I don’t usually like writing on here without at least a little bit of humour. Even if it’s meant to be sentimental, a little pun or inappropriate penis reference usually slips in somewhere.

Nothing funny happened today.

We left this morning early and drove out — ”we” being the HOW volunteer team — to a government-run orphanage. The intent was to bring milk and socks and treats and to play with the children. My job was to film. When we arrived, it turned out that I had to leave the video camera in the van… and that there wasn’t a whole lot of play allowed at all. They treated us like tourists at a zoo, leading us from room to room displaying a group of kids in some condition or another. We wore masks.

We spent about 15 minutes with a group of kids suffering from hydrocephalus — a swelling of the head due to fluid accumulation around the brain. They were lying in their beds, heads the size of watermelons in some cases, waiting to die.

The car was full of broken hearts on the way back… and it raised huge question for many of us: what is the gauge of positive impact? Does holding a child’s hand for 5 minutes help? Yes. Does it help enough? No. What’s enough? Fucked if I know.

I had a long talk with a few from the group when we returned (over a beer, naturally), and it really made me see the heart of this organization. These people care so so deeply about these kids, and we weren’t at the orphanage so that we could witness something awful; it was so that each time they return, more and more trust can be built up. It starts with socks and milk. Then sanitation and medical supplies. Then art projects. Then with medical assistance and surgeries. And eventually, bit by bit, these children start to get more, and get a chance to be loved properly before they get to where we saw them today — with heads three times the size they should be, connected to a feeding tube, in a numbered room with numbered rows and nobody to touch or smile at them.

More photos from Vietnam on Flickr

The flight(s) from YVR to SGN were more manageable than expected. Faced with a seat at the bulkhead that sacrificed both leg room and personal television, I went to plan B: 2 gravol and a glass of white wine. I woke up 12 hours later in Taipei.

My first day in Ho Chi Minh City was spent filming at a girls’ orphanage with a team of HOW (Helping Orphans Worldwide) volunteers as they drew with, cuddled, blew bubbles at, and pretty much just loved like crazy a group of young girls.

You may hear people referring to the “vietnam war” — in many cases, they’re talking about the bubble fight that I lost miserably at the Lotus Girl’s School. Those girls are tough. They beat the shite out of me with bubbles, and I have greasy film all over my camera gear to prove it.

As we headed back to town, a dinner location was decided upon and I heard myself say aloud, “Sounds great, but first I need to pop out and find some dong.” I spend the majority of the uncomfortable silence that followed reminding myself that, although “dong” may be the vietnamese currency, it’s also slang for penis. Is that a dong in your pocket or are you just…. oh never mind.

Today was a day off for the volunteers, so I accompanied Hillary — the Executive Director — to the children’s hospital. Awesome. Cute. Great. Perfect.

This was followed by an ambitious trip to the “Chinese Market” — a large “wholesale market” that presumably services “retail markets” — in search of paper lanterns. Well, it’s too bad we weren’t looking for EVERYTHING, because we would have found it. I stumbled into a giant stall that only sold plastic plants and fruit. All I could think as I looked through the rows and rows of… stuff, was that one day we’ll run out of oil and wonder, “Why did we have to make all of those fucking plastic bananas?”

Closing tidbit: if I were ever to fall out of a window here, my sole concern would be getting electrocuted. I find it improbable to think that I may reach the ground. See below.

I’m not exactly when it was, but a few weeks ago the phone rang. It was Ze Frank. It was cool that he called because, well, I think he’s pretty cool. The conversation ended up being about a small non-profit based in LA that is trying to make a difference in the lives of orphans at risk.

They need a video.

In five minutes I board a flight to Taipei and then on to Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam.

I’m making them a video.

Life has been happening so fast lately — it turns out that I haven’t logged into my own blog in 2 months — so I’m simultaneously elated and terrified to be out of the office for a week with time to watch, photograph, reflect and hopefully write. What I’m hoping is that this is a chance for my spirit to take a deep breath. Spend time with children. Make beautiful media. Help, in some part, to make a difference for a group of people that are really making a difference.

So, for the next week I’ll be with the seemingly wonderful people at HOW, which thrills me. Although, what thrills me more than anything is a 13 hour flight with no phone, no internet, and nothing to do but sleep.

Boarding.

Dearest Allison,

You are one fresh and original provider of marketing solutions. I’m excited and relieved that you have joined the twitter revolution and that you have a new tool with which to exercise your freshness/originality (freshinality?) and to provide valuable transparency about your marketing expertise. I’m honoured that you’ve followed me and I simply can’t wait to click through to your website and—oh, wait a sec… Hey, no harm, no foul Allison! I’m still interested in following you (admittedly because I can see cleavage in your profile photo). I’ll just read some of your recent tweets so that I can get a real sense of who you, and your fresh and original team, are—oh, wait a minute… You know what Allison, forget the silly foreplay. All good marketers know that there are perfectly good bots to do all of this personal feel good marketing stuff anyway. And that’s what I like about you; you know efficiency when you see it. In fact, I bet you’re too busy providing fresh and original marketing solutions to use these fresh and original marketing tools anyhow. Let’s just draft up a large contract and get started. At least you spelled Twitter right—oh, hold on a minute…

Truly yours from your new client,

Jay

Twexism :: The act of using twitter to make slurs against the opposite sex.

If I was Photoshop, I’d use the clone stamp tool to get rid of the odd zit.