Does a "brand" burnish or burn?

Ten years ago I used to write poems and essays in a notebook aspiring to be popular.

Believe me, the content I produced at the time surely would not have motivated many clicks, or driven user generated content, or been linked to a sundry of web sites that were a half decade away from being created.

But, at the time, I wanted to be the person everyone at Rockledge High School knew and the man the good looking girls would want to sleep with. I wanted to be so well-known that freshmen aspired to be like me and recent graduates sought my time as validation they still mattered.

All of this came to mind when I stumbled across this column published in the Washington Post last month about branding. A humor columnist, who has a pair of Pulitzers, mocked the concept of people in journalism trying to make their name outside of their increasingly slipping work, stating “because we know that, in this frenetic fight for eyeballs at all costs, the attribute that is most rewarded is screeching ubiquity, not talent.”

That specifically brought back the summer before the Patriot Act, and my quest for adoration.

Admittedly, it was a highly egotistical pursuit. Perhaps it was an overreaction to being an overweight, backup placekicker with few friends. A person no one particularly missed once I slid out the door of my Sarasota high school, rarely to return.

Whatever it was, overhearing the tales of classmates copulating, or at least tell detailed stories of debauchery, led me to believe it was possible for me as well. In hindsight not becoming a Lothario was probably for the best.

A decade later everyone who would have been a candidate became a friend.

The girl who was kind enough to be my first date evolved into someone where we would hold long discussions on conservative politics. Another friend became a reminder that happiness and good things do happen to genuine people. And a third is an inspiration to follow my dreams—even if both our careers are not as successful as others would have imagined at this point in our lives.

As for the person who was to be my prom date? Well, in typical Will Brown fashion there was a miscommunication and it never came to fruition. But, the two of us do talk on occasion and high school is usually not one of our talking points.

Because I refused for any friendship, then or now, to be predicated on the “gauzy filler material, the pale fluff inside decorative throw pillows,” the popularity I always internally craved never came.

I never got the last laugh, or the trophy panties of my classmates. If the corresponding decade is any indicator of the future, there is a strong probability neither will happen.

But if it meant anything, the bespectacled, black placekicker who was admittedly socially awkward, but universally accepted as being smarter than the average Cheez Doodle, did receive the loudest cheer at graduation.

Laughs and liveliness,

-Wb

“My fellow Americans”, how did you accrue your debt?

When the nickels, quarters and dimes were all counted, there was $5.50 to buy some ice cream. It was a simple pleasure, a gift from me to me after weeks of scrapping by and trying to live within my drastically reduced means.

Such was the dichotomy between me and the two politicians who hoarded the evening discussing America’s rising debt on national television, that I had to write about it.

Despite the protesting from the President that most Americans had not heard of the nation’s debt ceiling until recently, I recalled an informative story on National Public Radio about the history of America’s debt ceiling.

In the two months since listening to the story, my belief has coarsened to the posturing of both parties. As much as both want to claim innocence, not funding two wars of choice and ratifying, then signing two pieces of flawed budget-bursting legislation convicts both major parties to some degree.

Monday, President Obama and Rep. John Boehner (R- Ohio) laid out their thoughts on this so-called debt crisis.

I call this a so-called crisis because at the end of the day some agreement will be made for America to pay its substantial bills — even if it forces the President to think about more pressing things other than his upcoming 50th birthday.

During Boehner’s remarks he noted his House of Representatives recently passed a bill that might lead to passing a Balanced Budget Amendment to the U.S. Constitution. My question is why such an amendment is necessary?

We the people are also to blame.

Collectively we are so materialistic that we want to be like our neighbors up the street.

Yet, most of our neighbors are too prideful to mention that their new house has mortgaged their future to the point that one missed paycheck or unforeseen circumstance will send them crashing toward life in Section 8 housing. Our friends do not mention that the new car their purchased has put such a wallop in their credit, or access to it, they cannot buy a new home for a decade.

Instead of electing representatives who are supposedly the best and stateliest among us, we send people to our capitols and Washington and the White House who have the most lumbar flexibility with their positions.

