Chronic Fatigue

LOL? I wish.

By now, we are all familiar with the ubiquitous acronym, "LOL". In case you have been living on the planet Zoltar for the last several decades, LOL is the internet acronym for "laughing out loud". There is also its saucier variation, "LMAO" ("laughing my ass off"), and the ever-popular "LMFAO" ("laughing my fucking ass off"). "ROTFL" -- "rolling on the floor laughing"-- seems to have fallen out of favor.

Given how frequently these acronyms show up in emails, texts, and even conversations, it would seem that just about everyone is laughing their asses off, that hilarity ensues every time someone hits "Send", and a typical day on the job is just one non-stop laugh riot.

If only.

Now, I like to laugh as much as the next person -- maybe even more than the next person. But usually, when I see "LOL" in an email, my immediate reaction is mild confusion, as in, "Really?? You're laughing at THAT?? It's not that funny."

Sorry, but you have to earn my "LOL".

Fortunately, I have come up with a solution for all this faux hilarity.

I propose we add another acronym to the lexicon: "NTF", or "not that funny".

"Not that funny" is an appropriate, honest response to the majority of not-that-funny things people say in emails and texts.

Of course, if that is too bland a response for you, feel free to go with "NLMAO" ("not laughing my ass off"), or -- if you have the energy to type an extra character --  may I suggest "NFWTIF" ("no fucking way this is funny").

In his book "The Language of ICT" (yet another acronym meaning "Information and Communications Technology"), linguistics expert, Tim Shortis, analyzes the deeper meaning of LOL. He writes, "I may not actually laugh out loud, but may use the locution, 'LOL' to communicate my appreciation of your attempt at humor'".

The operative word here is "attempt". However, just because someone makes an attempt at humor does not mean that person should be rewarded with an "LOL", "LMFAO", or any other acronym signaling approval. This merely emboldens the not-that-funny person and encourages him or her to make even more feeble attempts at humor. It's a self-perpetuating cycle. It needs to stop.

I think that the overuse of "LOL" actually speaks to a larger, societal problem; namely, the bar for what passes for funny these days is so pathetically low, just about any comment is worthy of an "LOL". "NTF" is frankly the only suitable response to so much in our popular culture -- movies, tv shows, certain comics -- that aim to be funny, but just aren't that funny.

Some of this can be chalked up to changing styles of humor. And yes, it's a generational thing. I'll be the first to admit that as a bitter, older person, I simply don't GET a lot of the "kids'" humor. I scratch my head, watching commercials that I know were clearly intended to be funny, and think, "I guess some young agency Creative team must have thought this was really funny...they probably laughed their asses over this...but it just isn't funny". (Since I am the ultimate arbiter of what is and isn't funny, I am quite confident when I deem something not that funny).

It's time to call bullshit on not funny.

That is the beauty of "NTF"; it raises the bar for funny. Because it doesn't reward not funny. A simple, well-placed "NTF" instantly tells someone, "Because I'm your friend, I'm not going to pretend that your email has me rolling around on the floor in stitches...when in fact, it barely even warrants a smiley face emoticon." (It may also be time to wean ourselves from our lazy, over-reliance on the Smiley Face, and simply type out, "I haven't got a fucking clue what you're trying to say..but whatever!").

Sure, your brutal honesty may lose you some friends. But what you gain in feeling morally superior is well worth it (and just imagine the fun you can have responding to group emails at work).

Once you get over your initial hesitation, I predict that typing "NTF" will become as automatic as "LOL".

So, repeat after me: "NTF!!!!" 

Now, doesn't that feel good?

 

 

 

 

 

What's in a Namely?

Lately, I've been seeing billboards around San Francisco for a company named...Namely.

But until recently, I never had any idea what, exactly, Namely did.

Then I finally saw their TV spot, and discovered that Namely is...an HR company! (or rather, an HR platform). HR?  Really? Who would have guessed? I certainly never would have guessed from their name.

How about Contextly? What do you suppose they do? Turns out they specialize in "content recommendations for publishers". Why, of course! How could I have missed that?

What about Scopely? They're a "next generation mobile entertainment network". Yep, makes perfect sense.

And Reachly? That's a real-time analytics service (did you really have to ask?).

Which brings us to Vumly. This one is deliciously ironic. Vumly is...a NAMING company! (I hope you are not dumb-ly enough to let Vum-ly brand your business).

