Had a delightful dinner at the Bombay Bicycle Club, a restaurant at the top of Kloof Street which is the latest offering from the Madame Zingara guys (their Springbok Shank comes highly recommended, as does their Malva Pudding). I got 3 cookbooks as gifts – clearly my friends sense a need on my behalf (thanks Emily, Andrew, Maddy, Tatum, Shaun and Jody), 1 gorgeous retro glass vase (thank you Jo and Mark), an awesome framed LIFE poster from WW2 that I love from Rei, a scarf from Sarah, a totally rad card, sparkler, chocolates and tub of body butter from Rich and Kath, a case of Stormhoek Reserve Pinotage from Chris, a Moleskine from Jenny and Paige, and R1 000 000 in vouchers from Canal Walk. I still have R250 000 worth of vouchers left from xmas. Tough life. Going to have to work hard at spending them.
Jody's trademark grin.
Shaun and Tatum
Lauren and some mildly hysterical-looking chick
Captain Jennifer and Nige
Andrew and Maddy
Emily and Andrew
The poster Rei had framed and set behind glass for me
birthday hair was done on Saturday courtesy of Cristal at Hand. thanks babe. you make me look like someone who is ‘zany, cool and deserving of a ticket to the VICE magazine launch’. Oh, and thanks to WeAreAwesome for the ticket to the VICE magazine launch. it’s the hair, right? See y’ulle on friday night (or not, if you’re a laggard. VICE is strictly early adopters y’ulle. time to ‘get nasty’.)
such love! from one of my favourite brands. <3 you guys. birthday morning runs 4 eva. if any of y’ulle are runners, please join me next week for #lunchrunwednesday – going to try get back into the habit. although, let me tell you, nothing quite beats a morning run. xoxo
So this is it y’ulle. Tomorrow I’ll be 26, and I’ll have failed at one of my life’s key ambitions – to be inducted into the Creative Circle Hall of Fame before the age of 26. Which makes me feel a bit like this horse:
Ya know?
Was wondering how I should deal with this massive failure. I’ve never actually failed to accomplish any of my goals before. This is a new feeling for me. I know I have to ‘process the feelings’, but I’ve never processed feelings before either. Just usually suppress them with drugs / overeating / sex with strangers / getting a new job. But who will hire me now that I’m a total and utter piece of shit failure?
Just binged*‘coping with failure’ and it says I shouldn’t blame other people for my failure. But I feel like someone has to take the rap. I blame MJ. I faked my death before he did, but then he ‘died’ the next day and took all the glory. You can even follow the posts chronologically if you don’t believe me. Screw you MJ, all the way in Australia, or wherever you are.
I died first you f*cker.
It also says I should write down ‘what I have learned from my failure’. Guess I have learned that I should have slept with more ppl in the Creative Circle. Guess I should have ‘tried harder’ at being the agency bicycle. Should have given more blowjobs on the pretence of ‘taking work in for review’. Should have called myself ‘the number 1 creative in South Africa’ before Paul Warner did. Probably should have worn more heels. Ah well, no time for regrets. F my life. I better get some nice presents.
I’m a human. A social being. So whenever other humans do something, I get all frenzied and scared I’m missing out and am sure to copy them right away, and then do my research on the topic later. Right now everyone’s hash-tagging #moonfruit in their tweets, which is kind of like forwarding that mail about penis enlargement to all your friends. Love it when my friends spam me. Makes me feel closer to them.
Just want 2 win a MacBook Pro. Will basically do anything for Mac products.
Should I hashtag moonfruit? What is a moonfruit? Sounds like something Alanis Morissette would use to describe her vajayjay. Does hash-tagging a brand on twitter have a negative effect on your personal brand? I kind of think it makes ppl look ‘desperate’ and poor, not rly the kind of ppl I would choose to win my competition (oh did I say it was a lucky draw? Oops).
Howling at the moonfruit.
I guess ppl who hash-tag to enter competitions see poverty as being a glam part of their personal brands. Much like the ppl who drop out of college and get jobs at Royale see waittressing and ‘struggling through life’ as glam. I think the poverty-as-glam trend is a negative trend, because the truth is that we are in a recession, and we should be aspiring to more. Dunno. Just a thought.
This is Tony Kaye’s tribute to Paul Arden, who wrote both‘It’s not how good you are, it’s how good you want to be’and ‘Whatever you think, think the opposite’ – 2 books that you’ll find on the desks of advertising creatives around the world. I’m guessing Arden has died, because why else would there be cause to make a tribute. That is very sad news. Paul Arden has inspired so many of us to be zany and kreative in our thinking to believe in ourselves and to be ‘Reckless Erica’ from ‘Whatever you think, think the opposite’.
