ma vie aéromusicale

The Beginning

Sat, 21 Jun 2008 23:22:49 GMT

It was just over seven years ago that my best friend from high school and I were just finishing up our Freshman year at University of Oregon. I had seriously slacked off during those nine months, enjoying my freedom from direct parental control just a little too much. Don't get me wrong—I was still a relatively innocent Mormon boy that had simply been caught up by the wiles of a fiber optic network, my very first computer, Napster, and all the [gay] porn I could squeeze in when my binge-drinking dorm-mate was at class.

As Spring Term 2001 was drawing to a close, Bonnie and I were engaged in a cross-campus text message marathon in which she told me about this cool website that let you keep an online journal that you could share with various friends. This was back before "weblog" had even made its way around the forums and LiveJournal was just an internet startup. The thought of keeping an online journal of my daily thoughts and activities was intriguing, so I gave a shot.

Over the course of the following ten months I chronicled my life as I lived it back then: reuniting with my friend John, forming the "Three Musketeers" from our little posse of pre-mission guys, various girl problems (ha!), and more. It was all rather shallow and "guess what I ate for lunch?", but I was given a chance to hold some form of diary that was easier than physically writing and it helped my develop my hobby of writing.

In April of 2002 I shipped off for Provo, Utah for intense lingual and religious training, then off to Europe for two years of strict proselytizing. The missionary guide book prohibited internet usage save a weekly emailing of the immediate family, and my LiveJournal fell silent. I was able to channel my desire to write into a paper journal and into stacks of letters to family and friends (a banker's box full of them still sits archived in the top of my closet).

Once April 2004 rolled around, I jumped back into the online world with both feet and used LiveJournal daily for a time. It helped coerce a bit of my own inner struggle with religion and homosexuality to the surface, and I became active in a few of LJ's communities. I met several people from online in the real world, and a few of them have become good friends. I would often compose blog entries while at work, and I even set up a dummy account that joined all the exciting gay communities that LJ had to offer.

While it's hard to pinpoint exactly when the switch was flipped, there was a moment that I became disenchanted with most of the communities and scaled back on my updating. LiveJournal began to feel like an old part of my life. It took me almost a full year to finally decide to set up a new personal blog outside of LJ, and with its fresh start I feel a lot of freedom. I'm done with chronicling the mundane. I want for the new blog to be of substance and value to those who read it, and LiveJournal didn't really offer what I was looking for.

This will be the last post I make on this site. It's been a great seven years, but it's time for the LJ book to close and a new book to open. The new blog is Subjonctif. I'm still tweaking the look and getting used to posting on a weekly basis again, but stick with it and I promise good things. Feel free to set up an RSS feed if you want to see it through LJ, or subscribe to it with Google Reader. If you are interested in the more design-y things, check out PixelVector. For my friends on here, I'll probably check back occasionally to see what you're up to, but I make no promises. I'll continue to stay in touch via IM, email, or phone.

It's been fun, LJ, but farewell.

INTERROBANG!!!

Fri, 18 Jan 2008 06:57:13 GMT

Someone call Sarah Jessica Parker, stat.

THERE IS NO GAP AT CLACKAMAS TOWN CENTER.

Wait, let me repeat that.

THERE IS NO GAP AT CLACKAMAS TOWN CENTER.

NO GAP.
NO GAP BODY.
NO GAP KIDS.
NO GAP BABY.

There was a Gap, BUT IT IS NO MORE.

Seriously? Seriously? Seriously.

No GAP.

No wonder we're in a recession!

(let it be made clear, I don't even like the Gap that much....)

Pet Peeve #4,576,323

Tue, 01 Jan 2008 02:31:37 GMT

If you say "Happy New Years!" I hate you.

It's New Year's Eve. And Happy New Year. Singular. There is only one new year per year. So unless you know you will not be in contact with someone for more than one New Year's Celebration, then don't say "Happy New Years!"

And don't even try to argue that you are actually saying "Happy New Year's!" because it's not an acceptable truncation of the night before the new year begins. And even then it's only applicable to that one night.

