Lists

Best right now in Minnesota:

1. My family
2. Food. I always eat my way though my vacations here.
3. Snow. Beautiful trees everywhere.
4. Scrabble, movies, books. The things I don’t have time for.
5. Having a hurt tooth and * poof * dentist appointment mere hours later.

Worst things in Minnesota:

1. Opportunity. Not enough.
2. Style. Not enough.
3. Oh boy.

Best things in New York:

1. My love-er-ly friends
2. Always seeming to run into new opportunities and the same people. There is something very comforting in that.
3. Trader Joes
4. Youth- everywhere.
5. The feeling that anything and everything is possible.
6. Being able to identify instantly anyone who does not live in New York

Most annoying things in New York:

1. Unknown liquid. Especially if it drips on you. Especially in the subways.
2. Anywhere on 7th between 32nd and 52nd.
3. Single women. They are everywhere.
4. Crack heads. Crack heads eating chicken wings and drinking Snapple next to you on the L train.
5. Speaking of the L train, I loath at night between 1st Ave and Bedford stops when it feels like you could walk faster than the train. They always say it is running slower due to an “earlier incident.” That excuse only works for so long. I do not believe it any longer.

Resolutions for 2008:

1. Do not read anymore “tabloid” blogs.- Perez Hilton, D-listed, etc. (Gothamist and Gawker do not count).
2. Date. Date in 2008. I will put myself out there and not compare everyone to James.
3. Go to a figure drawing class, join a book club, volunteer- find another niche.
4. Take batter care of myself. More sleep, better food, and exercise. Floss.
5. Buy a push scooter. Is that a resolution?

My Christmas Wish List

Dear Mother:

You ask for my Christmas wish list. Here it is:

1) An adult scooter... to scoot on
2) Ipod speakers for all weather
3) Black, super-opaque tights
4) Super quality, professional flat iron.
5) Books:
6) Jewels:
7) Prints:

More to come....

I (ra) Am Foolish

I just got back from the most eventful lunch of my life!

As I was walking with my coworkers to a salad/sandwich place I told them how I cried on the subway this morning due to This American Life's Murder episode. "Before You Leave" by Mary Gauthier was the final song, and I just completely lost it. None of my co-workers heard of the program and I delved into the awesome wonderous that is TAL as well as Ira Glass; to explain I told them of my blog entry on the subject.

As we were walking to the cafe I got into a bit of a door jam because as I was attempting to walk in as Jess Goldstein was walking out. I was an intern at the Guthie years ago when he designed "His Girl Friday" for them. He is truly, truly sweet and was always very kind and generous to me as an intern. I was completely shocked and didn't say anything.

I kicked myself as I ordered my Waldorf salad and told myself I would say something if I ever saw anyone like that again.

I must now say a quick disclaimer. I completely not impressed by celebrity in anyway. I have worked on many an event with celebrity showings. I never, ever think it is appropriate to talk to celebs on the streets or harass them in anyway; in fact the whole culture sort of disgusts me. However, it is a certain type of person that I promised myself I would say something to if appropriate- it's the "connoisseur" celebrities. The general populous unknowns but "appreciated and celebrated in their field" celebrities; the people I admire most. There are only two people that I would personally put in this category at this time: Ira Glass and Julie Taymor.

Speaking of Ira Glass......

In he waltzed, belly up to the greens counter to order himself a salad.

"Oh my god, that's Ira Glass...!!!"

My co-workers were confused at best.

"I have to talk to him, I have to talk to him."

Again... perplexed.

I'm freaking out a bit and still not completely sure it's not just an older displaced Williamsburg-er honing in on the style of their Public Radio idol. (Silly me.. I was in Mid-town. Of course it was him.)

"Hi," I SPUTTERED, "You made me cry today."

(Yes that is actually what I said.)

His face was confused. Of course. And perhaps even a bit scared of me.

"This murder episode....the last song... I lost it."

"Song?" He said.

"After the suicide story."

"Oh yes, thats a dark story."

"I normally don't..." I make a gesture to mean 'approach people', but what I REALLY mean is 'make a complete and utter stammering, awestruck fool of myself'.

"Thank you for all your work." (this part was a bit awkward and we were sort of talking over each other)

"Thank you, no, thank you," he says as he goes back to the man behind the counter.

I am JOYFUL. My co-workers are, still as ever, perplexed.

I feel very foolish for not saying what I would really want to say if I could go back. It would be simple and clear: thank you. Thank you Ira Glass for creating a program that I love. Thank you for telling me stories that affect me and that I share with people. Thank you for being the only media source that makes me truly love to be living in America every time I finish a podcast. Thank you for just displaying people, without judgment or at an attempt at meaning. Thank you for creating smart and interesting programing. Thank you for giving me something to do on the subway.

Thanks.

Old Bird=The Name of My Birthday Fish

me: taline i'm still really sad about old bird

i cant lie about it

taline: i'm sorry

maybe the tank was too small

it's my fault, i'm a cheap bastard!

me: my roommate suggested putting him in a larger container... it's my fault because i didn't want to deal with it

oh well

i'm not a caretaker

i can't wipe asses

this is not my life

taline: not true!

i'm sure, given the chance you would wipe an ass very, very hard

B-Day Breakdown

September 26, 2007: I finally turned twenty-four.

Twenty-four is a loaded age for me- I always thought it would be when I would get married. When I was young I felt like it was a good age to grow up and be an adult…. I can’t even comment on that now.

Although I won’t say it wasn’t a long time coming.

I had been lying/tricking myself into believing I was twenty-four about six months before the proper date. Twenty-three just felt too young, awkward, and ignorant. Twenty- four seemed to have it together while still holding on to wide-eyed dreams. (Yes. I will be one of those women who lie about age. Don’t be surprised if I’m twenty-four for a very long time.)

To celebrate the date had a (despite a few bumps in the night) lovely potluck at my house with dear friends. Lots of food and wine was consumed, and since the fall feeling of “nesting” has overtaken me, Day One twenty-four felt fat and lonely. Gladly the feeling has faded and I have felt good…. except when I came home tonight…

My dear friend Taline gave me the most wonderful birthday present: a goldfish. Oh how I have wanted a pet, and oh how I loved that little fish.

That little fish is now dead.

Yes, five days into my possession he called it a day and went belly up, which is exactly where I found him this evening.

I speculated earlier that since I cannot take care of any plant life properly I should not go up the biological caretaking chain. This only further supports that claim and proves that I can never have a dog. Now THAT is sad.

A Day in A Life During Fashion Week

New York Fashion Week came and went like a tornado- time to job blog.

Note: I will not mention any of our clients (links provided) so my (if you are reading this might I add lovely) coworkers will not find it via our numerous Google Alerts.

SEEN:

….while working the backstage access door at a show:

The girl working backstage access with me, (not a co-worker nor anything to do with press) giving the designer a hard time about not being on the backstage list. He waltzed in.
“Excuse me…name???”
He said it.
“Who??!?!?” She scanned the list.
“He’s the designer,” I jokingly giggled and tried to play it off as “or course” as he passed, annoyed.

The Devil Wears Prada herself, walking out of her private car looking frail with huge sunglasses, toting body guard. She divided an inanely crowded backstage like Moses parting a sea.

This one looking pretty in pink but… how do I put it…. THIN. What happened??!?! She looked amazing in Blue Crush. I hate you Hollywood; leave these girls alone.


…..while working the “you’re not on the list/oh HI, we’ve been waiting for you, come on it” at the door to the party for this store opening:

Fifth Avenue shut done. Police, bodyguards, crowds on onlookers, crowds of party-goers trying to get in. CRAZY-ness.

Being offered pot to let a couple inside.

A woman threatening to get the VP of my company fired because she wasn’t allowed in.

This girl- with a $6000 face of makeup and $1600 manicure- all paid for by the designer so she would make an appearance. Thank god she wore a hat... no telling how much the hairdresser would have charged.

Other celebs.


…while working at The Waverly Inn, seating guests.

The designer mingling, cigar in hand, throughout the bought out restaurant with 120 fashion editors, socialites, and celebrities. (This put in back at cool $100,000.)

This girl and her sister, “This is my little sister Ashley, younger but taller.” And, might I personally add, prettier.

Me, drinking free champagne with co-workers as the workday came to an end at 12:30am. Later we would eat at the trendy PopBurger, continue the drinks, food, etc and charge it all to the company.

*I might add there were two groups of PR girls working during the night mentioned above. The other group went out to dinner with the designer’s son and too many drinks later ended up at an exclusive club where senior members of the brand and MY BOSS finished their evenings. Tables broke, participation in a scandalous burlesque show- nudity included, a dildo “exploding” in the face of on of my co-workers….all and all just SCANDALOUS. My boss saw this sight and was none too pleased….. heads rolled, the office talked.

AND if you are interested in seeing my boss.... shoulder length hair looking to the side in the background.

A Fashion First

Fashion Week is upon us and I have been working late… like 10:30pm late.

With moving, etc I have not done my laundry is quite some time. QUITE some time.

I am out… as in out, out, of underwear. I have worn all my granny panties, miserable string thongs, and holey, well worn pieces. I have NOTHING.

I didn’t want to pull a Britney Spears and was lamenting late last night to my roommate David.

He went into his drawer and pulled out a pair of tight, gray briefs complete with penis pouch.

“These are clean.”

I quickly thought about my options.

“Done.”

Yes folks. Today I was at work planning for the most fashionable week in New York wearing literal boy shorts under a slightly see-through Brooklyn Industries spring dress.

I must say I love roommates who draw no (or very wide) lines and aren’t weirded out by… oh… wearing their undergarments. It brings people closer. I definitely feel closer to David somehow…..

B.Rent Hagen da da da da DA!

Last week my dear friend Brent came across this great land in his virginal visit to New York. It’s a bit strange who you keep in contact with from high school; Brent has been a bit of a surprise reoccurrence and a lovely one at that. After James (who, for all intensive purposes, could be considered a wonderful ex husband and is inevitably in my life forever- this proven when my mother sent him cookies via mail and, due to my shock, let me know they had “over the years acquired an independent relationship together of which [I] am not a factor” and (!) that they had been keeping up via email) anyway-run-on-sentence- AFTER JAMES, Brent has been my only friend from high school that is not just a blast from the past, but someone I stay fairly current with. He is extreme, which I love, and is most always up to some such ridiculousness (like planning a trip to the artic circle via motorcycle… oh by the way the motorcycle doesn’t run and departure time is one month… oh and by the way he had never ridden a motorcycle). I like people who make a plan (the more ridiculous the better) and follow through. I have no doubt he will actually take said trip, regardless of everything and anything. Brent also shares a bit of displacement disorder that perhaps one will always feel when their home, the place they grew up, is a place they do not belong. We are able to speak quite at length and some mutual understanding about our upbringing, people, places, and the differences. There is something very easy and important about someone who knows you throughout time-that knows not just you, the now, but you, the path.
__

I feel like it is always best to walk around New York with a mission. The mission with Brent was the find the “best pizza in New York”, which, in this case, was Grimaldi's in DUMBO. We were also staking out ice cream at the Brooklyn Ice Cream Factory, when a male/female pair past us with their tasty treats. Brent sized them up.

