Worst dream ever.

This is prose I wrote while serving in the Peace Corps in Bolivia.

Does fire have weight? If it does this match should topple over any second now and drip fire all over my table.

I still have plastic covering on my mattress that is sometimes revealed when I roll and turn, toss and readjust in my sleeping bag.

So I was in a Peace Corps like office setting. I had gone upstairs from buying tickets. I saw bags, nifty and well-sorted for traveling. They were lined up like I’d line ’em up in a wooden cubby. Somebody’s parents were visiting. There were momma bags and poppa bags and sister bags and brother bags. It couldn’t have been my family. I don’t have the latter two and my parents aren’t coming til next year.

I was in a line in a big cafeteria with metal counters made of bars so you can slide your tray along with your hip while you search for your money. The cashier’s always in a good mood. Usually wearing an apron – navy blue. Or black if they’re trendy.

Went upstairs and it was dark. Hard to see my watch because the damn Indiglo is busted. Finally a street light or something glinted across and I could see it was time to go. We were going to miss our bus.

“Tiff! We gotta go,” I kind of yelled, emphasizing her name and trailing off at the end.

“I know. Give me one second,” she said from somewhere distant in my brain.

Then time skipped forward like it does and I was talking to Mark. I didn’t recognize his voice at first. I haven’t heard it or played it in so long. I was on my Nokia phone and suddenly Chris Scott was there rough-housing with me making a conversation definitively impossible. But I didn’t care because Mark wasn’t there when I previously thought my life was more important than his.

I mercifully let Mark go. Chris continued to wrestle me into submission. He’s a lot bigger than me and he’s always been able to handle me physically if he wanted to.

My right hand won’t stop shaking in certain positions.

He’s got me in a vice grip laying on the part you normally sit on on a couch. His legs are propped in the air against the part you usually put your back on. He starts to grow an erection and it’s obscenely touching my thigh, but there is nothing I can do about it. Oh yeah, I made one last desperate move. I wasn’t going down without a fight and after I hung up on Mark I had both hands free so I tackled Chris into the position we were in now. Tiffany was standing on the other side of the coffee table which completed the couch’s tandem.

I was thoroughly disgusted and told him so, but was helpless to move and he just did that Chris Scott chuckle. That makes (made) me want to bite his nose off and spit it back in his face. Can’t even do that now I’m so pinned.

The scene changes like someone turned a page in a book and I’m packing my stuff hurriedly because now I’m making us late.

Something happens here. Spooks me. Can’t remember now. Maye it’s outweighed by what happens later. Maybe Chris Scott’s boner thing was enough to trim me with warm fuzzies.

All of a sudden I gotta go pee. So bad that I can’t quite hold it and little spurts and dribble are seeping through despite my best efforts to hold them off.

One candle just went out!

I reach down and grab myself and run sort of crab-like to the bathroom where I proceed to tap dance while I unfurl my urine-clogged member. Out it comes like a broken and destroyed dam. I’m relishing the release of pain when a pebble or some sort of airborne object that came from an impossible angle due to the geometrical shape of the bathroom. I was sure that it was supernatural and quite vindictive. Being exposed didn’t make things easier. Thus I screamed, “Who the fuck is there, goddamn it?!?” Which woke me up into a room full of unfamiliar, thoroughly foreign darkness. I had just enough time to realize I was laying on my right side in a long rectangular room with the head of the bed nuzzled into one corner. I thought to myself that it was odd to have screamed in my sleep. “Never done that before,” I thought. Just as I began to go over what had happened in my dream that would elicit such an unprecedented behavior a door in the other corner of the long shoebox room opened and a backlit figure came in and walked straight toward me. I thought it was Tiff – maybe I had fallen asleep waiting for her and now it was time to go, but she was letting me rest. After hearing me scream she came in to check on me.

Nope. Not that.

As the ambiguous figure approached, the light from outside started to fill in the room and my eyes began to adjust. Whoever the fuck it was was wearing a black robe and had their face painted like a clown.

It was impossible to tell if it was Tiffany. It was impossible to tell if it was male or female. I didn’t say anything, waiting for some trigger of recognition to fire. My surroundings, this person, something. Nothing. Clown face leans over me, my breathing quickens and puts both hands on my shoulders and gently, firmly holds me down.

“Tiffany?” I ask hopefully.

Just a shake of the head slowly.

