On November 18th of this year, oneword.com will celebrate its tenth anniversary.

(pause for cheering, hi-fives, gunshots)

I was thinking I should plan something. I thought, maybe it could be based around the very first word, which, for the life of me, I couldn't seem to recall. So I started digging around and found a site called The Wayback Machine and, bless their hearts, they had an archive from 2002 containing the entire site as it stood then.

First of all, I was proud of my branding instincts (or laziness). If you were to travel time back to the turn of the century, you would find an American president embarrassing the shit out of us; iPods with a laughable one-thousand songs; and if you wrote on someone’s wall—you could go to jail. But any modern-day oneword user would find one thing looking very familiar:

Yes, it's got a lot of lavender now, which a few people have complained about. Just trust that there are deep, psychological reasons for choosing that color.* Other than that, it's hardly changed.

Next, I began to scroll back through the entries—back, back, back—and as I got closer to entry #1, I began to anticipate the glory—the profundity—of this debut word; that delicious linguistic morsel, handpicked to inspire unforgettable, groundbreaking prose.

#4, #3, #2—I closed my eyes and clicked once more. I took a deep breath, then began to open my eyes slowly, almost afraid of how poignant one word could possibly be.

And there it was:

astroturf

The loudest mental WTF? I have ever experienced went off in my brain. Seriously. ASTROTURF? It’s not even a real fucking word.

Luckily there were only about twenty people, comprised mostly of friends and colleagues, on oneword that fateful day, left to suffer through writing about astroturf.

Maybe I thought, Hmmmm . . . astroturf. Can’t go anywhere but up from here.

And up we went.

*not really

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I never thought I could be so impacted by the death of someone I never knew personally until the passing of Steve Jobs.

Since 1989, I have been using Apple products. Every day.

I have worked in print and digital design, post production, music engineering and composition, video editing, advertising, and as a writer—all on a Mac.

I know there are many like me who have never once entertained the idea of buying any other brand of personal computer; many who know that a Mac is more than a machine—it is the realization of a passionate vision; many who hold the Apple brand close to their hearts.

People mock the depth of emotion felt by myself and other Apple lovers, as they tweet (Twitter wouldn't exist) from their Androids that would not exist, while watching TV shows edited on machines that would not exist, as they run endless virus scans on machines that are distant knockoffs of machines that would not exist—living in a world that wouldn't exist without Steve Jobs’ contributions.

To clarify, I'm sure the world would still be here spinning on its axis without Steve Jobs. I just think it would be a little less beautiful—maybe a lot less beautiful. Anyone reading this would be hard pressed to take a glance around them and not see at least five things created on a Mac.

Although Steve Jobs didn't invent the Mac, I believe it was his vision that not only made it a reality, but made it art. Which, in turn, inspired art in the hearts of millions around the globe—art that will allow his legacy to live on for a very long time.

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On my street there are two guys that, when not collecting bottles and cans, hang out all day doing god-knows-what and cat-calling every girl that walks by. Has that ever worked? Has anyone ever whistled at a girl, or yelled, "Daddy like!" at a girl and had any sort of success? I've never seen a girl get cat-called then pull over and offer up their phone number (or anything other than the bird).

Almost daily, there's a flyer imploring me to come to Jesus on my windshield, and/or between five and ten flyers announcing some dubstep DJ that's going to be at a nearby club next month. Has anyone ever been saved by a windshield flyer, or pulled a thick laminated DJ announcement from their car door and said, "Oh, cool DJ Asshat is spinning on the 22nd—I'll mark my calendar"?

There is a junk mail bin that fills to overflowing on a bi-weekly basis in my apartment lobby. Does anyone even know what it is? I've never even looked at it. It comes out of my mailbox straight into the bin, every day. Whoever it is, they obviously aren't focus-testing the effectiveness of their advertising budget.

Then there's the much more environmentally friendly email and comment spam. I can understand how this might have worked back in the 1990's when the internet was still young and email was still somewhat novel. But with the advent of spam filters, it's rare anyone ever even sees them. And most people moderating comments are savvy enough to know the difference after about a week of moderating a website with even the most modest of traffic.

