heathervescent

WFS12: An Unlikely Cocktail

Crossposted from @localrat's blog, my co-conspirator in presenting awe-some futures work this weekend. 

My co-conspirator (@heathervescent) and I are participating in two sessions at The World Future Society Conference. Last year, we presented on the “Best of Houston Futures” panel and renamed it “The Future of Money, Sex and Politics”.  Look out Toronto- we’re back!

At first glance, our topic areas are seemingly disparate. But think of them as your favorite cocktail combo- an unlikely mixture with intoxicating results. We’re futures mixologists and promise to inform, intrigue, and inspire. Here’s a sneak peak of what’s ahead:

Saturday 2:00 pm- 3:30 pm: The Future of Shopping: An Immersive Experience

It’s the first time we’re piloting this type of session! Heather and I have been conducting independent research on the future of transactions and retailing. We’ve decided to merge our interest areas into a scenario based futures immersion. During this session, you will have the chance to create and experience a future retail environment- complete with alternative currencies, rotique vendors, and virtual incentives.

Sunday 9:00 am- 10:30 am: Best of Houston Futures: The Demographic Transition

Heather and I were awarded third place by the Association of Professional Futurists for our systems model of the demographic transition. This is our first public showcasing of the model! If that doesn’t get you in the door, this should- two amazing futurists, Josh Lindenger and Jason Swanson, will also be presenting on the future of locomotive media and learning management systems. Best of Houston is a session for futurists who want to leave WFS tantalized by a wide breadth of topic areas they haven’t considered.

I’m now off to grab a real cocktail in the hybrid space. Tweet me (@localrat)!

I am SO EXCITED to co-present these two sessions with Emily. We got the idea to combine our research after last year's Houston Futures session (mentioned above) and submitted our idea. We've been working like mad the past week putting the final touches on our very interactive session. 

The second presentation, on the demographic transition, is something I am particularly proud of. The systems model we created is decidedly complicated with more than 160 equations in it. While challenging us, it only whet my appetite for more systems analysis. I'd really love to do this kind of work for the government (gasp!). I am also especially proud of our 3rd place award. It's always gratifying to be rewarded for excellent hard work (not always the case in the business world).

If you're not able to be in Toronto and are interested in our research, invite us to present to your group or company. We'd love to share this research broadly. 

If you like what we've done, let us know. And yes, we can be available for your projects.

Cleaning up the Shit

So, as you know, the heathervescent has spent a lot of time on airplanes this year. I've flown first class, business class, economy plus, and economy - all levels and on about 10 different airlines (I have no loyalty). 

I quickly created my own airplane amenities bag, that rivals even the best first class offerings, with full size of moisturizers, wet wipes, Dr. Hausha's lip balm, face mister, thick plushy eye mask and my leather moccasins. Right now, I'm rocking out at a window seat in the bulkhead row of economy and the only thing I'm missing is the footrest. Anyway, I digress.... I was going to talk about the bathrooms.

I kind of love airplane bathrooms. They are tiny and compact. They have little nooks and cranny's. Some of them have nice soap and my business class flight from London to Rio even had roses in the bathroom. I LOVED that touch! Anyway, one thing that doesn't change when you're flying Business class is the MESS that people make in the bathroom. I mean, water all over the floor, leaving the basin practically overflowing with soapy water, water splashed all over the place. And guys, seriously, if you're drunkedly pissing on the floor due to all the free drinks... well, at least I am not married to you, disgusting shits despite sharing this 10 hour flight from London to Los Angeles. (True story!)

Anyway, I was going to talk about cleaning the airplane bathrooms. It's something I do quite frequently. It started when I was 13 or 14. I think it was when I flew to Paris in first class. Back then they still had the tiny soaps. I'd go to the bathroom, do my business, and then give the bathroom a quick wipedown, sometimes leaving a towel and little soap folded nicely for the next person. You see, I like to make the kind of world I want to live in. I want to experience certain things... but I can't do those things for myself. And no one is really like me, and most do not think like me, so I'll really never experience the world the way I want to experience it, but I can give someone else a taste of how I might want to experience the world.

So I clean the airplane bathroom.

I was given pause to reflect about this today, when I was waiting in line for the bathroom. Two people were ahead of me. The door opened. The lady took one look inside and with an aire of disdain (and I do mean air"e") stated she would wait for the other one. The guy opted to use it. Quickly I might add. And he was out before the other bathroom finished. Lady continued to disreguard and I thought... how bad could it be. Worse than that Virgin Atlantic Upper Class drunk pisser? I asked the Flight Attendant for some supplies (wet paper towel and a can of club soda) and went in.

It wasn't that bad. But it was a mess. I went to work. Cleaning, wiping, using the soap. (The trick to cleaning a wet airplane bathroom floor? Throw papertowels on the floor, use your foot/shoe to wipe them all over the floor picking up the wet fluid. Use the paper towels liberally. Then grab another few paper towels, unfold them and use them to pick up semi-moist floor towels. Throw the big mess in the trash (by holding the trash door open with your other hand). Then wash your hands.

Easy.

And now, the mess is gone.

And I'm back to living in the world I want to live in. 

 

Lane splitting the Big Rigs

It's the Bay Area, 2003, I'm riding my second bike, a Honda Nighthawk, 750 ccs on 880, 280, across the Bay Bridge. I was trying to kill myself. My life meant nothing to me. I was at the edge. I had been pushed to the edge. 