And let's not forget Boxly, Bitly, Singly, Yabbly, Seniorly, Leafly, Spokely, Hurdly and Scopely.

These inane, obscure "-ly" names are popping up everywhere, spreading like a virus.

When and why did this inane craze for inane,  'ly" names start? And more importantly, when it will it stop?

Naming has never been more stupid. If this trend continues, it's just a matter of time until Stupidly appears on the scene ("Oh, it's perfect for our new on-line tutoring platform!").

I suppose that some of these names can be blamed on the scarcity of domain names. But that's really no excuse for the current proliferation of 'ly" names.    Let's face it. These  "-ly" names (and their close cousins, the equally annoying "-me" and "-fy" names) are just a lazy attempt at making your company sound creative, silly, kooky, cutting-edge...and just like every other startup out there.

Isn't your company name supposed to differentiate you? The current lack of originality in naming is stunning. Every startup name is indistinguishable from the rest. You would think a completely incomprehensible name (that sounds just like every other name) would be a handicap in the startup world. Instead, it's a prerequisite.

I don't get it. I always subscribed to the quaint notion that a good name should help connote what your business was all about.

Consumers never had to guess what Ford Motor Company, Singer Sewing Machines, Hershey's Chocolate or Pennzoil made. Paramount Pictures...Avis Rent-a-Car...Traveler's Insurance...Walgreens Pharmacy...United Airlines? No interpretation necessary.

Names should be memorable and meaningful. Sure, if you're Apple, Xerox or Google, you can afford an obscure, non-descriptive name. But what if you're not a mega corporation with 100% name awareness? How can your startup succeed if no one even knows what you do?

What if we applied this same naming convention to small, Mom and Pop businesses? Imagine strolling down Main Street, USA and looking at the shop signs...

Instead of Tony's Pizza, we'd have Crustly.

Sally's Sewing Supplies?  Needly.

Joe's Hardware Store?  Warely.

Dependable Plumbing?  Plungely.

Ridiculous? Obvious-ly!

But sadly, those ridiculous, completely abstruse startup names show no sign         of stopping. They have become the New Normaly.

 

 

 

 

When the Question is the Answer: The Dumbing Down of TV Interviews

How excited are you to read this blog post? 

Not very?  Gee, how can that be?  My question already presumes you are wildly enthusiastic about reading my latest mindless rant.

Besides, I'm just trying to keep up with the current interviewing trend. Have you noticed lately that whenever a TV interviewer asks someone a question, the interviewer inevitably structures the question to contain the precise emotion they want to hear parroted back by the interviewee? 

It usually goes something like this:

INTERVIEWER: So, you were trapped in the wilderness for three whole days. How difficult was it for you to survive on nothing but stale trail mix and Rolaids?

INTERVIEWEE:  Oh my gosh, it was really difficult. I was terrified.

INTERVIEWER:  So how amazing was it when you finally saw the rescue team arriving in the helicopter?

INTERVIEWEE:  It was pretty amazing. Honestly, I couldn't believe it.

INTERVIEWER:   And how relieved and grateful are you to be alive?

INTERVIEWEE:  Oh, I'm so relieved and grateful. Actually, it's hard to express —

INTERVIEWER: Sorry, we're out of time. Thank you again for sharing your emotions about this truly remarkable experience. And now, here's Kyla with today's weather...

This style of questioning is now commonly used to discuss virtually any topic, from the very serious to the very trivial. The more trivial the topic, the more earnestly this interview style is employed.

So it's not surprising that the "answer in the question" interview technique has become a staple of Reality TV shows. Leave it to the folks who perfected the art of fake reality to perfect pre-fabricated responses to questions.

I first noticed this phenomenon while indulging in my favorite guilty pleasure, "Dancing with the Stars" (I confess, I watch it regularly.  Please don't judge me).

On DWTS, every time a celebrity finishes their dance routine, the breathless co-host asks the celebrity dancer, "So...how nerve-racking was it to dance the Quickstep knowing that Kristi and Tony just earned perfect 10's?"  Thus forcing the celeb to answer with either, "Oh, I wasn't really that nervous..." or "I was REALLY nervous...I mean, Kristi and Tony were just awesome..." or some other variation of an answer that must, of course, include mention of said person's presumed nervousness.