“We could take them.”

“Duh.”

We quickly came to the conclusion that we would be hard pressed to find a male/female tag team that could take us.

Neither of us has fought physically in the past, but none the less I don’t think it to be an untruth.

We are both sturdy people, sizable but quick, and would be great team (fighting) players. More than anything else we are passive but something in the frustration of it all… in the nicely-nice upbringing, in the displacement, in the passiveness… is just waiting for someone to cross us unknowingly. We would never strike without due cause (defense) but part of us perhaps wishing for the excuse to release and lash out.

We, of course, walked politely around the ice cream laden couple and waited patiently in line for our pizza.

However, consider yourself warned......

No Suprise, they came around to the Simpsons

I was reading "The Week" and came across an article "Harry Potter: Touched by the Divine?" and it cities this.
I'm serious. These people are crazy. First evil, then the son of god.
I called it in my last blog.

I will miss you....

For the first time in my life I have a huge twinge of longing to go back to Minnesota. I could have stayed a month. I think this is the first time I have left knowing that a full time job with little to no more time off in the next year awaits me. (Ug how I loathe schedules and having to work!) I love New York because of my friends and the new people I meet constantly; however, I think I am made to live in a less stressful environment. I quickly pick up on the nervous energy in the city, and I think it has a negative affect on my general health and person as a whole. Sitting in my backyard, reading, being with my family- it was wonderful. I’m sure I will be in the City for quite some time, but I am not a “life-er”. At some point I will need space, trees, water, relaxation, and I will need it more than just a weekend vacation.


In other news I finished the last and final installment of Harry Potter (in two days – it felt like two hours). It ended perfectly and I loved it. I find in incredibly odd that right-wing freaks are so opposed to the series. It is a classic tale of good vs. evil, and it doesn’t get much more biblical than the (STOP READING IF YOU HAVEN’T READ IT YET) “laying down one’s life for another” theme. I also get annoyed with people “too intellectual” and dislike it because, I think, the mass popularity. No, you will not find some enlightenment in the final installment, but it is damn entertaining. I find that most people against Harry Potter (in both the religious and snob parties) haven’t bothered to read the book. I think it says volumes about the person and the opinions they form/information they gather in general.

So whatever nah-sayers, just read and enjoy.

(P.S. I also am over the "I read the last 5 pages" group of you as well.... that's just wrong.)

The Word

I escaped Brooklyn (narrowly) last Wednesday. The one day I am looking to fly to the Midwest and I am plagued by a tornado on the east coast. Figures. Also, as I was trudging in the humidity and heat with my suit case, trying to find some sort of transport (as the subways were down and for some reason all the cabs seemed MIA… no cabs to be found in New York?!? figures) my bridesmaid dress fell out of the “garment bag” (aka garbage bag) and I rolled over it was frustrated vigor. I roughed up some of the sateen fibers, which meant there was little to nothing I could do to mend. Figures again. I finally reached the airport to be greeted with some of the most insane lines I have ever encountered in all my travels. Figures, figures, figures. However, I did, as I said, escape the city in a grand hurrah and landed in Minneapolis.

I had such a wonderful time at my cousins wedding. A whirlwind as I flew in Wednesday night, had a full day of pampering, rehearsing, and grooms-dinner-ing on Thursday, wedding on Friday, brunch on Saturday, my other cousin’s baby shower on Sunday, and drove to Fergus Falls, home to my parents, on Sunday.

Sunday evening my parents white van rolled into the local grocery store, Service Foods, to get some bacon for BLTs that evening. My father went inside to purchase. I told my mom I would like some faux bacon as I am trying to cut back on my meat intake. She went inside to ask. The limited Boca section did not have bacon, and I believe the woman who helped her stated something like, “that doesn’t go over too well with people in these parts” or some such…maybe she also had a shotgun… who really knows. The point my father came out with the purchased bacon and we went home. He asked me what I would like to dine on the following evening: venison, ducks, goose, etc etc etc. I mentioned I have been pretty veggie lately and trying to cut back on my meat. He was startled. A little shocked.

“Ahhh...I was TOLD that.”

????

Yes folks. Fifteen minutes earlier (mere moments after I rolled into town) the grocer who helped my mother veggie out-ed me to my father. He of course denied it to the end, “You must be mistaken… not MY daughter….” and left the confused women.

The good word travels fast, and I knew I was back in Small Town, USA.

Like Veruca Salt...

...I want my own Suri Cruise Doll.... seriously... this kid is ridiculously cute. I don't care if Katie Holmes is in a sick marriage as Tom's beard. She got a damn cute kid in the process.

The Rundown

The past few weeks have been absolute insanity. Highs, lows, and in-betweens, I've run the gamut; if there has been a consistent it's the world-wind factor.

The best news is I've moved to Williamsburg! I am so pleased to be in Brooklyn; it is much more my home than any other place I have been in the City. My apartment is fantastic- a huge industrial loft- and I have already met the neighbors. Everyone (except for “Jim”- another story) is young, creative, and carries a great vibe around in their hipster knapsacks.

Last week I also participated in a health and wellness/holistic medicine documentary with Cameron Alborzian. I spoke to him about my lifestyle, about having fibromyalgia, and in generally just feeling a bit shitty all the time. His prognosis: I am too filled with air and fire and am living in extremes. I need to find balance. I need to find out why I move all the time and have so much trouble staying put. He told me I am to eat simply and regularly, get to bed earlier and get up earlier, participate in quiet activities. I haven’t eaten meat since speaking with him (something I never thought I would do) and am going to start the harder scheduling things when I go home next week. I need a quiet week, free of work and stress, to jump start these major changes and make a plan of how to incorporate that into my lifestyle here in New York. It’s going to be hard, but something that needs to be done.

As of last night I finished the costumes for the fringe show I was working on, “A Mikvah”. I went up to meet with the lovely cast and co yesterday in Connecticut where rehearsals were taking place. Eating a fresh fruit salad with everyone gathered, speaking about the play, enjoying a perfect evening, a thought flashed through my head: I need to send Craig Newmark flowers.

Craig has changed my life considerably. Almost every aspect now has been affected, found, purchased, met, etc because of his lovely site, including all of the above mentioned. Craig’s list has brought me to California, found most all of my homes, helped me meet a considerable amount of people, found me work, found me gigs, gave me all the furniture I own. I have participated in things I would have never discovered without him (a holistic teacher… really??) and opened my networking community in a real way. My world would have been much smaller without him.

So to you Craig Newmark:

Wedding Bells Just Won't Quit

....as of today add another boy I dated briefly to the "marriage" side of things.

Traitors.

I Heart Ira Glass

Podcasts are my new obsession. As I struggle with motion sickness, and reading only aggravates the situation when on moving transport, I have turned to my trusty ipod and NPR to deliver stories and news alike. I recommend, in ascending order of preference:

WNYC’s The Fishko Files

RTE’s Documentary on One

PRI’s Fair Game with Faith Salie

WNYC’s Leonard Lopate Show

WNYC’s Radio Lab (Oh so good!!)

And, it is a sin for anyone not to listen to, Out of Chicago:

This American Life

(Dreamboat)

Every time I finish listening to an episode of This American Life I get a feeling I haven’t felt in a very long time- something I rarely feel: I am proud to be a person living American. I am hooked and intrigued by people’s stories. I love the diversity, the struggle. I love how it is the tale of the everyman mundane, yet always unique, interesting, and individual. It makes me want to study people even more closely, make documentaries, and hear people share themselves. I want to know what they do and care about, how they live. I believe it is only through attempting to understand an individual-all of them- that we can make steps at becoming better ourselves. I find the most interesting people are the ones with the best foibles and the articulation and openness of these flaws allow for a sense of kinship. Somehow, in the honesty of the shortcomings, one can find a strength of character, which can allow one to know and admire someone for their talents. It’s this human reality- both for better or worse- that is depicted on the show. It’s understanding, loving, despite….

Wedding Bells

So two of my ex boyfriends and a boy I went to prom with are married. MARRIED. (Oh the things you can keep up on via facebook.) Now granted my relationships with them took place in early high school, but part of me (the narcissist) is confused how they could have possibly gotten over me. I am a great girlfriend. How could my 8^th grade boyfriend find someone better than me?!? The world may never know….

Timaeus

I just recently finished “What is the What” by Dave Eggers.

For anyone who has not read it, please do. It is such a must read. The story is of a Sudanese refugee who orally told his life account to Eggers who used it to create his fictional work. It is so very touching (it made me start to cry on the subway no fewer than twice and made me feel guilty about my lap-of-luxury-life always.)

I think the book has helped me make some realizations about why I feel so unsettled in my life. I do not have to struggle every day to keep myself alive. I know I will eat, I know I will have a place to sleep. I know no one is out trying to kill me and my loved ones. I have not had to witness my home, my family, and my country flung into chaotic despair. My human struggle is not about survival.

When you are past attempting to survive you are in a position to thrive.

And how should I thrive?

How do I prove my “thriving” in this society? There is something in my competitive nature that makes me want to “win” by society’s rules. Americans generally find the thriving through material possessions and in that excess I am disgusted. Yet still I feel the pull.

There is something very sick to it, and I hate to sound like I am not thankful for all my good fortune, but I would make such a good survivor. I would live, I would plow on through. I feel like I would know how to do that- emotionally and physically. I feel like it makes sense to me.

Work, work, work- What are you working for?

I am working to keep myself alive.

That makes sense.

Work, work, work- What are you working for?

Paying the bills, pretty little things, a lovely couch.

There is something phony about it. I feel like it is almost lying about our mortality in a way.

Perhaps it all comes down to guilt. If I was “surviving” I would feel less guilty about my current state of discontent. If people were getting plucked left and right I would at least have an excuse to feel unsatisfied with the state of affairs.

I feel like I always have to end my writings in “I really am happy…really…not kidding…” because I am.

It’s in the board strokes that I find the forlorn. I find it in a soul which longs to be part of the universe however trapped in a body belonging to the earth. And in that aren’t we all in the same struggle?

In any case, read the book.

I wonder if any boys think I'M cute..... ?

My mom “happened” to see my little sister’s journal. (I yelled at her.)