I reach up with my hands to its arms. Definitely man. Definitely strong and inescapable. My vision has finally adjusted and that white paint fully occupies my vision. I am overcome with horror and fear.

I open my eyes and I am in Huari. But it doesn’t really click. They close and I’m back. It’s face is even more demented and terrifying. I open my eyes again and my conscious memory spins into action and quickly reminds my mind and body that the first opened eyes did, in fact, see home. My eyes opened for good this time and I breathed, but did not feel safe for about ten minutes. Almost called Tiff to ask if I could come over. It’s after 1am though and I’m a big boy.

A dog barked more eerily than I probably would have normally thought. I finished Vonnegut’s Cat’s Cradle before going to sleep. Don’t see how that would figure in.

Then rolled on my back to see a black shadow in the corner of the ceiling like a huge bat turn into liquid and slide down the wall reviving my sense of uncalm.

My eyes are my enemy tonight.

Light some candles. Write it out of your system, I commanded myself. Peace can envelop me now anytime. Just gotta fix my bed so the plastic isn’t showing anymore more and blow my nose first.

I can write.

While visiting my family for Thanksgiving I came across a couple of notebooks that I used to keep notes while in Bolivia. A couple of the passages really struck me. It’s interesting to me to read these journal entries five years after I wrote them. Frankly, it’s hard to believe I wrote them. I’m going to share a couple with you. I’d love to know what you think.

My hair fros out when the snare goes out
and the kickdrum kicks like a flare shot out
sandals flippin’ and floppin’
bodies always droppin’
a veces me pareces in my movies at night
just might help the bodies be re-animated
Someday I’ll be painted while I sit or while I sat
displayed in a gallery for Mallory
for only twice than less than half her salary
plus one calorie
burned from her hypodermic intake insulin pancake.

Mix that shit up
put it in a cup
then throw a one-way sender all into a blender.
Lose the love of your life thrice,
think twice and go on a bender.
Mind closed off, men working here.
Peers peer well into the well
and smell shiny, twinkly, sparkly glistening darts
of refracted light during lite diets and flying sideways.
Get a grip.
Not manual
E-manuel from the Bible.
A grip of friends?
It all depends if those feet can dig deep
and ribs rise and fall without a care.

I want to die running away from someone, anyone
preferably a law enforcement agent of some brand.
I’ll be running slow motion
when their pistols open fire and catch me mid-stride.
My path to glory and supposed destiny will only be
a few visible feet in front of my divide.
I’ll reach out for it with my dying breath,
but will be unable to grasp what is left-
what I wanted to achieve for no more than a few escaping minutes.
The love of my life will, of course, bear witness
to this entire tragic affair.
Tears will be streaming down her cheeks-
her ragged cheeks that are simply exhausted
from loving a man who loves her only second
to the worthy cause for which he has been fighting for decades.
She’s been there since the beginning though
and she knows she is integral
to the fight
that he selflessly continues despite
his family’s best interest.
The tears flow while she tries wholeheartedly,
yet it is indescribably futile
and she knows mere moments remain before everything,
EVERYTHING they’ve both dedicated their lives too
ends in a cacophony of gunshots
and a symphony of deep seeded tragedy and what nots.
She’ll press her hand to the gaping, spurting wound
her face to his to hear his final struggled breaths.
She’ll swoon.
Her hand finds his and interlocks with ease.
He is strong, but not as strong as once before.

Once before on a bright, sun-drenched day
he won her back on a stroll around an algae
encrusted pond in an obscure park
tucked away in a functional-
at least it seemed to them at the time-
suburban neighborhood.
They’d been through the wash
and had each taken a turn in the dryer-
mangling and testing each other’s feelings.
Sending each other reeling
through space and rhymes for various expanses of time.
But they always came back.
Sitting together on cylindrical pylons of cement
watching parents watching their kids play they feel deep within them that that would be them on some distant day.

So they fought each other tooth and nail
resorted to tactics unbecoming of one another
until one day in 2015 everything settled into place.
It seemed that the race was finally over.
The crowd that for so long had played a part
in off-track betting and proselytizing and hedging
and interfering had up and left.
They were deaf
from the silence that surrounded them without a sound.
Finally they were alone.
Just one simple not-so-bright light shone
down illuminating their faces that were already known
and written-more likely grooved into their bones
and DNA strands.
The scents and smells of the other was like a sixth sense-
their very own clone.