Which is why I warn you about viewing this video. The first time I watched it, my eyes popped out of my head and hid in the pile of vomit that appeared on my lap, so hold yours close. This might truly be the most terrible video you ever have to watch. Don’t be afraid to seek help if you need it. Talk about it. Get support. You do NOT have to go through this alone.
PS. What’s with advertising people making music videos these days? Everyone seems to be doing it. Which makes me think I should be doing it too (via my basic need to belong).
found a book that had been ‘released into the wild’ yesterday. no jokes. see for yourself:
I found it at Vida in Wembley Square while going for our morning dose. Mark and I had a scuffle over it and (obviously) I won.
I went to bookcrossing.com and filled in its details and it seems the book has travelled from Coffee Bean in Rondebosch, to Sinnful Ice Cream Parlour in Camps Bay, and now to Vida Wembley. Riveting in a small-town kind of way.
I guess now I’m supposed to read it and then ‘unleash’ it once more. Hmm. Maybe if it was the new Lauren Beukes I’d think about it, but am starting to feel like life’s too short to read books that might be good?
Hey yulz. Been feeling down lately. Been worried that I am ‘stuck in the 90s’. The other day was driving and saw a Calvin Klein orgy billboard and it ‘appealed to my sensibilities’ and ‘spoke to my aspirations of being a liberal individual who is also hot’, which planted the seed of worry.
Then I walked past Ed Hardy at the waterfront and actually considered ‘paying money to look like some trashy slut’ who digs rhinestones and skulls and tattoo-vibes, which is when the warning bells really kicked in.
A picture of class.
Then, as I was perusing this season’s handbags, I almost dropped 1k on a piece of shit Guess handbag, because I momentarily forgot the rules.
How to smell 'rich'.
Then I experienced an urge to ‘push social boundaries’ by being free-spirited and zany and ‘experimenting with social taboos’ by sleeping with all my friends (guys and girls). Was a low point. Might as well drench myself in CK1 and put Nevermind on repeat.
Anyone got a vial of blood I can wear round my neck? Is 4 my image.
Then sat at home and felt crap about myself, and decided that I need bigger boobs, which sent me spiralling, because if anything is soooo last decade, it’s big boobs. Mother of god.
Big Boobs. Not renowned for dating well.
And then came the last straw: I was catching up on the mandatory morning reading and saw that Britney had died her hair dark again, and I wondered if I should exclaim loudly about how much I hate her. Maybe subject a few innocent colleagues to my opinions about ‘how dumb Britney is’. Which was when I realised it: I am stuck in the 90s.
Britney-hating: the ultimate 90s opinion.
Feel very down. Can’t believe I thought I was a child of the new millennium. Thought I was original and intellectual and free-spirited and one-of-a-kind and ‘unique’. Thought that people ‘see something different and special’ in me because I go against the social grain and ‘cannot be controlled’. But now I realised I’m just a retard loser stuck in the 90s. FML.
I am Michael Jackson
I am dead now and, to be honest,
It’s a bit of a relief
Things were getting tense there.
I was supposed to go on tour,
My ‘comeback’ tour,
But I was nowhere near up for that shiz.
I was fragile and scared
And sick,
My body totally let me down,
But I guess I let it down too.
NEwayz, no regrets,
I had a good run,
And I am free now.
This was my shout-out to spidey-bro.
I am Michael Jackson
But I don’t really identify with my personal brand anymore,
Kind of felt I was living a lie for the past 10 years,
But too much $$ depended on it.
So many people with kids who needed a salary out of my name
That I felt bad,
But I really couldn’t deal,
So I hid away in Dubai
Where people wouldn’t think I was weird for covering my face.
I just wanted to be alone.
The Portrait of Michael Dorian Jackson Gray.
I am Michael Jackson
Deep down, I just wanted to dance,
But that made some peeps think I was gay,
Which made me even sadder.
The only people who didn’t judge me or want something from me
Were children,
So I hung out with them.
Then people said I was a paed.
If only they knew I had lost so much faith in the world
That sex with anyone
Was the last thing on my mind.
At least kids were honest with me about my fucked-up face, unlike all my sycophantic manager bros.
I am Michael Jackson
I just wanted to make people happy.
My shrink said I had a ‘need 2 please’
But I never really saw what was wrong with that,
Until I tried to please everyone too many times
By having another surgery
And my face fell apart.
Which was kind of ironic because while my ‘image’ was melting, My soul was soaring and I thought
Maybe I can carve myself into someone else,
And then everyone will leave me alone
And let me dance with my kids at my house
In private.
Just want to walk down the street without being hassled.
I am Michael Jackson
And though I wanted ppl to leave me alone,
I wish my friends had called more often- Neverland got really quiet on Sundays,
When everyone was with their families,
Happy and loved.
So I decided to have children of my own,
To love and be loved by,
When the fans went home.
