This pink bubblegum writing got stuck on top of me.
At least your pants aren’t drowning in anemones.
What a whirlwind of week it’s been!
Between studying like a madwoman and trying to maintain a consistent posting schedule, I’ve designed some quick, quirky graphics for various topics up on The ChonaBLOX Blog.
Right now, they are being shared across multiple platforms (remember, have you had your FILPTS today?) and I will present them in one swift punch once my colour scheme (rainbow, of course) has had its say.
I suppose it would be my most current body of work, should any amazing agencies in the air desire a digital marketer with an artistic penchant to boot!
For now, here’s a sample. A graphic designed today for my latest #girlstories post – her name is SABRINA and she is a…GHOST!
Check out her story as it relates to two other Elevententeen characters, Judge Judy (I know, and yes, on purpose) and Alice from Wonderland.
And last thing, two very important marketing terms that I’ve come across lately and seem to apply to my work – top of mind and evergreen. Here are a couple of simple definitions.
First, per Wikipedia –
In marketing, top-of-mind awareness (TOMA) refers to a brand or specific product being first in customers’ minds when thinking of a particular industry or category. … At the market level, top-of-mind awareness is more often defined as the “most remembered” or “most recalled” brand names.
And second –
Evergreen content is content that is always relevant – much like the way evergreen trees retain their leaves all year around. Interesting and relevant content that does not become dated is necessary in order to be found online by search engines (The Balance Careers).
As we enter the beginning of Q4 or reach the end of the year, I want to consider these definitions as they relate to my brand and marketing strategy. How have these terms applied to your business? Do you think they are relevant and does applying these concepts to your work produce less disparity between yourself and your audience? Let’s have a brainstorm!
PS – Halloween is just around the corner, what are your plans?
PPS – FILPTS is a BLOX acronym standing for Facebook, Instagram, LinkedIn, Pinterest, Twitter & Snapchat.
PPPS – I gotta up my Snapchat game! Any cool tips or tricks my friends?
Our continuation of #girlstories…
There was an evil sinister coming to Elevententeen.
Sabrina sat up from her seat and left her lunch in the mist. She was mentally picturing her fuzzy, white sweater getting soaked from the rain and it made her livid. She was too embarrassed to adjust, people were observing. She trudged through, carrying a green umbrella.
Carrying books in a used plastic bag, she walked to her class. Virtuoso would be there. Her heart skipped a beat knowing that he would test her classically trained ear. He didn’t know she lost the ability. For this exam, she would pretend; she could not hear a thing.
Only black. Sabrina quickly glanced at her feet to see where she was, her red rain boots covered in dew drops. Then, she coughed and tiny gray particles with lavender pieces came shooting out of her mouth. She coughed again and the door opened.
She couldn’t hold onto her books anymore. They dropped down the silver lining. Her arms struggled to reach for something, anything to stop her from slipping. There were branches sticking out on each side of her, then suddenly she remembered.
She was Alice and Sabrina was the nightmare.
She didn’t want to see it, she squeezed her eyes shut to ignore what was going to happen next. No, no, no! She cried, just leave me alone! Don’t let this happen, loyal judge, I will bring you the falcon! But whomever she was speaking to didn’t care. She looked down and could see her legs changing into wide tree trunks, covered with green frost and violet branches. She looked at her hands and they too were made of wood. The apple from her lunch pack floated in a thick orange residue, and she reached for it, but it just turned into mush with a face, laughing. Oh shit, this is it. The sounds around her went bleep.
Sabrina landed on soft ground. It was ridiculous that a tree could wear a blue dress. Still, she patted down her pinafore and retied a green bow. Judge? She searched. Her crispy hands aimed for her head. She ducked down as she knew she wouldn’t be able to prune her braids. The ground became solid with tiny, little versions of signs propping up, one by one, all over the place. Everywhere was now everything.
They played a game to determine their next meal. They didn’t want to eat. They wanted to get out of here. A sinister laugh bellowed from the fog’s bounds and they knew Judge Judy was prepared. Prepared to assign Sabrina with her next task. Prepared to evaluate the worth of Alice’s size, since she was just going to be used at the tribune. And throughout the entire evaluation, neither girl could sit still.