In eight years of moderating comments on oneword.com, I've not once clicked on a spam link. I can spot spam in my peripheral vision at this point (or rather not-spam). Yet I can't help but think that someone, somewhere has to be clicking on this stuff. What keeps spammers spamming?

Please advise.

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"Vodka."

That was the word of the day when our would-be friends at Christian Creativity happened upon our site. And just because they don't recommend our non-denominational site, doesn't mean we don't wholeheartedly recommend their site to any and all creative Christians out there.

For the record, since its inception eight years ago, oneword™ has provided a bevy of fantastic words that would please Jesus Christ and his friends, Buddha, Mohammed, Allah, and The Flying Spaghetti Monster alike, such as "holy," "integrity," "smiles," "meaning," not forgetting "sandwich."

We intentionally choose simple words to prompt intelligent responses, without stifling users who may not know some words.

Remember, it's all about flowing and being creative with whatever we throw at you. If you're getting hung up on the simplicity of the words, then—contrary to popular belief—this is the PERFECT site for you.

Word out.

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Earlier today while moderating entries on oneword, I came across a particularly annoying entry—and it set me off. In fact, it set me off so much that I posted it here, complete with the culprit's IP Address. After it was pointed out that I was being immature, which I was, I decided that I should pull it. I apologize to those who happened to read it. No use subjecting innocent bystanders to others' stupidity.

The good news is that out of the thousands of entries on oneword.com this week, there was a infinitesimally small amount of stupidity, and only a single entry stupid enough to get a reaction out of me.

As a wise oneword.com enthusiast commented on our Facebook page earlier: "Don't let 'em get you... You have a good, positive thing going."

Word on that.

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Before today, Digital Cinema Desktop Preview in Final Cut Pro had never worked on my Macbook Pro.

I finally figured it out and am posting it here so you don't have to sift through endless forums, reinstall software, etc. to no avail.

Solution:

It's just a checkbox.

Go to the Final Cut Pro menu to Audio/Video Settings:

Click the A/V Devices tab:

Check the Mirror on desktop checkbox:

That's it. It was for me anyway.

Click OK, hit CMD-F12 and you should be in business.

(Note: once in a while I'll post solutions I find to problems to save people the agony that I've suffered. I keep them to a minimum. But probably the most useful articles on here...)

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One such wise and/or bored and/or senile individual had scattered birdseed across a nearby street the other day and the Pigeon Brigade was out in full force. As I watched them go to town while waiting for my dog to do her thing, a car approached the street-spanning flock, rolling to a stop a few feet in front of the birds. He sat there for a few seconds, then lays on the horn—

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!

The birds don't flinch. My dog doesn't flinch. I flinch.

"Hellooooooo?!" I yell, "did you just honk at birds?"

He looks at me and does the "What?" shrug thing, waits another second, then proceeds to plow through the sea of avian street diners. I thought for sure there would be casualties, expecting to see bird carcasses strewn across the street. Carnage en masse. But, no, they were fine.

My first thought was: Oh shit, pigeons don't exist! My second thought was: Pigeons are invincible. My third thought was: Pigeons are pigeons. Pigeons don't comprehend technology. Animals don't comprehend technology. That deer doesn't freeze in your headlights because he's scared—he freezes because he's confused.

Nowhere in nature does a multi-ton chunk of metal come rolling across a field. It's not natural. If a herd of buffalo had come charging down Yucca Street, you can bet the pigeons—and me and the dog—would be getting the hell out of the way. Animals don't invent stuff, so they don't comprehend invented stuff. Most things that they do acknowledge are things that are manmade equivalents of natural objects, e.g. Doghouse=cave; Bird feeder=flower; Carpet=grass; Hamster wheel—well, okay, hamsters are either just really smart or really stupid.

What's my point? Good question. First of all, honking at pigeons is stupid. Second, don't metaphorically honk at pigeons:

Are you posting to Facebook or Twitter about how you're having a bad day?—Honking at pigeons. Talking about the weather?—Honking at pigeons. Discussing politics?—Honking at pigeons.

Writing a blog post about honking at pigeons?—Honking at pigeons.

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That all changed the second I fired up this $0.99 pearl. Of course, writing is much more pleasant on my laptop, however, iA Writer at least makes it so I can write on my iPad in a way that doesn't make me want to throw it across the room every five seconds.