Another proven way to add drama to the post-dance interview (or any interview) is to ask about the amazingness of the experience.

CO-HOST: How amazing is it to make it to the Finals after breaking your leg and puncturing a rib in Week 1?

CELEB:  Oh, it is like, soooo amazing. This whole journey has just been amazing.

Clearly, the more times someone says "amazing", "awesome", or "journey" in their answer, the better.  Because these days, no other answer (or words) will do. So it is essential to lead the respondant to the required response.

You can't even call these "leading questions". They are more like answers posing as questions.

Lest you think this style of questioning is strictly the purview of reality shows and trashy tabloid tv, you would be wrong. Because I now see it used on even so-called respectable news programs. Mercifully, you still won't see Chris Matthews or Charlie Rose posing these kinds of non-questions. But just about every other commentator or newscaster makes liberal use of the "answer in question" style question (Anderson Cooper has, of course, perfected this type of question, as have most of his colleagues at CNN).

Why is this? My first half-baked theory is that we live in a time where we have to constantly try to gin up excitement and emotions around everything. It's no longer ok to let someone tell their story in their own words. Because what if those words aren't exciting enough? That would just be too boring. Today, no one would dare risk getting an honest, unscripted answer. Hyperbole is the name of the game. Viewers have come to expect a certain amount of overwrought language and emotion. Let's face it, all of pop culture is overwrought. This is America.      It's all about amped up emotions, all the time.

Also, Americans are lazy. We don't want to have to think about the answers or parse a nuanced answer. So it's just easier when we're force fed some pre-chewed pablum in the form of an easily digestible  soundbite.

I also suspect that this particular interview style is just part of the larger linquistic trend, popularized by the young. The current fashion of commenting in the form of a question, as in "How cool was that?" or "Free donuts? How awesome would that be?" has had an insidious influence on language in general.

How certain am I about these theories?

Not very.

How annoying is it to hear this style of questioning on my tv every day and night?

Very.

How amazing would it be if interviewers allowed people to actually answer questions in their own words?

Like, so amazing.

 

 

Crimes of Passion

My topic today is something I feel very passionate about; namely, the egregious overuse of the word "passion". 

I can remember when I was quite fond of the word "passion". Once upon a time, "passion" was a term mostly reserved for expressions of romance and desire.      As in "10 Ways to Put the Passion Back in Your Marriage", steamy Harlequin Romance novels, and swarthy Argentine Tango dancers.  What's not to like?

One could also be passionate about a cause or one's art.  We expect artists, dancers, and musicians to be passionate about what they do.  They operate in the rarefied world of Art, where passion is practically a prerequisite. I have no problem with that.

The problem is that today, suddenly everybody is passionate about everything. Passion used to be a somewhat rare commodity. Its scarcity was part of its allure. But no more.  Now passion is plentiful.

Alas, passion has lost its power.  And has become something else: a tepid cliche.

I trace the overuse of the P-word back to the 1980s. Specifically, I blame advertising, and wine advertising in particular.  All of a sudden, it wasn't enough to just make wine.  Winemakers had to be "passionate" about their "craft".

That's when passion met its P-word partner: pretension.  And it all went to hell from there.

Soon, passion crept into food.  The more we fetishize food, the more passionate we get.  You can no longer simply like dark chocolate, coffee, or Greek yogurt.  You have to be passionate about those foodstuffs.  Or fashion.  Or yoga.  Or your favorite brand of toilet paper.

Being passionate about hair products and sundried tomatoes is bad enough.      But now, passion has infiltrated Corporate America.  In short, the P-word has been co-opted by the HR Industry. This is especially true in Tech, Marketing and other creative industries.  And this is where it gets ugly.

Have you perused the job listings lately?  If so, you already know that practically every single job posting now includes the exact same requirement:  "Must be PASSIONATE about _________" (insert something really boring here that no one in their right mind could ever be passionate about).

Do a quick search on Indeed.com or any other job site and I can practically guarantee you will find the P-word mentioned in virtually every posting.        Never mind...I'll do it for you.  Here's a recent sampling:

"Must be passionate about customer experience"

"This job requires a passion for great storytelling"

"You are motivated, a team player, and passionate about sales technology"

"Must have a passion for creative excellence"

"Requirement: A deep, loving passion for the Lyft community. Join our creative team and tell the story of our passionate community"

And then there is this lulu...an actual job posting for the CEO of the yoga wear company, LuluLemon:

"You are passionate about doing chief executive officer type stuff like making decisions, having a vision, and being the head boss person."