/rant

ChanZaFestiMas

Thu, 13 Dec 2007 20:38:50 GMT

My apartment smells like Christmas Tree. Let me guide you through yesterday's festivities.

	First, joke and laugh with the cool employees at Uncle Paul's Produce and find the perfect tree with only one unwrapping. Pay, then make an ass of yourselves in the middle of Hawthorne Blvd. as you walk the tree five blocks to your apartment. Let stand for several hours to acclimatize and complete some essential Christmas shopping.
Setting up a tree properly requires three people—a Top, a Bottom, and a Straight Boy. Naturally, Megan took the top, I took the bottom, and our friend Max played the Straight Boy.
	And how could I not be the Bottom properly without sticking my ass up in the air?
As with anything new to the apartment, it must be properly initiated. That poor tree had no idea what it was in for!
	Once it's up and properly screwed [in], the group must pose with the new addition to the home.
Next step? Meticulously arrange the tasteful white Christmas lights and snap a shot of a very happy Megan hugging her sapin de Noël.
	Megan insisted on trying out a popcorn string, but we soon learned that it's a lot harder threading popcorn than the movies make it look.
How do they do this? I've been at it an hour and this is all I got?
	Shortly thereafter, Justin arrived in time to help hang the ornaments and act properly silly. Wine was poured and good music played.
We enjoyed rifling through the box of childhood ornaments that I had acquired from my mother.
	"Let's pretend the bell is mistletoe!"
The obligatory couple shot.
	And the obligatory non-couple shot.
Not sure why I like this one so much. But I think it's super-cute.
	With the ornaments in place, Megan added the final touch with our special tree-topper.
All finished!
	He made it to the top!
If things weren't silly before, then they sure start getting silly here!
	We took the idea of a family Christmas portrait and ran with it...
Including costumes and props...
	And it just gets dysfunctional from here...
Meet Bible-Thumping Dad, Tragic Tranny Mom, Studious Stuffy Son, and Delinquent Daughter.
	Trying so hard to be the perfect family.
Trying REALLY hard.
	But it comes to a point...
...when you just can't suppress the natural any longer and bad things start to happen.
	We also learned last night that Megan has a fetish for nasty black chest hair...
...and that Justin secretly wishes he had a hipster mustache.

Thought of the day

Tue, 04 Dec 2007 21:15:00 GMT

There is no place reserved in love or a healthy relationship for bliss. Bliss clouds judgment and sows ignorance of potential problems. Bliss closes the individual off from the rest of the world and encourages codependency by yielding a false sense of security and romanticizing the concepts surrounding love.

Bliss is bad.

Bad bliss.

Thanksgiving In Pictures

Tue, 04 Dec 2007 20:34:25 GMT

Words fail me. It was spectacular, and everyone loved it. They're still talking about it. A now my mom is wondering what we have in store for Christmas Dinner. Here are my favorite photos of the food and people (the entire gallery can be found here):

More Effort into the Macaroni, Less Cheese

Fri, 30 Nov 2007 04:51:37 GMT

Look out, everyone, urban snob coming through.

Last week I received a $20 gift card from my boss for either Romano's Macaroni Grill or Chili's (the other restaurants in the chain don't exist in Oregon to my knowledge). Seeing that there was no Chili's within a convenient distance, I met up with Justin this evening just as he was getting off work and we went to Macaroni Grill.

Now, the last time I was there I was with my friend Tarah and we had a decent but overpriced lunch, so I wasn't about to give up on a significantly discounted dinner. We popped in at 5pm and were seated immediately. This was Justin's first experience, and I warned him that they draw on the tables in crayon, just so he wouldn't get his hopes up. Sure enough, Katie (or Julie, or Amanda—it really didn't help me remember) wrote her name upside-down on the butcher paper, and even drew a smiley face under it. OMG! Kill me with cute.