Tragically they would not-and could not touch.
They tried at first, thinking it was a cruel joke to be so close.
Finally, physically and visibly within reach
with no contracts to breach.
All the saints dead and alive tried
through prayer
to clear the air
that stood defiantly by and between

“Let them know peace,” a voice said.
And it was mine.
I narrowed my eyes
and focused my concentration.
I beamed thought rays from my forehead to hers.
I lost every single one of my nerves.
I blathered and sputtered.
I couldn’t accept the end lying there
in the unconscious eyes, ears and arms of my long-lost best friend.

But just then
I heard
the sound of a cricket chirp which assured
me that the Earth
was still passing by while the universe expanded.
I’m nothing I thought, and exhaled seeing my love above me
smile and recede into sounds of rustling branches
and shaking leaves.

Since then
it’s just been
leaving the sink on
to let the water run, brush my teeth and get ready for bed.
Try to silence the thought marathon
currently running through my head.
Other people fuck and make love sounds
in the rooms down the way.
Can’t stop ’em though.
Feelings on the sidelines are never allowed to play.

Walking a line and drying clothes all at the same time.
Wandering outside, taking it in
Mars has tracks on it from landing craft,
but I can’t keep track
of expanding paths and synapse math.
There’s something surrounded by bone up there
that wants to go home down there.
But where?
I can’t stay here anymore?
I can’t stay here anymore.
Can’t you just stop?
But where does it end?
I have to keep going.
My homing signal has been assumed missing
and while you keep guessing I’m out here in the clear
totally tamped down and flattened.
Sometimes, you see, I’m re-animated by free wit, will and stimulation.
But it doesn’t come without proper accreditation.
Change the laws and just let. Me. Be B. Brandon.
I’ve written my name a lot.
So. Have. You.

Successful Fundraiser

Successful Fundraiser from Brandon Smith.

With your help, I was able to raise $2,132 for charity: water. I made a brief video ti thank everyone who donated. I really appreciate your generosity and I know the folks in Rwanda will appreciate your generosity even more.

I’m doing much better. I’ve finally got enough stamina to allow me to switch to full-time at work. Not only is the a sign of physical improvement, it also means more income which takes a tremendous amount of stress of my mind.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

Not Just Another Wedding Film

Bleibaum/Mallott Wedding from Brandon Smith.

Bowers/Thomas Wedding from Brandon Smith

Most independent filmmakers cringe at the idea of making a wedding film. And for good reason. Generally, all creative control on the filmmaker’s behalf goes out the window in favor of how the bride and groom want the end product to look. Not the case with my friends Amanda and Aaron, Todd and Kathy. Here’s the skinny: each couple saw the work I did for my other long-time friends Lance and Jenny and wanted something similar. It’s certainly not uncommon to receive RFP’s from friends based on recommendations from other friends when you’re in the freelance game. It’s a tough line to walk when mixing money and friends though. Fortunately, both couples had money set aside in their wedding budget to pay me, but one of the most important parts was this line in an email I received from Amanda: “I just want something on video to watch years down the road of one of the best days of our lives. Can you help us out?” I was intrigued. What filmmaker doesn’t want to make something timeless? Add in the fact that both couple were willing to let me follow my own vision with how I wanted to capture the day and I was sold. Giving me their trust was a huge compliment. I felt free to shoot, unfettered by any restraints. When I started to edit, their trust gave me the confidence that what I was doing was right because I was expressing myself using their wedding as a platform. I felt engaged as an artist. One of my biggest problems with wedding videos is that they’re generally pretty unwatchable for anyone but the couple and the couple’s immediate family. So I challenged myself to make something that would be palatable to an audience outside of each couple’s inner circle. Also, I wanted to use it as a calling card for the world that I’m willing to shoot your wedding if you’ll give me complete creative control. You have to trust me. If you want to be able to make suggestions and have any sort of control, hire a videographer. If you want something that’s going to be timeless and interesting to your grandkids and beyond, hire a filmmaker. So did I succeed? Let me know in the comments.


I was invited to attend a wedding in the Finger Lakes on June 29th. I’ve been dealing with a lot of complicated issues since the accident last September so attending was exactly what I needed. Not only did I get to witness a joyous couple wed, I got to spend some quality time with a few friends who I’ve known since my time in Bolivia as a US Peace Corps volunteer. I rode to the ceremony with Dan Wright and met up with Kerby & Amber Smithson. We all had a blast. There was much laughing and positivity. I had seriously doubted humanity’s capability of kindness before this weekend, but spending time in a loving, idyllic environment with close friends offered me verifiable proof that life is worth living.

