So after a year of watching my friends take fantastic photos, I decided to take the plunge. I didn’t want a SLR camera because I know myself well enough to know that it would never leave the house. I needed a small number that I could take with me anywhere, to snap quick shots with my friends or learn how to take real flickr-worthy photos.

It’s coming in two days – I can’t wait.

Question – where I can go online to learn how to take photos that are actually pretty?

So, I’m engaged.

After 16 months of dating, I asked Michelle to marry me in Evergreen, Colorado. Everything was perfect – the town, the smell, the air, the cabin, the port, the fireplace, the meal, the look in her eyes when she realized what was happening. She truly had no idea – wasn’t expecting anything for at least another year, and said yes immediately.

There was no hesitation in the decision at all. She’s talented, beautiful, hilarious and brilliant. She’s a marvel at her job, a gifted dancer, a fantastic piano player, and a world traveler. She can mingle with A-listers at Ciprianis one night, teach me a lesson in pool in some dive bar the next, and help me start a fire camping in Maine that weekend. She’s kind, considerate and in all things looks to put the well-being of others ahead of herself. I’ve never met anyone like her.

I know, not sure what she sees in me either.

A few years back, the men of the house decided to rebel. We picked up a cheap fake tree, grabbed pop cans and toy cars, and threw the whole thing together in five minutes. The tree topper was a roll of toilet paper. It was truly a work of art.

The tree has only improved with the seasons, as our carelessness has consistently reached new highs. These days, the brances are placed in improper spots, with the longest branches at the top. Some spots we just leave bare. The lights are thrown on the tree in a big clump, and the tree topper hangs off to one side.

Honestly, I’m not sure how we’re going to beat this year’s effort – I’m open to ideas:

I used to be very good at this sort of thing. I used to be able to make a plan, to collect information and notes and thoughts and ideas about everyone who was close to me, and then work to identify the ideal gift for each of them. It was something I took tremendous pride in (surprise, surprise) – and now, like so many other things, I feel as though I’ve lost it.

I’m sure part of it has to do with the fact that my mind is preoccupied with work for much of the day. I’m sure that part of it is a visceral revolt on the part of my body to the crass materialism that is constantly on display in the city. Whatever the cause, scouring catalog after catalog wondering whether so-and-so would prefer the bath salts or the wax footbath is excruciating.

We always talk about it being the thought that counts, and I always fancied myself as one who was particularly thoughtful. Someone likes a rap group, get them a framed LP. Someone likes golf, get them a round at a tour-rated course. But I wonder if this is what being thoughtful is really about.

What am I saying with this? I feel more and more like it’s saying, “I’ve searched my thoughts and feelings and memories about our relationship, and from that I’ve managed to distill it down into something that I think you’ll find extremely meaningful, something that you will cherish for years to come – a fondue set.”

It’s not that a round of golf or a pot for melted cheese is a bad gift – I’d love to play a great course like that, and who doesn’t love fondue? But am I being thoughtful? Am I being genuine? Or am I playing a big matching game – a big game of inputs to outputs?

We have a product at work that is able to match student information with content that they would ideally be interested in. I’m sure these students are surprised to see that a client of ours actually knows what they’re interests are and took the time to send them information that fits those interests. But do they find the school more thoughtful? Do they feel like the school knows them as a person, cares about who they are and wants nothing more than to see them happy?

It’s pretty unrealistic and unfair to expect something like that from a university, but it’s entirely reasonable to expect it from those closest to us. The thing is, I haven’t the slightest idea what conveys a message like that. My mind goes blank. A fishing pole? A cookbook? A sushi making set? A tie?

And then it hits me – I’m putting a ton of pressure on myself, and the risk is that by doing so I make Christmas another place where one has to perform. If anything, this should be the one time of year where none of that matters – my friends and family don’t care about the presents at all – they care that we’re able to be together again, able to spend time enjoying each other’s company and letting each other know that they’re important to us.

Maybe I’m stressing about all this because for the past year I haven’t been the best friend or family member. Maybe it’s because I’ve become increasingly more difficult to get a hold of, and once I’m reached I insult the person on the other line by having my head in the clouds. I certainly didn’t used to be like this – amazing what a year can do to a person.

I have a lot of people whom I love dearly who read this on a fairly regular basis. To those people, the only gift that I can offer is a promise – a promise to be more available to them. A promise to call more frequently. A promise to not let their calls go to voice mail, even if I’m busy. A promise to listen, to empathize the way I used to. A promise to love them the way they’ve all loved me whether I’ve earned it or not.

It’s not much, but it’s the only thing I can think of – the thing that my heart is screaming for me to give.

Don’t worry, you’ll still have some nice bath salts to go along with it.

The season of giving is supposedly upon us, but as in years past I’m a bit of a humbug. It seems as though I’m not alone.