There's so much passion in these postings, it kind of makes you want to puke.

Passion in the workforce used to mean that someone in Accounting was having a steamy affair with someone in Quality Control.  Now it's merely a standard job requirement.  Sort of like not having a prison record.

This is disturbing on so many levels. 

First, there's the aforementioned pretension.  When you equate "passion" with work, it elevates the work itself (and the company doing the work) to a level of importance and faux altruism that is rarely, if ever, deserved.

I recall seeing a job posting for a well known local gaming company.  It included this gem: "You are passionate about creating  games that can change the world".  So now I guess designing code for "Grand Theft Auto" is on the same level as curing cancer.  Right.

That's bad enough.  But to me, what's worse is that the new "passion" requirement for employment just happened to coincide with the Great Recession and record joblessness.

At the very same time when millions of highly qualified, experienced people found themselves out of work, employers decided to up the ante.  It was no longer enough to be skilled, dedicated, conscientious, and a hard worker.  Now, you had to be "passionate" about doing your Excel spreadsheets or proofreading 6 pt. legal copy.  As if writing a hundred cover letters, filling out endless, impersonal online applications, and jumping through hoops wasn't enough. 

Why the sudden "passion" requirement for employment?  I have two (equally cynical) theories.

Cynical Theory #1:  "Passion" is code.  It's Corporate Speak for "must be willing to work around the clock and enjoy cold pizza at your work station." This is why job postings for start-ups require an extra high level of passion. (Note to job seekers: Beware of that other ubiquitous job requirement, "Must thrive in a dynamic, fast-paced environment."  Careful.  Those words are an almost surefire guarantee that you will be eating cold pizza at your desk on a regular basis).

In other words, once employers were in the driver's seat, and could pick and choose from thousands of qualified applicants, they decided to screen out anyone who couldn't pass the Passion Test.  But just how often do employers return       the passion?   We all know the answer to that one.   How do you say "pink slip"?

Cynical Theory #2: Companies are trying to attract low-salaried (or no salaried) Millennials. Employers know that while many of the current crop of twenty-somethings may still be living with their parents and dining out on Groupons, they won't stoop to accepting just any job.  Oh no.  These incredibly special young people need to be passionate about their work.  It's a generational entitlement.

So much for my useless, and somewhat bitter, theories.

At this point, I'd like to offer up some equally useless historical perspective. Passion as it relates to work had its birth in the classic 1970 bestseller, "What Color is Your Parachute?".  At that time, "following your passion" was a radical — and very appealing — notion.  It certainly was to me.  I bought every edition of that book — as did millions of others.  But now, those dog-eared books sit on my bookshelf, mocking me.  Many of us never found our passion.  At least not in the workplace.  And in many cases, our parachutes never deployed.

Then, just as our colorful parachutes were deflating, Oprah arrived on the scene and single-handedly created her own Passion Industry.  More than anyone else, I blame Oprah for creating the passion for passion. 

O, The Oprah Magazine, is chock full of articles such as "Find Your Passion", "Take the 'What's Your Passion?' Exercise" and "Live Your Passion".                     The assumption being that if you are truly passionate about, say, knitting afghans, of course you can simply ditch your boring Accounting job and make millions with an online startup called "KnitWits".  You go, girl!

But what if you don't find your passion?  What if you don't have the moxie, the spare time, or the trust fund, to find your passion in a career?  Can you still like —  or even love — your job, without being "passionate" about it?  Is that even acceptable today?  Can a job be...dare I say it?...just a job?

Maybe, like a lot of us, you can channel your passion into other things.        Perhaps it's even better when your passion isn't your job. Because then the things you love aren't untainted by the harsh realities and demands of business.

By now, you may be thinking that I'm just not a very passionate person.               But, Dear Reader, I can assure you that you're wrong.  As a matter of fact, I'm passionate about many things.  Cutting through the bullshit is just one of them.

 

 

 

Valley Nation (OMG. Why does, like, EVERYONE talk this way now??)

