corner when you’re starting out? I do.

Look at it another way. I had a gig at Ubisoft last year. I updated my LinkedIn page to reflect that was my current place of employment. Within a day I get a message of congrats from a guy I met at another GDC party almost a year earlier. We talked in a crowded room for ten minutes, connected online, forgot about each other. Suddenly he’s taking the time to wish me well. Now he’s got a stronger, more positive image in my mind. If I ever find an opportunity to recommend him for a job I won’t hesitate (assuming he’s qualified for it)…simply because he took a moment to be cool.

There you go, by little vent in cyberspace. Maybe I’ll inspire a few people to stop being Mouth Breathers.

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