And I loved my kids,
And I did my best to protect them,
I even called my one kid ‘Blanket’ so he could feel real protected,
Even though ppl thought I was a freak.
My gift 2 my kids will be their faces.
I am Michael Jackson
Hope you liked my work.
Please don’t go all crazy now that I’m gone,
Because y’all weren’t that nice to me when I was alive,
But it’s okay.
We’re all just ppl.
Just trying to be happy.
I’m trying something new. I’m pretending I’ve died so that the value of my blog goes up exponentially. Do you think it’s working?
Just keeping it real here and rotting around on the lawn.
Figure that being dead might induce sympathy and nostalgia. Like now that I’m ‘dead’, creatives in advertising all across the country will be reminscing about how funny and zany I was, how cutting my ironic sense of humour is, how I am just ’so real’ for not taking my job to seriously. And then, when fan mania is at its zenith, I will reveal that I was actually buried alive by mistake under a mound of job bags, and berate operations for not double-checking my pulse before they threw me into the paper shredder, which one of my Converse (luckily) jammed thus saving me from a messy execution. Brilliant.
Hey y’ulle. Not sure if you all heard but there is some majah advertising awards vibe going down in this place in Francey called Cannes. It’s apparently quite important for your career to win at Cannes. Word is a Cannes Lion will ‘open a lot of doors’ for you. I think it’s because carrying a Cannes Lion requires both hands (is made of calcified semen spray painted gold – the densest material on planet earth) so people will just have to help you open doors because your hands are full.
Lots of advertising people have been calling me asking ‘whether I know anything’ since I am a blogger. Have to keep turning them away empty-eared because I don’t know anything. I don’t really follow awards y’uls. Just not really my thing. Being a copywriter, I just know too much about people and life and the cycles of fortune and flavour and public attention to be able to believe the hype around awards. Also, I kind of don’t really see the point in collecting more crap you have to store on your desk / in your home. Kind of feel like displaying awards is ‘trying too hard’. Is a bit like wearing your Converse High-Tops with a dress. Just seems a l’il desperate for approval / attention. But I know I am an over-privileged brat since I have won many awards in my life for many things and came from award-winning parents and have been fortunate enough to ‘take winning for granted’, so maybe ignore me and just keep reaching for the stars and landing on the moonface5. I’ll see y’uls you on the top-rung some day. See you when you get dere. If you ever get dere.
This graph is copyrighted to Alex van Tonderwonder (c) and first appeared in her 2015 study entitled "How to work in advertising without turning into a tard".
PS. Have you ever won a Canned Lion? Once watched this show on Carte Blanche about how people were bribing officials so they could pretend they actually shot the lion themselves. Sad what people will do for awardz.
Just got back from a little mini holiday. Managed to spend some time in New York and squeeze in some shopping in London. Also attended a fab birthday party, ate some deliciously wonderful food, wrangled a sunset on beta beach, and had the most tremendous amount of fun every. single. second. Literally. Sometimes I have to stop having fun just to realise how much fun I keep having. Not sure if y’ulle know, but ‘van’ is my middle name. No jokes. Say that aloud. Check all this fun out:
Having fun on a see-saw in a park in London.
Having fun with a little sunset on beta beach.
The fun we had to go back to after the beach.
Just 'funning around' the loft.
Having fun with some 'chill 3D glasses', rapping to the guards at the gate. (Not sure how much fun they found it - maybe counts again the fun?)
Having fun with Neurotic Harvey. This is basically the most fun cat around. He stands in front of the mirror high-fiving himself for hours. True story.
The extremely fun cake from M's fab birthday party.
The boyfriend having fun with some 3D glasses and our very fun plant. And look at that fun piece of art in the corner that says so much about our fun lives as young technophiles.
Me having almost unbridled fun with a scarf. Can you handle it?
Friend Kath having extreme fun at my extremely fun table at home in the loft.
Being bros with a giant bear. So much fun.
Romantic, yet still fun. It's too much.
What do y’ulle think? Should I make an effort to have less fun and ‘be more serious’? Do I need to ‘grow the fuck up’? Please let me know. Your feedback would be appreciated.
"MyBrandedLife is so arrogant. Who the f*** does she think she is? Little brat." - copywriter who wishes he wrote about his life in advertising first
"MyBrandedLife is really hectic. Doesn't she get that irony isn't always obvious? I find it hard to tell whether she's joking or not." - industry professional who 'has healthy respect for authority'
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"I don't really understand what MyBrandedLife is writing about a lot of the time." - art director (enough said)
The #1 Creative Blog in South Africa
Multiple Winner of the Grand Black Loerie Eagle Canned Lion Cleo Prix Award for Creative Use of Blogging in the Outdoor Direct Blog Category.
About MyBrandedLifeTM
The tongue-in-cheek musings of a writer in advertising. Not to be taken seriously, if read at all.