As they say, “pictures are worth a thousand words” so here is over 10,000 words to see just a glimpse of what I saw.

I'd say they're a happy couple.

I’d say they’re a happy couple.


Who doesn’t love a giant red ampersand?


Father-daughter dance


Evan serenades his new wife


And then he kissed me


So idyllic.


Family comes first


What does this rock feel like?


Are you coming from heaven, Mr. Waterfall?


Leave no trace, but barefoot footprints.

Distance Learning Resources

On April 15th of this year, I received an email from Mercedes Bell. She identified herself as a writer who had a piece published to http://www.onlineuniversities.com entitled EdTech in the Third World: Distance Learning. She asked me to read her piece and share my thoughts with you, dear reader. I asked for her patience. I had, and continue to have, a lot on my plate as I recover from the TBI that I sustained last September. 


She granted me my wish, but this did not stop her from following up five times over the next six days to ask me how I was coming along with the piece. I finally had time to get around to it this weekend since I’m staying home to rest while I wear an ambulatory EEG device. 

 I went to the site via the link which Ms. Bell provided and the article contains the byline “Staff Writers,” which to me indicates Ms. Bell is on staff for this website. However, her email address remains anonymously sent from gmail so this remains but a suspicion. I suspected that this was a sales pitch, but I was confused because my blog certainly doesn’t have the kind of circulation that a more noteworthy website has. Perhaps Ms. Bell has been denied by other, more mainstream blogs though so she’s feels this is the only viable option left on the table. 

 I will say that many of my readers are folks with strong educational backgrounds and admirable social status so maybe Ms. Bell is targeting quality readers over quantity. This is an trait that indicates decency in my book so I went ahead and gave the article a once over. 

 As I suspected, the article ends with a call to action to help make distance learning a more viable option for young people straddled by poverty in developing nations. While I think this is certainly a noble effort and one that I could have utilized during my service in Bolivia as a US Peace Corps volunteer, I think the focus is off. Many young people in the US – myself included – are burdened with financial debt from pursuing college and grad school degrees. This is financially crippling to us personally and it has a palpable effect on the national economy. If young people are still paying off hefty loans they took out to enable themselves to become educated, how are we to expect them to buy other things like houses and cars to infuse the economy with capital? I submit to you, dear readers that this is an impossible task. 

The bottom line here is that while I think Ms. Bell’s efforts are noble, I wish she and her colleagues would first focus on trying to alleviate the crippling debt of recent American collegiate grads. Once that problem is fixed, I’d be happy to turn my attention to the needs of the world’s poor.

Is Anonymity Becoming More Valuable Than Fame?

I recently spoke on the phone with both author Parmy Olson, and filmmaker Brian Knappenberger. I was quite moved by what they told me. I think it’s impossible to take a perspective because so little is known in these early days of the group’s existence, so I’m attempting to provide the insight I was given so that you may make an informed decision. I ask questions that occurred to me after speaking with Ms. Olson and Mr. Knappenberger. I think these are the kinds of questions that need to be asked right now so the general public may become more informed about what Anonymous stands for.

Surely you’ve heard about their recent attack on the folks at Westboro Baptist Church for the church’s intention to picket the funerals of those killed in the blasts during the Boston Marathon. This isn’t the first time they’ve been attacked either. Read on to learn more. I hope that it will do you good and shed some much needed insight on Anonymous.

Picture the early days of the Internet as pre-conquest America. Its vast, undiscovered frontiers are simultaneously awe-inspiring and daunting.

People are finding ways to get by. They are organized and flourishing. They live in balance with their surrounding ecosystems and have an unyielding respect for that which sustains them.

If this vision of a virginal, pristine land is the Internet, then I posit that hackers are the natives. Their survival skills are rooted in a deep understanding of and connection to the ecosystems which sustain them. However, like any collective, their cultural norms can be varied and difficult to interpret. We see in them only what our perceptions allow us to.

In her book We Are Anonymous, author Parmy Olson is at once journalist, anthropologist and documentarian, recording and recounting primary interviews with members of the hacker collective responsible for several high-profile online attacks over the last few years.