The entry of the best middle-schooler in the world read:

Things that are on My Mind Today:

1) How much I miss Erin
2) I wonder if any boys think I’m cute?

That definitely makes my "all time favorite things ever" list.

Reading (dead) Tea Leaves: Future Bleak

I do not trust people who cannot keep a plant alive. A plant needs the basic, barebones TLC to keep a living thing….well…living. If you can’t keep a plant alive you really shouldn’t move up the “caretaking totem pole”, which includes small animals, babies, and, really, any other basic relationship.

There is a very expensive, very dead orchid plant in my boss’ offices.

I am one of those people who don’t do plants.

I am nervous for my future.

.....Not to mention of my boss as well......

MJC MADNESS!

Just as quickly as he came he is leaving again. MJC is off into the wild world, working this summer in Nantucket (where I will visit him as frequently as possible). I will miss the crazy creature and the fun that ensues.

Scene: The Murry Hill home of Mel and MJC, 33rd floor apartment overlooking other high-rises.

As I’m telling a story, MJC looks out the window and spots a smoker on his terrace.

“Gimmie the binoculars.”

Mel pulls out a pair and MJC peers at the man, obviously no longer listening to my story.

I get frustrated at the lack of attention as he fiddles with the lenses.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m focusing on someone else right now. Literally focusing.”

We take turns gawking at the man.

Later, we interview people to sublet MJC’s room for the next couple months. Even though he wasn’t going to be sharing the apartment while he was there, the “winner” was the cutest boy that stopped by (tall, dark, handsome, sporty, lawyer).

“He’s going to be in my sheets. I’m rolling in them when I get back.”

We finish the day by learning a snappy tap dance routine that MJC choreographed. Mel and I are rough, but there is nothing like getting a direct “5,6,7,8” from him to get your heart pumping.

I love this man:

My Diabolical Plan for Peace of Mind

Nantucket was just the ticket.

It was incredible: food, fun, friends, drinks, sun, beach. The Diamonds are a pretty remarkable family and so, so lovely- wonderful hosts. Even after gaining 20 lbs, feeling like I should join AA, and sporting a pretty remarkable sunburn, I left with a great sense of peace and wellbeing. I love the beach and the laid back attitude that one can’t help but adopt when viewing something so big, powerful, and completely out of one’s control. I love love love New York and, at the moment, can’t imagine being in any other city; however, I think I will always be the type of person who needs to get back to something peaceful and green once in awhile. As I’ve discussed with Claire earlier this week, give me New York or give me the middle of nowhere.

New Goal: Marry Kevin Diamond through trickery, good looks, feminine wilds/stage a coup/ over take his home/ live happily ever after.

(Just take one for the team Mel; I’ll give you the master bedroom when you visit).

Virtually There

I am so bored with myself.

The same three topics keep flipping through my head to such an extent that little else is allowed room to express itself.

1) Job (What??)

2) Money (How??)

3) Housing (Where??)

Throw in the thoughts on

4) Love/happiness (Who??)

and you just entered my brain.

The combinations and the thoughts on the extent to which the topics should be balanced against each other are endless: money + job, job + love, love + money, money + housing, housing + love…. Etc. etc. etc.

These questions about my future cause me no pleasure, and, as no real answers can be found at the time being, the never ending cycle is digging my emotional self into a hole a shovel full of thoughts at a time.

I feel like slapping myself Carol Burnett/Gone with the Wind/Mammie style to try to break the manic synapse obsession.

I’m going to Kevin’s house on Nantucket this weekend. I’m hoping that the change of scenery will jumpstart something in my brain that will adjust my outlook and thought process.

It really isn’t that serious. I’m just over it. Bored with my tedium.

In other news I had a great weekend with my friend from Syracuse, Jason. He was in town to assist the lighting designer of the Tony’s (which also was my ‘in’ to see the dress rehearsal of the show- very exciting). We also were able to see Grey Gardens (disappointing, but we saw an understudy performance). Went out Friday, recovered with theatre - all in all not a bad way to spend a weekend.

MJC: The Secret

I am pleased to state that MJC (friend and fellow ex-senior rep from
Syracuse) is back in NYC after a long, southern children's tour of
Pinocchio and is as lovely as ever.

MJC is a character -very fun, very comedic, and always is a bouncing ball of pleasure to hang out with.

He also is hard and fast proof of my life philosophy.

At Syracuse I was watching Big Love with Mel and Claire. An All State commercial come on. Plot: a wife backs over the foot of her husband in a car. He has to go to the hospital. All State is there.

I didn’t agree that getting your foot ran over by a car would result in a hospital visit. RE: weight distribution between all four tires, protection from the combination of rubber/air in tires/shoes. It was pretty clear everyone thought I was on crack. After a substantial argument I stated I was going to have MJC (who was coming to pick us up from Mel’s) run over my foot with his car to prove I was correct. After much more disagreement MJC arrived (who knew nothing of our “foot smashing” speak). We met him at his car. He thought everyone had gotten in. I did not. He pulled away. He RAN COMPLETELY OVER MY FOOT.

I had never spoken about getting my foot ran over nor had I gotten it ran over in the past. Both occurred that night 15 min apart.

I have always believed that one brings or manifests the type of life they want/need. I truly believe from the big picture- relationships, environment, etc- to the mundane- a foot incident- one controls every aspect of what they allow in their lives. I feel like every time my life is in flux it is such an important thing for me to stay aware of. I am where I am and doing what I’m doing because of the life I have created for myself. Oprah has now popularized this idea with The Secret. MJC proved it to me with a vehicle.

And no. No, it does not hurt to get your foot ran over by a car. Pressure, yes. All State? No.

A Real Blog

I’ve done what I said I would never do (see first blog entry: "Do I REALLY want to be the person with facebook, myspace, a separate site for blogging??").

The answer, less than a year later, is yes.

I am now the proud owner of:
1) a myspace account
2) a facebook account
and now
3) a blogspace account

Yes. I now have an honest to goodness blog just for my random thoughts that flow ever sporadically into the world wide web.

Listen.

I can explain.

Many of my friends have been getting their myspace accounts hacked into and it made me nervous that my entries would be gone forever. This may be fine to you- yes you passive reader whoever you may or may not be in the unknown void of space and time- but these are my accounts, my only real accounts of what my life has been all about.

I moved my past myspace entries into my new account (for posterity as you can see) and my memories- from New York to San Fran and back again- returned. I fear these specific memories would be gone if it wasn’t for these digital reminders. And who would want to forget Gus’wood tick tumor “surgery” as accounted in the November 02, 2006 entry? My adventures in hair “cutting” on September 12, 2006? Living in shit on July 09, 2006- why would I ever want to forget living in that shit on July 9th!!? These are the things that would be lost forever in the cloud on my mushy memory!

In seriousness, these entries also serve as a self-teaching tool. Example? Even after living in shit on July 09, 2006, and later in the day getting jacked in Oakland, I kept my go-with-the-flow, Mexican-food-loving self levelheaded. I confirmed “never worry works” cite September 12, 2006 when I took photos of myself on my new macbook. I also realize that my ‘bed feeling’ is a repeat issue for me whenever I’m in times of great change (see March 28, 2007 and June 07, 2006). Very insightful.

As my mother told me (numerous times) “you always learn the hard way”. And for better or (mostly) worse, it’s true. I always have to “do” to learn, so I might as well remember, learn, and study my past. As much as I hate to admit it, a blog is a pretty good way for me to do it.

Old Myspace Blog Entries- For Posterity: NYC

Friday, May 18, 2007

"Has to be a Freak"

Yesterday I saw a show at UCB by a couple FOUND men celebrating their newest issue of "Dirty FOUND".

For anyone out of the FOUND loop:

http://www.foundmagazine.com/

After my new (or is it renewed… I did listed to it on NPR in my younger years) obsession with the "This American Life" podcast (http://www.thisamericanlife.org/Radio_Podcast.aspx) as well as my never-ending love for the documentary, finding FOUND pretty much rounds out my "things to humor/confuse/fascinate/help me understand that which makes us human".

As I mentioned, this was Dirty FOUND…. the XXX stuff that people have come upon and sent in. The show (or was it a presentation? ...it was on PowerPoint…. I'm going with "presentation" to make it official) included a multiple page manual found in a 9^th grade classroom on how to orally please a women, prison letters with obscene Fred Flintstones sketched in the margins, blueprints on how to create the ultimate condom, "giving it away for free" posters, and photos, photos, photos (which included the "too dirty for the magazine" photo entitled "Pete's Hole" where "Pete" -one assumes that is his name as it is written across his ass in what looks to be sharpie- shows the photographer a cool bendy trick which allows for his own self pleasure… orally.)

I couldn't help but imagine the people who were discovering these things and what their reactions might have been. For some reason I feel like "Pete's Hole" was found by a group of Girl Scouts on the streets selling cookies or a kid who upturned it under his grandmother's couch cushions.

One can only hope.

All in all it was a great evening- friends, laughs, love (I totally fell in love with the "red hoodie boy" who works at the magazine… perhaps because of his slight resemblance to Ira Glass) and a cool PBR to wash it all down.

Monday, May 14, 2007

spring is for crazies

New York provides a strange net of anonymous solitude even at
(especially at) it's most crowded. I suppose this is a city survival
tactic. (You can't get all up and in everyone's bizznazzz. Think of
the chaos! Plus we're jaded and cool; we rock the "you can't do or
say anything to surprise me you mo-fo" attitude.) This "I'm in my
world, you stay pleasantly in yours" is taken to an extreme at times.
(Cite my friend who got shot in the back of the leg with a pellet and,
bleeding on the ground, received no help; also cite my strange
comfortability with the idea of dressing on subways. I have yet to
actually implement the idea of creating a makeshift dressing room on
days when I am running late; however, the notion that I am even
playing with the idea should say something. And yes, I did just
compare getting shot to titillating the N train.)

People can talk to themselves all they want, and even I (sane) have made a small habit of it. It's just strange on the street
when someone breaks out of their bubble and into your world.

There are only a handful of situations where one finds it appropriate
(more like expects) to have the wall broken. They are almost all
annoying but are as follows: 1) people with booklets (prayer, sales,
clubs, shows, promotions) 2) people with problems (think drugged out
crazy-in-the-eyes, food/money, here's a song and dance number 3)
leering men.

I'm actually going to stay with number three for awhile because I find
it the most offensive/hilarious, which tends to be a combination I'm
attracted to delve into. As the summer grows warmer, and as I am not
a Mormon, the men tend to find it more appropriate to be
inappropriate. I think most all of my female friends would attest to
the connection between increased temperatures as it relates to
increased cat calls.