I’ve been witness to a number of conversations in the past week or so about panhandlers and the things they do to ‘trick us’ out of our hard-earned money. We’re appalled when we read in New York Magazine that the bum on the street corner below our office is making upwards of 24K a year. We get noticably angry at the guy who apparently tells the same sob story to everyone he meets about how his daughter is going into surgery and he needs cab fare to go visit her because he can’t walk all that way given his injury sustained in the war.

Is he lying? Probably. But who’s the villian in this situation – him or us?

The Christmas season is now upon us, and many of us will feel compelled to give that guy a few bucks out of the ‘goodness of our hearts.’ Hell, we may even volunteer at a soup kitchen or something. But I wonder what the spirit is with which we engage in such acts of benevolence. Are they out of true caring and love for our neighbor, or out of some need we have to feel better about ourselves, better about the ways we spend our money and our time?

Why is it so hard for us to part with our money? Why do we feel anger at the guy asking us to help him out? Why are we more likely to walk right by, cursing under our breath about how he should go find a job, or simply ignoring him altogether?

These were questions I was fortunate enough to avoid for much of my life. Living in Colorado or Seattle, one is confronted with poverty fairly infrequently. But in New York it’s all around you – not only are you confronted with the face of America’s homeless and poor on a daily basis, but you have the added benefit of the juxtaposition between their lifestyle and the lifestyle of the wealthiest people in the world.

I could rail against the people who wear $400 sunglasses and who spend more money on their dogs than many people make in a year, but I’d be a hypocrite to do so. I’ve been made painfully aware of the fact that I’m just as greedy and tight-fisted as they are – the only difference is one of degree.

Christ talks about how we are to give joyfully. He talks about how our money is not our own, and how a true Christian and his money are easily parted – for they realize that the money is but a gift from their creator and they feel compelled to share that gift with their brothers and sisters in thie world, Christian or not.

How many people do you know who live this way? How many people give that guy on the corner $5 and are happy about it – not because it makes them look good but because they just had an opportunity to spend their money in the most appropriate way possible? How many people do you know who would give that guy $5 on Monday, and give them another $5 when they saw them the next day?

How many Christian people do you know who live in big houses and drive fancy cars and wear designer clothes? How many of them do you think would squirm if you suggested they give up their house and car and exotic vacation this summer for the sake of someone else – or for the sake of the God they claim to love? How many of them do you know who think of giving 10% to their church not as a chore but as an opportunity to give sincere thanks? How many of them think 10% is only the beginning?

How many people do you see or hear about who truly epitomize the spirit of giving? Honestly, I don’t know a soul – I know I sure don’t.

Christ talks about how it’s harder for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than it is for a rich man to enter the kingdom of Heaven. Which means that the church has a whole lot of soul-searching to do – we all do.

Here’s to the season of giving – here’s to living like that actually means something.

Andy does a great job of focusing on creating a “usable” site – reducing the number of competing elements, being consistent with links, etc. But while he does quite a bit to create a page that adheres to the guidelines put forth by the many usability experts in the marketplace, the focus on structural usability leads to a site that ignores some other factors that can lead to a good experience.

Andy’s effort is below – I dig the rounded corners, the use of color, and the overall simplified look:

The biggest issue I have relates to the use of language, or more specifically the lack of language. While a site that is superfluous makes for a subpar experience, a lack of language can leave people wondering what to do. All it takes are a few well-chosen words to orient the visitor and give them a sense of what your space on the web is about – and how it can help them.

I also found the search box troubling. eBay recognizes (and probably has the research to back it up) that some people search while others browse. Leaving the site’s ‘departments’ out of the site would likely cost you a number of visitors, since the categories give the buyer an idea of what’s available to them. It’s the same reason blogs and social networking applications have embraced the concept of tagging – you might not be sure what you’re looking for immediately, and it’s often fun to just poke around.

Seth Godin talked years ago about the concept of a ‘banana’ – making it very clear what you want to draw the visitor’s attention to. While I agree with Andy that the gift guide promotion is a bit overkill, it remains a much more important ‘banana’ for the visitor than the ‘featured items.’ Banking on a list of random products (real estate near the Grand Canyon, a banjo, etc.) to reel visitors in isn’t likely to succeed. A promotion that appeals to everyone (Christmas shopping) serves as a much more suitable lead-in.

Reading Andy’s submission got me thinking about how I’d handle such a redesign. Given that I’ve had a few days to relax, my brain has felt slightly recharged, compelling me to take a similar crack at it. As I mentioned, I liked a ton of what Andy did. I tried to work with his first effort and improve it since he’s done a lot of quality work already. After incorporating my suggestions above, my humble submission is as follows:

I’d love to hear your thoughts – feel free to pick it apart, continue to improve it, or go in a completely different direction. Exercises like this are good ways to refine one’s eye for sites that are not only functional, but effective. I thank Andy for giving me something very solid to work with, as well as for the inspiration to tackle such an interesting design scenario.