Justin picked the Penne with Roasted Chicken, Asparagus, Sun-Dried Tomatoes, and Buffalo Mozzarella, which is what I had last time and recalled as being good. I chose the Chicken Cannelloni. Mine tasted like canned marinara and Frigo brand manicotti. And I couldn't taste any asiago in the "Asiago Cream Sauce". Even the spinach was bland.

Justin received his dish in a big deep bowl, which made for an interesting experience eating it. The mozzarella was so bland it tasted like nothing, though the asparagus was cooked perfectly and the sun-dried tomatoes married well with them. He also found little bits of gristle in the chicken. That said, the food arrived before we could even finish our bread, and our server was very attentive. Their specialty cocktail, the "Leaning Bellini", was tasty and well-made, however the pomegranate martini that Justin ordered was way too sweet and acidic (perhaps we've been spoiled by the "Tacoma Screw").

All throughout dinner we discussed how much we really didn't care for the place, from the fake-cute wait staff to the chincy décor to the overpriced menu items to the crowd that the place attracts—the middle-class housewives looking to "go out for the evening." It comes off as a place that spends way too much time focused on how it looks to the eye (every bottle of olive oil on the tables was facing the same direction) and not enough time focused on providing decent food for the price.

Toward the end of the meal, a group of women with several babies came in and took the tables next to us. It was pretty obvious they were all related, just as it was obvious that Justin and I were a couple (we were seated closely next to each other on the bench instead of facing each other). And for the next ten minutes, I repeatedly caught at least two pairs of eyes flat out staring at us. I'm thinking, a) this is Portland, 2) we're not making out or anything, and iii) didn't your mothers ever teach you it's not polite to stare!?! JEEBUS.

All told, I really should just sum up my feelings about the whole experience with this: a middle-aged couple was seated next to us, and the first words out of the wife's mouth once the hostess left were, "I love this place because you can draw on the tables."

And then she ordered Fettuccine Alfredo with Chicken.

So farewell, Macaroni Grill, I will not be eating at your establishment again. I can get much better food at Pastini for less. At least at Chili's I know that I can expect laid-back servers and greasy American food for a decent price. You're even now with The Olive Garden.

Published.

Sat, 24 Nov 2007 02:35:12 GMT

My interest is piqued as I read words that have an odd air of familiarity, and as I press on through the paragraph, my pulse quickens. These words aren't just familiar, these are my words. I scan forward to see who submitted them, and there, in gray glory, is my name. My words. Offset-printed on coated paper and distributed to thousands of subscribers around the world. Real, live, tangible words, right there on page 190 of the November Issue of Communication Arts.

The excitement that is stirred within me to see my own words in print is not a new feeling. I've had editorial comments published in local periodicals a few times in the past, but this is something entirely different. I feel completely validated because the editors thought that what I had to say was of value. And that what I had to say was better than anything else submitted.

Feast On This

Thu, 22 Nov 2007 03:21:18 GMT

National Hug-A-Native-American Day is right around the corner, and despite the glossed-over history behind the whole ~~conquering~~ settling of North America, I'm rather enthused for the traditional feast. We did make some edits to the menu, but it rests wholly the same. The turkey is brining and some prep was done this morning to ease the stress surrounding the T-Day Oven Trot. We'll be serving the meal in courses as well in an effort to lighten the Binge Effect that seems to take hold over each guest the minute the food is placed on the table.

My virtual disappearance on LJ, however, is only temporarily broken by this boredom-induced post. I'm just far too busy and far too disenchanted by the thought of catching up on my whereabouts. But the disenchantment ends when the photoblogging begins, and y'all know that there will be lots of photos from tomorrow's gastroNOMinous endeavors. Far be it from me to even attempt to hide that. And there will probably be pics of my new Sexies (that's eyeglasses for all you pagans) and my wonderful boyfriend and I.

At this very moment, I am most thankful that my mother and father okayed the portage of wine to the T-Day Table for us cork dorks. Cheers!

Stars In My Eyes

Tue, 06 Nov 2007 22:20:27 GMT

More and more often now I feel the desire to just be five years further ahead in my career path and be that professional creative attending meetings and working on projects and being paid at minimum well enough to afford a mortgage payment on a condo or small house, instead of being three years from finishing my degree and relying on student loans to buy groceries and pay rent. This sentiment always seems to fall on the days when I catch a glimpse of what that life is like on the other side of university.