Parmy Olson                               we are anonymous                           we are legion

Beginning in 2003 and recently working to ban an alleged pedofile from Twitter, Anonymous has targeted the U.S. Department of Justice, the Chicago Police, India’s Supreme Court and Congress, the Church of Scientology, PayPal, MasterCard, Visa, Tunisia’s Prime Minister, Westboro Baptist Church, Sony, Fox’s The X Factor, PBS, Britain’s Serious Organised Crime Agency (SOCA), British tabloid The Sun, the CIA, and oil companies Shell, Exxon Mobil and BP. With such an impressive list of successful attacks to its name, it’s no wonder Anonymous made it to the top of TIME’s Top 100 People public poll.

But who comprises Anonymous? How is this collective structured? And how were some of the hackers caught?

Olson tracks the group’s rise and fall by delving into the online and offline lives of the major players and underlings who fill out the ranks. She pinpoints its genesis on 4chan image boards and traces its many splinter groups like AntiSec and LulzSec.

“I’ve always been fascinated by secret cultures and societies, underground groups of people, parts of our civilization that are not spoken of that much or understood that well, but can be a driving force in things that happen in our lives,” Olson explains to me.

Olson highlights one of the shining stars of Anonymous and LulzSec, Jake Davis. Before his arrest and unmasking, he achieved almost mythical status. Using the screen name Topiary, his clout gave him the platform to assert his beliefs about online ethics, digital culture and what the Internet should be — often in front of thousands of adoring online fans.

Through personal interactions with Davis, Olson learned that his coding and hacking skills weren’t as good as some of the other notable members. Instead, it was his writing prowess, raw wit and natural ability to create narrative propaganda that catapulted him into a leadership role. From the get-go, the group fully grasped the importance and power of well-crafted communication. They saw it as integral to recruitment and the dissemination of their ideals and plans.

“Jake Davis would probably be fine at a PR company or advertising firm somewhere, but he found it more fulfilling to use his talents for something original instead of doing it somewhere behind a desk,” Olson tells me. “Simply put, he didn’t want to work for the man.”

Davis and the other hackers associated with LulzSec instead felt more comfortable roaming the primitive lands of the Internet on image boards like /b/ on 4chan and the vast array of Internet Relay Chat (IRC) networks. But, even escapades on the Internet cannot escape the adage, “what goes up, must come down.” Davis eluded American and European authorities for months, but was finally caught in his home in the Shetland Islands of Scotland.

Details are still emerging about what ultimately led to his capture. It could have been the culmination of a few tiny mistakes or a former friend’s betrayal. It could have been something as seemingly harmless as allowing his real name to appear briefly in an IRC chat, or a connection error with one of his many VPNs (virtual private networks) — all mistakes that would allow authorities to pinpoint his location. Rumors have also surfaced that a past friend may have recognized his voice during his notorious video prank of the Westboro Baptist Church, or that a former hacker colleague-turned-informant offered Davis up to lessen his own punishment.

“Among the things Jake noticed during his interviews with detectives was that the police seemed to see Anonymous as an organized criminal group. When the detectives questioned Jake, they seemed to want answers that fit that point of view. Jake tried to explain that Anonymous was not a group, was not organized, and did not have a structure. It was more of a culture or an idea than a group,” Olson writes of Davis’ experiences once arrested.

Olson continues, “[H]owever, hackers are known to occasionally share nicknames to help obfuscate their identities or even flat-out lie.”

Since Olson herself admits that the information given to her during interviews may be suspect, it’s important to corroborate the ideas disseminated from members of Anoymous to gain a better picture of their intentions and what they stand for.

Security strategist and researcher Joshua Corman essentially agrees with Davis’s assertion.

“Anonymous should be thought of more as a brand or a franchise. It can be used for good or it can easily be corrupted and used as a veil to disguise other unrelated hacks,” Corman explains. “In today’s day and age, it’s startling how much power is assigned to the individual. We’ve never experienced this sort of unbalance assigned to someone that may just want to see the world burn. The flurry of attacks over the last year or so from Anonymous and all its splinter cell groups should serve as the proverbial canary in the coal mine. If we don’t do something to secure and educate ourselves, it could be only the first wave of online backlash towards a system that is viewed as corrupt.”

Some who follow Anonymous are concerned that the correct information isn’t reaching the public. Filmmaker Brian Knappenberger is trying to change this in his documentary We Are Legion.