Favorite Leering Men Line:
(As I'm on my cell phone talking to my mother, man approaches also on
a cell phone)
Big'n Tubbie: "Hey! Hey!"
Me, politely interrupting my kind and wonderful mother: "Yes?"
Big'n Tubbie: "It's my girlfriend on the phone."
Me:*quizzical, oh-how-nice-what-can-I-do-for-you look*
Big'n Tubbie: "She says you can come home with me tonight.YYEEEEAAAAAAA"
Me: *mortified*
My mother: "Who was that? Are you safe? Where are you??........."

Last week I was walking around the City and the men were especially
nasty. It just so happened that later in the day I was with a very
large male friend of mine in the same neighborhood and all was
squelched. How horrid that men will not make comments as to not
offend another man, but when a woman is alone….. And what IS the best
way to deal with that?? Ignore? Get mad? Give the finger?? Anyway,
I will cease my Gloria Steinman rant, but still, it is quite
infuriating and just plain wrong.

To the crux of my story (which is actually very short and I am deeply
embarrassed on the incredible length it has taken for me to get here):
a few days back a well dressed, attractive, lawyer-looking, WASP-y
female in her upper thirties was on the train listening to her ipod.
She was belting, BELTING power ballads to herself. (Herself=everyone
on the train). Everyone was kind of giggling nervously and unsure of
how to react. This was a seemingly "normal" looking person, sane of
mind, not asking for money, barging her way into everyone's bubble.
People made eyes at each other; I made a soft comment to the person
next to me about American Idol. It was fun. It was interesting. I
was "with" the people on the train. It was all very communal, and I
liked it. I always have been very annoyed when the randoms barge
their way into my City bubble but this was a rare occasion. And
that's all. Yea to Amy or Brittney or Anne or Jennifer and her
Aerosmith. I tip my hat to you. Sing on sister, sing on.

Friday, May 11, 2007

ooo... it ends with a button!

The street around the corner from my office (27^th between 7^th and Avenue of the Americas) is lined with an array of small flower shops where one can find pretty much everything a-la plant: whole sale, specialized, pots and containers, bouquets, single stemmed, trees, bushes, etc, etc, etc.

At the beginning of spring I thought how unusual it was that they sold little patches of grass. I also thought it was odd how much I was attracted to it; now, in the dirty City, it seems so fresh and new. I actually contemplated its purchase and how nice it would be to have a bit of green in my room. I soon went on to question upkeep and how I would mow it (with scissors??) and decided to pass.

A few days ago I walked down the street to a familiar scent as bundles of long lilac branches in large barrels sat outside each shop. There truly isn't anything for me that so conjures reminiscent familial thoughts as the sight and smell of the lovely purple flowers.

I grew up with a lilac bush "fence" that divided our lot to the one next. The area under the bushes became a natural play place due to the location near my swing set as well as the way it created an organic fort in the sparse areas between each bush. For a few short weeks in the spring the plants would bloom and fill my yard with their potent scent. My father would frequently cut a large bouquet for my mother who would use it as a spring center piece as we would sit for dinner together every night as a family.

To me the flowers were a true symbol of love and friendship. They were free and easily accessible. All one had to do was take a bit of time and care to show a person how they felt about them, gifting them with flowers. It wasn't a money thing; it wasn't a store thing. It was a natural, from the earth, true and thoughtful gift.

I'm so mixed on seeing the bushes now for sale between the roses and tulips. It just seems wrong to me on some level. But I suppose for better or worse that's just New York. And even if it's next to a big pile of trash, I'm still going to smell the flowers.

Sunday, May 06, 2007

Equis Eat Your Heart Out

John (my good Syracuse friend and partner in sketch) and I decided to go to "Zoo" last week. There is something about this film that is incredibly sick and appealing at the same time.

True: In 2005 man dies of a perforated colon in Seattle after having sex with a horse.

Generally, while many people may be able to turn away from the horrific, I have always been unable to control my curiosity, especially when it comes to things that are slightly sick and completely unconceivable to the bourgeois class. Throw in a logistical challenge such as horse sex and I have to watch.

I've always been fascinated with trying to understand people and the circumstances in which they live (which is why I love the documentary genre in general). "Zoo" people are no exception. Who are they? What is their point of view? Are they lonely farmers? Completely nuts? Animal abusers? People who have a hoof fetish? Incredibly cheap folks who don't want to pay for dinner to get some lovin'?

As one can imagine, the movie was incredibly disturbing. True there is only one very blurry, very brief shot of actually human/animal intimacy. However, the audio interviews are put to reenacted film, which is beautifully shot, and the juxtaposition between a stunning composition and unsettling audio creates a nauseous dreamscape for the audience.

For days after I viewed the film I continued to think about it with an almost physically reaction of repulsion in response. There is just something so horrifying about a man bleeding to death by a large horse tearing his insides apart.

However, even after all of that, I am incredibly glad I saw the film and whole hardily recommend it.

Another thought on the movie.

Tuesday, May 01, 2007

Her Face is the Map of the World, Is the Map of the World

It has been such a long time since I blogged. Ug. So busy.

Why? What have I been up to a quizzical mind might ask?

Well, let me sum it up in four words: work, work, work, work.

I have been continuing my job as Ugly Betty meets The Devil Wears Prada. I don't believe I have shared my employment stories, but if you have seen either of these fine pieces of entertainment you pretty much have a good idea of what my employment responsibilities entail. They run the gamete from trekking across the city to find a certain pair of black designer pumps, hanging up jackets, and signing children up for summer camp to dealing with high end fashion editors and designers, creating client presentations, assisting in planning events, etc. etc. etc.



When I was being trained I was told, "Ms. Boss {not her real name} HATES exclamation points. Never use them in your correspondence. Just don't EVER, EVER use them." (Oh punctuation censorship!)

I work from 9 to 6 with a one-hour lunch.

IN. MY. DREAMS.

I get in at 9 (except today when she wanted me to meet early… then she didn't show up until 11:30). I hardly get a chance to eat; it's a dream when I get a working lunch. I never, never get out of the office at 6… it's more like 7…or even later. Then, even after I leave, the cell phone is still fair game. Twenty-four hour access people.

Today I arrived at work and was told I would be assisting on an event beginning at 6 PM. Because I was unaware, I was in the incorrect apparel. I got a full Devil Wears Prada style makeover will the sample closet at my fingertips. KT Turnstall's "Suddenly I See" (opening to The Devil Wears Prada) got stuck in my head as I tried on a couple little black designer dresses.

All in all I actually really like my job. Something with that much pressure works well with my personality. I like anticipating a person's needs and staying on top of the game. My boss is a very strong but fair woman. She knows what she wants and refuses anything less. I really respect that. She also is quite smart, definitely not a flaky fashion diva.

And lets be honest. If I'm getting paid, cell phones aren't being hurled toward my head, and I'm not being called fat on a daily basis I'm game for the time being.

Thursday, April 05, 2007

home sweet home

After a stint of reported glorious weather, Minnesota greeted me with snow and freezing temperatures.

My parents left today for New Zealand/Australia leaving me and my siblings.

Happy Easter.

Wednesday, March 28, 2007

that's life

I occasionally get this really odd feeling, which becomes more prevalent when I've recently moved. Right before I wake up or fall asleep, stuck in the between of pseudo-consciousness and unconscious, I get a complete faux-sensory experience of being in one of the many beds from past bedrooms. I can literally picture myself in the bed where I slept in Redwood, at my Grandma's old farm, in my bed in London, and at my multiple sleep holes in Syracuse. I wake up confused because I have so perfectly tricked myself into thinking I was waking up in one of them. I can feel the orientation of the bed, can picture how I felt in it, and have an expectation as to what I should see when I first open my eyes. This is especially true when I wake up to domestic doings or people talking in another room; it reminds me very much of living together with my large family in Redwood or being at my Grandma's house. It makes me nostalgic and a little sad. I will never be in those beds again nor will I be in the circumstances that put me there. Perhaps it's strange that my underlying sadness of growing up can be boiled down to a bed, but these are the things that seem to get to me more than anything else in my growing up, moving on/moving out young adult experience.

Tuesday, March 20, 2007

what you don't want to see on the NYC subway...

One fully dressed Fireman.

Yes. On the N train. As it was pulling out of the 57th street station. One of the worst things one can see boarding a subway car in New York.

Three FULLY DRESSED firefighters boarded MY SUBWAY CAR, looked like they were searching for something, then got off suddenly. The train was stalled for five, silent, panic-filled minutes before it pulled away from the tracks.

Now, I have a suggestion for our people of fire fighting to soften the image, put people more at ease. Things would have been a bit more pleasant if this was the official uniform:


He could have boarded by subway train any day.

Sunday, March 18, 2007

oh brother

One week of work down.

After the first day I freaked out when I realized I had to go in the next day....and then the next day...and the next day, etc.

I am not made for regular employment.

However, I think this place might be the best for me if I have to work somewhere. I like a fast paced environment, and I feel a little bit important because of all the clients' comings and goings. (I mean when you speak to Roberto Cavalli on the phone you don't want to fuck anything up. I like that pressure).

My home life has been interesting dealing with the boys. (Twins, friends from Syracuse) I feel like I have two brothers. And for any of you who have brothers you know they can be a bit..... how do I saw....annoying. ESPECIALLY when you are trying to watch Oprah and someone pulls out PhotoBooth on their Macbook.

Photographic evidence:


Watching Oprah...wanting to relax.


Robbie not liking the subject matter of "Actresses ageing in Hollywood"


The annoyance begins...


and continues.


Until we reach the crux of our relationship.

Tuesday, March 13, 2007

for my court case, just in case, i be insane
Current mood: weird

I don't like to feel "stuck". If it isn't apparent already, I become very antsy and frustrated in life quite easily, especially if I'm away from my hobo-fluid lifestyle. This "stuck" feeling always seems to manifest itself in a big purge: chopping off my hair, losing weight, throwing out perfectly good items.

I am trying my best, yet again, not to take sheers to my head. I refuse to do it.

Now, in retaliation of not accepting the "hair cutting challenge", I seem to be going crazy.

I give you proof:

After a 16 hour day in uncomfortable, heeled boots, I was waiting for the N or W train at Lexington Ave to go home. I was exhausted. In my right ear I heard a thick, Latina voice state, "Every three years since I was nine- Three years, three years, three years." EXCEPT NO ONE WAS THERE. I mean it was clear as day (true I was completely out of it and overtired.. but still...I heard it).