Two sentences after assailing the previous administration for wasting the surplus it was gifted in 2000 President Obama uttered “To make matters worse, the recession meant that there was less money coming in, and it required us to spend even more. …”

Read that again.

“To make matters worse, the recession meant that there was less money coming in, and it required us to spend even more. …”

Yes, this country needs teachers, police officers, firefighters and other essential municipal
employees. Yes, those who lost their job through no fault of their own need and deserve some compensation in the weeks it takes them to get on their feet.

However, when we do not check our elected figures for thinking it is acceptable to spend more than we make, we are allowing them to mortgage our future so they can continue to pay the bills of their lives of relative luxury.

(Obama, whose best-selling books made him a millionaire, will earn $400,000 this year. Boehner will earn $223,500 for his role as Speaker of the House. Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid makes $193,000 annually, while the anonymous congressman earns just under $175,000.)

With those salaries, is it little coincidence that politicians discuss “the American people” and it leaves you wondering whether this person is talking about you, or just those that contributed to their campaign?

So while both sides quibble about a manufactured situation and attempt to be the most pious in their closing remarks, I just wonder whether the two Midwestern politicians who have requested for God’s blessing over America have truly remembered that no debt should remain outstanding, except the continued debt to love one another.

Laughs and liveliness,

-Wb

Where is home?

My brothers believe home is where you lay your head. But they are far more gregarious than I am. When they enter a room their peers instantly take note. Me, I am more inclined to slip in and observe my surroundings before being the fulcrum of attention.

This week a handful of people have asked where I’m from. The obvious answer is Florida. But, unless I am pressed I never provide a city. No one has yet to inquire further, but the idea of how to answer that question was one that led me to ask “where is home?”

Is it the ritzy city of money and retirees that hardly acknowledges it has a black population? Or is it the small town where nostalgia for it trumps all other memories? Perhaps the city that educated me and went from the bane of my existence to a begrudging enclave of peace.

My two outgoing brothers — one who is five years younger and the other who is 15 years older — would quip something about Victoria, Texas being my new home and I better get used to it. There would also be an unrepeatable joke from both that would make me laugh with politically incorrect delight.

As large as Texas is, it feels so quiet when I come home from work. Unlike Florida there is not a foundation of friends to lean upon in person here. I think it was mother who said it was a chance to reinvent myself as a journalist and become a better person since the only thing people out here knew about me is what I told them.

Outside of a summer in Shreveport and my two weeks in South Africa, I have lived in the most unique of the 50 states.

People have asked whether I am homesick or miss my Whitney. Honestly, I have not been away long enough to truly miss either. But I do know I will be reunited with both again.

#LifeinTexas, as I am fond of tweeting, is a learning experience. Not all of us are fortunate enough to have a chance to sink or swim, become a man or a mouse. It is a chance to figure out if I am going to be person or the pork.

I was a closeted emo kid for high school and early college, spending countless hours writing about feelings, emotions and other things interconnected with the eagerness and angst of leaving home. After A Decade Under the Influence of amateur then full-blown adulthood I realized Coming Home, wherever that may be, is not selling out.


Laughs and liveliness,

-Wb

Is Florida a fertile ground for folly and foolishness?

The day Charlie Crist announced he was running for the United States Senate he stopped by Mission San Luis in Tallahassee for an event promoting Florida’s natural tourism and the state’s multiple historical treasures that date back a few centuries.

Inside a remake of what would have been a 17th century church a throng of local, state and national journalists gathered just in case the sitting governor divulged any information about his political ambitions.

Few if any of the throng of information carnivores stopped to realize that part of the reason Crist added the speaking engagement to his schedule was to support Florida’s most recognizable industry at a place that was once a Spanish mission and the capital of Spanish Florida for more than 50 years in the late 17th century.

As I walked to my car I met a man from Pensacola who was part of the city’s 450th anniversary celebration in 2009 and coordinating Florida’s quincentennial in 2013. We joked about Florida history, and specifically how most people don’t recognize the richness of it.

Prior to World War II Florida was the South’s least populated state. Now, it’s so crowded with snowbirds, tourists and people who eventually wound up here—as well as a few colorful natives liberally sprinkled in this conservative state—that one friend joked “It’s the South’s cousin that went to college.” And yet with a population and GDP that is larger than The Netherlands, there are people who cry foul when some residents want to speak languages other than English. Apparently, they never took the time to remember Florida was named by a Spanish man who was so enamored with all the flowers he saw upon searching for his fountain of youth.