A particularily rough commute. A very slow merge, car commuters, big rigs, and me, a suicidal lane splitter. I had years of lane splitting, but I always respected the big rigs, gave them room, dared not engage with them. Not that day. I zipped at reckless speeds between the hulking, slow moving transporters, one on each side, sometimes just one between the long line of cars.

The thrill I got, a tiny fly, weaving in the space between, could be smashed at any time. I still respected those big rigs, but I was a different animal. I was fast, nimble, efficient on a different scale. I used the space those big rigs couldn't. Audacious. Zoom, zoom.

This memory recently asserted itself. And while I haven't lane split on a motorycle in many years, I still identify with that past self. I'm still metaphorically lane splitting the big rigs.

Creating the Future in Films

Next week, I am headed to Vail, Colorado for the Cloud Identity Summit where we kick off the filming for my third Future Scenario Short. While my past two shorts have been design fictions, based on my research, this one is a little different. 

In Fly Me to the Moon I designed the product and user interface of something that currently does not exist - but the technology to enable it does. When working with my prop-makers, one of them suggested we mock up the software and display it, while another asked when we were going to actually build it. My sound guy on the shoot pulled me aside in a quiet moment and asked me with great excitement when this would be able. He started telling me how it would make going out with his friends easier. (I was beaming with validation of the results of my research and future scenarios.)

We used the same technique for the products showcased in Flowers for Grandma (still in post-production). I'm always gratified when people ask me if the products in these films exist after they see them. Well.... they could exist. It's not technology that is the limiting factor in most cases. It's collaboration between the existing systems. And since these existing systems are mostly owned and operated by large corporations, getting them to work together can sometimes be a challenge. And it was exactly for this reason that I joined Innotribe.

Well, we might see those things change in this third video. But you'll have to wait until Fall, where we'll globally launch it at Sibos in Osaka. I bet it will show you a positive vision of the future that you can barely imagine today...

Playing A Role

I've felt like my life has recently been a play and replay of this scene. 

Regardless of my evolution, enlightenment, self-awareness, following the path makes my heart raw. Well, if I'm doing it right, my heart is raw. It's a roundtrip from consciousness/awareness ("pure being") to shitty humanity/day to day drama.

But that's ok. Because that's what this life is. A game, a jungle gym, for flexing, building and using muscles, knowledge, information. I'll play my role. I'll provoke. I'll allow myself to be stabbed, show the vulnerable underbelly. (Sometimes I'm the one wielding the ax that cuts forever.) Because I gain valuable information with each "role" "experience". I chose to consciously create my life. I'm here, in these places, playing these roles for a reason - and that reason is partly mine, but also for others...

In the end, evolution. Opening possibilities. Choice. Be-ing.

Que Saudade and the Problema com Succeso

Note: This post was written, but not published, when I was in Rio de Janeiro.

I walk these city street at home as in Los Angeles. I love the black and white mosaics, the moist air, the breeze, the grand mountains of rock, the ocean waves. The language returns to my tongue, unspoken for over a decade. Its sounds are hot and salty on my lips, I twist the words improperly, with my american "soutake" and mis-conjugated verbos. But my passion is there.

I had forgetten. How could I have forgotten? Forgotten the joy, to forget the longing.

--

Walking back after midnight from the Copacabana night market, I decided to pass by a certain corner I had written up in my Rio de Janeiro guidebook 12 years ago. It was across the street from my beachfront apartment. It had a cool little bar and boteco. Imagine my shock! when I saw the tiny local place with barely 6 seats had quadrupled in squarefootage becoming a pizzeria. Taking over the little bar with the Marlene Dietrich shrine. Bright lights.

My heart died. I thought... I did this. I personally contributed to this reality.

God DAMN, Heather! You did not THINK of the impact of putting these things into a popular guidebook! I kept walking into Ipanema, beating myself up for my lack of consciousness, for my inability to see this possibility 12 years ago. I kept thinking about success and failure. Which was worse? Wondering how and when things happened. Did the bar owner sell out and start a new bar elsewhere (quietly)? Obviously the botequim was doing well, they had expanded. The business was good. I suppose that was good - for the business.

But still... as I walked the empty after midnight streets in Ipanema, a single woman, alone, wearing platform fluevogs, wondering what I would find in the shadows, realizing I had nothing to fear, because I was one of them.

The Stars My Destination

"I took. I went and took. What did I leave in return? My change."

Tornado powered me 15 thousand miles. Across the great plains into the concrete jungles of New York. Across the North Atlantic to European countryside with fields, cows and wind power windmills. Skirting the edge of Europe and Africa before traversing the Atlantic once more, to the Southern Hemisphere to a favorite dream land. 

In darkness I landed. I remembered my first (terrified) time in this airport almost 20 years earlier. Different this time. No fear walking the Copacabana midnight streets. In Rio the tornado changed, shifted, transformed. A phoenix rose from the tornado calm: a blue stone wrapped in silver gold, etched with a symbol. Symbols.

The tornado powered me once more; from the South American Atlantic to the Pacific. Walking the streets of Lima with a friend, a one who is unlike any other, crystallized the fate of the tornado. Transformation, but not death. A symbol, for one and many, appeared in the calm center.

It's this symbol I returned with to Los Angeles. A symbol Los Angeles is most know for. Full circle perfection.