Instead of thinking I was crazy like a normal person, I thought "Hmmm... how interesting." (Further proof of being a complete nut case). I took out a pen and paper and went with it. In the next 30 seconds I wrote on both sides of a Washington Mutual brochure in tiny scrawled writing:

Every three years since I was nine
Three years, three years, three years
My mother lost her mother
I eventually lost mine
Every three years
three years at a time
Every three years I cut off my hair
Extract, shave, clip, clean
And every three years my mother cries
Every three years at a time
She saves my hair
but throws out the teeth
Nails kept taped in a book page crease
And every three years
they are thrown away
purge, starve, dark, died
And every three years
I truly can see
Every three years at a time


I looked at it. What did this mean to me? What sort of Nostradamus- like message could I extract from this spontaneous, unconscious garble ?

Like awaking from a coma, I suddenly came to my senses.


IT MEANT I WAS COMPLETELY INSANE.

I had written a "poem" based on a Latina "voice".

A LATINA GHOST MADE ME DO IT.

I'm not sure what exactly to think of this whole event... any words from the wise?


(P.S. Words will only be accepted by real mouths attached to real bodies. Thanks.)

Saturday, March 10, 2007

Workin' Girl

I've been interested in exploring PR for a creative firm for awhile now. I think I would be good at it- thinking out of the box, working with creative people, planning events, making everything lovely. I think it really takes advantage of my Libra-ness.

so......

I GOT A JOB!!

I am starting a position at a fashion PR firm, C&M Media, beginning on Monday. I am assisting one of the publicists with both PR and personal arrangements (ie Devil Wears Prada...we'll see how that goes.)
The company focuses on Italian designers; I'm just praying for a free handbag.
Although I am salaried, it's not large. I do get a reevaluation 6 months after I begin to discuss a raise, and I also get health insurance after 3 months.

Anyway, it's a start.

And that's all I need.

Tuesday, March 06, 2007

Anna Nicole part deux

My friends from Syracuse (and now NYC) have put together an actually well done video and totally offensive Anna Nicole Smith Tribute song.

One warning: they definitely weren't musical theater men.

Well done boys, well done.

Monday, March 05, 2007

bed borrowed and totally sketch: my craigs list odyssey

I have been on a craigs list kick to find some sort of furnishings (bed, desk, side table, dresser... what I have deemed my "necessaries" when it comes to a bedroom environment).

I had one requirement: cheap.

Today I was fed up in the search and decided to jump on a posting as it read:


"really GREAT furniture for practically NOTHING!!! - $40 (Upper East Side):

can't stand my ex, so I can't stand my furniture... but it's REALLY AMAZING! black Ikea couch (like new) it WAS $400... ikea full bed with wood frame and mattress... it WAS $600 for frame and mattress... lime green stained dresser, TV stand AND corner wall picture frame holder (very cool)... STAPLES computer desk... ORIENTAL RUG (goegeous) it WAS $400...I'm giving all of this stuff away for $40 per item... just need it gone! It's a 4 floor walk up so if you can get it out, then you can have it for PRACTIALLY NOTHING!!First to e-mail me gets it! Thanks!!"

I called and she said I could have the bed, dresser, and a side table if I came tonight. Great.

Now the biggest problem: a moving "team". I had two hours to locate some sort of transportation and came across this lovely craigs list posting:

"MAN WITH MINI VAN AND HELPING HAND +CHEAPEST ON CL+LAST MINUTE MOVER:

HELLO I'M A MAN WITH A MINI VAN AND HELPING HAND HERE TO ASSIST IN ALL YOUR MOVING NEEDS. I'M AVAILABLE FOR YOU LAST MINUTE MOVING AND LABOR FOR A GREAT PRICE. I'M AVAILABLE FROM 8AM TO 11PM 7 DAYS A WEEK. I HAVE THE BEST PRICE YOU WILL FIND FOR YOUR MOVE.EXTRA MEN AVAILABLE IF NEEDED AND LAST MINUTE MOVE FREINDLY. SO GIVE ME A CALL NOW TO GET YOUR THINGS MOVED NOW. "

Again in the heading: cheap.

I have found if you aren't willing to pay things tend to be a bit sketch.

The moving "team": two twenty something urban fellows in a blue Plymouth. The four floor walk up: five floor walk up. Woman selling her stuff: still a woman selling her stuff but manically unhappy about her ex-boyfriend.

Although the mattress was a bit dirty and the bed frame had cat scratches in it, it was, very much, cheap. I would take it.

After the land lady bitched (and BITCHED) about the noise the move was making (as well as the apartment dweller not recycling) and grabbing some extra pillows and frames, I decided I had gotten enough to finally make my room a bit "roomy".

As the young men drove me and my things to my home in Queens, I texted Paul. "It's okay, but if I don't come home in an hour call the cops."

Home and $200 poorer (half in the actually things, half in the moving) my room is shaping up nicely thus proving once again that in my life and hopefully yours cheap does not mean lack of classy chic.

Thank god for craigs list.

Wednesday, February 28, 2007

If I Can Make It Here

Well, I'm now in New York.

I've been walking all over the city wanting to puke and cry at the same time. I AM OVERWHELMED. I landed last night, slept on the floor (for four hours) got up at 6 am and traversed the city. I had four long and excruciating interviews. I have three more tomorrow and another on Friday. I do not have a bed yet. This is horrid.

I miss my mother.

Although I take her teachings with me.

As we were leaving Fergus Falls my mom pinched my fingers between the car and my luggage as we were loading the car. As I was whimpering she stated, "Well at least you didn't get them chopped off." This is the response for any hard time. Don't feel well? "At least you aren't getting tortured in some underground army base." Don't like the food? "At least you aren't eating weird insects." My mom can think of the worst possible scenario and throw it at any slightly uncomfortable one. This way one always can think of any situation they are in and think, "Well it's not that bad." You aren't getting tortured, you aren't being eating alive. You are fine. You are actually really quite lucky.

My friends, I am having a hard time in New York.


But I could be in Darfur.

Old Myspace Blog Entries- For Posterity: Coastal Transition

Wednesday, February 21, 2007

some sound sleep

Me: "I can't sleep.. I get so uncomfortable in my pajamas."

My Mother: "You should just sleep naked. I used to do that all the time... it's more comfortable. I would do it all the time if I were you."

Me: "Why don't you do it now?"

My Mother: "Children... fires."

Sunday, February 04, 2007

UGG
Current mood: cold

Actual conversation that took place in my family kitchen:

Dad: "For some reason the Shneeburgers think there might be no school tomorrow."

Me: "Well it might be because of how cold it is." (At times today it was -20 with a -30 wind chill factor)

Mom and Dad: (Aghast) "No…"

Mom: "The only time they have ever canceled school it was seventy below…and they actually have had it a couple times when it was about that cold…"

Dad: "… and it's not going to be that cold tomorrow. There isn't supposed to be any wind."
I might also add that people commonly (and rightfully) speak of the Midwest as having no style. Well screw you. You try to look nice while you are in winter survival mode. It's hard enough just to look like a human.
I really should have stayed in California a bit longer. I'm sure my mood would be a bit better if I arrived here during a more hospitable month.

Wednesday, January 31, 2007

money money money money

I mentioned in the last blog posting that I was quite taken aback to recently learn that some people really are just doing it for the money. It = Everything.

Of course I knew that people get caught up in the whole money thing. I always figured when they sat down and were really questioned they would reluctantly reply that they have indeed lost sight of the things that really mattered: family, personal lives, relationships, etc.

I also thought that many people just happened to love or have talents in things that make more money they say… costume design. They just "happened" to be really good at business; it wasn't so much about the dough but was more of an added bonus. (And too bad for you if you just "happen" to be really good at play and character analysis as well as sketching and garments).

It really wasn't until I lived with Mr. Q and saw his reading material such as "Why You Want to be Rich" and read a few pages that I realized that I was way off base. The chapter on "why some people still today in some religions organizations and other groups think it is wrong to have money" and was basically about "why it's okay to consume more than you need and be super greedy and still sleep well at night" made me a little ill. (I considered changing the dust jacket to read "Why You Want to be a Philanthropist".)

My topic was further proven when I got into a discussion with one of my friends (whom I respect) who basically stated he was against the implications of our societal system of judging something to be right or wrong- animalistic behavior is animalistic behavior and that's just the way it is. Although he hates the justice system he is studying to be a lawyer to save money for a very comfortable "last 40 years".

After realizing "the American way" I was actually a bit surprised at my surprise. Of course people are working for the money. I've seen "My Super Sweet Sixteen" and "The Real Housewives of Orange County". This is America- where have I been?

It's been made quite clear to me the last few days where I've been-

Growing up in a house with my father.

My father is the type of guy who has always been proud on what he lives without more than with. This is a man, after getting his masters in biology, took his young wife and child (me) to live and care for a nature refuge, without pay, for the first years of my life. He's definitely a nature-work-survival man.

I recall a time when I was in grade school when I stated that someone's mother in my class worked at McDonalds, and I was happy that my mother didn't due to the sheer embarrassment. My mother was above working at McDonalds. I was heavily scolded for that ideology.

When my mom was hosting her "Craft Club" (aka women getting out of the house to drink together) a couple nights ago to a low-key spa night my dad asked why she spends time with the "mucky-mucks". THESE ARE WOMEN WHO CALL THEMSELVES THE "CRAFT CLUB" NOT "SNOBS-R-US". However, add the words "spa" and "wine" and they are suddenly "mucky-mucks".

My father seems to have an aversion to affluence; in the least he finds it silly and a waste of time to ever think of "keeping up with the Jones".

All in all- where does that leave me today?

It has been instilled in me that one is not too good for any type of employment. (Come on – corn detasseling was my first job… although the knowledge has come in handy to scare the "city folk" when I speak of the sex of plants). However, I don't necessarily believe that anymore. My mother had a fricken Masters degree- she was above McDonalds. I do understand not thinking you are above a human being doing any job in our society. However, I (and my mother) am smart and talented enough to not be okay doing certain lines of work. It has taken me a long time to think that that was an okay thing to believe.

On a positive note, it has also made me have a bit of revulsion to excess and the type of greed-to-impress lifestyle. I have nothing against money. I need to make money; going into a creative field would be a hell of a lot easier if I already had it. And lord knows I like to eat out at nice places and would love the ability to pick out nice clothes, shoes, etc. However, the sheer abandon some have on how to get it and its end-all-be-all importance is disgusting to me. It is important to have a clear worldview, see just how lucky we are, and not take advantage of that with wasteful excess.

So here I am, searching through Craig's List NYC for a job- weighing the pros and cons on money jobs, pleasure jobs, part time jobs, jobs with benefits, jobs with responsibility, jobs without responsibility, money, money, guilt and money, and just trying to figure it all out.

Speaking of plays...or not... Harry Potter is staring in Equis. I'm scared and a little impressed. Nice job Hermione!