So, like, every day on my bus ride to work, I am, like surrounded by these 20- and 30-something girls talking like rully rully loudly on their cell phones.  And it is like, so TOTALLY irritating. Seriously, I want to grab their iPhones from their gel manicured fingertips and run screeeeaming from the bus.

Their conversations all sound exactly alike.  It’s as if these girls were all hatched from the same sorority at some College For The Overindulged where they majored in Shallow and minored in Snotty.

But what I notice most is that their voices all sound exactly alike.  And OMG, it is, like, the most super annoying thing everrrrr.

Young women used to be mocked for speaking this way.  They were parodied as moronic “Valley Girls”.  Valley Girls were a popular stereotype and their trademark "Valspeak" was a staple of comedy routines and teen movies. Very few women actually aspired to talking that way.

Plus, in those days, you rarely ever heard anyone speak "Val" outside of the San Fernando Valley.  It was strictly a regional accent, restricted to a small region of the country, and limited to a subset of young women (mostly teenage girls). Living in San Francisco, it wasn't uncommon to overhear a snippet of Valspeak now and then. But I always assumed it was a purely West Coast phenomenon. 

That is soooooo not true anymore.

Seriously, have you noticed that now virtually ALL young women, in all parts of the country, speak this way? “Valspeak” has infiltrated the language like never before.  It has no geographic boundaries.  You can hear it on the streets of Manhattan or in the malls of the Midwest.  Everrrrryone talks this way now!

I have coined a term for this latest version of Valspeak.  I call it “The Voice” — and there is no escaping it. Turn on your tv and you will hear The Voice nonstop. Almost all young women on tv, from The Kardashians to The Bachelorette, now have The Voice.  Even so-called “serious” journalists like CNN's Erin Burnett have The Voice (ok, using "serious journalist" and "CNN" in the same sentence is a stretch). Over at MSNBC, you can hear The Voice nightly — just listen to party girl turned political pundit Krystal Ball. Even when she's saying something semi-intelligent, it's hard to take her seriously because of...The Voice (and then there's also her NAME...and her penchant for tight, sleeveless dresses doesn't help her credibility, either).

The popular AMC series "Mad Men" prides itself on meticulously recreating the Sixties era.  The show's set dressers and wardrobe people strive for authenticity. They usually get every last Sixties detail right; from the Mid-Century coffee tables to the women's kitten heels and teased bouffant hair.

But on a recent episode, that carefully crafted illusion was instantly shattered the moment Don Draper’s new wife, Megan, opened her mouth.  OMG…she had     The Voice!  I'm sorry, but in the Sixties, women simply didn’t speak that way.  "Mad Men" may be set in 1965.  But Megan's vocal inflections are a dead giveaway that the show is produced in 2012.  The Voice is as emblematic of our times as iPhones and Facebook profiles. 

The Voice is also ubiquitous in tv commercials.  I call this particular variation "Croaky Cutesy Voice”.  Suddenly, almost every tv spot with a female voiceover sounds like it's being narrated by a six year old with a head cold.  At first, the Croaky Cutesy Voice trend was sort of cool and different.  Now it's just cloying.  And mega annoying.  Commercials used to be narrated by grownup women with sophistication and gravitas.  But now, instead of Lauren Bacall, we get Baby Smurf.  Really, enough is enough.

So, you ask, what exactly, is so irritating about this unique speech pattern?  DUH. You mean in general, or shall I go alphabetically?

For starters, there's "uptalking".  This is definitely one the most annoying linguistic trends of all time.  Uptalking is when the speaker pronounces statements as if they are questions.  As in, “So, like, yesterday, I went shopping?  And like, I saw some really cute shoes?”  What’s up with that?  Listening to uptalk makes me, want to like, upchuck.

Then there is the phenomenon that linguists have dubbed “vocal fry”. This is the speech patterrrnnnnn where people draw out and end sentences with a gravelly low vibrato.  This is like, THE most annoying trend everrrrrr.

Another trademark of The Voice is a bit subtler.  It involves pronouncing the short "i"  ( as in"pill") as a short "e" ("pell").  If you haven't heard this one yet, listen for it and you well.  I mean, you will.