So, who do we got here? Filburt quipped – Stan’s over there. Shady from S and L pronounced, I seen Cherry standing to the right with her sister. So, who else is missing? Um, I think Seventeen and Each Other were caught making out in their cache car. Cache car? Yeah. Like you know. Invisible transportation to Life Space. And who’s leaving Life Space right now? A Tree. And I saw A Day go to. Okay, well…we are close to arranging the final tribune.
We were that close.
“He came in and interrupted me!”
“Ya so. Why didn’t you just tell him to leave?”
Daisy was walking down the sidewalk. Again. It was raining. The weather never changed here. It was consistently blue-gray and purple. Wet and bleak. The sunshine rays were hidden by Indigo; the pupils of Elevententeen did not deserve Paradise Colours.
We were that.
“Filburt, can you please pass me my tea?”
“Ya sure. Here you go, do you have enough cream?”
Daisy’s milk was a nice colour of baby lime chartreuse. She didn’t even want to stir it, because then it would change into something orange and forceful. She was deciding on a Dream for the day, to carry with her in the front pocket of her Levi’s. She had another note in there from Baby Bear, who was said to be related to Seventeen and Other of Each Other. The wall at the Nike outlet now included various options for Dreams in colours ranging from green to teal to yellow. Unfortunately, that was the only colour palette available, because the others were worth too much due to their high wavelength interval. “Man, I miss orange! This blue just won’t do!”, Daisy exclaimed as she clearly had too much of a muddled mind frame to understand the meaning of that statement today.
Okay, okay, so back to The Tree. His name was Paul and instead of having a bright orange-red beard, his was blue inserted with tiny, little firs which themselves housed tiny, little owls. He was out hunting between the three primary states and had business to do across all of them. Life Space was his first stop. He was looking for Alice and her dreadful creations from God. Then, it was onto Chon where he could take a break. Eat a cherry scone and perhaps accompany it with a hot drink of lemonade. And final resting place – Elevententeen. He was supposed to bring back some girl named Daisy. Apparently, she held a key to something. His bosses were still trying to figure it out.
“In about 5 minutes, I am going to explode!”
“Let it happen, man. Things don’t get better than that.”
I’ve got to walk faster now. Where the fuck did I go? Daisy picked up her pace, the sound of her soles squeaking becoming more intense. Finally, she arrived. She looked up and read the sign – Judge Judy. It was an imposing wooden structure that looked distorted when you peered up towards the roof. She was analyzing it a little bit, because it wasn’t from here. She could tell, its proportions were all wrong and the perspective of its facade was vibrating like a green on red channel. She actually wasn’t sure now if she should enter. But before she could decide further, the gigantic brass door opened and a dark, teal gray smoke began to generate from the bottom slants.
“Pssst. Come in this way. I’ll leave the door open for you.”
Daisy knew who that was. It was darn Alice! How did she get in here? She knew better that Paul and Jared were looking for her. Her heart rate grew and it was becoming one of those distant Dreamsicles. She didn’t want any more of it. She was beginning to lose her originality and she wouldn’t be able to pick up a new set from Linz anytime soon. Daisy was heartbroken.
“If I can just get my mind past the pretense of it all, I might be able to recall something worthwhile.”
“You won’t do it. You don’t have the balls.”
The judge tore a sheet of paper out of her book and it made a long and terribly loud hissing sound – pppssssssssssssssssssssssssss! Was that really necessary, asked Alice. Judy replied with a hiss of her own, yes, yes it was. Daisy has come. Now what are we supposed to say? She will notice the difference. She can tell that we’re lying.
Daisy turned a sharp corner and again, cranked her neck upwards to preview the alarmingly high walls. Somewhere up top, there was a ceiling. It was all written in code. She wanted to read it so bad, but she slipped on the onyx glass floor, fumbling her belongings, of which a bright, green granny smith apple came flying out of her purse. Filburt ran ahead to catch it. Ugh, why are we even here, Daisy thought. Filburt answered her in his mind – Daisy, we are here because you are supposed to be here. We are trying to find the reason for Being. And, we need to present our findings to the tribune by December!