Its Focus Mode and Dropbox Sync features (more on these later) alone are worth the tiny price tag. However, what really sells it is the top row on the keyboard.

Attn. Apple: did you not see this at prettyfuckingobvious.com when you were designing the iPad? Take note.

Nothing derails my iWriting experience worse than having to stop, hold my finger down, scroll over to the iNevitable typos and fix them. Now I can just click the arrow keys and move the cursor—like we have been since the advent of the word processor. You can also scroll by word (which makes a cool sound). The Obvious Bar™ also includes a hyphen button, a semicolon button, a quote button, an apostrophe button, and a brilliant "smart parentheses" button.

And we're all looking forward to the Em Dash button in the next version (hint-hint).

It should have taken you about a minute to read this far. How do I know this? Well, screw page numbers—in the digital realm it's all about time—and the creators of iA Writer apparently got the memo, thus incorporating the ever-handy (we're at 1:14 now) Reading Time feature in addition to Word Count (255).

I could go on about Focus Mode, which turns off auto-correct and highlights just the last three lines typed. Or the beautifully designed monospaced typeface (suck it, Courier). Or the fact that it syncs right up with Dropbox—and therefore every other device I own. But I promised myself I wouldn't make this more than 1:43 long so you can hear all about it here.

(344 words up.)

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   When light is observed

it becomes waves

illuminating and definitive

   When the Earth shifts

it becomes waves

tearing and indiscriminate

   When love combines

it becomes waves

peerless and infinite

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The day's word: bee

"Nothing more than a struggling person trying to live their lives off someone elses salary who actually reaps the benefits of all his or her worker bees. More like his benefits, women don’t get to do shit in this world, but so what? It’s just a shitty game we all play, too bad we don’t know any other games. Fuck."

The above example is not profound, well-written—or even grammatically correct—but it follows oneword's admonition to "just write" well enough. The puzzling part is the lone, irrelevant f-bomb tagged onto the end of the entry. The term "f-bomb" is perfect here, because it really is like dropping a bomb on an otherwise relevant piece of writing. And I get anywhere from two–five entries that follow this pattern daily.

So we're clear, I have no problem with a strategically placed f-word. For instance, another entry on yellow and black, fuzzy, buzzy things:

"I am absolutely terrified of bees. A bee landed on my brand new white tee shirt in gym class when I was thirteen and it was huge. It scared the living shit out of me and I screamed and made a huge fool of myself amongst my snotty peers. I hate bees. Fuck bees."

In this example, though I don't personally hate bees, I'm right there with her.

In both cases, the entries will get approved. However, I'm taking the liberty of deleting all f-bombs as illustrated in the first example. Why? Two reasons: A) it takes the real firepower away from other people using the word intelligently, and B) it screams "I'm insecure!" which is not a part of flowing or stream-of-consciousness writing.

My mom vehemently disagrees, but I think it's the perfect word—not as a parachute—but when the parachute doesn't open.

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The Mayans weren't predicting the end of the world with their calendar. They just wanted you to buy the next age's calendar.

Take, for example, my Justin Bieber 2010 photo calendar. It runs out at the end of March 2011. Am I speeding to the supermarket to stock up on canned corn, Space Shuttle ice-cream and bottled water? No. Just like the Mayans, Beiber Corp. Inc. LLC just wants me to dish out for a a new calendar—it's how calendarmakers stay in business.

Six-thousand years ago, when the Mayan calendar was created, they were just making a calendar. This was pre-printing press, so making a new calendar every year, willy-nilly, wasn't cost-effective. And, though the design of the Mayan calendar is amazing, they figured that after six-thousand years people would get sick of it and be ready for something new.

Throughout history all generations and nations have felt they were the chosen ones.

Ironic that being chosen ones always seems to entail experiencing the end of the world.

It's really just arrogant. The Earth was here long before we showed up and will be here long after we die off. It will continue to have Ice Ages as it always has, then the ice will melt and ebb into another glacial period, then flow out again.

New Justin Bieber-equivalents will rise and fall, but I think that, in the tradition of hundreds of past end-of-the-world predictions, 2012 will just be another year.