I certainly felt all professional and important today, meeting up with a supply chain consultant and multimedia wizard to discuss a collaborative presentation for a new software product launch. Call me disillusioned, but it all seems a rather glamorous urban life, dressing to impress and making a transit-heavy journey to a multi-national corporation's world headquarters to discuss ideas. Then again, it's all about perspective. Those who know me well enough know that my sense of fashion is usually a notch more formal that the average college student. And I suppose if I were to say that I spent an hour on bus and MAX to be picked up by my father (the consultant) and meeting my good friend Brian (the wizard) in the cafeteria of the Nike Campus, it wouldn't have that same glittery appeal. Or that I'm not actually going to be contributing a lot to the project.

If that is to be the case, however, I don't mind being disillusioned. Because then I at least feel important. And that's important in it's own right. Right?

Nonetheless, I will say how much I enjoyed being back on the Nike World Campus. It has been over a year and half since my last visit, back when my father was still employed by them. Say what you will about globalization and multi-national corporations, but the campus is simply a kick-ass place to work. But what distracted me more than the stone/glass/steel structures, parkways, and seclusion from the rest of the world, was the sheer volume of attractive people working there. Maybe it's the athletic and fitness-oriented philosophy held by the company, the overall happiness of the employees, or just the concentration of business casual sports-buffs. But damn those are some hot people.

At any rate, today is one of those days that one of the wrinkles on the right side of my brain is gnawing on some synapses somewhere, making me wonder if I could actually make it in the design world if I threw myself into it without finishing my degree. And then the more sensible wrinkles on the left side beg to differ. Sometimes I really loathe having that bizarre balance of creativity and analytical logic. Thanks, Mom and Dad.

Alacrity cum Disappointment

Fri, 02 Nov 2007 17:58:15 GMT

You know that feeling when you anticipate something highly and then are totally let down when it happens? I'm there right now.

I developed the roll of film that I took last week with Megan, but I didn't end up with very good photos. Lots of grain, the lighting's not that great, and not a lot is in focus. There are several factors that may have contributed to this:

I had been shooting with 200 speed film, and this roll was 400. I may not be used to the difference in film.
The lighting of the day was completely different than in days past when I've been out shooting.
I may have lost my photo-mojo after not taking any pictures in several weeks... how quickly we forget.
The film I used had been in the camera bag for an unspecified amount of time, so the age of it may have affected the quality of the prints.

It's times like this that I wish I had a digital SLR and could see the results immediately, albeit on a tiny screen. And I wouldn't have to shell out twelve bucks for some shitty prints.

How To Glam It Up

Tue, 30 Oct 2007 19:33:13 GMT

The inspiration for this costume was drawn from David Bowie's Ziggy Stardust persona and the Brian Slade/Maxwell Demon character from the movie Velvet Goldmine.

Step 1:

Assemble the most amazing outfit available.

"Now, Shannon, I realize of course that your talents lie in the clerical art. But I was wondering, perchance, if you had any experience with wardrobe?"

"Uhh, no. Never."

"Fantastic! I think that's everything!"

"No, I said I did–I didn't have–"

"Everybody, I'd like to introduce you to our lovely new wardrobe mistress...."

Glam wasn't about matching, but about being outrageous and fabulous. Bonus points for mod stripes, shiny metallic fabrics, super-tight jeans, and some killer boots. As you might imagine, a person with a fabulous sense of style such as myself might have a hard time choosing the right clothing. Here's what I came up with (I think I did alright):

Step 2:

Acquire all makeup necessary. Glam rockers and their fans, the Glitter Kids, were all about blues, pinks, oranges, and reds.

Step 3:

Paint your nails, then shave your relatively scruffy face with great care. Razor burn is hard to cover up effectively with makeup.