Of course, there’s the dreaded "l word": like. This is, like, the hallmark of Valspeak.  But I have to confess, I am guilty of this one myself.  Try as I may to avoid it, "like" has crept into my speech and has taken hold like a fashionista who just found a pair of Jimmy Choos on sale. I, like, say it ALL the time.  So I am not, like, going to get all high and mighty about this one.  Still, I know it is like, RULLY annoying (especially when combined with the "A-word": actually.  As in, "We like, actually, didn't even start eating dinner until, like, actually, 9 PM").

Call it The Voice, call it Valspeak, call it whatever you like, this unfortunate linguistic trend is taking over our nation and it's time we called a halt to it.

Young Women of America: Why, oh why, do you persist in talking this way?       Do you think it sounds fun and cool?  It doesn’t.  It sounds stupid and shallow.  And super annoying.  Does it make you feel like you're part of the club?  Damn right it does — The Spoiled Ditzy Airheads of America Club. 

Um, ladies, hell-o!  Can't you plueeeze stop?  Seriously, I am, like, begging you.  PLEASE. STOP. TALKING. THIS. WAY.  NOW.

 Of course, it's hopeless.  It seems Valspeak is here to stay.

 And I am, like, sooooo over it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bad Trip: My Journey to Discover Why Everyone is on a Journey

Overuse can turn a perfectly good word into a perfectly horrible one. One word that's currently on the road to linguistic lame-itude is journey.

Have you noticed that suddenly, everyone in America is on a journey?

Just glance at any "People" magazine cover or watch any celebrity interview, and chances are you'll learn about someone who has just completed, is still on, or is about to embark on some kind of journey. 

You can’t turn on the tv these days without hearing about these dramatic, personal journeys.  Piers Morgan asks virtually every guest, “Tell us…what kind of journey has this been for you?” “It’s been a journey” is now the stock answer to describe everything from Kirstie Alley's weight loss battles to Brook Shield's triumph over post-partum depression.  The subject matter doesn’t really matter —  as long as one has been on a journey, it suggests some sort of profound transformation to a more enlightened state of mind. It's definitely not about the destination, it's all about the journey.

Merely using the word “journey” adds import to anything — no matter how trivial.  So it’s no surprise that Reality TV is rife with journeys.  No episode of "Dancing with the Stars” is complete without the Co-Host, Brooke Burke, injecting the "journey" question into her backstage, post-performance celebrity interviews. "So the judges just awarded you 10's for your Paso Doble", she'll gush...before switching to her Really Serious Voice to ask,  "We know you've worked so hard for these past 8 weeks...can you tell us...what has this JOURNEY been like for you?"  (The answer to that last question inevitably contains the two words most often associated with these sorts of profoundly life-changing journeys: "so" and  "amazing", as in "Oh, it's just been SO amazing!"). 

“The Biggest Loser” is also big on journeys (so I hear, I don’t watch it).  Every contestant is on his or her own journey (“Follow Courtney’s journey”… “Biggest Loser winner Olivia Ward opted for a tummy tuck to remove excess skin after shedding 116 pounds. See her journey and dramatic transformation.” Viewers are also invited to “Watch the final four journeys, or go online to find recipes, advice and support for your own journey.”

(Geesh, I’m so worn out from hearing about all this, I think I’ll journey to the fridge and inhale a quart of Rocky Road).

Of course, these profound, personal journeys are even more ubiquitous in print . Today, no celebrity or politician memoir is complete without adding the requisite “My journey to…”  after the title.  All you need is a colon and a personal journey to make it to the best seller list. A quick perusal on Amazon reveals literally hundreds of such subtitles, including:

Not Afraid of Life: My Journey So Far  (Bristol Palin)

Louder Than Words: A Mother’s Journey in Healing Autism  (Jenny McCarthy)

Herman Cain: My Journey to the White House (Herman Cain)

Invincible:  My Journey From Fan to NFL Team Captain  (Vince Papale)

Just Call Me Mike:  A Journey to Actor and Activist (Mike Farrel)

Three Cups of Tea: One Man’s Journey to Change the World…One Child at a Time (Greg Mortenson)

Pink Boots and a Machete:  My Journey from NFL Cheerleader to National Geographic Explorer  (Mireya Mayor)

Then there are the overcoming illness/adversity/addiction journeys…

It’s Not About the Bike: My Journey Back to Life (Lance Armstrong)

Save Karyn: One Shopaholic’s Journey to Debt and Back  (Karyn Bosnak)

How to Overcome Bulimia: My Journey from Hell to Happiness (Shaye)

Livin La Vida Low-Carb: My Journey from Flabby Fat to Sensationally Skinny in One Year  (Jimmy Moore)

And my personal favorite:

A Raw Life:  My Journey from Cooked to Raw Foods (Nubia I)

Where will it end? Journey to the Centre of the Earth surely qualified as a journey.  And Eugene O’Neill certainly earned the right to the title, Long Day’s Journey Into Night.  But My Journey from Cooked to Raw Foods?  Seriously?