Alice sat affirmatively on a cushy yellow Dream. She took a bite and sighed. Judy followed by adjusting her large bottom on an orange one. They both sat in silence, chewing their gum.
On the left side wall, as soon as she turned the corner, Daisy saw two prints framed in gilded gold. One said Life, the other said Free. She wondered if she was supposed to be doing something with them. She tried lifting the frames off the wall, but they were drilled to it with solid steel jelly beans. Those things don’t move. She then placed her hand on their screens. The words flashed in different colours, but nothing else happened. Out of nowhere, two flashy young men appeared. She knew instantly who they were. It was The Need and The Pause. Chasing after her, of course.
The Writing she was doing was combining with Training. This was not supposed to happen. She was going to be in a lot of trouble. She just knew it. As an artist, she works. As a specialist, she writes. Ugh, this was not going to help her at the tribune. Just then, a booming voice entered the space, “Alice! Come forth to room 1!”
Daisy, she meant.
And that was that. She took off as fast as she could, carefully watching her step on the slippery glass stage. Blinking, Daisy looked around. “Class! It’s glass! Please pay attention!” Her forehead wrinkled. Again, she thought. When was it going to end? When was it the final end? “But today, my dear. Were you sleeping again?” Her teacher prompted as she handed her an exam. “Write this first. Then, we will determine what’s next.” Daisy shrugged. She had no choice anyway. So, she might as well participate. She squinted. At the corner of her eye, she saw them. She whipped her head around to see. But nothing. Just two barren doors. Totally uninteresting. Not brass even. She could have swore Tom Need and Tim Pause were there. Was she still asleep?
She lost him. She stopped as soon as she could to catch her breath. The platform was empty, save for one man, standing by himself wearing a low, soft felt hat with a curled brim and the crown creased lengthwise. He looked at her. Cheater. Quickly, she darted her eyes toward the staircase. She half expected him to come up, but he didn’t.
Instead he played chess and she was alone at last. Cherry slid down onto the cold, non-foliated metamorphic rock commonly used for sculpture and as a building material. Her hand searched for a mushy, ham and cheese sandwich. Eat? The odd man turned and walked toward her using a device consisting of a circular canopy of cloth on a folding metal frame supported by a metal rod. It was his first. She didn’t understand the significance of the red and white peppermint patty stripes though. A big chunk of sandwich wedged in her throat.
There is no resting place in Paradise, Chona. Just the constant chase of Dreams and Toys. Whatever then. I don’t need the job anyway. They need themselves and that will never change. I reached into the fridge, the bright neon light glaring in my face. What’s it going to be tonight? 3% milk bought one week ago, or taro cream buns from yesterday? Her black, acid wash cut-offs were riding up her legs, a product of skipping two workouts over the weekend he supposed. Cherry didn’t want any of it. She slammed the fridge door for Each Other and climbed onto the kitchen island marble.
Boom, boom, boom.
Silence filled the entire apartment.
Dang it, he’s here.
She didn’t even have time to prepare.
Some empty containers of Nanö fell onto the floor. Cherry didn’t wait. Nothing. Then, suddenly again –
She didn’t have time to leave.
Outside the window, the landscape was lavender purple.
The air inside her apartment was as cold as stone.
Cherry remembered the Toys in her closet. There was probably enough in there to pay him off. Jared didn’t take cheap toys as a barter. He was looking for some form of permanent reimbursement. She wanted to try to run away. Running to her room, she pulled her closet doors open and found him. A retro blue Ty bear stuffie, sewn together with black thread. His beady eyes were made of wind-blown agate, a mystical find these days in Chon.
Wasn’t it ridiculous to think gems held power these days? Jared was specifically looking to enhance his perception and analytical abilities. The agate eyes on Cherry’s Toy could heal the anger inside and create a sense of security and blankets, much needed bling required at Life Space.
“Cherry!!!” Jared started, “Open the frigging door! NOW!” She grabbed Blueberry, stuffing it into her shirt, which had a hidden metric built-in. The bear quickly disappeared and she yanked the entranceway agape.