Step 4:

Conceal, powder, then find someone who is really good at eye makeup. Megan started with blue metallic eye shadow then lined my eyes with black eyeliner and created accents with a similar blue metallic liquid eyeliner. After that we added a spritz of white iridescent glitter that sparkled marvelously in the light and accentuated my brow line with a brown eye pencil. To finish it off, a nice touch of blush and some more glitter.

Step 5:

Style the wig. I don't have any good photos of this. The wig I found was pretty long for what I needed, so we trimmed off a bit at the bottom and teased up the top to give it that good fluffy spike to it. I didn't have the time or the money to have Jen style it like she did with the Hedwig wig last year, otherwise it would have more closely resembled Brian Slade's hair.

Step 6:

Get dressed.

Step 7:

Finish off the makeup with some lipstick. I'm terrible at applying my own lipstick, so I always rely on my roommate to do it for me. Erin's classic phrase was, "Open your mouth like you're suckin' cock," and was always met with a lot of giggling and several attempts at getting the damn stuff on my lips. I made the mistake of telling this to Megan before she even started, and then she couldn't hold still or keep a straight face. After several attempts, however, she managed to get it on with some accuracy.

Step 8:

Round up the troops for a photo shoot and then head out for the evening. Megan went as the Pabst Blue Ribbon, Neighbor Dave joined us as an 80s nerd, and Justin went as a suburban straight boy (it somewhat concerns me that I had the right clothes to pull that off).

We started out at a house party hosted by a couple of Megan and Justin's coworkers in NW Portland. It was pretty packed, but their apartment was really cool and the people were pretty awesome. Lots of fun costumes, too. Later on, Justin and I left Dave and Megan and headed out to The Eagle, where we met up with two of my friends, Elliot and Jana. Justin was kinda drunk from slamming Coors all night, so we headed back home around 1:30am and called it a night.

The rest of the outtakes and some more photos from the evening can be found here, here, and here!

A Propos...

Mon, 29 Oct 2007 21:24:56 GMT

It's official, everyone. I have a boyfriend. His name is Justin, and we've been seeing each other now for a couple weeks. More info is sure to follow, but seeing as I'm about to start work, I don't have a lot of time. Also, look forward to a wonderful step-by-step guide (a la littlebluedog) on How to Glam It Up.

And yes, I really am feeling fabulous.

Veganomalous.

Fri, 26 Oct 2007 06:42:14 GMT

I actually made vegan food by accident tonight. BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!

I didn't realize until after the first couple of batches came out of the oven that I had neglected to add the milk and eggs to the pumpkin cookie batter. This is what happens when Isaac tries to watch Grey's Anatomy and bake cookies at the same time.

And they didn't taste any different than the regular recipe. Erin can attest to that. Which makes me wonder why the recipe even calls for egg and milk in the first place....

(And points to me for my super-clever entry title. My mother would be proud.)

Satisfactory

Fri, 26 Oct 2007 02:27:48 GMT

And this is just entertaining!

USA

Fri, 26 Oct 2007 01:56:24 GMT

In spending the better part of my evening watching kinetic typography videos on YouTube, I came across this visual gem. I think everyone can appreciate the fantastic animation regardless of the message.

The Java Jive

Thu, 25 Oct 2007 17:03:02 GMT

Café Estima aka Crack Coffee

Good morning, everyone!
I'm happy and I hope you all are as well!

My, what large fries you have!

Wed, 24 Oct 2007 16:19:03 GMT

The weather was just too gorgeous not to enjoy it, so in between classes today, Megan and I wandered around downtown and took some photos. I shot 36 exposures with the good old AE-1 and a handful with the digitial, which I will post once I return from class.

Justin and I met up after class last night and headed over to the Broadway Grill for food and $2 vodka drinks. He was celebrating the recent release/popularity of one of his albums, and offered to treat. Twist my arm. I ate a giant basket of Beer-Battered Shoestring French Fries, and discovered that most of them were fused together. Justin couldn't resist:

The service was fantastic (different server than before, Erin) and we enjoyed four games of pool before headed back to his place.