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Jane: yo wz up
Ted: nt mch wut up witchu?
Jane: kickn it gettn it poppin whtchu kno boutt thttt ?!
Ted: roflmao

Let's stop here. Not for the obvious—but for logistics. How is it that one might roll on the floor and laugh their ass off while simultaneously typing “ROFLMAO”? Second, how ass-less can one be? It stands to reason that there would at least need to be a buffer between asses being laughed off to allow for a new one to flourish.

Ted: cme ovr
Jane: yeaaaaahhhhh babyy

In addition to liquidating the English language to a series of sputters and blips, it now appears to be somewhat cool and hip-hop-y to add an extra letter or three onto the end of words. This screams, “I'll follow a trend no matter how stupidd!”

Jane: i wuld bt im grnded
Ted: lololololololol for wuttt?

“wuld.” It's an interesting choice to keep the one totally silent letter. And, Ted, “laugh out loud out loud out loud out loud out loud out loud” makes zero sense.

Jane: rprt cd 2day
Ted: dam grrrll!!! tht sux.
Jane: yea flnkd englsh 101 fml 

Shocking.

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This was a mistake.

Not that I don't want to know that a particular oneword fan is excited to get her new Katy Perry-inspired tattoo. Seriously. That was a tweet I saw tonight. Nor do I want to know that someone's baby just went poo in her Uggs. And I certainly don't care about any sports event. Ever. On Earth.

The whole point of Twitter is to follow people that you either know personally, or you are a fan of. I feel like I'm invading your privacy knowing that you're at Popeye's Chicken with Jeff. Or even your fascinating "Time for bed..." or "I'm tired." tweets.

So I've begun un-following people. You probably won't notice anyway, but if you do notice that I'm no longer following you—

it's nothing personal. That's the whole point.

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Congratulations to our new best friend, @blueperez, who just became the 10,000th registered oneword™ user.

We are now competing with Facebook at .01% of their 500 million. And going strong.

Following in the footsteps of another .01% peer, Apple, we thought it only fitting to award number ten-thousand with a big, fat $100 gift card from our friends at Amazon.

We just hope it's not sitting in your spam folder.

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Today my friend told me that when he used an em dash (—) in a text message on his iPhone, the message wouldn't go through—at all—on his friend's Android phone. This isn't surprising as the search giant still employs double-hyphens on its own interior pages. Then I noted that we were probably the only people on earth texting with em dashes.

Even so, there are those times when I really want to text someone something to the exact effect of:

I'm only available Tues–Thurs. I've already blocked myself out in iCal™

Note that I'm using an en dash to indicate "through" here and the ever handy trademark symbol. Two things that aren't available on my iPhone or iPad.

Or are they?

I came upon this little treasure called Glyphboard:
(note: the link only works with iPad, iPhone, iPod Touch.)

And other people can put hearts on everything and be just plain annoying.

So there you have it. Just think twice before you drop a skull-and-crossbones symbol to one of your Android buddies, lest their phone explode.

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We tried Google Adsense, but when the word-of-the-day was rain, the ads-of-the-day were for rain gutters and umbrellas. When all we care about is writing—and, well, not rain gutters.

Enter Amazon.

I follow Roger Ebert on Twitter, who tweets Amazon links to various products relevant (usually) to what he's on about. He wrote an explanation for this on his Sun-Times blog, and it sounded like a good idea, so I went to Amazon and signed up for an Associates Account. A few clicks and I was in.

Rather than incessantly tweeting links, I decided to create an Amazon store. This allows us to offer word-uppers handy books on writing and screenwriting (yes, those are totally different), the Kindle for reading, even iPads and Macbooks for writing (yes, please). And, for good measure, music that we listen to (or wish we listened to).

Are we selling out? Totally. At least enough to pay for server fees and a limo driver.

The good news is that you can buy stuff you were probably gonna buy anyway for the same price you would pay anyway—while at the same time making a small (okay, really small) donation to oneword. It's like donating to you and us simultaneously.

Word on that.

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One used to have to seek out movie and music reviews, or ask your friends if they know a good mechanic. Of course, there were silver linings to those clouds, like, say, going outside now and again, and talking with your mouth to other people here and there.

Social Media has revolutionized the Service Industry. Everyone and their grandma has a smartphone locked and loaded, just waiting for someone to screw up. Or do something right.