“Where is it?!?” Jared stumbled inside, her apartment was already in shreds. Cherry had old jars of Dream everywhere. But they were empty too. Users. “How fast can you put together a cheat sheet?” Jared stopped and looked at Cherry. They both began to laugh hysterically. She blinked her eyes. One by one, the jars started to break up into small parts, a result of impact and decay. She checked out the window. The purple haze was gone and replaced with a mauve checkerboard.
In the next moment memory, everything sat still and Jared was suddenly a statue, his eyes staring blankly at Cherry’s gaze. It was only going to last another 30 minutes, she thought. She moved taking a short time – the journey was going to be fast and furious. She ran back to her window and stuck her head outside. It was wet and sticky and humid. Further out she could see the retro blue Ty melding into life. Tiny pink flecks, stars, were also starting to become actual fact.
That was on her right brain. Her left was angry, used and taken for granted. She didn’t know how to fix him. It was probably going to be impossible. So why not just skip living and buy some cigarettes?
I’m so tired, Daisy thought. You’re always tired, retorted Cherry. She was just sitting there, twiddling her thumbs, looking at her green shoes. She turned her head right, was there something there? She suddenly felt uncomfortable. Someone was watching them. They didn’t know who.
It’s time to pack, dear. The routine was the same every June. Alice from Wonderland would arrive to take Daisy home. Daisy couldn’t do it without help. It was a sad time for her. She was remembering the death of her mom, those last few cigarettes she had outside with her dad, in the snow. She was really angry Being because of Ben. He ruined her life, led her astray. She was an addict when she was with him.
Forget thinking about it, darling. Alice stroked Cherry’s hair, handing her a cheese and ham biscuit. This is ridiculous. I’m practically choking on this bread, it’s getting lodged in my throat! I can’t take it anymore! By then, their tears were flowing, ruining everything including a pink dress and a gigantic muumuu.
All of the pupils present today were busy writing down their answers. Not me. I’m just going to sit it. Read his brain. Oh shit, he’s looking. The girls looked away, frantically grabbing their miniature Navajo backpacks, matching, gifts from the Philippines and their Auntie Stella.
Daisy? Can you contribute something to this discussion we’re having? Her teacher was frustrated, but tried his best to be kind and patient. Daisy twitched her mouth. No, I don’t think I can. They could feel every single eye in the room blink. Then, 999,999 heads turned to look at her. What were they expecting? She wasn’t going to put on a show. And especially not in this muumuu. Do you have anything to say, young miss? Neither had enough bitcoins to argue. Clearing her throat, Miss Daisy stood up. Cherry budged in front, knocking her sister to the floor. I bought these with my own cash! Dreams, actually. It was Toys clearly. Can any one of you in the room debate that? We highly think naught. And with haste, they flipped their skirts and left the room.
Flying through the wind, Cherry grabbed her big sister’s hand. They were going to be just fine.
Editing could quite possibly be the treachery of writing! Overly edited content may tell readers, “This is not false.” On the other side, the raw construction of content is meaningful, but we should argue that the deliberate deconstruction of content to reveal a greater point of view (proper editing) more readily achieves the goals of an SEO/l or a communications strategy – to uphold popularity, relevance, authority and credibility and to distribute a message that is transparent, accurate and responsible.
This piece is inspired by a very popular surrealist painting, Ceci n’est pas une pipe by René Magritte. Ironically, my image overloads the viewer with elaborate messages (a commentary on keywords perhaps), whereas Magritte’s painting is a basic review of signified and signifier. Here’s some additional information taken from Wikipedia –
The painting shows a pipe. Below it, Magritte painted, “Ceci n’est pas une pipe“, French for “This is not a pipe”.
The famous pipe. How people reproached me for it! And yet, could you stuff my pipe? No, it’s just a representation, is it not? So if I had written on my picture “This is a pipe”, I’d have been lying! (Magritte)
Do you enjoy the process of editing? How do you know when to stop and is this action directly related to the meaningfulness of a message, because content becomes inherently closer to ‘an answer’ or ‘a reality’? Which one for you?