But wait, Sapphires are blue, right?

Sun, 21 Oct 2007 02:29:32 GMT

The Sapphire Hotel, on SE 50th and Hawthorne, was the perfect place for a cocktail/dessert date (heh, I said date), albeit a little crowded for a truly romantic setting. I chose it over McCormick's or Portland Steakhouse simply because we weren't expected to arrive there until 10:30 and those two were only open until midnight.

The decor at the Sapphire Hotel is a fabulous East meets West conjunction, replete with eclectic reds and golds and blacks—my kinda style! We happened upon the last two seats in the house, and even though they were right in front of the door, Justin and I enjoyed the springy club chairs and the lounge-y feel. They had a great cocktail list and some scrummy desserts—we shared the daily special, a tiramisu. Reasonable prices and good service even with the big crowd.

The evening went splendidly and we shared some great conversation. I'm pretty sure I like this boy. And Erin already gave the initial stamp of approval. Yay! More to come, for certain!

Reasons Why This Friday Is Fabulous

Fri, 19 Oct 2007 17:20:06 GMT

Ah, let me count the ways:

Coffee: dark, rich, and roasty.
I'm alive and well—my runny nose is gone!
No commitments early in the morning, allowing me to casually work on CampusRec projects.
Pooping.
I've finally embraced the advent of autumn and am at one with the polychromatic leaves and frequent precipitation, and loving that my wardrobe staples have morphed into sweaters and scarves.
A super-sexy outfit lined up.
Good times with friends lined up for Saturday and Sunday.
I'm certain that work will at least be entertaining.
I has a date tonight!

Homage to Cubism

Wed, 19 Sep 2007 18:11:08 GMT

For our final project we were asked to pay homage to a photographer, artist, art movement or style of our choice with four 8 x 10 prints. The frustration from the difficult execution of my initial concept led to a stroke of late-night, last-minute inspiration—what if I approached the concepts of cubism through a completely representative medium like photography without utilizing any methods of post-process? Could the effect be created using only light, exposure and composition? As I brainstormed the execution of the shots, I realized that the late hour of the day was ideal for the project. My roommate Megan was gracious enough to be my model and bear with my improvised artistic direction for two hours, the results of which had me giddy beyond belief. In emphasizing the abstraction and multiplication of form, the first shot was directly inspired by Marcel Duchamp's Nude Descending A Staircase. The other three fed off of the concepts surrounding analytic cubism and the classic figure compositions.

As always, criticism and commentary on concept and composition are encouraged.
Shot with a Canon Digital Rebel using 15-30 second exposures and a single 2D Maglite as the light source.

O. Isaac White

Wed, 19 Sep 2007 17:24:43 GMT

My photography instructor mentioned this Portland photographer in one of our classes, and I really dig his work. He does a lot of post-process work, but I think it really adds to his style. Check out his website here at Cymagen Photography. His portrait packages are really reasonable, too. Might be a fun gift.

I also enjoy that he has my name.

Voyeurism

Wed, 19 Sep 2007 17:00:21 GMT

vo·yeur·ism [vwah-yur-iz-uhm, voi-, voi-uh-riz-]
–noun

the practice of obtaining sexual gratification by looking at sexual objects or acts, esp. secretively.

[Origin: voyeur + -ism]

Every dictionary entry I was able to find on the subject had some variation of this definition, and while I agree that voyeurism does encompass this meaning, I feel that there it can manifest itself in non-sexual ways as well.

When we stroll through a neighborhood in the dark and happen upon a home whose open window frames a family dinner like an open curtain on a stage, something within us is aroused. This observed social intimacy—existing within the framework of society yet privatized by the setting of the home—brings out the voyeur within us by piquing our interest. The same principle is at work by the act of people-watching in a public space.

And so I take my own definition of the word and apply it to my first photography project; observed intimacy within the home. This is a project upon which I would like to expand, as three good prints aren't enough in my book to capture the concept.

These are digital scans of 35mm prints. Your criticism or comments on composition and overall concept is encouraged.
Shot with a Canon AE-1 using Fujifilm Super HQ ISO 200 film.