Just a few years ago, there was a very small chance that people in the Czech Republic would have ever heard about 1,547 birds suddenly dropping from the Milwaukee sky. Now, someone gets a pube in their Egg McMuffin and I'm probably gonna hear about it whether I like it or not.

The good news is, I don't eat at McDonald's. And pubic hair is pretty much organic dental floss. The other good news is that there is an ever-increasing transparency in the Service Industry, as more and more people continue typing with their thumbs on tiny keyboards. (The bad news is that our thumbs are probably going to de-evolve.)

Never again will I take my car to a two- or even three-star mechanic, or eat at a restaurant with more than two $$'s on a Tuesday night. Now, instead of my stoned neighbor's opinion on all the [subtle] rage in indie music—or even a single professional music critic's opinion—I can get it from a bunch of (also stoned) Silver Lake residents.

What will ultimately happen is the one- and two-star companies will die. And though more will inevitably come, they won't last more than a few Yelp-lashings; leaving us with passionate, honest people that are truly competing for our business.

A word to the wise: if you're in any sort of business that involves interacting with, or providing any sort of service for, other human beings: step up. Because the wool is getting preeeetty thin.

The word of the day is service, and social media is putting it back in the Service Industry.

(Please rate this five stars.)

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I saw a huge billboard on Cahuenga at the 101 Freeway in Hollywood tonight. It's prime advertising real estate with no less than a $20,000US monthly price tag.

The headline reads:

Everyday is Valentine's Day

This translates loosely to:

Ordinary is Valentine's Day

Maybe. However, I'm guessing that what they meant was: "Every day is Valentine's Day"

"Everyday" is an adjective meaning: commonplace, run-of-the-mill, routine.

The question heavy on my mind was: how did this get approved?

Then I noticed the company advertising—Hustler. That made sense. What more could be expected from a company that has made hardcore porn "everyday"?

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I'm a designer. What do I do?

1. Design a shirt
2. Tweet your design with the hashtag #drytshirt or post to our Facebook page
3. Feel awesome

Or, if you're not a tweeter, twitterer, or just hate birds altogether, send a jpg of your design to:

drytshirt [at] oneword.com

Are there rules or a style guide?

• minimal is good
• feel free to incorporate the "go" logo (here are vector and hi-res files)
  (not required though)
• would prefer "oneword.com" to be included, but are open to your creative genius
• don't worry about adhering to oneword.com's current color palette
• have fun

What do I win?

• a percentage of the proceeds from t-shirt sales
• the respect of friends, family, and colleagues
• bragging rights

Does the fun ever end?

• No, but submissions are due by March 1, 2011.

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Thou shalt not kill.

This is from the Holy Bible. It's one of the ten commandments allegedly given to the prophet, Moses, straight from God. It doesn't say:

Thou shalt not kill. Well, unless it's for your country. Oh, or if you're hungry.

God, not being Schizophrenic, kept it simple, as I can only imagine infinite intelligence would.

As clear and succinct as God was; people just weren't getting it. So he sent his son—Jewish carpenter, public speaker extraordinaire, savior—Jesus Christ.

Jesus told many parables and performed countless miracles, wowing crowds across the Middle East. Still, the Shepherd, then as now, and as his father before him, eventually discovered that he was playing to the cheap seats. His impeccable eloquence and master storytelling techniques weren't working. The sheep were confused.

So Jesus prayed. He prayed hard. And then it hit him. How could he have missed something so simple?

He gathered the masses and proclaimed:

Love one another.

That's it. "By this shall men know ye are my disciples: if ye have loved one to another."

Jesus went so far as to call it "The New Commandment." In other words, "Forget about the other ten—this new commandment says it all." He used his gift for brevity to cut the number of commandments down by 90% in one fell swoop.

How we got from "love one another" to "friendly fire"; from "turn the other cheek" to "holy war"; from "love thy neighbor as thyself" to "gay bashing"; and from "thou shalt not kill" to "Veal Parmesan"—is a mystery.

I think Jesus was right on with the whole "love one another" bit, still I'm not Christian. There are myriad others that have said the same thing throughout the ages. Why play favorites?

The word of the year is love. It's simple. It's cliché. It's the answer to every question.

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