Not surprisingly, corporations are jumping on the journey bandwagon.  After all, corporations are people, too, and they are quickly co-opting this word for their own purposes.  And why not?  By simply adding “journey” to your company’s website copy, or generously sprinkling the word “journey” throughout your corporate mission statement, whatever actual work you are doing is suddenly imbued with an altruistic, almost religious quality. 

This air of sanctity matters even more today, when many companies are striving to look environmentally responsible.  So we get  Rubbermaid’s CEO  talking about “Making a Difference: Our Journey of Transformation” and Colgate Palmolive inviting us to “...follow our journey from a single store front to global front runner.”

Tech companies, in particular, are all over the journey thing.  For an industry that prizes innovation and originality, their websites all sound surprisingly the same:

The destination of our journey is to build a real-time enterprise and we’re focused on business processes and the end-user to complete this journey.

EMC has traveled a long way on its journey to cloud computing.

The Value of Customer Journey Maps: a UX Designer’s Personal Journey

The founders of Edge Case, a startup, take the journey metaphor to new heights, as witnessed by this inspiring home page copy:

Over five years ago we started on a journey to create a company -- the company we always wanted to work for. Recently, some friends of ours offered to help us continue on that journey and we accepted. We have not yet arrived at our final destination. We continue to hike along. The opportunity to reach our original destination and then continue on to new sites and explore new territory was too much to pass up.  Today we are announcing that Digital Garage has acquired Edge Case. Together we are forming New Context, a company dedicated to bridging the divide between design and technology while helping build new companies and improve the software side of existing ones.

Phew.  Sounds like these kids got some much needed venture capital funding in the nick of time — get those hiking boots on, boys, and let the journey continue!

 I don’t know about you, but if I hear the word “journey” one more time, I may have to make a quick journey to the bathroom to throw up.

Once upon a time, the word "journey" was reserved for describing actual physical journeys and exotic travel, such as trekking by camel across Outer Mongolia. There were also religious/spiritual journeys.  Then came truly life-changing experiences or dramatic life stories; whether it was an individual's battle with serious illness, or some type of remarkable achievement. Those qualified as "journeys", too.  I get it. 

But now, "journey" can be used to describe — and add faux gravitas to — just about anything, no matter how mundane.  The more trivial the topic, the more profound the “journey”.  Hence this late breaking newsflash about Kourtney Kardashian’s pregnancy:  “We are sure that Kourtney will share her pregnancy journey with fans via her reality show, Twitter and her mommy blog.”(OMG. I can't wait to read Kourtney's mommy blog!).

How did we get here?  I’m not sure.  But as with most loathsome language trends, I suspect Oprah had something to do with it.  “What journey are you on?” has been a staple Oprah-ism forever.  We've also heard ad nauseam about Oprah's “weight loss journey”, her “spiritual journey”, her "career journey", etc. etc.  I’ll bet if Oprah discovered a new shampoo, we'd hear about her "hair care journey".  

Whether or not we can blame Oprah for modern day Journey Syndrome is unclear. All I know is we need to give this word a rest — and soon.  Please, people, can we just STOP with the journeys??

So what have I learned while writing this post? (other than the fact that I clearly don’t know when to use quotes versus italics).  I’m not sure I’ve discovered any definitive answers.  Nor have I found enlightenment.  And I certainly haven't lost any weight sitting here in front of the computer. 

But at least writing about this topic has been somewhat cathartic.  I feel a sense of healing...a surprising, new sense of lightness.

Thanks for being a part of my journey. 

It's Like, So Amazing

Q: What do the following words have in common?

"awesome", "fascinating", "incredible", "marvelous", "prodigious", "shocking", "stunning", "surprising", "unbelievable", "wonderful"

A: They are all synonyms for "amazing".