Greetings from Chicago! I’m here for the next week, visiting the girl’s family, getting together with Ben, Mark and some other friends, and doing my best to forget about the ever-multiplying mound of work that awaits me back in New York. Tomorrow we enjoy a Thanksgiving dinner courtesy of her sister, and though their family tradition doesn’t involve watching football (gasp!) I’m looking forward to meeting the extended family and gorging myself on what looks like a pretty fantastic meal.

I admit it – I’m a sucker for the holidays. I love everything about them – the air, the lights, the eggnog, the immense quantities of food, and the cheer that everyone’s been saving up over the past 11 months.

This year, I’m going to be on the lookout for all things Christmas. Things that make me smile, cry, think, or compel me to call friends I’ve not spoken with in far too long.

Today’s entry: the most creative Christmas house I’ve ever seen. I can’t imagine how much time it took to put this together….

Don’t include any Christmas carols in the school play, because I find it deeply offensive. Joy to the world, the Lord is come? Come on, don’t we have any decency in this country anymore? I don’t want to hear this filth!

Please don’t show anything religious on television. I want to see It’s a Wonderful Life, A Christmas Story, mabye even Home Alone. But absolutely nothing about Jesus.

Don’t wear anything of a Christian nature around school. I believe in separation of church and state, just like that school district in New York. And I don’t care if they allow Islam and Jewish imagery and symbolism, but not Christian. No, I don’t think that’s even remotely hypocritical.

And please, please, please get rid of all those nativity scenes. There’s nothing like a baby sitting in a manger to get my blood boiling. That’s really what’s wrong with the world today – all those damn nativity scenes.

If you don’t do what I say, I’m going to send the ACLU after you. The ACLU knows what an outrage it is that you have the audacity to talk to me about the “true meaning of Christmas.” And they’re going to serve you your papers to appear in court, just as soon as they wrap up their current case – they’re trying to help NAMBLA (The North American Man-Boy Love Association) throw out a case involving the rape of a 10 year old boy. Good thing we have people like the ACLU to keep you from forcing your religious beliefs down my throat.

So please, keep your religion inside your house. Actually, that’s not good enough either – you have windows, and I might see you praying or something while walking by. That would be very offensive to me. Why don’t you build a bomb shelter and do it in there?

Whatever you do, stay away from me. I want to celebrate Christmas, and can’t be bothered with you and your Christ.

The end of another long day. I try to pray, but as usual I feel disconnected, distracted. Why can’t I have the kind of close relaitonship with God that I see in other people? Why doesn’t he talk to me?

Oh well. Get some sleep. zzzzzzz.

9:00-10:00 – Get up and rush to get ready for my first meeting of the day.

10:00-1:00 – Work on a Christmas mailer for a psuedo-client.

1:00-2:00 – Lunch. Talk to business partner on the phone while eating.

2:00-5:00 – Spend afternoon at client’s office.

5:00-9:00 – Bookstore working. Spend breaks on the phone making plans for tomorrow night.

9:00-11:30 – Drive home, plan out next week on the phone with business partner.

11:30-12:00 – Another end to another long day.

Maybe I can’t hear God because I’m not really listening. Maybe I’m supposed to give Him more than the last five minutes of my day, yawning my way through some half-coherent prayer. Maybe He wants a relationship as much as I do, and it’s me not giving Him the time. Maybe it’s me shutting Him out.

Maybe tomorrow I’ll fix it. Of course, I’m going to be pretty busy….

I graduated last May with a Marketing degree. I help run a marketing company. And reading that made me sick to my stomach. Something is wrong here.

Our lives have become so much about the pursuit of more. I know, it’s a cliche. But cliches exist for a reason.

My grandfather created new explosives for mining in Alaska during the 60’s and 70’s. He also helped invent the collapsible steering column. The man became ridiculously wealthy. Had a terrific place on Lookout Mountain. Had all the trappings that worldly success brings.

When he was dying of cancer, he became a Christian. Happy ending? Sure, in one sense.

But the man also died with despair. He looked back at his life and what he made of it. His conclusion was that it was an enormous waste. All of it. His life was for nothing. And he was too old, too sick to do anything about it. All he could do was live with regret.

He had all the stuff. And it meant nothing.

When I think about my life, what my dreams have consisted of, I’m filled with despair. I’m a pretty creative guy, and have always wanted to capitalize on that creativity to make as much money as humanly possible. I’ve managed to put quite a track-record of successes together during my short time on Earth. My closest friends all enjoy the game of telling me what I could do and how much I can make. It’s easy to buy into it.

I have. Completely. If unchecked, I could very easily be just like my grandfather. I could make millions, creating clever products that people can buy for their loved ones while trampling their neighbors. I could have a nice house on a mountain. I could have all that stuff.

But it would mean nothing.

It’s a very scary thought, because it strips me of what has long been my biggest goal. Why would I intentionally pursue a goal that I knew deep down was hollow?

What really sucks, what scares the living hell out of me, is that there’s still a very good chance I’ll do exactly that. After all, my loved ones all believe in me. I can’t let them down. Right?

I love Christmas season.