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

fin

After an intense drive home with my mama I have finally arrived back to the village. The trip included driving for16 hours/day, sketchy hotel rooms (where I caught an unconfirmed case of ringworm), and meals of bread, bread, cheese, bread, cheezeits, chocolate, and cheese.

Thank goodness my mom was with me. Perhaps because it was winter this time instead of summer like the last, but I forgot how desolate it is in the middle of the country. It is almost unconceivable in our fully connected society to imagine hundreds and hundreds of miles where there is literally nothing but Mother Nature and the wilds. It is impossible to explain, and I couldn't have imagined it before taking the trip (again for the second time).

I will miss San Francisco. Walking down the streets I felt like I was home, which is unique for me. I also learned a lot. For example: one does not have to live in a place where the weather is so hellish you want to slit your wrists when January rolls around. Biking is a great way of life but MUNI rails, taxi cabbies and bus drivers will run you ass over without a second glance. The war on drugs did not hit the west coast. GENERALLY, Californians are diverse, laid back, and liberal, but can be flakes and assume that they deserve all their wants. (To their credit they can generally attain those wants in the wealth that makes up the state). Some people deep down just want to make money and don't feel guilty about that fact (which was a surprisingly shocking thing for me to learn). Some people are still trying to change humanity and get their voices heard. People are generally trusting, and if you are willing to be a bit sketch you can go a long, long time without paying money for rent.

They most important thing I learned was that I can do it. I moved to a place and made it work. I really am proud of what I did there even if it was a short time. I stayed in a trailer, a co-op, a million dollar marina home, a family style Berkeley place, and a college apartment. I watched a dog, a cat, worked two money jobs, and had four theater gigs. I was able to see theater and opera, and I meet really great people. Everything really does work out, and I am excited to see what NYC brings in the future.


A sketch hotel upstate of Willits, CA- my personal hell and scary, backwoods, hippy-went-bad town.

Old Myspace Blog Entries- For Posterity: Kept Woman

Saturday, January 06, 2007

???

Tonight is my first night cat sitting in Berkeley; however, Mr. Q and his sketchy-ness held out to the bitter end.

Today he informed me he was holding a party- a twenty-first birthday party.

"I'm assuming this is for your son..." (I was going to continue and state something along the lines of "or are you just being a sugar daddy for a young boy") However he cut me off with:

"No, not my son- there are going to be about 35 20-23 year olds, all in suits and ties. Just wait... all good looking! Once you see them all you will wish you were staying in California!"

He laughed.

I was stunned.

Mr. Q= young, gay birthday bash??

I probed because Mr. Q is too stupid to be gay.

"Who exactly is this for?"

It turns out it is for his friend's nephew's 21st birthday party. This seemed equally puzzling. When I turned 21 I hit up the bottle, some friends, and a club. Calling my uncle to go out on the town with his near 50-year-old friend wasn't the evening I would have considered.

At a relatively early hour of five men and boys started to descend upon my house. I believe I stated this when Mr. Q held his earlier party, but an all male party is just dangerous and somewhat scary (especially this type) so I retired to my bedroom to pack for my next house sitting adventure.

(WHO TURNS 21 AND HAS AN ALL DUDE PARTY?!?!)

Skip to 6 o'clock. I am on the phone with a director in New York trying to get my first design job so I can hit the ground running when I move (which I received- my first musical, my first period piece, and my largest budget to date!) In the middle of this very passionate director speaking of some transcendental truth in the script, I hear a slight movement at my door (which is off the garage, off the main house). Assuming it is Gus trying to get away from the ruckus I quickly open my door. Two 50-year-old males look up at me like dear in headlights. Holding up one of my folders for work (kept outside my door) they state, "Sorry we woke you." (Remember it is 6pm, I am fully in day apparel, and talking on the phone). It is then I realize these men are SNORTING COKE AT SIX PM AT A TWENTY-FIRST BIRTHDAY PARTY OUTSIDE MY DOOR ON MY FOLDER FOR WORK.

Unbelievable.

So now I am in Berkeley. The house is big, beautiful, very "old person." This is the kind of place where I'm afraid to eat the food and everything has a slight smell; however, count me in. I will take old person smell over rich person waste of space any day.

Thursday, January 04, 2007

brett favre is hot

I have anxiety overload. I'm moving out of my house this weekend, moving to Oakland to house sit a cat, then on a couch- after off to Minnesota and then NYC.

Thinking about moving to New York gives me intense anxiety pains. What am I doing? I feel like I'm moving into college part 2. Fun, yes. Friends, yes. Right- ??? I feel like I'm suck underwater.

In other news, documentaries are dangerous for me. I give the following examples:

1) When I watched When the Levees Broke I signed up to volunteer in New Orleans
2) I watched Naked States a couple years ago. Claire reminded me of it when I was in New York, and I signed up to participate in Spencer Tunick's naked photography
3) Yesterday I watched Rosie O'Donnell's doc on her gay cruise. No I didn't not discover I was gay, but I was incredibly touched. I actually cried. (I was also wonderfully surprised to see the cute, freckly girl who was on MTV True Life: I have Gay Parents)

I really want to get a video camera and tape people. I'm not sure about what, but people are fascinating to me.

Monday, January 01, 2007

Seasons Greetings

I sent out a Christmas card and letter this year. For those of you I love but didn't have contact info for my card included photos like the one for my myspace photo; the letter was the following:

Hello Dear Friends:

I hope the year has blessed you and your family as it has me and mine. How quickly the year has passed! And with so many changes!
As a Manifest Destiny Advocate, I have moved to the West to start my own school for children focusing on the benefits of expansion. Lessons range from "Forge vs. Caulk the Wagon and Float" and the controversial, but I believe informative culinary course, "Donner Dinners".
Sadly, dedicating my life to the program had its effects on my own family. My fatty kids added too much weight to the wagon on the journey over; thankfully it worked itself out in the end. Billy died of dysentery, a real mess to clean up if you haven't experienced it. Thankfully that stain is all that's left of him. He couldn't shoot buffalo to save his life- said they were "too super cute." Plus, he was miserable at picking berries because he said they would stain his D&G suits. Once he was off my hands I decided to leave May at a private boarding school. I told her to do what's best and strive for the M.R.S. degree. "Find the boy who wants to be a doctor and doesn't hit you too often…" I shouted my parting words of advice as the wagon headed into the dusty sunset.
It is true; the West is the land of fortune and prosperity. I found a great trading post near the Columbia River where I acquired a large jug of Grey Goose and green olives. Nearing the end of my journey at the Californian boarder I celebrated by sharing a classy martini with an Indian princess fashionista; later we splurged on a couple fabulous pairs of Milano's before finally arriving at my destination.

Really wish you could all be here.

Love from the Wild West and Happy Holidays!

For full photo shoot please view on facebook account :)

Thursday, December 21, 2006

maybe this is why i've missed more flights than made?

Every time I am to board a plane I feel impending doom, and it takes me hours upon hours upon hours to pack.

Tonight is no exception.

For a girl with no home for quite some time, I surprisingly hate hate hate packing. You would think I would get used to it by now.

Not true. Not true at all.

Tuesday, December 19, 2006

My Everyman Speech
Current mood: disheartened

Yesterday I was in the middle of watching Spike Lee's "When the Levees Broke," and in the middle of act two I became completely nauseous.

What the hell are we doing?

I am sick of our nation's complete disregard for the lower economic class- from lack of health care to our poor and young fighting the wars of wealthy men (as it always is, nevertheless it makes me sick).

In terms of New Orleans, I do not personally believe the government's ignorance to act was racially charged; I believe it was economic. Condoleeza Rice is from Louisiana and black, but on the day she should have been focused on the human tragedy she was buying shoes and going to a Broadway show. I believe if there were thousands of lawyers, executives, and big business owners- black, white, or blue- dying in the Superdome things would have turned out a little differently.

I am distraught at the path our country has chosen and am ashamed of the actions (of lack there of) that took place in terms of dealing with the devastation of Katrina. I am also sick and tired of our culture and jaded lack of passion, especially in my generation, which should be pushing for change instead of settling into the system. Do we give up so easily? It is practically looked down upon to have flight of fancy ideals.

Idealism is dead, but is this really where that leaves us? Powerless?

And as we squeeze the middle class is anyone with power looking to the past and realizing there has been a bit of a pattern occurring for… oh... practically the history of history that shows the dangers of such a societal structure. Revolutions start when a great many people have no choice and nothing to lose. I'm not saying we are near revolution, but if we continue to push the few to stratospheres of wealth, squeeze out the middle, and don't give two shits about the poor, well then I guarantee it. You can dangle the carrot of "even you can have The American Dream" to the poor for only so much time before people will realize it is a facade.

And maybe Thomas Carlyle is right. Everyone discounting the few, powerful "great men" is expendable in the story of history, and then who the hell really cares anyway. I personally believe it is told in part by the Hitlers, Martin Luther Kings, and the like. But without a great many people, common people, behind the "greats," another story would be told.

Regardless I'm putting my money where my mouth is and going down to New Orleans in February for a week or so to help out as much as I can. It's not much but at least it is something. If anyone is interested let me know.

Friday, December 15, 2006

now for a professional

I got my haircut today. I thought since I haven't spent money on this activity in quite some time would go all out. My most expensive haircut has been 40 bucks… until today. I spent ONE HUNDRED AND FIVE dollars on my hair… and I'm not even a hair person.
The ironic thing is that my hair looks very much like how it looked when I chopped it with my kitchen scissors last summer. Part of this is because I'm a natural hairdresser as proven by a cutting technique I used-twist and snip- the very same as the PROFESSIONAL STYLIST used today. Obviously, I naturally felt the way my hair should be cut.
Yes, it is better. Yes, I have those cute little baby- wispy bangs. Yes, it is much more even, and I got a great styling product to boot. However, it is very close to the same idea as my very free, very gratifying kitchen experience.
Regardless I love it. I feel very tussled bed-head.
Photos:

Close up on baby bang style.

Saturday, December 09, 2006

bennett's latest blog

http://bennettleigh.blogspot.com/



She reaccounts my story from a different angle in the blog titled, "Names Changed To Protect The... Homeless".

Saturday, December 09, 2006

bye bye birdie

The story of me losing my miracle-housing situation:

Mr. Q went away for a couple days via flight. Upon his return flight he, being a dumbass, packed his car and house keys in his checked luggage, which, of course, got lost. He wanted to make sure I was home to let him in.

I was not home. I was in San Jose (an hour away) for Titus Andronicus, my newest costume project; however, I received no less then three missed phone calls between him and his horrible girlfriend. The girlfriend was pissed because she would have to drive down from her place to let him in.

I brush it off.