For many people Florida is the state that gave the world Disney World, hanging chads, Casey Anthony. Others believe it’s where the shuttle is launched, or one super sized retirement community. Then again, by 2030 there will be more people over 65 in Florida than any other state in the country and it will be the largest age demographic.

And then there are some who only shake their head at the peninsula because we have people like Douglas Arp, a Tampa man who was arrested this week for illegally selling Viagra at a liquor store.

But this is a state where someone named after Napoleon can have a county named after them. And a descendent of his can become the state’s Chief Financial Officer a century later.

Florida has a river of grass, which while decimated by Central Florida developers is still a sight to see. Or a forgotten coast where drivers can take a hairpin turn while overlooking the Gulf of Mexico, just miles from where the state’s original constitution was written in 1838.

An animal hospital in Tallahassee had a sign that asked by Noah allowed mosquitoes to join him on his ark, a sight that elicited a huge laugh from me because my hometown was once a part of Mosquito County, before being separated into Brevard, Indian River and St. Lucie counties.

These days people are wondering whether they can impeach a highly unpopular governor, one who proposed to cut 10 percent in education spending before the Legislature came to its senses for once and only sliced eight percent of the dollars per student. Of course they could propose the state’s constitution is amended and governor’s are once again limited to one term in office.

Despite being a place that is so popular with retirees there are cities named Winter Haven and Winter Park, there is an overarching sense that people do not realize just how rich the differences and oxymorons of a place that is the Sunshine State, but home to the Lightning Capital of the World.

Florida has always been a state of populist politicians, who ascend to power on the ignorance of its residents that are a combination of southern yokels, naturalized Yankees, beach bums, retirees and clandestine natives. Those who don’t understand that commit political suicide, or blow their brains out like John Milton, the state’s Civil War governor who just couldn’t stand the thought of sharing his lost paradise with Northerners.

But studying Florida governors is not something most people waste their time doing. Otherwise most of us would have a bigger affinity for a $20 bill, or wonder who were the men whose legacies will forever be attached Gilchrist, Hardee and Perry counties.

No one is going to lead a charge to name anything after Charlie Crist, but listening to a man who was such a representation of his constituents that he decided to sun tan too much that May afternoon made me remember my native state is know for more than fools and football players. Even if the colorful underbelly is constantly being relegated to books that no one bothers to read.

Laughs and liveliness,
-Wb

Is it July already?

Amid the champagne and other spirits that flow at the end of most December’s many people set resolutions for the upcoming year, as though they are starting anew.

More than 100 million people have fallen for this trap of believing January can be just the catalyst for a change in their life. Since more than 90 percent of us fail to meet all those goals we have set, there is no shame in admitting that 2011 is half over and most of our optimism has dissipated like those chocolates we either ate or bought for Valentine’s Day.

I did not set any resolutions for myself this year. But in the days before my birthday I attempted to set 26 goals for myself. The fact I couldn’t even find 26 things I wanted to accomplish, should have been an indicator just how hard it is to fulfill one’s To-Do list in a given year.

Of the 20 things that I scribbled down, some have been accomplished and that includes “regaining strength in my right hand” after breaking my writing hand the day after my birthday. There are others like “proposing to Whitney” that I’m still working on.

Perhaps our inability to finish what we start has infiltrated other areas of our culture and lives to the point that we find it odd when someone actually does lay out an ambitious plan and accomplish it. Or perhaps that is looking at something as wistful as a New Year’s resolution too seriously. Either way, the midway point of the year is an opportune time to bring up a larger point about setting goals for ourselves.

If I got a 40 on a test when I was in school my parents would probably have a conniption. But, if I said eight of my 20 goals have been completed through six months, the optimists that they are would say that I have six more months to finish my list.

Then again life could be worse as there are six more months in the year for us to resolve our unfinished resolutions—even if that extra cupcake is tastier than the thought of looking perfect at the beach.

Laughs and liveliness,

-Wb