“I think of myself as a foreign correspondent,” Knappenberger says. “They’re a community and I think it’s worth looking at them as a culture. There are plenty of aspects to them that you don’t hear about.”

Olson again. “Hackers don’t own the Internet, but they feel a sense of ownership of it. More and more people feel like a citizen of the Internet than they do a citizen of their own country. I think perhaps this only applies to a minority of people, but I think that number is growing. The internet is connecting so many of us that there is a real sense of belonging to it and a real sense of community. And Anonymous is a great example of that sense of community.”

During a recent hiking trip, I reflected on Olson’s book, and it occurred to me that my urban and digital survival skills are much better honed than my wilderness survival skills. A person living in New York City need only venture into the great outdoors overnight to remember the power of unbridled nature.

“That’s the main thing about life,” Davis wrote in a letter to Olson. “People think we are superior to animals. And they’re looking for this missing link, but what if we are the link to animals and real human beings haven’t evolved yet? It’s pretentious to think we’re superior in the universe because we can communicate with each other.”

Upon realizing the woods could gobble me up without hesitation, I felt a burst of deep respect and reverence for the unknown, and for those who thrive in nature’s organized chaos.

Maybe that same sense of reverence should be offered to hackers, or should I say, digital natives?

The Power of Human Connection – Kasasa Gas Giveaway

Kasasa Gas Giveaway from Brandon Smith on Vimeo.

Campaigns that help people connect with one another are right up my alley. When I first got in touch with Jenna from CSG PR in Denver, Colorado I knew this would be a great fit for my skill set. Jenna and her team were very well-organized and made capturing the mood and tone of the event a breeze. Plus, watching folks learn that they were going to be getting twenty bucks worth of free gasoline was quite a joy.

Since I already knew the strategy behind the piece, I just had to execute it on screen. It had to be lighthearted, but it also had to show the power of using face to face meetings in a branded way to create a memorable experience for potential consumers. I think the combination of warm smiles, a sunny day and upbeat music struck the right chord.

I shot this using my new Canon 5D, Mark iii set up and I enjoyed every minute of it. The workflow is easier than I’m used to with the Panasonic HMC-150 and the picture just jumps off the screen.

Do you need a video like this? Call me, let’s chat. I’m sure we can make it happen.

Long Form Content Is Finally Hip

A while back, my friend Kym Perfetto approached me about doing a demo reel for her. I’ve done demo reels for myself before, but never for someone else. Kym has an array of talent and the potential to become a household name before the next tachyon violates causality. I was excited about the possibility of furthering someone’s career that I believe in. It would also be an opportunity to promote the fusion of digital strategy with documentary-style editing, a style that I wish to see more of in the world. It looks as though it’s a trend that is catching on, too. Both Forbes and Tech Crunch have recently featured stories about the rise of long-form content on the web.

It’s no secret that the question of how to captivate an ever-diminishing public attention span keeps digital media strategists awake at night. The same can be said for an actor trying to break through. The public has never been more saturated with content and I’ve heard directly from friends in the PR industry that casting directors know exactly what they’re looking for before they even start sorting through video reels. If they don’t see “it,” they’ve often moved on before the video has even finished loading.

If that’s the case, what difference does it make if the reel is two minutes long or eight minutes long? Not. One. Bit. So, I chose to approach Kym’s reel in a radically different way. I chose to go long form and create a more comprehensive, artistic profile.

During a Q and A session after a screening of Gates of Heaven, Errol Morris mused “If you already know the answer to a question, then why ask it?” If talent scouts and agents are looking for something in particular, then why do people even go to the trouble of creating reels? It seems like a futile effort at addressing a question the powers that be already have an answer for.

For comparison’s sake, check out these examples of reels that are available on the web:

Savvy websites have taken this cue by creating a place where they write and produce work for you to show. Nevermind the weird binary lighting that strikes the subjects with harsh blues and reds and the other low-rent production values. The second part of Jonathan Ohye’s reel(second, above) where he speaks with a heavy, unidentifiable Asian accent is reprehensible and works to perpetuate stereotypical casting that we should be moving away from.

This style of reel doesn’t fit Kym’s current career arc. Kym has been on shows that these actors are trying to break into like The Wire and Homicide. She also has an ever-expanding list of credits on IMdB including a role in a major production called Premium Rush starring Joseph Gordon-Levitt. She’s trained many notable A-List celebrities with her own brand of fitness at Soul Cycle and her band, No Way Josie had over 40,000 downloads of their debut EP in its first week.