However...you don't hear any of those other words used much anymore.       Because the only adjective that gets used to describe anything these days seems to be "amazing".

Have you noticed that right now, absolutely everything is "amazing"?  It is the adjective du jour.  Every time I overhear a cell phone conversation on the bus  (which is a lot more often than I'd like), it's pretty much guaranteed I will hear the phrase, "It was amazing".  If it's a twenty-something who is having the conversation, then it was "...like, SO amazing."  They might be describing last night's pizza, a new brand of lip gloss or the latest episode of "Lost"...makes no difference.  Whatever it was, it was amazing!

Remember when everything was described with that other A-word, "awesome"?  Mercifully, "awesome" gave way to "amazing".  Which would have been just fine, except now there is only "amazing".  Apparently, we as a people are only capable of using one adjective at a time.

Earlier this year, Larry King hosted a pre-Oscars show featuring the cast of the musical, Nine.  His celebrity panel included everyone from Kate Hudson, Penelope Cruz and Fergie to Daniel Day-Lewis, Sophia Loren and Dame Judi Dench.  At one point, Larry asked each person on the panel to describe what it was like to make this movie.   Every one of them - including the esteemed Dame Judi - answered exactly the same way: "Oh, it was just amazing."  I waited to hear Sophia Loren's answer.  Surely, the legendary Ms. Loren would never say, "It was amazing" - but sure enough, she added her "amazing" to the chorus.  Then Larry asked the director, Rob Marshall, what it was like to work with such an amazing cast.  His answer?  "What can I say, Larry?  It was just amazing."

I have to admit, I am not immune from using the A-word.  In fact, I use it way too often.  It's become so automatic, I have stop mid-sentence and force myself to describe something as "incredible" or "wonderful" (I still refuse to say "awesome"...and if I ever did, there would be gales of laughter).

There was a time when "amazing" was reserved for people and things that were truly amazing - usually circus acts, magicians, comic book characters or natural wonders.  The Flying Wallendas?  Now, they were amazing.  The Amazing Houdini?  He definitely earned the "Amazing" part.  The Amazing Spider-Man?  Hey, anyone who can scale a 30-story skyscraper and look good in Lycra is amazing in my book.  Niagra Falls...The Grand Canyon...Mt. Everest?   All pretty darned amazing.

But today, everything from a goat cheese salad to Taylor Swift's latest CD qualifies as "amazing" (the fact that Taylor Swift is even a recording star...well, that's what is truly amazing.  But I digress).

I never cease to be amazed at how one word can catch on and suddenly, it's the only word anyone ever uses.  You know, it's just like, so, um, unbelievable.

Stop the Conversation!

It seems we Americans are having a lot of conversations these days.  Just listen.  You can't turn on a talk show or the nightly news without hearing someone say, "We need to start the conversation." 

We need to start the conversation about a whole bunch of things - from Teen Pregnancy to Immigration to Race Relations.  The more controversial the subject, the greater the need to start the conversation.  President Obama wants to start the conversation  about a number of touchy issues.  These topics are so highly charged, so incredibly sensitive, they can't possibly be discussed or, God forbid, debated.  But maybe we can have a conversation about them.  Or rather, we can start the conversation (the implication being that we'll never actually get through the conversation without all hell breaking loose).

Where did "starting the conversation" start?  I don't know for sure, but it has a vaguely "Oprah" feel to it.  I can just hear Dr. Phil telling the battered wife of a chronic alcoholic, "You need to start the conversation with him about how his toxic behavior is jeopardizing your relationship."  A conversation is so much nicer than say, a screaming domestic brawl.  It feels so civilized. 

Of course, since we live in an interactive world, it's not enough to merely start the conversation.  We also need to join the conversation.   No longer can you sit on the sidelines, alone with your thoughts.  The conversation is on and you damned well better participate.  Which is why every CNN host from Larry King to Anderson Cooper urges viewers to "join the conversation" on their blogs, where "the conversation continues!"   You can bet some marketing person felt it was necessary to elevate mere "blogging" to "taking part in a national conversation".  "Joining the conversation" sounds so much loftier than saying, "Hey, we really don't give a rat's ass what you think, but you, too, can mouth off about this topic at Anderson Cooper 360!" 

Healthy debate is a good thing.  So let's keep talking about the tough topics.

But starting the conversation is all talked out.  It's time to shut up about it.