Staunch Feminists Beware!

Fri, 14 Sep 2007 00:48:45 GMT

The ad for Tom Ford's new fragrance for men:

And my questions regarding the matter:

View Poll: Tom Ford

Communicator.

Mon, 10 Sep 2007 23:43:53 GMT

I've been drooling recently over the various photos I've seen of the LG Prada phone and the Porcshe–designed P'9521 clamshell phone, after experiencing a rather blasé attitude toward any of the iPhones I've seen in real life. While I haven't yet played with an iPhone myself, I don't really have any desire to. Every one I've seen has left me wanting something more. For all the hype that it received, my expectations were pretty high.

So when LG teamed with Prada (I swear I'm really not THAT gay) and Porsche Design announced their own mobile contender, my interest was piqued. I especially like the beauty of the P'9521—precision-milled from a single block of aluminum—but I also enjoy the simplicity of the Prada phone that puts Apple's wunderkind to shame.

Form truly is a beautiful thing, but after a while, my analytical and utilitarian side kicks in and starts thinking about function. Porsche's phone, for example, features fingerprint security to keep personal information from getting into the hands of the public. Cool idea, but practical? Only for those multi-millionaires doing stock deals by TXT and celebrities trying to keep their sex videos from the paparazzi.

One of my design pet peeves—right up there with A/V remote control designs (and those merit a blog post all to themselves)—is the interface design for most cell phones. I am the not-so-proud owner of a first-generation LG Chocolate slider phone. Sure, it's sexy to look at, resembles my black iPod and slides (I love me the slider phones). But the touch keys are cumbersome and overly sensitive and the user interface is severely lacking. And texting is a bitch because my fingers are a little too large to hit the tiny number keys with swift agility. Sure, it's got hip graphics and smooth menu transitions, but you can make anything look good with a masterful application of makeup. At the core, the menus are difficult to navigate and the excessive features, which should be "smart" but aren't, are complicated to use.

Take the alarm clock, for example. To set the alarm clock on my phone, I must follow these steps:

Select Menu.
Select Settings & Tools.
Select Tools.
Select Alarm Clock.
Select which of four alarms I want to set.
Set the time for the alarm to go off (it doesn't remember the previously set time, so you have to re-program it each and every instance).
Set it On or Off.

It's such a process to go through each time that I hardly ever use it, and the configuration of the buttons while setting it is completely counterintuitive, often causing me to restart the process when I hit the wrong touch-key (and I've had the thing for over a year).
Call me a purist, but until the technology advances enough to get 30 gigabytes of music and two full days of battery life at high usage from a multimedia device, a cell phone is a cell phone is a cell phone. It's not an mp3 player, it's not a web browser, it's not a television, and it's not a camera. It's a voice and data communicator. But the cell phone manufacturers seem to think that the more features they can cram into one device, the more people will want to buy it.

And maybe they will. But for those of us out there who don't need all of the extra gadgets and gizmos, I vote we get the choice in the matter. Consumer customization is a long-standing concept that has ushered in success to companies like Dell and Scion and interactive sites like MySpace (*gasp!*) and LiveJournal. It's a well-understood idea that people like to put a little of themselves into the products and services they use. So without further ado I suggest that one of the large cell phone manufacturers push for a customizable user interface and leave the functionality in the hands of the consumer.

Imagine a cell phone that you could configure upon purchase, with simple, easily-navigated menus, to use all the features that only you want to use. You would be able to assign hot keys to your favorite functions for ease of access, and pare it down to the basics or ramp it up with whatever you like. I personally would have a bare-bones phone with my address book and text message inbox within one or two keystrokes of the home screen. No voice-activated commands, no camera to suck down battery life, no mobile web access, no music library. Just the basics. I would select a custom color theme for my menus and maybe add a photo of my current celebrity crush to the wallpaper, but otherwise keep the menu transitions and animations to a minimalistic low. The result would be a beautiful form complimented by a practical and intuitive function.

Is that really too much to ask?