Not my problem. I have a life, and I didn't sign up for 24 hour access.

The next morning a notes is on the counter- "Erin, we have to talk. I will be home tonight at 6pm and we can talk then. B." (B being Mr. Q)

The first thing that pops into my brain is that I'm fired. However, the talk would have to wait because I had to be in San Jose that evening as well. This gave me a full 24 hours to mull over the mysterious note.

I called my friend Paul, "I think I'm going to get fired."

"Didn't the last time he said that you guys needed to talk he forgot what he was going to say? This will probably be the same thing."

It was true, but for some reason this felt different. I'm not sure what I was going to be fired for, but I was sure I was going to be.

The following morning Mr. Q told me his divorce was going very poorly. (Yes, he is not yet divorced and already boinking his ex-secretary now girlfriend and for who knows how long. So it doesn't surprise me it is going so badly.) He is going to sell the house and flee to his Italian home, taking Gus with him to live there permanently. He needs to "recover financially" so when he does come back to the states he will live in the east bay, at his other home.

So I have until January 10 to get out of this house. I have an obligation to design Titus, which opens January 20th. I cannot afford to live in San Francisco with my part time job I have currently. I was going to move to the east coast next summer anyway and thinking about finding housing and a new job just until then tires me.

So- current plan is to couch jump until the end of January, hang out in Minnesota February, and hike over to NYC in March where I can live with my friends in Astoria for the redic cheap rent of $700/month.

I love San Francisco, but I got to take a hint. My time here has been cut short. Does it suck? Yes. Am I depressed about it? Yes. But I have learned to go with the flow and not force anything. This just seems like the natural progression of my path, I just walk it.

Friday, December 08, 2006

where are my glasses?

Today I found another gray hair, am pretty sure I have an ulcer (not kidding) and received a package full off clothes and music from James. Enclosed was this note: "Erin, This is your 'Hip Kit'. Enclosed are items designed to bring you up to speed with your generation. Handle with care/respect."
I'm getting old friends, very old.

Thursday, November 30, 2006

Excited?

Oh Yeah!

Wednesday, November 29, 2006

Just Won't Quit

More adventures with Mr. Q:

When Brent came over for Thanksgiving, Mr. Q came home. After warning him of the "huge mess" in the kitchen I proceeded to introduce him to the man sitting at his table that he has never met.

"This is my friend Brent."

"Speaking of huge, take a look at these babies!" (said in a "how cool am I" tone)
He was referencing the three enormous ENORMUS bottles of Grey Goose in his arms.

He never did introduce himself to Brent.

Yesterday he went to the movies with his son and saw James Bond. Upon arriving home from the film he said it was good but James did something that he would "never never do."

"Oh- what was that?" I said.. falling for the trap.

"He said 'I love you'- can you believe that? James would NEVER NEVER say that. That's not James Bond."

He was so disgusted.

And these are the times that specifically make me long to live in the co-op.

Saturday, November 25, 2006

The Real (?) World

In my continuation of reality TV blogs I must state that the first episode of The Real World Denver is one of the finest examples of why the first reality TV show is still the best. I think this takes the cake for the best all around episode to leave the MTV editing room as well. Drama at every corner: betrayal, a perfectly timed pizza, a Baptist, a gay, a three way kiss. Must see TV.

SCANDAL!

Friday, November 24, 2006

Black Friday

Thanksgiving went pretty good considering. Brent came over and we had a cheese plate, salmon with fresh cranberry relish, baby sweet potatoes, corn on the cob, and finished with apple crisp (slightly burnt) with caramel-cinnamon ice cream.

I received the best news yesterday; I am going to be in a wedding!! My cousin asked me to be her bridesmaid. I am incredibly excited. She definitely fulfills the ever-important status as "favorite cousin". When she got engaged I told my sister with hope, "I might have a chance to be in this one!" Well yes indeed. The best part is the dress requirement is "black cocktail," which is nice- lends itself to wearablity to other occasions. (I teased her that I am going to have her in my wedding and force the bridesmaids to wear lavender poof-sleeve cupcake shaped dress.) Have fun future bridesmaids of Erin Schultz.

Today I am going to the evening hours of Black Friday to get a new bra from Vic's Secret along with a free tote filled with goodies. Got to love a good deal, and they have to give me something if I'm spending 50 bucks on boob support.

Thursday, November 23, 2006

Happy Thanksgiving!

Yesterday I was home alone in my pajamas, Gus sleeping soundly near my bed. It was 9:30 pm on a rainy Wednesday. WEDNESDAY.
Suddenly the doorbell rings. Now because Mr. Q cannot deal with his life and pays people to do it for him I assume it's the regular routine that has been happening lately: he has forgotten his keys and hasn't paid anyone to replace the batteries in his garage door opener so it doesn't work. I go to the garage door and open it for him.
A strange car and a strange man in is the driveway, "I dropped off three drunks at your door."
I go to the front door trying to figure out that the hell is going on and two old drunk men in their fifties barge in, Mr. Q falling in from behind. Now when I say "barge" I really mean "topple" because they are so drunk they can't walk. They are soaking wet from head to toe and pretty much do not acknowledge me. I see one man prying Gus's poor little mouth open and blowing inside as I am trying to figure out if the car is supposed to go in or out of the garage and if the man is with Bruce. He is not. He is a rented driver that is to wait until they are done parting to bring the others home. Bruce is slurring to the driver and trying to make since of his intoxicated world; as this is going on (the garage door open) approximately 7 other guys come in through the garage... all trashed. I realized that these are Mr. Q's son's friends, college age. They have been parting together. They look like they are waiting for more to show up. I know there is nothing worse than a group of drunk men, so I determine at this point the best thing to do is lock myself in my room.
The party seems to die down around 1:00, at which point a drunken Mr. Q seems to be looking for Gus. This leads him to my room. (?) After I ignore his initial knocking he attempts to ENTER MY ROOM. (Thank God I have the door locked). Finally I tell him Gus is not in here and 15 sec later I hear him leave, in doing so he slurs, "Soooorry, Errrrinnn."
I wake up today and find the kitchen in ruins. There is broken glass on the floor with green olives spilt around, 20 martini glasses filling the sink, beer bottles everywhere. Gus must have found a stick from outside because there is wood bits everywhere.
My life is so wonderful when Mr. Q isn't here. It's pretty much hell when he is. Re: see above.

Tuesday, November 21, 2006

Last Image of Summer Camp

I don’t think I ever included photos from my actual “home” last summer. Here. This should answer a lot of questions. I lived in the white trailer; the brown building was for the horses. Please note size comparisons with the cars. I lived there with three other women as well. Don’t mess with me bitches. Cramped spaces, tumor pulling, backpack traveling, babysitting for grown men and dogs. I’ve done it all.

Sunday, November 19, 2006

The Opera: A Very Serious Place

Oh, the Opera!! The characters, the costumes, the pretence! And this just the audience.

Brent and I volunteered to usher Manon Lescaut at the San Francisco Opera. The perks included seeing the show for free and excellent people watching opportunities. I cannot put into blog words how absurd the audience was.

Most (I would say at least 95%) of the crowd was over 65, not an age group I have been around in... well... since church in Redwood. These women were battling time with everything they got, which included cake makeup and stilettos which they hobbled upon; sequence and color splashed upon their outfits in their attempts to shine even if the glow in their skin had long since gone out. These men and women weren't your nice Grandmerry types. These were rich bitches that were used to living a certain way, treated a certain way, for many years. Everyone was walking around with a "do you know who I am" attitude. I actually saw a woman scoff at a fellow audience member as she apologized for accidentally brushing against her.

Most of the fellow ushers possessed the same attitude; one could smell the stink of death and pretence on them as well.

One elderly usher woman was especially "helpful". While standing in line before sitting down she instructed me to keep the stairway clear, then told a women who was briefly speaking to her friend ahead in line where the back of the line was, told me to sit down, told me to wait to sit until the lights dimmed, etc. etc. etc.

As we were leaving for the first intermission she told me my shoes "weren't allowed". (They recommend not wearing stilettos for comfort; I was wearing a 1½.. heal. She also said that I could fall on the slippery, marble floor with them. I'm not sure if she noticed the 85 year olds in fabulous Blahniks, but I'd put money that I could handle hooker shoes on any surface they were safely crossing. She also stated that I was "tall enough" without them. Okay. I wasn't bothered by the bossiness before, but I got a little irked when an ill-dressed short woman made comments about a part of my ensemble.

At the beginning of the second act a fellow usher took one of the seats that Brent and I were sitting in, in the previous act, thus causing us to have to split up, which would have been totally fine. But no- the woman came from three rows behind to kick her out of the seat all the while Brent and I pleading with her that it was okay. Embarrassed, I mouthed, "I'm sorry" from behind my program as the women left now our seats.

As I stood by the door saying goodnight to patrons she let Brent and I know to get closer to the door so that they could really see and hear us. I moved three inches closer to the door but could not move any closer or I would be blocking it.

This woman was my hell. I hate people who follow the rules so strictly. I hate people who take everything so damn seriously. I feel like everything should be a guideline, anything beyond that just makes me uncomfortable. I suppose that's why I'm a big ole liberal.

Anyway, the opera itself was really, really great, and I can't wait to do it again.

Friday, November 10, 2006

Touch the Sky

What the hell is up with Kanye West? What a music video award bitch! Did anyone else see this?

BABY

Sunday, November 05, 2006

New Work

I updated my work on shutterfly. Check out what I've been doing on in the theatrical world: http://erinbschultz.shutterfly.com

Nov. 5, 1:51 AM thoughts

As I watch the Saddam sentencing I can only think of one thing...my dad looks a whole lot like Saddam Hussein and Tom Selleck.

Gus ate my only pair of comfortable heels. This is a priceless loss indeed.

My first professional show closed today. The after party was quite fun, and I am quite sad.

I am sleeping an INSANE AMOUNT. Something is truly wrong with me.

I miss my mom.

That is all.

Thursday, November 02, 2006

wood tick tumor

On Tuesday Mr. Q brought Gus home with a "tick" in his ear, a big fat tick. This scared him. I know this because it was Halloween and one of the only nights that all three of the sick family (Mr. Q, his girlfriend, and me) was home together in the kitchen. (I had to eat before hitting the streets in attempts of dodging bullets). To correct this "situation" he had made an appointment to go to the vet to take off the tick. The appointment was on Thursday. He was going to wait two days and pay ??? to take a WOODTICK OFF A DOG.
As the girlfriend and Mr. Q talked about how gross it was and my initial disgust (about the owner) dispensed, I piped in, "I'll do it.. come here Gusser"
I love this dog! And come on people.. it's just a wood tick. Growing up in Minnesota I pulled wood ticks off myself.
So this bloody "tick" comes off without a hitch. I didn't think about it again.