So positioning her is tricky. She’s got mainstream experience in supporting roles, but she’s looking for something where she’s featured more prominently. If I was going to present her as the next big thing, I had to be bold. One of the boldest things about going long form is eschewing the present day standard of bowing to the almighty page view. While I think this metric is a great way to measure resonance, I don’t believe that quality is determined by page views alone. I’m not the only one looking for different ways to measure quality. Pinterest co-founder Ben Silbermann championed forging new paths during a panel discussion at the SXSW Interactive Festival in Austin last week.

“I think it was my days at Google that inspired my audacity of thought. I was inspired by their boldness.”

I share Ben’s idea that quality is something that you achieve by tinkering endlessly before you feel comfortable that you put the best product forward. Quality is something that gives you a sense of pride about your own work. Quality is telling great stories in a way that connects with an audience.

“The idea of communicating who you are doesn’t get old and shouldn’t be randomly accessed. Every company cuts it’s own path but there’s always a lot of pressure to look like the last successful company. It’s hard to have the boldness to be different,” Ben added.

So with that in mind, I offer you Kym’s reel. My guess is that it’s drastically different than the other reels floating around Los Angeles right now. Who cares? I think it tells Kym’s story. And if you’ll indulge my boldness, I believe that you won’t mind spending a little bit of time watching it.

Think I’m off my rocker? Let me know in the comments below.

Internship Recap – charity: water

I applied to be the charity: water multimedia production intern for two reasons. One, I’m very passionate about doing whatever I can to solve the water crisis because of my experience drilling water wells in Bolivia with the US Peace Corps. Two, I’ve studied digital media and filmmaking extensively and I wanted the opportunity to be able to use my skills in a professional setting that would be both challenging and instructional. The charity: water staff ethos towards working with interns was exactly the experience I was looking for. I instantly felt like I was a part of the team and was given responsibilities that challenged me.

The first video I made while at charity: water highlighted a particularly noteworthy campaign that took a very creative approach to bringing awareness to the water crisis.

My first few days were spent working on an ambitious project to personally thank 250 past and current donors. It was an all-hands-on-deck effort. Each staff member was assigned a partner and together they were assigned 8-10 videos to make. The results were amazing and continue to fuel viral views on the web and spark conversation about an organization that is willing to take on this sort of herculean task just to say thanks.

The second video I put together followed my friend — and charity: water graphic designer — Greg as he attempted to complete his own fundraising campaign by embarking on a quest to eat 101 sandwiches.

After the Thank You Campaign was “in the can” so to speak, my main task shifted to fueling charity: water’s blog with posts about notable mycharitywater campaigns. It was a true joy to be able to communicate with the folks that were out there raising awareness for the water crisis. From learning about the trials and tribulations of Whitney Henderson’s run across the US to getting insight into a couple’s love for photography to meeting a boy with the compassion of ten thousand men, I was given hope that if we all do our small part, we can change the world for the better.

I also had the distinct honor of photographing the Fall 2011 Intern class, a group that I got to know well over the course of the semester. It was a blast asking them a bunch of questions — ranging from serious to absurd — and then curating their answers into one massive post. Not only were they an incredibly photogenic group, but they were all very kind and I’m proud to call them my friends. I’ll always reflect fondly on our days across from each other at the “Intern Table.” I wish them all great success in whatever path they take.

The culmination of my experience was the privilege of shooting the charity: ball, an event that raised more than $2.5 million in a single night for clean water initiatives around the world.

Witnessing the collaboration and dedication from all of the employees and the willingness from volunteers and interns to go the extra mile made it apparent that charity: water is here to stay. Scott Harrison, the CEO and founder of charity: water, had an immediate and mathematically resolute response when I asked him if the water crisis could be solved. “Yes,” he said. “It’s a matter of money and will.” It’s incredibly motivating to work along side a man so dedicated that he can see past the malaise of challenges certain to challenge him over the coming decades and straight to the end-game.

Finally, I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention Mo Scarpelli, my mentor during the internship. She taught me a great deal about div tags and f-stops. We had great conversations about media ethics and editing strategy. Mo, you are a true joy to work for and with. Cheers!

Check out Scott’s story about why he does what he does in an interview with Tech Crunch here>