Until today.

Bruce brought Gus home from the vet and it was not a tick. It was a TUMOR. I pulled a TUMOR off a dog. *Pluck!* Gone. What??? I'm not kidding. So the tumor was benign, which is good. But watch out people, I'm tough. Tear off your tumor tough.

Wednesday, November 01, 2006

Bang Bang Happy Halloween

I have so many things to write about this day.. where to begin?

Do I talk about the cute but greedy children at the door and make analogies about this society of want not vs. my own upbringing only taking one piece of candy even in unlimited Halloween circumstances because, in Brent's commiserating words, "You only deserved that, if any."

Do I talk about Mr. Q's response to me saying I was going to the Castro for Halloween, "The Castro?!? People are having SEX down there- boys kissing boys!" (He's Republican people.. the only fucking republican in the whole of San Francisco, and I'm living with him.)

I think perhaps I will talk about the shooting. No treats here folks.

I did indeed go to the Castro -even after the warnings of sex in the streets! - for a house party at my friend Veljko's. ("The only man with jk in his name"- again, Brent). His house is on the second floor and overlooks the hub-hub that is Halloween in the Castro.. a HUGE event. People gather in colorful attire and horde into the streets; it used to be a unstructured event but after stabbings three years ago the city took it over to provide crowd control and a whole lot of coppers.

I would like to state that before the "incident" I was talking about how dangerous Halloween can be in a city. Is that a real cop or a fake cop? Is that man without pants going to hurt you or just a friendly partier? Hooker or innocent college girl? Real gun or fake? As a costume designer I can appreciate how much a simple change of attire on a certain night can completely change the social norms on how we view others and our safety.

Doped up on sugar and one alcoholic coca cola beverage, I stood in the porch as the gunshots fired DIRECTLY INFRONT OF THE HOUSE. People flew behind parked cars, newsstands, and others; viewing the crowd dive for cover from my bird's eye view of safety was odd to say the least.

Almost instantaneously the cops came out from behind the scenes. The street was closed down and what look like thousands of cops lined the streets on foot, motorcycle, vehicle, and helicopter (I spotted two).

There was a discussion at the party on if the noise was indeed a gun or, perhaps more likely, fireworks. Because of our position two separate cops asked us if we saw anything.

"The internet will tell us." Hagen again-quoted for the third time.

Halloween Shots

I'm sure there will be more info out tomorrow.

Sunday, October 29, 2006

Flavor of Love
Current mood: WWWHHHHHhhhhhhaaattt?!?

I am in the middle of watching the after show of VH1's Flavor of Love. I was writing letters and had the TV in the background, but my whole focus is now on this show.

Please, do everything in your power to see this shit. It's nuts.

Twenty bitches just tried to storm the stage and beat up "New York" (who is from Syracuse FYI)

Lovely.

New York will have her own show in the future... I'm already there.

Saturday, October 28, 2006

black kettle

Mr. Q was home for an afternoon (one of the first times since I have moved in). He asked me to "take care of his breakfast dishes".

Some clean up was part of the deal. Fine.

I decided to come up with some small talk (as I do) and delved into my phone situation. I gave him my new cell phone number earlier and began to tell him of my disappointed because I was now forced off my family's cell phone plan.

"Well, you're an adult now.. you have to start acting like one."

He laughed.

I continued to wash the grown man's dishes.

Wednesday, October 25, 2006

Crispin Glover: What the F is It?

Monday night I went to the Castro Theater to see Crispin Glover present his new film, What is It? It was expensive (18 bucks), and I was tired. As I sat in the seat, snacks in hand, I was relieved to know the run time was less than an hour.
The crazy kook appeared to read his books (photographic help from PowerPoint)... Ok ok ok.. yada yada yada.. EIGHT books and an hour later, the film was ready to begin.

Glover made the movie as a response to corporate movie making in which they will cut or are unwilling to make anything that might cause an audience member to be uncomfortable.

What is It? A scene:

A naked woman wearing an elephant mask and a harness crawls on the ground pulling a clamshell behind her. Inside a man with severe cerebral palsy lies naked; the shell opens and a naked woman wearing a monkey mask starts to jack him off.. this goes on for the next 5 minutes. Cuts of Shirley Temple with Nazi gear masturbating with a leather whip are interspersed while a KKK song classic, "Some Niggers Never Die," plays in the background.

The cast is mostly made up actors with Down's Syndrome, take or leave that fact and be offended or pleased. The most offensive thing to me was the abundant slaughter of snails that takes place throughout. (A beautiful, close up shot of a snail sliding beautifully is then followed by a razor decapitating the poor creature; salt is another weapon of choice for many characters).

In my quest to find an image from the film, I found a You Tube of Glover with a young David Letterman. Glover is on drugs and kicks at Dave's face, thus abruptly ending the "interview". A must see: Crispin Freaking Out on Dave

Saturday, October 21, 2006

what's up with me

I opened two shows in two consecutive weekends (Far Away by Carol Churchill and Zoo Story by Albee) and am showing my portfolio for Titus Andronicus on Monday. I am beginning to feel like a real life designer. This surprising sprit of work has made me think that I could really do this, which is surprising because when I graduated I thought I was basically fucked and there was no way it would all work out. It's beginning to.
I do know I will need to get my MFA to really make the contacts I need, which is why I'm looking into grad school for next year with NYU being my first choice.
My mom also came to visit last week. She is always a great person to be around, and I wish I could live closer sometimes (if only she didn't live in a cultural void). It was very "girls week" with spa visits, shopping, and an evening dinner at Canteen. (Canteen is a small restaurant that seats around fifteen. There is one chef who shops for ingredients and then with the help of a sous chief, waitress, and bartender, serve the most delicious food I have ever tasted. It's mind-blowing-good good.)
I also got a "regular job" which begins on Monday. I am the PR/Event Assistant for the Academy of Art University planning gallery events, opening weekend for the students, graduation, and an artist exchange with Japanese students, a Christmas party, etc. I will be working 20 hr/ week, which will allow me to continue to focus on design, but know I will be getting a bit of an income to pay off student loans. It will also be a good excuse to actually be on a schedule, which I have not been on in some time.
My phone is gone (bottom of pond gone.. these are the risks that are involved when you watch a dog. I was throwing a stick to Gus and my phone flung out of my hoodie pocket and into the pond at the Palace of Fine Arts, which is mere blocks from where I live. At least it is a very royal looking burial place). In any case, I couldn't transfer my phone number so I have a new one. Let me know if you need it. This also means I have no ones contact info anymore; please, please send me your phone numbers!!

Thursday, October 05, 2006

jobby job

I have been applying for traditional employment for the past couple months. I must admit I have been a bit picky and not really putting much heart into it (especially with the whole no living expenses deal). I think I have finally determined that I need a job that is either 1) part time or 2) requires no work or thought from me so I can work on my freelance things during the pay job.
I thought I had found an awesome balance when I interviewed for an architectural/interior firm. I was to be their receptionist, which meant I could work on sketches, research, read, anything during my time there all while getting a salary with benefits. Great. My first interview went very well. I found out from my placement agency that I was working with that only two people were called in for a second interview.
My second interview was the best of my life. We talked about design, concepts, people interacting with the space around them, Project Runway. There was no was I wasn..t getting this job. That is until later that day my Jessica (my placement agent) called. I could tell right away that I didn..t get it. (I thought for a moment she was one of those people who are tricky. [solemn start] "Erin, I have some news... YOU JUST GOT THE JOB!!!" Anyway, she was not one of those people).
And the reason for not getting hired? ..They think you are over qualified for the position. They check with their creative team to see if there was room for you, but they don..t think they have anything for you...
OVER EXPERIANCED... That is what I..m looking for, a dumbass job where I can do my own design work. If I..m not going to be able to do exactly what I want and make a salary, I might as well be working at a place where I put forth no effort so I can have time to do what I want. I guess they thought I wouldn..t stay because I would get bored.
I felt trick- I mean they were the ones that brought up design, leadership, etc. I just answered the questions. Next time I am going to dumb it up-
"Where do you see yourself in five years?"
"Right here answering your telephone, sir"

Sunday, October 01, 2006

my doggie

Mr. Q left for the weekend and handed me a $100 bill out of the blue.

I also felt what it..s like to go grocery shopping and not worry what the bill will be. I have upgraded from mac and cheese to organic veggies and pita chips. I love this.

I should state that I am in love with Gus (the puppy). He is adorable and follows me everywhere in the house. I tried to get a good photo of him but it was hard because he was too excited by the camera and wanted to get close enough to eat it. Will I become one of those ..pet mommies.. that are horrible and gooy with their pets? More than likely yes.

Sunday, October 01, 2006

I am a kept woman

I’ve had a pretty eventful week. James came to visit for my birthday (okay- he had a week off school, airline tickets were on sale, and we’ve talked about going to San Francisco since high school- but I’m saying it was for my birthday). It was great to have him here, always a joy. I already miss him and hold on to a small amount of hope he will transfer to the Art Institute in SF so I can have a movie buddy. For my birthday we went to an expensive restaurant in the Mission where we shared clams as an appetizer... later James would relinquish the $70 meal to the toilet, realizing that he has a food allergy. (What a romantic night). I have also moved from my very lovely Mission home to a marvelous mini mansion in the Marina. ((in)Side note joke: If one of the Rescignos read my blog.. read last sentence with “back of the barn” voice.. Paul’s poster policy anyone?). I feel like without consciously trying I am constantly doing something and then stop and do a completely 180. I went from granola, no TV, anti-shaving, dumpster diving, lovely, communal coop to multi million home in the yuppiest (and most expensive) neighborhood in San Francisco. If there is one consistent aspect of my choices, it is that they could all be perceived as slightly sketchy. A couple months ago I answered an ad for a housesitter/dog watcher. I now have my own, brand new room off a home owned by Mr. Q. He owns an import car business and a boat company in Italy, which allows him three homes: one in the east bay, one in Italy, and one in San Francisco. He is out of the country at least four months out of the year and splits his week between his two bay homes. In other words, he is never home. He does however own a two-year-old chocolate lab puppy named Gus. In exchanged for walking Gus and watching the house I have free rent (my own brand new room with bathroom and large closet, privet entrance and located off the rest of the house, fully furnished, the most amazing bed/down bedding I have ever slept on) free utilities, free internet, free FOOD (yes food), free anything for the house (I will have a “house account”). It’s ridiculous. I am going to take advantage and pay my student loans off as quickly as possibly with all the money I will be saving. Anyway, I’m sure this situation will lead to interesting situations for me... stay tuned.